vlouette

[vlouette]

strawberry - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 660

James flopped dramatically onto the grass beside Regulus, still wearing his Quidditch gear and reeking of victory and sweat. The Gryffindors were loud somewhere behind them, celebrating a narrow win, but James had excused himself under the very convincing excuse of needing “a moment of quiet reflection.” By which he meant “bothering Regulus.”

Regulus was perched elegantly under the shade of a tree, legs crossed at the ankles, reading a book with one hand and lazily eating slices of watermelon with the other.

“Oi,” James said, turning on his side to face him. “If you had to guess, what would my favourite fruit be?”

Regulus didn’t even look up. He bit into the watermelon with perfect poise, and James watched a bead of juice trail down the side of his mouth like it had a mission. Regulus wiped it off carelessly with the back of his hand, only then flicking his gaze toward James.

“I’m going to guess it’s not watermelon.”

James grinned, completely unabashed. “Nope. Though I wouldn't say no to a bite if you offered nicely.”

“You’re not touching my watermelon,” Regulus replied, holding the rind a bit protectively now. “You’ve been sweating all over the pitch for two hours. You look like you’d contaminate everything you breathe on.”

James put a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

“You wound yourself by existing.”

James rolled onto his back, hands folded behind his head, and let the sun blind him for a moment. “It’s strawberries.”

“What is?”

“My favourite fruit,” he said, squinting toward the branches. “Strawberries. Ripe ones. Summer ones. That sweet bit at the very center that’s practically liquid.”

Regulus went quiet for a second too long. Then: “That’s oddly poetic for you.”

James turned his head toward him again. “I get poetic about things I love.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, popping another piece of watermelon into his mouth.

“Strawberries,” James continued, “are the best part of summer. They make everything else better. Cake. Ice cream. Jam. Kisses.”

Regulus’s chewing slowed slightly. “You kiss strawberries?”

“I kiss people who taste like strawberries,” James said, shamelessly.

“Is this your attempt at flirting?” Regulus asked, tone dry.

“No,” James said, sitting up, now grinning far too wide. “This is me continuing to flirt. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed.”

Regulus looked back at his book, pretending not to be affected. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you haven’t told me your favourite fruit,” James pointed out.

Regulus sighed, snapping the book shut. “Cherries.”

James blinked. “Cherries?”

Regulus nodded.

James leaned closer, just a bit. “Are we talking the deep red ones or the pale ones?”

“Red,” Regulus said, unbothered.

“Cherries are supposed to be sexy, you know,” James said, mock serious.

“And strawberries aren’t?” Regulus countered, glancing at him with that knowing glint in his eyes.

James laughed. “Touché.”

There was a moment where neither of them spoke. Just the breeze, the distant cheering, and the sound of Regulus finishing off the last bit of his watermelon.

James nudged him with his knee. “We should eat strawberries and cherries together sometime. Real cliché picnic in the sun. Maybe I feed you one. Maybe you blush.”

“I don’t blush,” Regulus said, but there was colour in his cheeks already.

“Yet,” James added.

Regulus stood, brushing off his trousers, then looked down at James with a tilted head. “Bring the strawberries next time.”

James’s heart gave an embarrassing little flutter. “So that’s a yes?”

Regulus smirked. “It’s a maybe. I’m not promising you get to kiss me just because you bring fruit.”

“I wouldn’t dare assume,” James said, already mentally planning the entire strawberry-themed picnic. “But I’ll bring extra, just in case.”

Regulus turned, walking back toward the castle, and James watched him go, grinning like a man who had absolutely not just lost his mind over someone who smelled like watermelon and liked cherries.

He flopped back down on the grass.

“Strawberries,” he muttered to himself. “Totally better than cherries. He’ll see.”

[vlouette]

[vlouette]

rosekiller 🙌🏼

[vlouette]

jegulus meet cute where james is traveling with wolfstar and regulus is traveling with rosekilller—both couples are pretending that they’re just friends and jegulus are so tired of it one night they just walk out of their hotel rooms to stand in the middle of the road hoping a car hits them when they run into each other

[vlouette]

mastermind - june 24 - background jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 389

“Alright, boys. Who did it?” Euphemia Potter asked, crossing her arms and looking fiercely at Sirius, James, and Remus, who all stood in front of her with their heads hung. If she hadn’t been so annoyed, it would have been hilarious to look at–three boys, all dramatically taller than her, looking completely contrite and a little bit scared as they listened to her yell.

“It…it was a group effort, Mum,” James piped up desperately, always the first one to break. 

“Yeah, we all kind of…played a part…” Sirius agreed, Remus nodding along with him, though both of them looked just as confused and nervous as James did.

“I see,” Effie said, tone short even as she still forced herself not to laugh. “So there was no clear mastermind, here? Nobody wants to fess up?”

All three boys were silent, eyes glued to the floor.

“And what about the fact that you needed a potion to make this happen, then?” she pressed, gesturing to her bubblegum-pink hair, which now reached all the way down to the floor. “I know all of you boys are smart, but last I checked, none of you are top in your class in potions. Who sent out for it? Are you sure you didn’t do it, James?”

James shook his head, but said nothing. “No, I—” but he cut himself off, looking between his friends, eyes narrowed, like he was trying to figure out who had sent out for the potion.

It was at this point Effie realized they were all covering for each other. And there was a chance none of them had done it. 

“Then who…” she began to mutter, flummoxed. But she stopped short at the sound of a laugh.

The chuckle at this didn’t seem to come from any of the boys in front of her. It took her a moment to place the source, but as soon as she did, her eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Regulus?” she gasped. “Monty?” 

The two boys were standing in the doorway in silent hysterics, wiping tears of mirth from their eyes. “Sorry, darling, it was just too funny!” Monty laughed, moving to press a kiss to his wife’s head.

But as shocked as Effie was, James looked thrilled. “Reg, you did this?” he asked, eyes dancing with glee. “Baby, I’m so proud!”

[vlouette]

Sirius’s first instinct after a fight with Remus is to pack a bag and leave. Not because he wants to, but because deep down he still believes love doesn’t survive anger. He grew up learning that love is conditional, that anger means abandonment. So he panics.

But Remus always catches him at the door. Every single time.

“I can be angry with you and still love you. I can need space and still choose you. Love doesn’t vanish just because things get hard.”

And that messes Sirius up more than anything.

[vlouette]

ally - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 864

The first thing Evan notices is the smell.

Acrylic paint and something fruity—possibly watermelon—mix in the air like chaos and pride had a baby. The second thing is that the flat is way too quiet for what it smells like. No music, no TV, just the hum of summer heat coming through the cracked kitchen window.

Evan toes off his shoes and squints down the hallway.

“Barty?”

“In here!” comes the shout, echoing from their bedroom. There's a weird, wet-slapping noise like someone wrestling with a paintbrush and absolutely no effort to hide whatever disaster is going on.

Evan pushes the door open with the same energy one uses to check behind a horror movie shower curtain. And then he freezes.

Barty is standing in the middle of their room shirtless, arms lifted slightly away from his sides like he’s trying not to smudge anything. His entire chest has been transformed into a bisexual pride flag—pink, purple, and blue stripes smeared across his pale skin with suspiciously good blending. On one leg is the trans flag. His face has a rainbow like war paint under each eye, and one hand is currently halfway through painting the lesbian flag across his thigh.

They make eye contact.

Barty, wide-eyed and unapologetic, mid-paint-stroke.

Evan just blinks.

“…What the fuck is happening here?”

Barty doesn’t miss a beat. “What does it look like? I’m showing my support. I am an ally.”

Evan raises one hand to his mouth and rubs his bottom lip with his thumb, pouting ever so slightly like he’s trying to decide whether to laugh or walk right back out and pretend this didn’t happen. “Yeah, yeah, sure. But you’re also gay.”

Barty narrows his eyes. “Not just gay. I'm layered. Like a—like a queer onion.”

“A bisexual onion?”

“If you will,” Barty says, as he dips his brush into another blob of paint on a plate that Evan really hopes is not one of their good ones. “I contain multitudes.”

“You contain glitter on my sheets.”

“I’m doing this for the community,” Barty replies, solemnly, like he’s about to launch into a TED Talk. “Pride is about visibility. I am being very visible right now. You're welcome.”

Evan crosses the room slowly, avoiding paint tubes like landmines. He stops just in front of Barty and folds his arms. “You painted the lesbian flag on your leg.”

“I support lesbians.”

“You hit on a lesbian last week.”

“She was hot,” Barty shrugs. “I told her I respected her. I also told her 'Evan at home had better hands than she could ever dream of', so it’s fine. Balanced.”

Evan chokes on a laugh. “Is that what you said?”

“I did,” Barty says proudly. “She gave me her eyeliner brand as a peace offering. Look.”

He turns and reveals a black tube of something wedged between a rainbow pride boa and a half-full bottle of rosé on the dresser.

Evan lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You know, I came home thinking we might have dinner. Watch something. Be normal.”

“This is normal,” Barty says, placing a dramatic hand over his paint-slicked heart. “You date a man who has a very expressive artistic side and an unstable relationship with impulse control. You knew what this was.”

Evan tilts his head. “You have the trans flag on your leg.”

“I do.”

“Do you want to talk about that?”

Barty goes quiet for a second, the paintbrush hovering in mid-air.

“…Maybe later.”

Evan nods, the mood shifting a little in the way it always does when Barty lets him past the sarcasm and glitter.

Then Barty smirks. “Right now I want you to admit that I look fabulous.”

Evan steps forward again, lifting his hand to trace the edge of the pink stripe on Barty’s chest. The paint is still a bit tacky, and Evan tries not to think too hard about how good the colors look on him. How Barty’s always had a knack for making chaos look like art.

“You look like someone let a gay raccoon loose in a craft store.”

Barty grins, proud. “Thank you.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Alright, fine,” Evan says, stepping even closer, hands now resting on Barty’s waist, smearing a bit of purple onto his thumbs. “You look like a queer fever dream, and somehow I still want to kiss you.”

Barty raises an eyebrow. “Do it.”

“You’re covered in paint.”

“So?”

Evan leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Barty’s mouth. When he pulls back, there’s a smear of blue on his lips.

“Fuck,” he mutters, rubbing at it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am lucky. I’m dating a beautiful, mildly judgmental man who lets me paint myself like a pride parade float.”

Evan sighs again, but there’s a softness to it now. “So. Do we wash this off or…?”

Barty shrugs. “We could go out like this.”

“I am not letting you into a restaurant with the lesbian flag on your thigh and nothing else.”

“Coward.”

“Degenerate.”

“Gay.”

Evan rolls his eyes, leans in, and kisses him again.

This time, he doesn't even try to wipe the paint away.

[vlouette]

[vlouette]

Evan: Barty made me call people and tell them he had died to see how they'd react.

[earlier that day]

Barty: Is he crying?

Evan: A little.

Barty, grabbing the phone: You should be wailing Black, you stone cold BITCH!

Barty: Now call our other 'friends'

[vlouette]

arrange - june 24 - jegulus - black brothers - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 404 - got this idea from a tiktok

“Hi, I’m Sirius Black and I’m the Best Man.”

Sirius’s voice cut through the chattering crowd, drawing the attention of everyone in the huge room. James, who was staring, completely enamored, at his new husband, had to rip his gaze away to look over at his friend.

“I promise I have written a speech,” Sirius said, beaming at the crowd. “I even wrote it before the day of–take that, McKinnon!” A few people laughed. “But before I get to that, I have something special arranged.”

James looked to his left, exchanging a nervous glance with Regulus. “Do you have any idea—?” he muttered.

“Not a clue,” Regulus replied, looking terrified. “But if he does something stupid, remember that he’s your best man, not mine.”

James gulped, turning back to where Sirius stood, a terrifying smile on his face.

“James met Reggie when he was seventeen and was immediately obsessed. I’m sure you all remember,” he chuckled, allowing the crowd to grumble good-naturedly while James grinned and blushed. “But if you don’t, or you were lucky enough to not be there, I have quite a treat for you! I have proof! If you’ll all direct your attention to the screen to my left…Moony, you can roll the tape!”

Immediately, James’s stomach sank, because he knew what was coming. “Reg, wanna go have a quickie in the bathroom?” he whispered to his new husband, face getting warmer and warmer.

Regulus’s eyes, though, were glued to the screen, and he just waved his hand dismissively at James. “Later,” he muttered.

“Play this at my wedding! No–no I swear! Play this at my wedding!” On-screen James began shouting, his voice pounding through the speakers of the room. The screen showed James, Remus, and Peter all laying on James’s bed, Sirius clearly behind the camera.

“Why’s that, Prongs?” Sirius-from-behind-the-camera asked, his voice full of mirth.

“Because!” On-screen James grinned idiotically. “It’s–I’m seventeen, and it’s September first and I swear to all of you, I’m marrying Regulus Black someday. I swear!”

Present day James groaned, burying his head in his hands as the crowd awwed.

“I’m marrying Regulus Arcturus Black! You’ll play this at our wedding and I’ll be like, ha! Told you!”

“And that, folks, was James Potter, mere hours after he met Regulus Black,” Sirius said into the microphone, grinning.”And it all went downhill from here, as you can see.”

The crowd, and Regulus, burst into applause.

[vlouette]

identity - @rosekillermicrofic - slightly NSFW - word count: 180

“Oi!” Barty yelped, throwing his hands in the air, shocked to see four wands trained on him as soon as he walked in the door of Pandora’s flat. “The fuck?”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Regulus scowled, wand never wavering. “People are using Polyjuice now. Things are getting bad. We need you to prove it’s you.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to prove my identity with four wands pointed at my junk?” Barty grumbled, but didn’t move.

“You answer a question. A question only Barty would know,” Pandora explained calmly. She looked around. “Someone think of something.”

The room was silent for a moment as everyone thought.

“Have to piss, here,” Barty mumbled, still standing with his arms raised high.

“Oh!” Evan gasped suddenly, face breaking into a suggestive grin. “What’d you say the first time we kissed?”

Barty grimaced but sighed in defeat. “I said if you didn’t fuck me in the next five seconds, I’d cut your prick off,” he shrugged, turning a bit pink.

Instantly, Evan lowered his wand. “That’s Barty!” he announced, smirking triumphantly. 

[vlouette]

Regulus, texting: I'm sorry, running a little late.

Sirius, still in bed, having forgotten they were meeting in the first place: You always do this.

[vlouette]

[vlouette]

[vlouette]

[vlouette]

Regulus: James, do you want to explain this text you sent me last night?

James: I…drunk texted you?!

Regulus: *holds out phone*

James *reading the screen*: "heyyyyy babyyy 😘 how u doinnn?? Are you interested in becoming my sugar baby? I don’t want any nudes tho. Just chat with me everyday and I’ll pay u 😎😝🤑"

Regulus: Well?

James *pales*: Reg…I, I can explain!

Regulus: Please do. What do you mean you don't want my nudes?!

[vlouette]