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Sirius Black may be a slut but Regulus, Regulus Black is a whore.

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Today it was presidential election in my country and now im really scared that i will have to leave my country

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What I look like

What i want to look like

I just want to get rid of the glasses and my hair really needs a haircut but im too scared to do it by myself and i cant wait for summer when my freckles willbe finally visible

Anyone can join <3

starting a tag game cause i'm bored and i hate my notifications :D

WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE IRL

WHAT U WANNA LOOK LIKE

picrew: here!

tagging @random-doctor-on-the-internet @cataperat @discoveredreality @ladykiller-yt and @midnights-dragon

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My biggest flex is that i can read (and understand) the worlds longest love poem in its original language

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JAMES MADE REGULUS THE MARGIELA KISS SHIRT

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thank you to the Marauders for introducing me to 70s rock

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The first night Regulus is with the Potters, his thoughts end up spiralling and stressing him out to the point where he can't sleep at all so he gets up, goes into Sirius' room, arranges his bedding on the floor and goes to sleep there instead because having someone else in the room with him is the one thing that'll calm him down

And he could've just gone to James' room and snuggled up with him in a proper bed if he wanted that company so badly but instead he chose to sleep on Sirius' bedroom floor as it reminded him of when they'd have sleepovers in each other's rooms as children on the occasions Walburga allowed it (which was pretty rare as it was only when she knew Orion wouldn't overreact about it).

Sirius wakes up the next day, sees Reg sleeping on the floor next to him, shrugs, and chooses to never mention it. It happens a few times after that, mostly while he's settling in but occasionally even a year later when he's had a particularly stressful day because the nostalgia has an instant calming effect on him

And Sirius never brings it up but he kind of likes feeling reliable and helpful

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Lily was the first to figure it out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, after all she was known for coming in first in all her classes.

When James didn’t bother her for a week she thought he was planning something big. When he didn’t bother her for a month she thought he was finally giving up. When he showed up two months later with an apology, that’s when she knew.

He was over her. Fully and truly. Cause when James loved someone he loved them with his whole heart - which meant he had moved on to a new target.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise that when she goes into the potion room after hours to work on her extra credit assignment, she finds James making out with someone instead.

“So you do know where the potions room is.”

The happy couple jumps apart and James turns a sheepish look at her. That’s when Lily finally gets a good look at who James was with.

Black curly hair, regal features, slytherin tie.

She raises an eyebrow. “You never took things the easy way did you?”

James groans as Regulus laughs.

Lily smirks at Regulus. “Him going after you, I get. But you? You voluntarily chose him?”

“It was a lapse in judgement”

“Hey-“

They both ignore James.

It’s the start of a beautiful friendship.

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James & Regulus: *kissing*

Barty: That’s got to be fun for you, huh?

Sirius: …

Barty: Watching your best friend suck the saliva out of your brother’s mouth?

Sirius: Shut up

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@jegulus-microfic | march 1, prompt: rugby | word count: 1.080 featuring motion-sick regulus. this is mostly comical / partly crack. tw he does throw up but there's no graphic detail.

Exploiting what Regulus assumes to be the surviving remnants of a bewitched bloodline, James had, at long last, managed to magically convince the notorious ‘Young Sir Black’, as Horace would have it, to join him on a three-hour-long drive to the ancestral Potter manor to informally meet his parents.

Informally indeed because the first time he met Mr. and Mrs. Potter was during a fundraiser event held in Somerset House organized by the Black family to launder money under the guise of charitable benevolence. Regulus had been sixteen then. Sixteen and trying to mask the lingering scent of weed because somehow Barty had convinced him to ‘smoke a quick one’ before being subjected to the horror that was the annually rehearsed speech of one of his phony relatives. Not that Regulus remembered much of it, not when he had been too laser-focused on James Potter’s brilliant smile and his rugby-appropriate wide shoulders and height. 

And it’s not that Regulus isn’t excited to meet James’ parents, not at all. Euphemia often demands Regulus show his face when James takes the time to video call her and Fleamont is very invested in the growing rare enamel pin collection he has going on. 

The reason for his uneasiness is simply—

“Hey, Reg, you okay?” James asks, gently nudging him in his side. Emphasis on gently.

 “Mhm,” Regulus hums, his gaze glued to the window instead of its usual hyperfixation: his boyfriend’s face. He had read, long ago, that finding a fixed point would help. The writer of the article fucking lied.

The problem is that Regulus gets motion sick very fucking easily and avoids cars, busses, and a majority of moving vehicles like the bubonic plague. 

��Fifty years I have driven the Fleamont junior’s family. For fifty years!” Horace had proudly announced when Regulus clambered into the backseat with begrudging acquiescence. “You worry not, Young Sir Black. Mrs. Potter was as squeamish as you, but my driving simply cured her motion sickness!”

Regulus didn’t have the heart to tell him that he barely survived a bus ride of thirty minutes on a good day.

“Yeah,” Regulus rasps when James pokes him again, worry creasing the skin between his eyebrows. “No, I’m fine.” The lane switches got him good, but that would be an insult to Horace’s otherwise seamless driving skills. Curse Regulus for being so sensitive to it all.

“We got like another hour and a half left,” James tells him, to which Regulus tries not to groan like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “You need a break?”

Regulus definitely needs a break, but they have already stopped at a gas station three times and he is out of excuses that won’t inevitably upset Horace. First, James had to go to the bathroom. Then, Regulus needed to use the loo. The third time, he had lied through his teeth he’d fancy a snack, and no, not the ones that Horace had stockpiled in the little mini-fridge nestled between seats. 

The overpriced pack of mini Party Rings rests unopened in his hands. Unopened because he will die if he so much as gets a whiff of food.

This discomfort, of course, doesn’t elude Horace.

“It’s—It’s the sun!” He exclaims. “The sun is hanging quite low today, making the asphalt expand so inconveniently like this. Terribly sorry, Young Sir Black, you know how it goes with this country’s tax money and road improvements…”

Regulus hums in response and lets his head fall back against the headrest. “Sorry, James. You were saying?”

“Just about the evening’s plans but never mind that. Are you okay?”

“Young Sir Black is mighty fine,” Horace replies in his stead. “No such thing as motion sickness exists when it is I who drives, sir Junior.”

Horace remains faithful to his promise for a whole whopping three minutes until a twist in the road intervenes, and Regulus's stomach lurches, betraying his efforts to quell the rising nausea after a record time of suppression. 

“James,” Regulus groans.

James looks thoroughly alarmed and starts shifting in place looking for the bag he had been entrusted with. “Oh, shit. Bag? Fuck, do you—”

Unfortunately, he jostles Regulus in the process. Regulus, who has been fighting for his life.

“James,” he wheezes out, weakly flailing his arm. “The bag—I—”

“I’m looking for it! Fuck, which pocket did I put it in—”

“Is everything alright back there?!” Horace asks, his eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Oh, oh no…”

Ignoring the loud lamenting of his driver, James almost flings the plastic bag in Regulus’ face. “I found it!”

“That is it then,” Horace whispers. “I take this as my sign to officially resign upon dropping you and Young Sir Black off, sir Fleamont junior. It has been my greatest honor to serve you and the Potter family for fifty years.”

“Horace, please.”

“It is the age, is it not? This vocation, it’s knighthood, sir Fleamont junior. One does not retire so easily—”

All else is drowned out by Regulus painfully emptying his stomach with a retch. Had this not happened before, shame would have flooded him in the multitudes. He still wonders how James had convinced both himself and Regulus to admit to a long car ride. Something something about the pastures being a healing balm…

“Horace,” James pleads again as he rubs circles on Regulus’ back. “I can only really comfort one of you. Baby, you okay? That— okay, no you’re not. Please stop kicking me in the shin, I will apologize profusely when you can breathe.”

There are tears welling up in Horace’s eyes. “Oh, now I’ve done it, made Young Sir Black sick. I am a failure, I do not deserve the title and honor of driving you or your parents. I must hand over the keys the very instant I arrive. Do allow me the opportunity to part from her, sir Fleamont junior.”

Regulus thinks he’s going to lose his mind. James might be on the verge of losing his too. “Horace, please, I need your eyes on the road.”

“I could drive this car blind, sir! For fifty years—”

“Please do not drive the car blind.” James sounds utterly exasperated now.

It takes him a solid couple of minutes but Regulus eventually manages to come up for a fresh breath of air and the damp press of a scented baby wipe against his jaw. He lets James coddle him, for now.

“Fuck… You.”

“I deserve that one.”

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How fucking dare he.

Sirius: Reggie I told you I’m sorry!

Regulus: How can I forget what you did!!???

Remus: What did Sirius do?

Regulus obviously upset: He called Call Me By Your Name a shit movie!!

Remus: How fucking dare you.

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@jegulus-microfic // february 4 // prompt: old // words: 619

Regulus reaches up with a sly grin on his face, hands coming to rest on James' chest and smoothing down the imaginary wrinkles in his white button down.

“I quite like being your trophy husband. All I have to do is stand here and be pretty—”

“And we both know how good you are at that,” James says as he leans down to drag his nose along the column of Regulus’ neck, lips following behind.

Regulus hums, a quiet thing. The scratch of James' five o'clock shadow against the sensitive skin of his neck makes blood rush to his head.

“A pretty, young thing for you to show off to all your old friends.” Regulus resists the urge to throw back his head and give James more space to work. Has to remind himself they're in public, although that has never stopped him before.

James' hands tighten where they're resting on Regulus' waist, fingers splayed possessively, just so everyone knows they can look but can't touch.

One hand slips under the hem of Regulus' shirt, settling on his hip. The feel of the cool wedding band against his skin contact makes him shiver and Regulus relishes in the knowledge that James is his.

“My friends aren't that old,” James says with a huff, pulling back from where he was mouthing at Regulus’ pulse point. There's no heat behind the words, though. Only fond amusement.

“Your friends are probably popping Viagra with their morning multivitamins,” Regulus says as he rolls his eyes.

There's violin music filtering through the room, and waiters with trays filled with Champagne weaving their way through the crowd. Although Regulus must admit that the hors d'oeuvres are excellent. He's snagged a few of a platter before dragging James to a secluded corner.

James leans down, tilting his head just so. Regulus knows he could press their lips together in a kiss if he would just tilt his face up to James. It would be so easy, like a flower to the sun.

“A pretty, young thing with a wicked tongue,” James murmurs, the words brushing over Regulus’ lips. They smell a little like Champagne and something sweet.

“You'd know all about that, huh?” He teases, fingers sliding up from where they were still resting on James' chest to the side of his neck where Regulus knows a hickey is hidden beneath the collar. Light catches on the thin wedding band he's wearing around his ring finger. The sight has heat coiling in his stomach.

Something flashes in James' eye, but it's gone before Regulus has the chance to decipher its meaning. Just as well, because the look is swallowed up by lust. The brown of James' iris disappearing, his pupils dilating as if they can't get enough of Regulus.

And Regulus knows he looks good; a silk shirt in a shade of green so dark it looks almost black, a thin layer of gloss on his lips and his curls mussed just so. It's a miracle they even made it out of the bedroom tonight, let alone the house. But James had insisted on coming, told Regulus they couldn't get away with skipping yet another party.

So they showed up and danced and mingled and Regulus watched as James talked to his friends. He always has a hand tucked into the bend of James' elbow, or one of James' arms around his waist or on his shoulders, a comforting weight.

After another moment of silence, eyes locked on each other, Regulus clears his throat. “I want to dance,” he declares.

“That's fine with me,” James says. “I like showing you off.”

Secretly Regulus thinks that he's the one showing off; James the trophy and Regulus the winner.

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Reg's nickname for Sirius is 'Ris' pass it on

He's been using it since they were like 5

But normally doesn't use it around other people bc he's an angry little shit and doesn't want anyone else to start using it too (anyone meaning James ofc)

He also uses it when he wants to guilt trip him into doing something or to get his attention when he isn't listening

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sirius: so why were you in james' bed wearing his boxers and his quidditch t-shirt?

regulus: cause we had sex you dumb bitch

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*barty and sirius in azkaban*

barty: how the fuck haven't you gone completely insane yet

sirius: nothing can break me

barty: James fucked regulus when he was in sixth year and reg was in fifth

sirius: when I get out of here I'm going to kill both of them

barty:

sirius:

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"You keep his shirt, he keeps his word."

Regulus stumbled out of the bedroom the morning after James had stayed over for the first time, stomach in knots, half-regretting what he'd done. Had he agreed to too much? Let James in too far? Allowed him to see too much of him? Probably. He'd woken up alone.

He tugged at the hem of the t-shirt James had lent him a few weeks ago, the t-shirt that he'd 'forgotten' to give back. He'd pulled it on a few moment ago in a fit of self-doubt, but now if felt like a reminder of everything he'd risked and probably done wrong.

But when he got to the kitchen, he paused and stared.

James Potter was there, making bacon.

"You...stayed?" Regulus murmured, feeling foolish.

James turned and smiled, pulling him into a hug. "Told you I would, baby," he murmured into Regulus's neck.

And oh, god.

For something so simple, it almost brought Regulus to tears.

Lyrics from "You Are In Love" by Taylor Swift

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Sirius Black is the guy who moans out of nowhere