ongoing
(Open, Unmoderated)
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Summary
“Well, you’re my type. Talented, intelligent,” James goes on while holding eye contact. “Pretty.”
The blush has reached the tips of Regulus’s ears that peek out from his hair. His brows are furrowed and the slight pout on his lips is driving James insane.
“I don’t-”
“Too bad I’m not your type though,” James says with a dramatic sigh of disappointment. "Really unfortunate.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Regulus huffs, grabbing the drink in front of him. He sips, looking everywhere but at James before setting it back down. He wipes the cup’s condensation off his hand and onto a napkin. “I don’t have time for this.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
Or
Regulus's life is already falling apart when his poetry journal lands in the hands of James Potter, a man who is nothing but determined to give him hell for it. James gets completely ahead of himself and learns that doing so comes with consequences
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The Marauders and the Skittles are Europe's hottest rising bands, packing out venues with music that feels dangerously real and a magnetic charm that nobody can escape from.
Behind the songs is a romance no one saw coming : the lead singers of two rival bands, falling for each other in real time, one verse at a time. As the tabloids catch on and the pressure mounts, their next albums become a public conversation neither of them can stop writing. Between heartbreak, fame and music that won't lie, the show must go on…OR
James and Regulus are the lead singers of their respective bands and start writing songs for each other...chaos ensue
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Summary
James wanted more.
He wanted to know which shampoo Regulus used, so he could learn the scent of his hair. Which side of the bed he slept on. Which toothpaste he used, so he could imagine what his mouth tasted like.
He wanted to know whether his body ran cold or warm, and to recognize the sound of his footsteps before Regulus even entered a room. He wanted to know what worried him and what made him laugh.
He wanted to lick the droplets of water running down his body after a shower.
Would James ever be satisfied?
Not as long as there were new things to discover.
or
the one where James develops a strange obsession with a room and, consequently, with its owner.
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Summary
An internationally wanted thief, a copycat, an art insurance investigator, and an FBI agent walk into a museum.
Alternatively:
Art thief Regulus Black has a problem.Someone is pulling heists under his signature, and the syndicate he answers to wants them found, or it's his head. Said copycat turns out to be an insufferable flirt with terrible pickup lines and enough audacity to steal two paintings just to get Regulus's attention. Not to mention the feds are on his tail, including one art insurance investigator Sirius Black.
A house of cards will always fall.
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Summary
"What?" Regulus jabs his wand into the underside of James' jaw.
Despite the threat in Regulus' glare, James grins. "Love, I've faced Voldemort himself. I don't let myself be pinned against a wall unless that's where I want to be. As it stands, I'm quite fond of the murderous look in your pretty eyes, and don't mind having it directed towards me."
There's an incredulous laugh. Barty says, "Oh, you and I have more in common than I thought, Potter."
-- ☆ --
The war is over. It has left James with bruises on his soul and a forlorn innocence. But he survived.
The wizarding world is a tangled mess of mourning heroes and redeeming villains.
And two of those villains are dancing in a muggle pub and looking good. One of them is supposed to be dead, and the other is supposed to be in Azkaban.
James shouldn't, he really shouldn't, but... well, he's never been particularly talented at doing what he should.