#older!james potter

[pretty-little-mind33]

Lavender Haze

bsfd!James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Having a thing for your best friend's dad was your dirty little secret. Up until it wasn't so secret anymore.

Genre: SMUT (NSFM)

Warnings: fictional age gap relationship (20f, 40m), drunk!reader, tipsy!James (no drunk sex though bc we love consent), fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), penetration, swearing, corruption kink, sexual themes, nipple play, praise

Your small trunk bumps into your knees as you stand in front of the familiar, decent sized, house in the center of Godric's Hollow. An early summer breeze messes up your hair and the humidity prickles at your skin, suddenly making you feel uncomfortable in your woolen jumper.

Inside the house, music plays and you can see silhouettes dancing around. The smell of Ginny Weasley's famous plum muffins swirl around you from outside the door and your stomach reminds you just how little you'd eaten in the train. Quickly, you lift your trunk with one hand and use your other hand to knock.

You hear muffled sounds from inside and then you see Harry Potter's rosy cheeks perk up in a wide smile as he holds the front door open, "Y/n!" He says happily. Harry's dark hair is a mess as a lopsided birthday hat that says Birthday Boy pushes some of his hair away from his face. Harry looks slightly ridiculous, but he's definitely too drunk to care, "Come in, come in." He insists.

Inside, the music is louder and the house is incredibly crowded with a bunch of drunk adults. When Harry invited you to his twenty-first birthday, you had expected something special — especially since, from Harry's stories, Mr. Potter and his friends had a tendency to throw extravagant parties among themselves — but you never imagined a full on muggle-inspired rager.

You can smell beer mixed with some wizard-alcohol Ron had once smuggled into your Gryffindor dorms in your sixth year and you sniffle. "You look nice," Harry compliments and moves your trunk into a corner.

You smile faintly, subconsciously running your palms over your jumper. You look down at your plain white, worn out, sneakers you've had since your Hogwarts years and the boring little jean skirt you'd thrown on because you haven't done laundry in a week. You feel underdressed but mumble a thank you anyway.

Harry doesn't seem to think you're underdressed because he ushers you inside his living room. You pass by countless classmates you haven't seen in a few years and almost all of them are drunk. Some holler your name and grin, while others don't look like they remember you.

When you see Ron and Hermione dancing in the center of the room, you and Harry quickly join them. As you dance, you don't exactly keep track of time as drinks seem to find their way into your hand. You just dance and drink until your mind is fuzzy and you have the sudden urge to use the bathroom.

Honestly, you didn't think you were that drunk. Or at least not until you couldn't seem to find the bathroom in a house you'd been a guest in more times than you could count.

You stumble, hand coming to balance yourself as your foot hooks into the other. You hear someone call your name, a voice you don't initially recognize, and suddenly you feel someone slide your arm around their shoulder, their other arm holding you up from around your waist.

"Hey there, watch your step." The person says softly and you look at them. You think it's Harry at first. It's the same hair and almost the same smile, but the more you focus you can tell it isn't Harry at all.

This man is older — not that you could really tell if you didn't recognize him — and your breath hitches as you quickly pull away,

"Mr Potter!" You exclaim a little loudly, "Oh, I'm sorry. I- I was looking for the loo."

You watch a smirk curl his lips as he stands a little straighter. His dark hair looks a little messy in the best way and you feel a blush creep up your cheeks. You start to question if it's the alcohol you drank, or if Mr Potter just looks extra handsome this evening.

"Well the bathroom's in the opposite direction, love." He chuckles, "And James is just fine. Mr. Potter makes me feel old."

You hide a laugh behind your palm, knowing it really wasn't that funny, and resist touching your cheeks to check if they're as warm as they suddenly feel.

You hear another happy holler and James looks back at the party. His hands run in his curls and he frowns, "Is it just me or have I let this party spiral a little out of control?" He asks you.

You sway on your feet and try to concentrate on James's question and not his lips or how blurry the hallway walls have turned around him. You faintly see James pinch his nose and mutter to himself, "Bloody idiot," as his hand gently skims your arm and you inhale, surprised by the warmth.

You look at him and lose your balance again, this time stumbling into his chest. His hand rests on your waist to steady you. Suddenly, you hear an obnoxious whistle from behind you and you and James look toward the sound.

You see a boy around your age send you a wink as you sway on your feet, and then he raises his glass at James in some kind of sleazy congratulations. You squint. There's no way this guy knows who James is, because if he did he certainly wouldn't have implied what he was clearly implying.

James doesn't respond in any way (if you don't count the tensing of his hands as it moves around your back) and instead he turns around and holds under your arm too. Gently, he helps you walk away from the chaos that is now the party, "Mr Potter, I really need to use the bathroom." You insist.

He looks at you sweetly, "I know, darling, but you can use mine."

You feel your heart jump and you don't answer. Your stomach feels as fuzzy as your head and you stare at James, admiring his features. Then, you look around. You're in a new hallway, one you've never been in. The walls are darker and the wooden floor squeaks under your sneakers.

Suddenly, you hear a door open and a light turns on. You blink and see a small room which consists of one queen bed, one desk, and one armoire. Old and new books are scattered around the room and the navy curtains are drawn shut. In the corner is a smaller door and you pray it's the bathroom.

"In there," James whispers as his hands disappear from your body.

Instantly, you rush inside and as quickly as you went in, you're out again. James, who was finding a shirt from inside his drawer, turns around. "Already?" He asks, slightly amused. You blush and nod hesitantly.

You hear him laugh and the sound sends electric shocks into your heart. What is happening to you?

James makes his way to you and hands you a shirt. Your fingers skim his as you take it in your hand and you look at him, confused.

"I want you to sleep here tonight. With me." Your chest tightens and your eyes round. James's own cheeks dust pink as he rubs his nape, "I just want to make sure you're okay, Y/n. You're drunk and someone could take advantage of you. I want to know you're safe."

James clenches his jaw as a little voice in his head screams at him, "Are you sure that someone won't be you?" He tenses. He'd never hurt you. You're too innocent, too kind, for him to ruin. James hates himself for even thinking of what you're hiding behind your jumper, or admiring how supple your thighs look under your skirt, and he hates himself even worse for imagining the taste of your lips.

"Oh," You say and your thumb runs over James's shirt, "Okay."

James stands straighter as he watches you disappear into his bathroom again to change and if he's honest, he looks longer than he should have.

Sighing, he runs a hand down his face — he needs to end this goddamn party somehow, and holy fuck how is he supposed to explain where you went to his son?

* * *

When you open your eyes, your mind is still a little fuzzy and your throat is extremely dry. You sit up, hands running over the sheets, and you squint as you try to adjust to the darkness and your new surroundings.

You can remember Harry, the party, drinking, and James. You see him. He's sleeping curled up on a chair near his bed.

Quickly, you pull the covers away from your body and stand. Your eyes widen when you realize you're only wearing your panties and one of James's white chemises. What the hell have you done? You wince. Hesitantly, you make your way to where James is and shake him,

As soon as you see him wake up, your word vomit begins, "Mr Potter, I'm so sorry if I was a nuisance yesterday evening. I barely remember what happened. I was so drunk," James sits up. He smiles and opens his mouth to answer but you continue, "I- We didn't do anything, did we, Mr Potter? Because if I said or did something last night, I honestly didn't mean it. It was only ever a silly crush," You whisper, cheeks burning as you subconsciously pull his shirt lower and over your exposed thighs.

You can see James's eyes darken as he listens to every word you say. The moonlight shines onto him, almost making his skin glisten, and you suddenly feel small. "A crush, huh?" James smirks, standing up slowly. Your eyes move from his and then to his chest. It just now hits you that he's shirtless.

You tilt your head to look at him, "Excuse me?"

"When did this crush start?" He asks and leans in. His knuckles brush your cheek and automatically you close your eyes. You wonder how he can feel so close and still so far.

"Last year." You say breathlessly

"And when did it end, love?" James mumbles. His lips are now almost pressed to your ear as his hands caress down your arms. You feel disoriented as you keep your eyes squeezed shut.

"I-It didn't," You admit, making a small breathy sound when James's lips finally connect with your cheek. You feel him smirk and then, slowly, his mouth proceeds down your neck as he gently sprinkles kisses onto your skin. You chew on your lip to suppress a moan as his hands find your hips and pulls you in until you're pressed up against him.

"Is this okay?" James whispers and you nod. "Shit, you don't know what you've done to me this past year, Y/n." He continues and your heart pounds, "Do you even know how many times I've thought of you? The fucking things I imagined?"

You feel him kiss up your jaw, "Filthy things, love. Things I shouldn't have been thinking about my son's best friend. But, Merlin, look at you. You're bloody stunning now." James's voice is low but every time you hear him, that tightness in your stomach worsens.

"Mr Potter," You whimper and run your hand over his cheek. Your eyes flutter and you look at him needily, "Kiss me."

James looks at you intensely for a moment until he smiles and graciously listens as his lips press against yours. Delicately in the beginning — almost as if you're too sacred to him and he wants to savor this moment. But then, when he feels your hands on his chest, he deepens the kiss and his tongue pushes past your lips. You shut your eyes again. hands finding his hair as you kiss him desperately.

You never imagined you'd admit this, but you'd dreamt of this moment countless times in the middle of the night. Still, even in your wildest fantasies, nothing could compare to the real thing.

James pulls away a moment, hands holding your cheeks as he admires your face. You look flustered as you breathe heavily, hair a mess and lips bruised. He smirks and looks at your thighs. You hadn't even realized you'd been rubbing them together to dull the ache, "Fuck," James mutters to himself as he kisses you again.

You whine into his lips, the pressure in your core becoming harder to ignore. You want him, you want him so badly it hurts.

Quickly, you slide your hand down over his pants and you can feel just how badly he wants you too. "Shit," James breathes, gripping your wrist and pulling your hand away. You look up at him, so innocent, and he curses himself, "Y/n, don't start something you can't finish." He warns.

"Who says I can't finish it?" You argue instantly and lean up to capture his lips again.

James chuckles but accepts your kiss anyway. He's going to hell for this, he thinks as your hands wander around his body. He shuts his eyes and sucks on your neck until you let out a small moan.

Fuck, he should want to protect you from the things he wants to do to you.

When he pulls away, his eyes have darkened even more and you can feel a confusing tonal shift. Maybe you couldn't finish this, you start to doubt as you look at him expectantly. You chew on your lip. Maybe this had been a huge mistake and maybe James thinks so too.

"If we continue, we can't go back to normal." James states and you tense.

"I know."

"Y/n, I can pretend this never happened. No strings, no awkwardness, I promise. You just have to say the words." He says, completely serious.

James is no longer touching you and you realize you miss him. You're in way over your head but somehow, you feel completely safe. You don't feel like you're making the wrong decision when you stay silent.

James's eyes sparkle but he runs a hand in his hair and looks away, "Bloody hell." He curses and you smile. He presses his hand to your cheek and then tilts your chin up, "This is insane."

"Just fuck me already," You laugh, "I know you want to."

Once the words leave your mouth, he kisses you hungrily. You lose your balance and fall onto the bed behind you, head hitting the bunched up blankets. You giggle when James hovers over you. "You're a little tease, you know that?" He chastises, his lips exploring your neck once more.

Honestly, you'd be insulted by his comment if you hadn't spent the last year trying to catch his attention whenever you had the chance.

"And you're a dirty perv for lusting after me." You respond slyly. James hesitates a moment but continues to kiss you anyway. When he leans on his arms and looks at you, you can see he looks a little embarrassed. "Don't worry, it turns me on." You smirk.

James shakes his head, "You're quite naughty, huh?" He asks and you nod. When you feel his hand travel down your stomach and lift his shirt to reveal your underwear you feel like you could almost orgasm right there. Instead, you bite your cheek and resist rubbing your thighs.

When James touches you over your panties, you let out a small gasp. As he slides his hand inside them, he leans on his side and uses his other hand to cover your mouth gently, "Don't wake everyone up with your noises, love." He looks at you and smiles as his finger runs up your pussy teasingly, "Just let me make you feel good."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut. No one has ever made you feel this good already. Sure, you'd had boyfriends over the course of your seven years at school but you realized none of them could compare to him.

"Has anyone ever touched you like I am?" James sounds cocky as he almost reads your mind. When he speaks, his middle finger suddenly curls into you and you arch a little as your eyes widen from the unusual, foreign, feeling.

"I- no. Not as good as you, Mr Potter." You admit, squirming under his touch.

"Good." James leans into the crook of your neck and kisses your cheek. His hand moves just a little harder now – just enough to bring you close, but not make you come – and your breath has become harsher, "And didn't I ask you to call me James." He frowns playfully.

Your hand comes down to grip his wrist, "Please, James." You whine.

"Hmm?"

He wants you to beg. Your entire body feels like it's vibrating.

"Please." You whisper again and his pace quickens even more.

"You're such a good fucking girl." James compliment, kissing the skin near your ear and gently removes his fingers from inside of you. He slides your panties down your legs, leaving your pussy exposed. You barely have time to protest his lack of touch because he's climbing over you.

You shouldn't stare at his chest but you do anyway. Your lower stomach tightens.

James leans down and unbuttons his shirt, the one you have on, until he manages to pull it down your shoulders and away from you. You're completely naked now and, clearly unapologetic, James looks at your breasts and places his lips around your nipples. You gasp, hands wrapping around his — surprisingly muscular — back. You feel faint as the only thing you can focus on is James's mouth as he explores and kisses all over your breasts and collarbone.

"This is sick," James mumbles but continues to kiss you anyway.

You smile and suddenly flip around so you're sitting on his lap, "I want to ride you." You state, eyes twinkling.

James looks wind blown as his hair splays across the pillow and his hands grip your hips. He looks flustered as you feel his boner press against your thigh.

You fumble with his boxers, pulling them down and holding his dick in your hand. He hisses, eyes shutting from how sensitive he is. You smirk and swipe your thumb over his tip until he moans louder.

"Tease." He grits, hands digging into your hips, "In the drawer." He says.

You understand and reach over, opening the drawer and taking out one of James's condoms. Him and Lily have been divorced for years and jealousy stings your chest thinking who he uses them for now.

James takes the condom from your hand, carefully rips it with his teeth, and then puts it on expertly, “You do this often?” You ask, hiding how jealous you are behind a small smile.

"Sometimes," He answers nonchalantly, “But none have been as sweet as you are, love.”

You feel him press against your pussy and your eyes flutter shut. He feels much bigger than anyone you're been with in the past and you bite your lower lip, "Are you okay? We can stop whenever you want, Y/n." James promises, seeing your nervous expression.

You rest your palms on his chest and pull yourself up until you can slowly reach under and guide him into you. "I want this." You whisper.

James curses as his dick disappears into you. You let out a small squeal as he does and he covers your mouth with his hand as you adjust to him.

You nod when you can finally start to move and James settles back into the pillows. You start to bounce and every time you bury his cock back inside you, you whimper with pleasure.

James watches your breasts bounce with you and he feels hot. He's enjoying this way too much. You look beautiful, naked and jumping on his cock like a starved bunny. You're so fucking cock drunk already.

"How does it feel, sweetheart?" He asks cockily and helps guide your hips.

You can barely form words, "I-t I- I f-eel," You moan, hands clutching James's shoulders now as you continue to fuck him, "James!" You groan his name and he bucks his hips.

You feel so goddamn tight around him.

James enjoys you riding him — losing yourself in the pleasure you get from him — but as time passes, your bounces falter and you start to pant. James senses your thighs quiver and he isn't surprised when you tell him, "I'm close."

Your head suddenly hits the pillow as you're spun around and you shut your eyes. You arch your back as James presses himself into you, missionary style, and you wrap your arms around him again,

"Filthy fucking girl." He whispers near your ear as you spread your legs wider to allow him to fuck you easier and harder.

Your eyes roll back as James's hips snap into yours and your nails run down his back. He groans but continues to pound into you.

"You're doing so well," He encourages between ragged breaths, "Are you gonna come for me?"

You nod and he smirks.

"Then go ahead." James says, knowing he can't last much longer either. You explode and you feel warm all over as he continues to fuck you even after you've reached your high.

You tap his back, recovering, "I want to suck your cock. You can finish in my mouth." You whimper.

James moans just hearing the words and pulls out. He pulls off the condom and leans off the bed for a moment so he can throw it into the trash near his desk. You shift your bodies so you can put yourself between his legs and you immediately lick his tip.

You feel him twitch in your hand as you take him into your mouth. James looks at you, one of his hands gripping your hair as you choke on his dick. He's so goddamn close. All it takes is you glancing up at him with your beautiful eyes and running your tongue along his length for him to curse and come into your mouth.

You swallow and James loses his mind all over again. You look completely fucked out now as your eyes flutter and your chest heaves. His heart thumps in his chest,

His hand curls around your neck as he leans in to press a kiss against your forehead. You sit with your legs sprawled behind you, arms clenched between your knees, completely bare in front of him, and you shiver at his touch.

When he stands, you almost call out his name. You don't know what you're so afraid of, maybe you're scared he'll leave you.

"Here." He climbs back into the bed with his boxers on and he guides your arms into his shirt and starts to button it up, "You did so well. Made me feel so good, yeah?"

He takes your cheeks in his hands and you look at him. He feels slightly guilty for the distant look in your eyes, "Are you okay?"

You squirm a little, "I'm a little sore already. You-You're bigger than anyone else I've been with.” You admit.

James looks cocky and he traces circles on your thigh, "How can I make you feel better, darling?" He sees you look away bashfully and play with the buttons of his shirt, "Want me to kiss it better?" He teases.

You feel aroused again and bite your lip, nodding.

James sits on his heels and moves you so you're sitting against the headboard, your legs spread. His shirt rides up your thigh, exposing your pussy, and his dick twitches in his pants. Fuck, he's an evil evil man.

You watch him, breathing harshly, as you wait with anticipation. No one has ever eaten you out before. Your first boyfriend had expressed his disgust and you had never asked anyone again.

James takes your leg in his hands. He starts to kiss your calf muscle and then moves upwards to your inner thigh. You clutch the sheets as he kisses your skin gently.

"Relax, sweet girl." He whispers when you squirm. James is now laying in between your legs and he presses a kiss just above your pussy, his hands hooking under your thighs to push them open even wider.

You moan when he finally licks up your slit. It feels strange at first and your instinct is to move away from it. When he feels you jump, James looks up at you, "Do you want me to stop?" He asks gently.

You shake your head furiously. James smirks and presses another kiss to your inner thigh. This time, he licks and sucks on your skin a little bit before he finds your pussy again and attaches his mouth to your clit.

You gasp and your hands bury themselves in James's hair. You moan his name.

James continues to suck on your clit, occasionally gently thrusting the tip of his tongue into you and you see stars.

"How are you feeling?” James asks in between kisses to your clit. He's not asking to tease this time, but to genuinely make sure he's pleasing you.

"A-amazing — ah!" You cry when he sucks a little harder and you buck your hips into his mouth.

James makes a little sound when you instinctively close your thighs around his head. He uses one of his hands to pull one of your thighs open, and the other follows, "Gotta Keep 'em open, my love." He says and you nod, your eyes squeezing shut.

You feel like you're floating as James continues. It doesn't take long until you come for the second time, collapsing onto the bed with harsh breaths.

James kisses your thigh one last time and gently closes them. He licks his lips and scoops you into his arms as holds you to his bare chest, "You did so well. My good girl."He kisses your cheek and you smile.

"What do you need, love?" He asks once you wiggle from his arms and adjust your hair. You must look completely disheveled.

"Um? Water?" You whisper, unsure.

James is up on his feet instantly as he fetches you some water from the sink in his bathroom. When he returns you're sitting up on his bed and the morning light from the window shines onto your face. James hands you the glass.

"Thank you." You say softly and take a sip.

"How was it?" James finds himself asking and he curses himself in his head. James hasn't really asked anyone how sex was since Lily, but for some reason he burns for your approval. He sounds like a hopeless teenager.

"I loved every second." You reply honestly. "You're the first person who's ever given me head too."

"Really?" He sits next to you and places your glass on his bedside table when you hand it to him.

"Yeah. My ex found it gross."

"Well, he’s a bloody idiot." James says, completely serious, and you laugh. You look at him and James wishes he could hear your laughter all the time.

"James?"

He almost blushes at his name, "Hmm?"

"What does this mean?" You ask, pointing between you and him.

James wants to tell you he likes you. He wants to ask you out to dinner, somewhere fancy where he can spoil you exactly like you deserve, but he doesn't want to sound creepy.

Plus, there is Harry to think of. His son, who will be worried sick if you come out of his father's room looking like you do now.

"I don't know." James admits quietly.

You see his expression and your heart clenches. You want him, you want nothing more than for him to be yours. But you know he can't, not when Harry is your best friend. You don't want to hurt your best friend.

Still, you don't want to shut the door completely, "Can we find out as we go?" You ask timidly, implying that — at least — you want to have him intimately again.

James grins. He has never ever been happier to hear those words.

[basiatlu]

Can Harry’s shorts be anymore shorter 🥵 😳🥺

Love the details in your drawing but not as much as Ginny 😉

Oh believe me, she’s equal parts sightseer & ultimate wingman ✨

[swiftiereg]

My little Brother just called me and to tell that he watched Prisoner of Azkaban for the very first time and he ships Wolfstar. My job as an older sister is done.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

old dogs this, dilf wolfstar that—

JEGULUS would be the type of old husbands that go Traveling.,, like just spend half of their fucking fortune (the other half is spent on their kid(s) & grandkids) on seeing the world. competitively trying to surf for the first time at age 35 (it goes as expected, which is not at all), going on an exotic dance cruise ship where they learn tango and what not at age 45. at 55 Regulus insists they need to do hiking in iceland before they get too old for the incessant chill being a threat to their creaky joints, followed by a decade long obsession with asia in their sexties. they venture into the US for a bit, and Regulus complains all the time and James drags him around to different states and cities but ultimately also ends up hating on it, so they’re around 70 and fuck off back to Europe. They visit London all the time of course, their family. Bearing souvenirs and gifts and staying for weeks at a time before James starts getting too blunt and honest & Regulus starts being too prickly and suddenly they’re finding themselves with one way plane tickets to Argentina in a taxi Harry payed for them<33 safari tours in africa in their 80s!! they can’t see shit anymore, Regulus is deaf on one ear and James is almost legally blind but they have binoculars and the audacity!!!!!

[rewritingcanon]

dad harry potter coded

[sybill-the-seer]

Young ~3-y/o Harry following Petunia around the house while she does chores. Young Harry holding onto Petunia’s skirt and sucking his thumb while she does the dishes. Young Harry playing quietly in the grass near Petunia while she weeds the garden. Young Harry just wanting to be WITH someone at all times. Young Harry trotting along after Petunia all day being her little shadow until her patience wears thin and she sends him to his cupboard. Young Harry being a clingy child who desperately needs affection but never gets it.

[wolfstargazer]

Jan 25 - Bad - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 299

cw - language

Things were bad. Very bad. It was some time since James had seen Sirius quite this drunk. He had noticed Sirius drinking more recently when the occasion did not call for it. But he tried not to judge. They were all trying... doing what they could just to get through...

James had helped Sirius to his feet in the pub, supporting him as they pin-balled down the streets of Godric's Hollow. When they made it home, James struggled to keep Sirius upright as he searched for his keys to open the door.

He had hoped to help Sirius to the spare bedroom. But had failed. And so instead he'd steered Sirius into the living room where he'd finally collapsed onto the sofa, boots still on, reeking of spirits.

"I'll get you some coffee," James suggested. Sirius groaned. He went into the kitchen, set the kettle to boil with a flick of his wand, and watched as the steam rose.

They couldn't go on like this. Things were falling apart. He needed Sirius back, to be strong for him, to be the brother he needed. But as James brought the coffee through and sat down in the armchair, his heart sank. He knew things couldn't go back to how they'd been when they were boys.

"Sorry," Sirius growled, voice thick with drink.

"It's okay."

"I'm messed up...without him..."

James didn't need a name.

"He is me, you see? I'm no good alone."

"You're never alone, Padfoot. You have us."

A beat of silence. The cat wound around James' legs. He leaned down to stroke her.

"We could have been...more..." Sirius' voice wavered. "We could have been everything...we could have...shit!"

James swallowed hard and told a lie to soothe his friend.

"There's still time," he said.

Sirius said nothing and stared up into the ceiling.

[oxydiane]

so is anybody going to write the “harry starts dating cedric and when the latter meets sirius he gets the ‘i may not actually have committed the murders i was imprisoned for but do not be deluded for one second that i don’t know thirty-seven different ways to kill a man. i am harry’s godfather hello. he is my entire world’ talk” fanfic or am i just going to have to make it myself

[sunflowerabyss]

bestie i think pirate!remus would genuinely end me in the best way possible. like maybe a reader is disguised as a dude and is working on his ship OR they take the reader captive and remus is like love at first sight type thing?

up to you i love ur writing!!!

Seas of Redemption

Pairings: Pirate!Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

A/N: Oh em gee! I had so much fun writing this! Thank you so much for this awesome prompt! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Honestly I would be so down to write more pirate!Remus. (Anyway, this can be read as either older or younger Remus Lupin

Warnings: mentions of death, angst, fluff

________________________________

The salty breeze carried the scent of the sea as you sailed back to your coastal home, the ship cutting through the waves with a rhythmic dance. Weeks away had been spent gathering supplies for the impending winter, and anticipation filled your chest like the billowing sails above. The distant sight of your humble abode on the shoreline brought a surge of warmth to your heart, eager to reunite with your family after the long and arduous journey.

However, the moment you stepped over the threshold of your home, the air grew heavy with an unspoken darkness. What should have been a joyous homecoming transformed into a nightmare as your eyes fell upon the gruesome scene before you. The familiar rooms, once filled with the laughter and love of your family, were now stained with tragedy. Your entire family lay slaughtered, lifeless bodies scattered like discarded memories—a devastating tableau that crushed your heart with a grief beyond words.

"Mother? Father?" you called out, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and anguish. The silence that greeted you in response was haunting, each step through the home echoing with the weight of loss. Sobbing, you navigated through the rooms, discovering each lifeless form with a growing sense of horror. The vibrant tapestry of your family had been torn apart, leaving behind a desolate canvas of despair.

Stumbling out of your home, the salty sea breeze that had once felt invigorating now carried the bitter taste of sorrow. Seeking comfort and possibly an explanation, you found yourself at the doorsteps of your neighbor, Peter Pettigrew. Despite his oddities, he had always been kind, a familiar presence in the close-knit community. As you stood on his doorstep, tears streaming down your face, he met your gaze with a somber expression.

"I saw them, lass. Captain Remus and his crew," Peter confessed, the weight of the revelation evident in his tired eyes. "Said your father owed them money, and he never paid up." The words hit you like a cannonball, an explosion of anger and betrayal surging through your veins. The truth of the matter unfolded before you, and amidst the grief, a flame of vengeance ignited.

"You're telling me they killed my family over money?" you exclaimed, tears streaming down your face. Peter said nothing, eyes casting down to the floorboards of his home.

"Thank you, Peter," you whispered, your voice choked with both gratitude and determination. With a heavy heart, you turned away. Peter, however, called your name. You turned to look at him.

"I would lay low for a while. Remus he--he always comes back." You nodded once, walking out of his home.

Heedful of Peter's caution, you moved swiftly, a sense of urgency propelling each step. The weight of grief and the looming threat of Captain Remus's return hung heavy over your shoulders. Gathering the essentials became a solemn task, and gratitude filled your heart for your past self's foresight in stashing away money earned from odd jobs. It was a providential reserve that now fueled your escape, a lifeline in the unpredictable sea of danger that awaited.

As you entered your older brother's room, a solemn reverence enveloped you. The clothes you shed were not just garments; they were a symbolic shedding of the past, a poignant farewell to the life you once knew. Donning your brother's attire and severing your long locks with a decisive cut, you emerged transformed. An alias was born—Sterling. The reflection in the mirror seemed a stranger, a persona crafted out of necessity, veiling the woman beneath with the guise of a man.

Months unfolded like a blur as you navigated towns, existing on the fringe of society, always on the lookout for the shadow of Captain Remus and his relentless pursuit. The edges of existence became your refuge, and the nights were spent in silent contemplation beneath the canopy of stars. Each step taken with caution, each interaction tinged with the awareness of the danger that lurked in the shadows.

The coastal breeze whispered through the narrow alleyways of the town as you cautiously moved through the shadows, avoiding any unwanted attention. The flickering lanterns cast elongated shadows, creating a blanket of darkness and light in the quiet streets. Each step felt like an echo of your past life, now obscured by the cloak of Sterling.

In a dimly lit inn, you overheard snippets of conversation—rumors of Captain Remus's relentless pursuit and the escalating tensions among his crew. The news of his impending return spurred you into swift action, gathering your belongings and slipping away under the cover of night.

Fate, unpredictable as the sea, guided you through various towns, living on the fringes of society. The alias Sterling became your shield, a persona that allowed you to fade into the background. Each day brought a blend of anonymity and fear, and each night, the stars bore witness to your silent struggles and determination.

Months later, as you traversed a bustling town square, the collision with Captain Remus was both unexpected and inevitable. The impact sent a jolt through your disguised frame, and you steadied yourself before meeting his gaze. Taking a good look at the man who had wrought havoc upon your life, you couldn't help but despise the handsome features that masked the darkness within. Scars etched on his face told tales of battles, and his bright eyes, oblivious to the pain he had caused, glistened in the sunlight. Remus, his eyes sharp and piercing, regarded you with an air of indifference.

"Watch where you're going, lad," Remus chided, though his eyes lingered on you with curiosity. In your best "manly" voice, you grumbled an apology, attempting to divert attention from the woman beneath the façade of Sterling.

"What's your name?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"Sterling," you replied, your voice gruff, feigning indifference. Remus, seemingly unfazed, observed you for a moment before making an unexpected proposition.

"Say, Sterling, I'm looking for some help on my ship. I'll compensate. Won't be much, but you'll also have a place to stay and three meals a day."

The offer hung in the air, a precarious bridge leading into the heart of the storm. In that moment, the seed of your plan sprouted—a plan to gain trust, manipulate alliances, and exact revenge. "I could use the work," you grunted, accepting the proposition. Little did Remus know, beneath the guise of Sterling, a storm of vengeance brewed—a storm that would either consume you or reshape the destiny of those on the ship.

Accepting Remus's offer, you found yourself aboard his ship, an inconspicuous addition to the crew as Sterling. The wooden planks beneath your feet groaned in protest as the ship sliced through the moonlit waves, leaving a trail of phosphorescent ripples in its wake. The scent of salt and sea permeated the air, a constant reminder of the unpredictable journey that lay ahead.

Guided by Remus, you were shown to a drabby little room nestled at the bottom of the ship. Despite its humble appearance, he assured you of some privacy. "It's not much, I'm afraid, but it'll serve you well," he remarked before leaving you to settle in. As the door closed behind him, the dim light revealed a cramped space adorned with a simple bunk and a small porthole, offering a glimpse of the vast expanse beyond.

Alone in the confines of your quarters, you took a moment to breathe, your thoughts shrouded in the darkness of your hidden purpose. It was time to set the plan in motion, to weave the threads of manipulation and revenge that would ultimately lead to justice for your slaughtered family.

In the ensuing months on the ship, you observed Remus's multifaceted nature. His generosity extended not only to his crew but also to those they encountered on their seafaring exploits. Yet, beneath the veneer of kindness lurked a vengeful edge—a side of him that demanded retribution for debts owed and promises unkept. He was a complex and formidable man, earning the respect and fear of those who sailed under his flag.

However, in the disarray of piracy, a stark contrast emerged. While Remus ensured he received his due payment through various means, you noticed a peculiar absence—an absence of bloodshed in settling scores. Despite the ruthlessness attributed to pirates, you had yet to witness Remus taking a life, especially someone who owed him something. The dissonance between Peter's words and the reality unfolding before you sowed seeds of doubt, and questions began to fester in the recesses of your mind.

As the ship sailed through uncharted waters and treacherous tides, you grappled with the enigma that was Captain Remus Lupin. The dichotomy of his actions left you torn between the loyalty you had sworn to your family and the complexities of the man whose trust you sought to gain. The journey ahead, like the rolling waves beneath the ship, remained unpredictable, each passing day unveiling layers of truth and deception in the heart of piracy.

Despite your hesitance, you found yourself carrying out your plan. The moon hung high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the ship's deck. The gentle creaking of the ship and the distant sound of waves provided a haunting backdrop as James Potter stood alone, lost in contemplation. You approached him, your footsteps muffled by the rhythm of the ocean.

With a sly smile playing on your lips, you interrupted the solitude that enveloped him. "James," you called softly, drawing his attention away from the vast expanse of the sea. His hazel eyes met yours, and you could see the glimmer of uncertainty within.

"Ever notice how Remus seems to lean towards Sirius in critical decisions?" you ventured, your tone a conspiratorial whisper that hung in the night air. "It's almost as if he trusts him more, values his judgment over yours."

James furrowed his brows, a subtle crease forming on his forehead. The words lingered in the air, planting a seed of doubt in his mind. "You think so?" he responded, his voice carrying a touch of uncertainty. It was a vulnerability that you seized upon, recognizing the opportunity to sow discontent.

Leaning closer, you continued, your words carefully chosen to accentuate James's growing feelings of inadequacy. "Remember the last mission? When Sirius suggested that risky maneuver, and Remus went along with it without questioning? It's like he has blind faith in Sirius's decisions, doesn't he?"

James's eyes darted away for a moment, memories of that particular mission playing in his mind. Doubt crept into his expression, a shadow of insecurity casting itself over his features. "I never really thought about it that way," he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of concern. With a gentle pat on his shoulder, you left James standing there, his thoughts swirling like the restless waves beneath the ship.

______________________

As the sun started to rise above the horizon, it casted a warm glow across the ship's deck, you found yourself stealing glances at Captain Remus. The way his attire clung to his every contour, the play of shadows on the weathered fabric—it was impossible not to appreciate the rugged allure he exuded. The ship's gentle sway seemed to accentuate the lines of his physique, and the golden hues of the fading sunlight danced in his tousled hair.

Unconsciously, your gaze lingered on the details—the intricate stitching on his well-worn coat, the glimpse of the compass tattoo peeking through the open neckline of his linen shirt. The sheathed cutlass at his side seemed like a part of him, a silent companion in his many adventures. A sense of admiration welled up within you, an involuntary response to the charisma that surrounded the Captain.

It was then that a sudden realization struck, jolting you out of your unintentional reverie. You weren't supposed to be captivated by Remus's rugged charm; you were Sterling, the alias you had crafted to infiltrate his crew and seek revenge. Reminding yourself of the bigger picture, of the vendetta that fueled your every move, became a struggle against the distracting pull of Remus's magnetic presence.

The longer you spent on the ship, the more challenging it became to maintain focus on your plan. The difficulty of reconciling your hidden identity with the growing fascination made every step of your strategic plan a battle against the tides of distraction. The very essence of the pirate's life, with its allure of freedom and daring exploits, became a potent force that tested the resolve of your carefully laid out intentions.

Yet, beneath the surface, the awareness of your true purpose persisted—a flame of determination that refused to be extinguished. The intricate dance of admiration and deception played out against the backdrop of the open sea, where every stolen glance and lingering thought carried the weight of a secret agenda. In the delicate balance between vulnerability and resolve, you navigated the uncharted waters of contradictory emotions, determined to stay the course of vengeance despite the enticing distractions that lay ahead.

____________________________________

A couple of weeks passed before you were able to get Sirius alone. You had instantly noticed James giving him the cold shoulder almost immediately.

The ship groaned and pitched as it battled against the tempestuous waves. Rain lashed against the wooden deck, and the air crackled with the energy of the storm. Peering up towards the deck, you spotted Sirius Black at the helm, his figure barely discernible against the deafening sea.

Approaching him with a concerned expression, you navigated the slippery deck as the ship swayed beneath your feet. "Sirius," you called out above the roaring winds, drawing his attention. His eyes met yours, reflecting the turbulent night that surrounded you both.

"Need a hand?" you shouted, offering assistance as the ship bucked beneath the force of the waves. Sirius, soaked and determined, nodded appreciatively. The salted spray stung your face as you joined him, hands gripping the wheel together in a shared effort to keep the ship on course.

In the midst of the storm, you seized the opportune moment to subtly introduce doubt. "James was just saying," you confided, your words carried away by the wind, "how he doubts your navigation skills. Thinks Remus made a mistake relying on you." The revelation hung in the air like a charged current, mingling with the thunderous sounds of the storm.

Sirius's grip on the wheel tightened, and his eyes, once focused on the turbulent waters, clouded with uncertainty. Raindrops mingled with the beads of seawater on his furrowed brow. Doubt crept into his expression like a stealthy intruder, casting shadows over the loyalty he held for Remus.

"He said that?" Sirius muttered, jaw clenched against the gusts of wind. The weight of perceived betrayal bore down on him, the discord between friends brewing in the tempest. The ship rocked violently, mirroring the tumult within Sirius's mind.

As you continued to struggle against the storm, the atmosphere between you and Sirius remained charged with unspoken tension. The foundation of trust between Remus and Sirius, once unshakable, now trembled under the strain of doubt. The storm raged on, both outside and within, setting the stage for the discord that would continue to unfold among the crew.

________________________________

Below deck, the atmosphere was suffocating, the air thick with the smell of salt, damp wood, and a sense of confinement. The cramped quarters provided a clandestine setting for the disquiet that had taken root among the crew. As you navigated through the narrow passageways, you couldn't help but catch snippets of hushed conversations, the discontent of the crew simmering beneath the surface.

Seizing the opportunity to exploit the unrest, you strategically approached small groups, subtly weaving tales of Remus's past decisions that had allegedly led to hardships for some. The dim light flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the crew as you spoke of sacrifices made and opportunities missed under Remus's leadership. The discontent grew like a smoldering ember, and soon, murmurs of dissatisfaction began to fill the air.

James, ever vigilant and loyal, overheard the discontented whispers. His brow furrowed, and a frown etched itself onto his face as he absorbed the implications of the crew's grievances. Concern etched across his features, he sought out Sirius, finding him in a secluded corner of the below-deck quarters.

"Sirius," James began, his voice low but laden with intensity. "Have you heard what they're saying about Remus? They think he might not have our best interests at heart." The gravity of the situation hung between them, and James's unwavering loyalty to Remus wavered in the face of the crew's growing dissent.

Sirius, already grappling with doubts of his own, looked at James with a mixture of uncertainty and contemplation. The camaraderie that had bound them through countless adventures now seemed strained under the weight of suspicion. The confined space below deck seemed to amplify the tension as the two friends confronted the unsettling notion that Remus might not be the unwavering leader they had always believed him to be.

Amidst the rising tensions on the ship, you sought out Captain Remus Lupin, the weight of feigned concern apparent in your expression. The wooden planks creaked beneath your footsteps as you approached him, the air thick with the palpable unease that had settled over the vessel like an impending storm.

With a practiced facade of innocence, you addressed Remus, "Captain, I couldn't help but notice that James and Sirius have been arguing more than usual. It's becoming quite noticeable, and I'm afraid it might be affecting the crew's morale." Your words, delivered with a touch of fabricated sympathy, painted a picture of disarray among his trusted allies.

Remus's brow furrowed in genuine concern. The bond between James and Sirius, once unbreakable, now showed visible strains. Troubled by the potential discord among his closest allies, Remus ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a sign of the internal turmoil brewing within him.

"Arguing?" Remus questioned, his voice reflecting a mix of confusion and worry. The idea of a divide among his crew, particularly between James and Sirius, struck a nerve. His gaze shifted between the crew members on the deck, searching for signs of discontent that had eluded him until now.

As you continued to feign concern, subtly stoking the flames of doubt, Remus's thoughts spiraled into introspection. The once clear path of unity and camaraderie now seemed clouded with uncertainty. The shadows of doubt cast upon his leadership lingered, leaving him questioning the very fabric that held his crew together.

_______________________________

The ship, once a bastion of unity, now teetered on the brink of disintegration. Internal conflicts had transformed the crew's dynamic into a powder keg of resentment and mistrust. Captain Remus was growing restless, sensing an insidious force at play, suspected betrayal from within. The air crackled with tension as suspicions reached a boiling point.

Remus's boots thumped against the floor as he hurried to your cabin. The wooden door of your cabin splintered open under the force of Remus's urgency. The dim light within flickered as your body, in the midst of changing attire, became an unintended tableau for the captain's intrusion. Shocked by the unexpected sight, Remus's gaze widened, capturing an unintended glimpse of vulnerability.

You gasped, hastily attempting to cover yourself, but it was too late. Remus, momentarily caught off guard, now stood witness to the revelation of your true identity. The realization echoed through the cabin, your "manly" facade unraveling like a threadbare cloth. A palpable sense of embarrassment and vulnerability hung in the air.

In that moment, Remus observed the subtle details—your hair, once concealed beneath the guise of Sterling, now flowing freely. A silent recognition passed through his mind, though he dismissed it as many men within the crew sported long locks.

A subtle recognition flickered in Remus's observant eyes. His gaze traced the contours of your face, now more revealing without the disguise that had obscured your womanly features. The delicate curve of your jaw, the softness in the arch of your brows, and the expressive depths of your eyes—the intricate details unveiled in the absence of the masculine facade.

Seeing you naked wasn't something he expected, and it took him a second to process this before stepping back into the small hall, slamming the door shut. It opened seconds later, your hair still down, but fully clothed. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. However, his attention went from wanting to have his hands all over you to the glinting metal in your hands.

"Why did you kill my family while sparing others who owed you money?" you demanded, your voice laced with the pain of betrayal, as you pushed him up against the wall, knife to his neck. Remus, taken aback by the revelation, questioned the authenticity of your claim.

"Your family? Kill? You have no idea the accusations you're throwing out," he replied, growing irritated. You say nothing, bringing the knife closer to his throat.

"You killed them out of spite just because my father owed you something."

"Who is your father?"

"Albus. Albus Dumbledore."

"I've never met an Albus Dumbledore before in my life," Remus said, incredulously. "Who told you that?"

"My neighbor. Peter--Peter Pettigrew. Said he saw the lot of you murder my family." When you disclosed Peter Pettigrew's name, Remus's face paled with realization.

"Your father didn't owe me a thing. Peter, on the other hand, owed me lots of money," Remus confessed, dispelling the fog of deception that had clouded your vendetta. He explained that he had spared Peter once before, only to catch him squandering the money in a pub. The truth, a beacon in the darkness, hung heavy in the air.

"I never wanted innocent blood on my hands. I've killed before, yes, but never over something as petty as money," he admitted.

The revelation of truth hung in the air, bitter and unforgiving, like a medicine applied to wounds that had festered in the shadows for far too long. The realization that your vendetta had been fueled by misinformation, that the blood staining your hands belonged to innocents, weighed heavily on your conscience.

Faltering under the weight of the truth, you lowered the knife, its metallic echo resonating through the dimly lit cabin. It was a sound that seemed to encapsulate the finality of the moment, a symbolic relinquishing of the weapon that had sought to mete out justice.

Knees giving way beneath you, you collapsed, the wooden planks of the ship bearing witness to the vulnerability that spilled forth. A strangled sob escaped your lips, a raw admission of the mistakes made in the relentless pursuit of revenge. The tears that flowed were not just for your family but for the misguided path you had trodden in the name of justice.

In this moment of despair, large, rough hands enveloped you, offering an unexpected sanctuary. Remus, recognizing the weight of your actions and the pain you carried, pulled you up into a tight hug. It was a surprising turn of events, a gesture of solace from the very man you had sought to bring to justice.

As you rested against Remus's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat offered a reassurance that transcended words. In the midst of the turmoil, he acknowledged the complexity of your motives. There, in the embrace of the captain whose ship you had sought to dismantle, a strange camaraderie emerged—one born out of shared pain, deception, and the quest for redemption.

Remus's voice, a low murmur in the cavernous cabin, expressed admiration for your cunning ability to sow discord within the crew. It was an unexpected twist, an acknowledgment of the strategic mind that had manipulated the threads of loyalty.

Weeks drifted by like waves rolling across the open sea, each passing day carrying the weight of revelations and transformations. In the aftermath of the confrontation, a peculiar bond had formed between you and Remus. The once hostile tension had softened into shared understanding, born out of the crucible of truth and forgiveness.

Navigating the complexities of the ship's dynamics, you found comfort in Remus's company. Late-night conversations beneath the starlit sky became a ritual, the creaking of the ship and the distant sound of waves forming the backdrop to shared confidences.

The crew, initially shocked by the revelation of your true identity as a woman, gradually came to terms with the unexpected twist. Assumptions shattered like glass as they witnessed the strength and resilience that Sterling, now revealed as a woman named Y/N, brought to the crew. Remus, in a display of unwavering leadership, ensured that the crew embraced the newfound truth.

Confronting the crew with your identity was a daunting task, but the revelation unfolded with surprising acceptance. The once-divided ship, now united in understanding, sailed through the challenges of piracy with a newfound camaraderie. Laughter echoed on the deck, and the bonds of loyalty were reforged amidst shared stories and shared burdens.

Amidst the salty breeze and the sound of the sea, a sense of peace settled over the ship. The crew, once torn by internal strife, now stood as a testament to the resilience of human connection. James, Sirius, and the others, initially taken aback, extended their acceptance and support, sealing the wounds of mistrust with gestures of togetherness.

The lingering presence of Peter Pettigrew, the catalyst for the tumultuous events that had unfolded, remained like a shadow on the horizon. In a twist of poetic justice, the crew, fueled by a shared desire for retribution, concocted a plan to bring Peter to justice. The tables turned as the once-manipulator found himself at the mercy of the very crew he had deceived.

The confrontation with Peter unfolded with a satisfying sense of closure, his machinations exposed and his fate left to the mercy of the sea. The crew, now bound by a newfound unity, watched as the tides of justice ebbed and flowed, carrying away the remnants of a past tainted by betrayal.

As the ship sailed through the moonlit waves, Remus guided you to the quiet corner of the deck where the sea breeze carried the scent of salt and adventure. The night sky stretched above, a canopy of stars reflecting in both your eyes. In the tranquil embrace of the open sea, the unspoken connection between you and Remus unfolded like a delicate dance.

Remus's gaze, soft and searching, met yours as he cupped your cheek with a rough yet gentle hand. The rhythmic sound of the waves provided a backdrop to the moment, the ship swaying beneath you in a dance with the ocean. A shared understanding passed between you, a recognition of the trials overcome and the promise of a new beginning.

In that quiet space, beneath the celestial tapestry, Remus leaned in. His lips, warm and tender, met yours in a kiss that spoke of forgiveness, redemption, and the uncharted journey that lay ahead. The world faded away, leaving only the sensation of his touch and the heartbeat that resonated between you.

Time seemed to stand still as the kiss lingered, a silent promise sealed in the gentle meeting of lips. It was a moment of connection, a bridge between the turbulent past and the uncertain future. The sea, bearing witness to the blossoming love, whispered its approval in the rustle of the sails and the lull of the waves.

As you pulled away, the moonlight reflected in Remus's eyes mirrored the shared emotions that hung in the air. The ship sailed on, carrying with it the resonance of a kiss that marked the beginning of a new chapter—a chapter written on the vast canvas of the open sea, where love and adventure intertwined in the flow of the tide.

[greenerteacups]

Are there any other wizarding families that are underexplored in canon and pique your interest in a similar way to the Blacks?

This is a unique function of what food my brain worms like to eat, but no one's doing it like the Blacks. The drama? The intrigue? The Gothic horror? The prodigal sons and lost daughters and killers and sinners and martyrs and saints? The wizard Catholicism of it all? The story of the House of Black is the best book never written.

[sliebman10]

Day

New Year’s Day morning dawned bright and cold. Remus was still asleep, and the house was quiet. Sirius slipped into his fleece robe and made his way down to the kitchen, casting extra warming charms as he went. 

He waved his wand at the stove and it roared to life as he made room on the counter as the ingredients for French Toast flew out of the cupboard. He mixed the custard and set the pan to fry the coated pieces of bread. 

Remus made his way downstairs slowly. It was only two days after the full moon and he was still tired and achy. But Sirius at the stove, preparing brunch for their family, was a sight that always made him smile no matter what phase of the moon. 

Sirius caught him standing there and smiled softly at him. He dipped the wooden spoon in the egg mixture and offered it to Remus. 

Remus tasted it. “Perfect,” he said.

“Good,” Sirius said, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. Remus sank into him immediately, tasting the vanilla and cinnamon on his lips. 

“Knock, knock,” came a voice from the living room and they broke apart with a shared looked that said later.

“Daddy, c’mon,” little James exclaimed, tugging Harry after him. When he saw Sirius and Remus, he broke away from Harry and ran toward them. Sirius caught him, scooping him up before he got too close to the stove. 

“Alright?” Harry said, looking between them, knowingly. 

“Happy New Year, kid,” Sirius said, handing James to Remus and pulling Harry in for a tight hug.

Word Count: 266

@wolfstarmicrofic

[risetherivermoon]

Part 5 - Sock's Fame Au

- Part 5: Tarty Crouch Jr

Part 4 <- -> Part 6

[impishtubist]

Okay but Regulus fucking his brother’s best friend is peak sibling rivalry, 10/10, he understood the assignment.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic december 4 - glimpse - 1044 words - cw: mentions of sex and weed

another feat. of jegulus granddads because they set up camp in my brain<3 emjoy

James talks in his sleep.

Regulus feels very, very bad.

They’re currently crowded in front of the living room door with their grandkids because—

Because they’re a bunch of useless, horrible adults that have gotten way too tipsy on mulled wine last evening over charades. Regulus was riding high on his win over Harry in Monopoly and so he might have had one or two or three sips too many. Or cups.

And so when they’d all bid their Goodnights and gotten ready for bed, pleasantly tipsy and airy-minded—distracted what with James nosing at the dark curls behind Regulus’ ear as he was brushing his teeth and then the press of him, a hard line against the seam between Regulus thigh and bum, when he’d bent Regulus over to spit out the toothpaste into the sink—well, there’s no pleasant way to say that they forgot to put the bloody presents under the tree.

And Regulus often doesn’t wake up anymore after all the years of sharing a bed with his husband but he remembers having woken up to James babbling about ‘The gifts, honey- wait, the gifts’ and Regulus in his barely state of consciousness had simply told him to shut it, pulled James head into the crook of his neck and forced him to fall asleep again, goddamnit.

The looks on their three, round, big eyed, little faces had just about nearly broken Regulus’ heart and that was before he’d seen Harry blanch and turn white as a sheet.

Luckily Regulus has married someone who’s good at improvising and so James had casually draped against the doorframe and told them that, “Ah, don’t worry, loves– It’s a leap year! Santa always starts a little later to deliver the presents during those years!”

Which leaves them hiding out in the hallway right now while Harry quietly brings in the presents through the kitchen. 

“Just a glimpse, Pops!” Louis whispers loudly, leaning his little body with all of his 5 year old body strength against where James has a single broad palm over his small chest.

“Nah-uh, Louibear,” James whispers back from where he’s squatting behind him. 

Regulus knows his knees will pop something horrible when he stands up but the sight of his husband’s thick thighs filling out the pleated pyjama bottoms is making Regulus selfishly keep his smart mouth shut.

“But Grandpo-ops!” Louis whines.

Chelsea shushes him immediately and rather aggressively. She’s between Regulus’ knees, bouncing up on the balls of her feet every now and then, her pigtails tickling Regulus’ nose.

Teagan is draped over James’ wide back and continuously throwing Regulus conspiratorial looks and mischievous little smiles. She’s 8 now, the Santa bubble has already been burst for her.

Regulus winks back at her every time.

“We have to wait until Santa is done putting all his presents under the tree, bug.” James drives placating fingers through their grandson’s wild hair before he goes on in a gentle murmur, “If we go and disturb him now he’ll bolt out through the chimney, up on his reindeer sled and whisk away with half of the presents that were meant for our family, you see.”

Louis gasps horrified.

James bites down on the smile trying to break to the surface. It’s unfair how handsome he looks in the dim light with his hair sleep mussed and his trimmed beard sprinkled white like the snowflakes making their way onto the ground outside.

Regulus forces his eyes away when Chelsea makes a little pained, squirming noise. Like she’s barely suppressing ripping herself from Regulus’ loose embrace and dashing through the door back into the living room.

There’s a clatter of wood and then a badly imitated Hohoho from what Regulus recognises to be Harry.

Louis and Chelsea look at each other with wide eyes and then back at James and Regulus respectively, vibrating with anticipation yet waiting politely for permission.

His husband throws Regulus a warm grin, a hint of teeth and a glint in his chocolate brown eyes that makes his heart stumble a little in his chest.

Regulus rolls his eyes and gives him a single nod. He kisses the side of Chelsea’s head and tells her to go on.

She barrels through the door with a squeal followed closely by a skittering Louis where he’s hasting over the smooth linoleum after his sister in his too big, woollen socks. Teagan throws Regulus another excited grin and then rushes after her younger siblings as well.

When Regulus pulls out of his seat there’s only a faint sting in his lower back while as James follows the motion his husband instantly buckles under his renewed weight, joints predictably cracking several loud pops. 

Regulus snaps out his arm for James to steady himself as this one grunts and pants under the pain and slowly lifts himself into an upright position.

Regulus snorts. “Getting old, Potter? Shouldn’t have been so enthusiastic with bending me over that bloody sofa ledge last night, huh…”

James growls playfully as he yanks Regulus closer by his arm though he catches his husband wince at the sudden motion of that half step.

He squeezes Regulus hip bone, right over the teeth mark he put there a few hours ago and then it’s Regulus’ turn to suck the air in through his teeth.

“Worth it,” James rasps low into his ear before kissing a fluttering path up Regulus’ jaw until he finally reaches his mouth, tilting his chin back with two fingers.

Regulus sighs happily into James’ mouth, shivers at the familiar sensation of beard rasping against his own stubbly skin.

They’re ripped out of the moment by Chelsea’s voice droning around the corner, “Gramps, look! Santa brought you dried cat grass for Mochi!”

“Cat grass?” comes Harry’s confused voice from the living room.

Regulus scrunches his nose at James, sharing the cluelessness. James shrugs.

Crinkling sounds, then Teagan’s voice, “It smells weird.”

“Fu– That is not cat grass, Chelsea!” Harry responds panicky, “Honey, please put that down right now. I’m not joking, sweetheart. No, gimme– unhg.”

Regulus raises his eyebrows at James but his husband simply tugs his lips in and hurries into the living room, presumably to help his son purloin the weed from his six year old little grandchild.

[haedoll]

whenever someone in this fandom goes “ugh u guys made that ship up” i love to go to the ship tags in ao3 and see the oldest fanfics because wdym there was someone writing about jegulus in 2009 and wdym there was someone thinking about bartylus in 2003 ???

[moondustinfj]

Jegulus is basicly loki x fandral but with even less canon content