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Barty: I’m going to kill my dad
Evan: Sure we can kill my dad too my house is on the way
Regulus: I volunteer killing my parents as a trial run
Everyone else:
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Remus: for Gotrics sake tell me what crawled up your ass and died, you've been miserable the past week.
Regulus: fuck you
Remus : I'm serious
Regulus: I thought you're Re-
Remus: say one more thing I will shove something up your ass
Regulus: ...
Remus: ...
Regulus: I'm in love with Potter
Remus: ...
Regulus: where are you going?
Remus: to hide all the life threatening objects in our dorm
Regulus : it won't be that bad when Sirius find out...surely
Remus: youre the one that grew up with him
Regulus: ...fuck it is gonna be that bad
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James Potter is the kind of guy who would stop on the sidewalk to pick a dandelion and make a wish. And Regulus stands patiently waiting and asks, “What did you wish for?”. James kisses him softly while the dandelion fluff swirls around them. And James smiles and replies, “You tell me.”
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James: I’ve got a question to ask you
Regulus: as long as it’s not “will you marry me”
James: *silence
Regulus: wait
Regulus: was it?
Regulus: was it “will you marry me”
James: Well I’m not going to ask now
Regulus: no! Restart!
James: moments gone
Regulus: then bring it back!
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@jegulus-microfic | April 18: sock | 1.6k
James is sexiled and decides to spend time with Regulus.
There’s a sock on the door knob.
It’s been a long day and James is tired and there’s a fucking sock on the door knob and if he listens close enough he can hear soft grunts.
He’s happy for Sirius and Remus, really, he is, he just wishes that they’d fuck at Remus’ every now and then, and at least keep it to the bedroom.
Sirius and James share a college flat with Peter, Marlene and Lily, so there aren’t many options when they’re all out. Today,  James knows that Peter and Lily have chess club, and Marlene’s training for the women’s boat race, so it’s only him who’d be around.
He sighs and turns around, sending Regulus a text as he goes.
Been sexiled – your dorm free?
He’s walking before he’s received a response – he’s almost positive that the answer will be ‘yes’, and he hasn’t seen Regulus in a week, so they��re long overdue a catch up.
Their friendship was one of the more unexpected things to come out of Regulus bucking centuries of Black tradition and instead following in his brother’s footsteps, choosing Cambridge over Oxford. He settled in nicely to Corpus Christi, flying through his first few years as a history undergraduate while Sirius and James chose Trinity instead.
It took a while but slowly and tentatively Sirius and Regulus attempted to heal their relationship, strained by Regulus’ years at Harrow after Sirius packed up and left when he was sixteen, dropping out and enrolling at a local state school instead. They’re much better now; their barbs at each other aren’t quite as jagged. There’s love there, now, rather than just animosity.
As Regulus and Sirius attempted to mend their relationship, James and Remus had been called in early on to mediate, or sometimes it was Regulus’ friends, Evan and Barty, or even Pandora. From those early tentative meetings in neutral territory, new and interesting friendships bloomed, most of all between Regulus and James.
From early study sessions, it evolved into coffee dates and library outings, and when Remus and Sirius sorted their shit out it became even more frequent – the pair never make James feel like a third wheel, but nonetheless they deserve time to themselves, even if James would prefer for them not to fuck on every and any available surface in their dorm.
Regulus is a comforting presence for James; he doesn’t demand anything of him. James is naturally an extrovert; always the centre of a room, but sometimes he needs to recharge, and Regulus lets him do that. He reminds James of calm waters on a spring day, and whenever James needs to quiet his mind, he finds the youngest Black. He only hopes he offers Regulus some of the same comfort in return.
That, and maybe something more. Maybe he hopes that one day there’s a sock on his door knob, and that the reason is Regulus..
James is drawn out of his thoughts as his phone dings.
Sure – text me when you’re here, will come meet you
It’s a five-minute walk but James makes it there in two, calling Regulus to get him to buzz him in. He’s a familiar figure amongst the second years at Corpus, and he’s pretty sure a few of them will have also texted the youngest Black to alert him to James’ presence.
The college door opens and Regulus emerges, dressed in sweatpants and a Trinity rowing sweatshirt that James left last time he was over. He’s so lovely, James thinks, an impulse he doesn’t know how to control; isn’t sure he wants to control it.
“Sexiled, huh?” Regulus holds the door open as James steps through, falling into step with each other and walking up a flight of stairs to reach Regulus’ dorm. It’s empty, although that isn’t uncommon for Regulus. Barty and Evan hold unsociable hours, and Regulus, Pandora and Dorcas have a frankly insane amount of extracurriculars to attend, so they’re rarely together.
“There was a sock on the front door and I’m pretty sure I could hear noises so I didn’t want to risk it,” James says, settling himself in the kitchen, finding Regulus’ mug and a new one with a deer in glasses; a ‘congratulations’ for James’ performance in the inter-college boat races that’s become a permanent fixture in Regulus’ dorm.
He locates the teabags; Yorkshire for James, organic for Regulus, before turning back to the mugs.
“I don’t blame you – those two seem to spend more time fucking than not – it’s a minor miracle they get any work done,” Regulus chuckles, gently bumping James’ hip to get to the fridge, taking out his oat milk and James’ rice milk.
They settle into the routine like it’s second nature; they’re familiar with each other in a way that’s almost intimate. They stand together waiting for the kettle to boil, perhaps a bit too close for it to be entirely platonic, but James isn’t going to move away if Regulus doesn’t.
He always feels like they’re teetering on the edge of something more than what they are, something better, but for all of James’ bravery, he isn’t sure how to make the next move, and he doesn’t want to wreck this peace that Regulus and his brother have been working so hard on.
“So, how was your day?” Regulus asks, tilting his head to better look at James. He looks unbelievably soft in James’ jumper and James thinks that if he just moves his pinkie he can link it with Regulus’.
“Exhausting. I had rowing first thing and a few readings to do for my supervision that I’d completely missed,” James sighs. He loves his degree but he’s never been as organised as Regulus, who seems to have work done almost before it’s set. “Also, I spent a solid ten minutes looking for that jumper.”
A light blush creeps up Regulus’ cheeks at that. “Sorry, you left it here after practice last week so I washed it but completely forgot to text you.”
A smile falls across James’ face. “You’re fine, Reg, and besides, it suits you. I guess I should get myself a Corpus one to match, huh?” He smirks as the red of Regulus’ cheeks becomes more pronounced.
The kettle whistles and Regulus turns away from James to fill their cups. “James Potter, behave yourself.” He hip checks James again, this time with a bit more force. Except he doesn’t move back. He stays there, leaning against James, and James feels like his entire body’s a livewire.
The tightrope they’re walking is getting more taut, and James finds himself eager for the fall.
“But Regulus, dearest, where’s the fun in that?” He leans forward, entirely too close for it to be platonic, and Regulus is turning, turning-
“Ow! Fuck!” James forgot about the fact that Regulus was holding a kettle of boiling water, and he’s paying for that now. Water splashes over the counter as Regulus rushes to put the kettle down, taking James’ hand and leading him over to the tap.
He turns the cold water tap on, letting it flow over their entwined hands. He is too still, too silent, and James wants to go back to where they were. He wants the tightrope back. He wants to fall.
He can be brave, he thinks, if it means he gets to have something with Regulus.
Regulus is staring intently at their entwined hands, like it’s the most fascinating thing in the universe, and James breaks the silence.
“Reg-”
“What are we doing, James? We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for weeks and it’s driving me insane and I want to be around you all the time and I think I’m already half in love with you so I’d love if you can clear up what this is,” he states, false bravado injected into his tone, but James can hear the tremors. He’s so nervous, but so brave. Regulus Black, the Lion Heart.
It takes a while for the words to register in James’ head.
Oh.
Oh.
James removes his hand from the running water, ignoring the slight sting and the inevitable burn that will be left. He cups Regulus’ cheek, forcing the younger boy to look at him. Regulus is terrified, but so hopeful.
“Reg, I- I want-” James runs his hand through his hair in frustration. He can’t get his words out.
“Jamie?” Regulus’ voice is so soft, as though he’s worried he’ll scare James off, and the only thing James can do is kiss him.
Regulus’ lips are rough, a bit chapped from where he nibbles on them when he’s nervous. He tastes of tea and cinnamon and James wants to devour him. There is nothing soft about it. James’ tongue darts out, soothing Regulus’ lips, and the younger boy lets out a moan that’s pure filth and ecstasy and James is falling, falling, fallen.
He wants to do this forever.
His hands find their way to Regulus’ waist, tracing the skin underneath the Trinity sweater that’s been driving James insane since he first saw Regulus wearing it. It’s his, it’s him.
They break apart to breathe and James attaches his lips to Regulus’ neck, marking, claiming. He can’t think beyond this moment, beyond the boy in front of him.
“Jamie, we should- we need to-” he cuts himself off, broken sighs escaping his lips as he tangles his hands in James’ hair.
James reluctantly removes himself from Regulus’ neck, taking the boy’s face in his hands. “Do you want this, Reg? Do you want me?”
Regulus’ eyes trace James’ face, and whatever he sees softens him.
“Always, Jamie.” And James is lost.
They’ll talk about it later, as the sunlight paints the walls of Regulus’ room, but this is enough for now. For ever.
And if Barty finds a sock on the door knob when he comes back from the library, well, that’s between him and Regulus.
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sirius and/or regulus telling a story: "when i was little..."
remus and james: *braces for the absolute worse*
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James 'you shine like a star' Potter.
Regulus 'you burn me like the sun' Black.
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nothing ever ends poetically. it ends and we turn it into poetry. all that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.
- unknown
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"Pandora is my Sirius," Regulus confessed one night in the astronomy tower.
"What do you mean, love?" James asked, not stopping threading Reg's hair.
"She is my best friend, a sibling I never had... my ride or die, my platonic soulmate. The one person who always saw right through me."
Regulus took only a second before he continued: "I would kill, die, and live for her. Sirius is your person. Pandora is mine."
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Regulus *having a minor breakdown*
James *reaching up to wipe his tears*: Hey, it’s gonna be okay.
Regulus *grabs James’ wrist inches before his face*: Don’t fucking touch me.
James: I love you, do it again.
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Draco has the biggest crush on her. 😳
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i didn’t think this fic would hurt me so much
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SHOW ME • S. REID X READER
gn reader with female anatomy; smut; guided masturbation; unprotected sex w/ no mention of contraceptives (do not do what they do); dirty talk; ~1.4k words
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“Spencer?” You ask softly, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater over you. Your hair drips water onto the shirt and the floor. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
His brows raise. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
It was, it still was, but you’d thought of him while you were in the shower. Imagined that your hands were his, soaping your skin and sliding over your breasts and the curves of your ass hips. You didn’t want innocent cuddles, it wouldn’t be enough for you.
You swallow. “I mean in another way,”
Spencer sits up. “Sit,” he pats the mattress and you oblige, folding your legs under your and folding your hands politely on your thighs. He tilts your head up to face him, studying you so intently you want to look away. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”
“Thought about how good your hands would feel.” You whisper out the words in a rush. “Mine aren’t good enough anymore, I— I keep—” you sigh and look down. “I keep thinking about you when I get off because nothing else works anymore.”
He hums. “So you’re frustrated?” When you nod vigorously, he sighs, skimming his fingers over your collarbones. “Baby, you have to be sure you want this. I don’t want you to regret it tomorrow.”
You whine, frustrated with him now. “I’m sure, Spence, I’ve thought about you for weeks, but showering — using your body wash and smelling like you, I couldn’t help it… but it wasn’t enough because I knew you were right outside the door — and I—, I just want you.” 
Your emphasis on the last word is what gets him.
Spencer leans back and your heart sinks before you see how blown out his eyes are. “Lean against the headboard.”
You scramble to move where he wants and stare at him, wide-eyed, as he creeps a hand under the sweatshirt and pushes it up to your stomach. You squirm. You’re wearing old and worn panties, but he doesn’t seem to mind — if he does, he doesn’t comment. “Spence?”
His heavy stare moves to your face. “Show me what you do when you think of me.”
“But I want you to touch me,” you whine, face burning as he spreads your legs further apart. “Please?” You soften your voice and smile at him sweetly.
“I will. Show me what you like first,”
“But…” your voice shakes with embarrassment and jitters, both excited and humiliated for him to see you like this. “What do I do?”
Spencer settles further, and you swallow at the sight of his hardening cock in his sweatpants. “Do whatever you want, sweetheart. If you show me what feels good, I can do it too.”
You sigh and nod, carefully guiding your hand towards your panties, scraping your nails over your stomach just hard enough to make you shudder. Spencer’s attention fills you with heat. Your fingers slip from teasing yourself over the fabric and into your underwear once his tongue darts out over his lips, tempting and so far away.
When you circle your clit, the muscles in your thighs twitch.
“You look so pretty,” he coos, and you whine in the back of your throat. “Do you just use your hands?”
“No, I— I use toys, sometimes,” your breath hitches and your hips stutter as you press with more force. “‘S not enough, Spence.”
“We’ll make it enough,” he moves to your side. “I want you to take your panties off.”
You hurriedly kick out of them, arching up into his touch as he slides your sweatshirt off too, lingering just a little too long on your breasts.
“I want you to do this,” he gropes your breast, flicking and twisting the nipple and kneading the soft flesh, “with your free hand while you get yourself ready for me.” You hum, hand moving up to cover where his had been. 
It’s so much better, just from this. The scent of his cologne envelopes you in more heat, and your hips grind helplessly against your palm.
“Add a second finger,” he sounds far away, and you manage to open your eyes and look at him. His face is flushed at the peaks and, oh, he’s straining against his sweatpants enough that you see a wet spot. “Good, baby, you’re doing so well.” He whispers when you comply.
The sounds of your wetness fill the room, sloppy and needy, and it only furthers your desperation. Without his order, you add a third finger, back arching as the pressure builds in your stomach.
“Listen to yourself,” Spencer murmurs, voice filled with wonder. You’re gasping and heaving shaky breaths, cut with small moans. “So pretty.”
“Spencer—” you whine, voice breaking on the second half of his name. “Please.”
“Shh,” he soothes. “You’re doing so well. Let go for me,”
You see him palming himself over his sweats and that’s what does it for you, quivering as your orgasm crashes into you. You keep working yourself through it until you feel too sensitive.
“You looked so pretty,” he whispers, bending down to finally kiss you. It’s the hungriest his touch has ever been, barely restrained animalistic desire as he swallows your breaths and presses against you more urgently. It’s mind-numbing, the press of his lips to yours and the heat of him so close, how his breath fans over your cheek for just a moment before he dives back in for more.
“Spencer, Spencer,” you whisper between his kisses, whining at the rub of his shirt over your nipples as his chest flattens to yours. 
“Hmm?” He doesn’t seem too interested in what you have to say, kissing the column of your throat and sucking a mark right below your ear. Your head lolls back as he soothes it with his tongue, and you paw restlessly at his shirt, wanting his flesh sticking to yours from the heat and sweat.
“Please… I need you,” Spencer smiles at that. “Do whatever you want, just… fuck, I need you.”
Spencer groans, lips crashing into yours again. He only pulls back to tug off his shirt, and you immediately run a hand over his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. 
He undresses hurriedly, rubs a soothing hand over the curve of your hips. “Can you spread your legs more for me?”
You do, whimpering at the sight of him so close to you. Every part of him is even more beautiful than you dreamed, and you want it so badly. Spencer groans softly as he presses into your warm heat, taps your thighs. “Now wrap them around me.”
When he’s fully flush to you, you realize he’s forced an angle into your g-spot, whimpering with each slow, powerful thrust into you.
“Spence, more, I can take it.”
“I know.” His brow furrows in concentration. “But I don’t know if I can, I’m—” he hisses when you clench around him. “Embarrassingly close. You feel so good.”
“Yeah?” You ask, breathless and high-pitched. “Bet you’ll be so pretty when you cum for me, Spence,”
He curses under his breath, picking up the pace. You’re fluttering around him, dangerously close to another orgasm. His brows are pinched, mouth dropped unconsciously, sweat rolling down his temple. You especially admire the veins in his arms, the way his muscles flex as he holds you down to the mattress.
“Spencer!” You cry and he moans in response, leaning down and locking his lips to yours. His hips stutter as you cum around him, and he fucks you through the aftershocks for both of you, whining high-pitched and quietly with each thrust as he twitches in you, spent.
“God, fuck,” Spencer gasps, trying to steady his breathing. “You’re so good.”
You whine and push him to pull out and get off of you before nuzzling against his chest. His fingers begin playing with your hair, almost mindlessly, soothing you as you come down. “Better than anything I imagined,” you mumble. “I’m going to jump you constantly, you know that?”
“As long as I don’t cum in like, two minutes, next time.” Spencer grumbles. “I feel like a teen again.”
“So I make you feel like a teenager in love?” You grin up at him, chin pressing into his chest. He pulls you up towards him and kisses you softly.
“You know you do.”
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i dont like this one very much </3 sorry </3 as always not proofread
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Remus: James have you ever won an argument with Regulus.
James: We never argue. He speaks French and I shut up.
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That makes no sense. You can’t catch a falling star. It would burn up in the atmosphere.
SPENCER REID IN CRIMINAL MINDS
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Barty, walking into the dorm room: hey reggie
Regulus: hey
James, who’s under the bed: hi!
Barty:
Regulus:
Barty: what was that?
Regulus:
Regulus: my dog…
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Remus and Sirius being stopped by those tiktokers doing the "sorry, are you two a couple?" trend.
if they're strangers they immediately start flirting with eachother.
if they're best friends they just panick and stutter. While walking away sirius mouths not yet and winks at the camera.
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