Notmycatsname
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Remus has spent eight miserable, or perhaps more politely, hardworking years building and shaping his life and his career to get to a point where he is happy. Or at least content, if he doesn’t think about it for too long. Surely he can keep something as menial as a new hire from fucking it all up.
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Remus has been watching Sirius, nearly studying him for years. He never thought he was been watched as well.
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"Every other Saturday for the past seven or so months has gone the exact same way. It’s a part of Remus’s routine. His alarm goes off at quarter to seven which gives him fifteen minutes to stare at the ceiling and then five minutes to trudge to the bathroom and stand under the spray of the shower and brush his teeth before the four minute cycle of washing his body and hair and body again before staring himself in the mirror as he pulls back the shower curtain. That leaves with around forty minutes to eat some dry toast and think about coming up with an excuse for not visiting his aging mother the bare minimum of twice monthly. Except she’s not what one would traditionally consider aging, sixty-four is a far cry away from having one foot in the grave. But her mind is going quicker than Remus can process, like watching the fucking sand of the hourglass of her life slip between his fingers. And what kind of a horrible, useless son would he be if he didn’t at least make an effort to pocket some of it as memories and keep her company while he can. "
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Sirius is miserable at Grimmauld. Remus decides he’s done going on with everything like it's is fine without doing anything.
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"“I’m your fucking dog, you know that?” Sirius mumbles to Remus one morning, still only just awake with dreams of the two of them away on some beach still fresh on his mind."
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He was happy for them. Happy at least something good had come out of everything, that something could work out in this world. And if he went home to his empty apartment and twin bed, well, that was his problem. If he dressed in one of his nicer shirts, if he spent a while in front of the mirror arguing with himself over how pathetic it was to touch up his appearance for what was a casual fucking dinner with coworkers, it was his problem. He could handle it. It was worth it.
Bookmarked by Notmycatsname
16 Dec 2024
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PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - That hard work is gonna pay off. You can do push-ups now, Coach.
SUGGESTION - He wants you to say it. He wants you to take his hand again, to slide his glove off. You can both engage in vulnerability, kiss one another, taste the smoke in his lungs. Perhaps you can fuck him, perhaps he can fuck you, all you have to do is roll your dice and succeed.
“Harry, I shouldn’t act so…” Kim stopped. Something about Harry kept his train of thought breaking. It was like, over-and-over, the logic was falling apart. Or like part of him thought he should say no, while another part screamed at him to say yes. Harry knew what that felt like.
SUGGESTION - Shut him up.
Bookmarked by Notmycatsname
18 Feb 2024
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“You didn’t do the washing up before you started cooking, did you?”
Harry ducks his head. “No,” he admits. “No, I did not.”
“Hmm. Come here.” Kim raises an eyebrow, watches as Harry briefly struggles against the lure of it before sagging. It’s funny; he’s a big man, made bigger by the force of his personality, but against the eyebrow he dwindles himself away to nothing. Kim savours the taste of authority underneath his tongue. Like popping candy, something sparking and electric. "Messy."Kim and Harry spend an evening at home. They've both been cooking.
Bookmarked by Notmycatsname
27 Dec 2023
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Jean gets swept up in Kim’s horny power fantasies and enjoys the ride I guess.
Bookmarked by Notmycatsname
04 Oct 2023
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In which Kim cooks dinner, Harry worries about werewolves, and a small miracle is performed. Also: a wedding.
Bookmarked by Notmycatsname
06 Jun 2023