floretissogay
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It happened before he could so much as turn and look. He wasn't even sure what exactly did it. All he knew was that Moody had done something to Rosie. Rosie, who was lying on the ground in a heap; Rosie, whose mask had fallen off and clattered to the ground; Rosie, whose eyes had slipped shut; Rosie, who wasn't moving.
______________In the aftermath of a disastrous Death Eater mission gone wrong, Barty Crouch refuses to give up.
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Regulus had just graduated from school at eighteen, and he'd come to live with Sirius for good. He couldn't have gone to their parents' house even if he'd wanted to—they'd disowned both their wayward, queer children with disgust, and announced that their cousin's new husband would make a far better heir to the family business, anyway. Sirius had already moved out into a flat he'd got himself with the money he'd inherited from an uncle who'd recently passed; whether or not Regulus would move in with Sirius once he left school hadn't even been a question. He'd got a flat with two bedrooms for a reason, after all.
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A missing brother, a divorce, an angry ex-wife, a dead father, an empty house, a broken family. Love, in spite of it all.
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Regulus (aka Leo, aka denebulus) writes long, angsty fics on AO3. James (aka Jimmy, aka prongsyboy) writes smut.
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"You're Remus Lupin, right?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, his accent posh. He stuck out a pale, manicured hand with black painted fingernails for Remus to shake. "I'm Sirius Black. Your assistant."
"My—what?" Remus took Sirius's hand and shook it. It was as soft as it looked. "I don't have an assistant."
Sirius frowned. "Well, clearly you do, sir. Since I'm here. That's my desk," he said, pointing at the furniture they'd just set up.
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Remus Lupin knows better than to touch Sirius Black—but watching? That’s harder to resist.
Ten years. One silk-robed neighbour. More windows than sense.
After his divorce and belated coming out, Remus collects firsts, lasts, and everything messy in-between. Friends joke that his love life spins like the revolving doors at the Ritz, but one desire stays constant: Sirius—his tattooed neighbour who refuses most clothing, lives in silk robes, and somehow keeps getting finer (and more risqué) with time.
And for over a decade, their flirtation has smouldered—sometimes scorching other relationships in its wake—while Remus holds himself back. After all, he was the one who first shut the metaphorical door in Sirius’s face. For ten years, he’s believed all that's left are stolen, shame-filled, yearning glances of Sirius, taken in through windows and from a distance. But Sirius knows most doors don’t stay closed—and exactly how to coax one, make it beg to open.
This is the story of Remus’s forty-third birthday. Of the years after a marriage ends and a life begins in the middle of things: of queer joy growing like blue irises, of fatherhood, of desire, and of learning to forgive oneself for old punishments.
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Bookmarked by floretissogay
10 Aug 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
but also because he has no taste and thinks the world of me. and really, that makes me glow more than any mirror or review ever could. because really, we never deserved punishment at all. and he knew it.
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Maybe finding what's true isn't the hard part, maybe it's keeping your finger on it's pulse while you move - Jessica Dore
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- English
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- 86,108
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- 15/15
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Bookmarked by floretissogay
20 May 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
i know this death couldn’t possibly be absolute, or eternal, there’s always some shit. but i can feel it now, underneath it all. something real, and good, that you got to know. you got to know and you made me aware of it, you know, i could see it in myself when reflected back through you. that i’m loving.
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The fox is the rat, and the kid can speak to snakes.
Bookmarked by floretissogay
15 Apr 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
and I trusted you more than anything else — trusted you more than my own fear
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It’s just one night at the club, Remus can do this for James.
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Another coffee shop au,
or is it?
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It's lovely up here; all meadows dotted with wildflowers, wind-beaten tracks criss-crossing this way and that through the fields, weaving inland to the pinewoods. The sun's hot on his back as he passes ramshackle stone walls, long since crumbled to piles of ancient rubble and scree, and then the path winds downwards, still following the line of the coast until Sirius finds himself outside an old white cottage, tucked away behind the hill with a rose garden that faces out to the sea.
Sirius moves to Cornwall for the summer and meets a rude, beautiful boy who is writing a book that may or may not be about dragons.