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Jules of Nature
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Xuebing Du
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@imagineiwrotesomethingwell
ËâŠ. . Ë. . âŠË. â â.àżàż.Ë*âŠ. ââŻđđâŽ, đâŽđâŻ! .âŠË Ë .ËâŠ. .Ë.ËⶠâŠÂ
My name is Lo, and my heart is filled with rage. I want this to be a place where I can share my writing, shitty or otherwise
âŠË. â â.àżàż. âđđâŻđ
âŠË. â â.àżàż. ââŻđđâŻđđđ
âŠË. â â.àżàż. đđœđ¶đđ¶đžđâŻđđ (and their masterlists)
divider credits: @cafekitsune and @thecutestgrotto <3
NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.
Subby Top!Miguel drabble. word count 931, nsfw, afab reader, oral and fingering (fem receiving), 'good boy', overstim, breeding, mentions of making reader a mama, can be read as plus//mid/size or thin
Subby Top!Miguel, who starts and ends the evening on his knees in front of you.
This was just lovely đ„° <33.
aww, thank you so much! you're sweet <3
sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four
you're my hero btw
'Goddess'
wc: 7,987 words content warnings: slow burn but not too bad, smut, afab reader (reader is referred to as a wife, queen, and woman multiple times), male masturbation, oral (both receiving), fingering (f receiving), mating bond, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), something that might constitute as cum play???, overstim, mild dacryphilia, body worship, marking kink implied, cockwarming (?)
@allbymyself17 i am so so sorry this took so long, thank you for being patient with me đ
god fucking dammit why you postin my x-mas list online, santie?
Cold
Jegulus drabble. wc: 1389
Itâs cold here. James is warm, but the room is cold, so Regulus doesnât want to move. He just tucks his head under Jamesâ chin, breathing in their scent with a dreamy sigh. It smells like it rained last night, too, which explains the cold, because Merlin knows neither him nor James remembered to close the window.Â
âPapa,â a little voice says, and Reg sighs, lifting his head from his husbandâs shoulder.
âHarry, come here,â he says quietly, lifting the blanket for the little boy to climb into. He giggles as he does, little hands clenching in the sheets as he pulls himself up under the comforter. He snuggles right up between his two dads, his head replacing Regâs spot under Jamesâ jaw. Regulus doesnât mind, though, because now he can bury his face in Harryâs curls.
Harry smells like sunshine and milk and honey, which Regulus always thought was strange. Heâs a kid; shouldnât he smell like glue and mud and diapers? Heâs meant to be sticky and smelly and weird. But no. The little one always smells like sweet things, safety and comfort, just like his dad. James always smells like wood and cinnamon and vanilla, and thereâs nothing Reggie loves more than holding his son and his husband at once, breathing them in and feeling them. Here and real and loved and safe and warm.Â
Harryâs already asleep again, his chubby brown hands fisted in Regulusâ shirt. His lips are parted in a soft âoâ as he snores, the perfect picture of beautiful innocence. James is drooling into their own curls as they snore, their glasses discarded beside their pillow, because god forbid they take their glasses off before they fall asleep.Â
So Regulus just watches.
He props his head on his hand and his elbow on his pillow, staring down at the two people he loves most in the world. The sun is painting their skin gold and their curls seem to glow against their pillows, and Reg knows that when one of them opens their eyes, thoseâll glow, too, turning that honeyed shade that takes his breath away every time he sees it. And as he watches them sleep, occasionally brushing his fingers through Harry or Jamesâ curls, he thinks.
He thinks about Hogwarts, when heâd accidentally ran into James as he rushed off the train because he was chasing Barty. He thinks about Jamesâ outstretched hand, their dazzling smile as they asked if he was okay as they pulled him off the damp cobblestone. He thinks about Barty and Evan teasing him mercilessly in the dorm because someone had said the words âJames Potterâ at dinner and Reg had blushed.
He thinks about the first time they ever kissed, when Reg was in 4th year and James was in 5th, when Reg had caught a snitch and utterly destroyed Gryffindor, but James had gay panicked too much to care and had grabbed Regulus by the waist the second theyâd hit the ground. He thinks about how their lips tasted, about the way heâd melted so perfectly against them, how heâd never kissed anyone before that and he didnât know what he was doing, but James didnât seem to care. He thinks about their goofy grin when they pulled away, how theyâd pecked his nose before running off to join the rest of the Gryffindor and get cleaned up. He thinks about how heâd found them again after dinner and crashed his lips to theirs, just kissing them as he kept his back against a wall so his knees wouldnât give out, about how they never really stopped kissing after that.
He thinks about when James proposed, the day Regulus had graduated Hogwarts. In front of Sirius and his parents and everyone theyâd ever known, James had gotten down on one knee and asked Regulus to marry them, to make them the happiest man alive. He thinks about how heâd cried and held James tighter than he thought he ever could, just whispering, âyes, I love you, I love you, yes,â over and over again for Merlin knows how long. He thinks about the wedding, small and kind and gentle, filled with the people who loved them and 80s punk rock, courtesy of Sirius and Remus deejaying.Â
He thinks about the times when he and James had danced in the rain, stopped on drives to collect flowers from the side of the road, about the countless times theyâd woken up tangled together. He thinks about the way James had sobbed when Lily had shown up with a sign that said, âyour baby on board!â after their first try with implanted embryos. Regulus had cried, too, of course, but he liked to remember the look on Jamesâ face when they realized they were about to be a father.
He thinks about the nights spent pouring over baby books when Lily was pregnant with Harry. He thinks about his brother crying when he and Remus had met Harry for the first time, holding and rocking him and telling him stories heâd repeat a thousand more times before Harry remembered any of them. He thinks about Remus sitting on the bed by Lily for hours as she recovered, how theyâd all camped in her room for as long as the hospital would let them to talk and be there for her and Harry as she recovered from labor and he recovered from being born (such a horrific practice, from what Reg saw).Â
He thinks about the childhood he never had, about how grateful he is to give Harry this comfort, this safety he never had. About how Harryâs never acted afraid of him, or of James, how heâs always said he loved them before bed and how heâs always been comfortable with hugs and cuddles. He thinks about how incredible it is to be a father, to be in charge of a whole human, to just exist in the same time as this exquisite creature who called him Papa.
He thinks a lot. Too much, probably. Because he almost doesnât notice when Jamesâ eyes flutter open, eyes gold in the morning sun. They smile gently, their eyes locking onto Regulusâ.
âYouâre so beautiful,â Regulus whispers, leaning forward to kiss his husband, careful not to jostle the child against his chest. Itâs a sweet, gentle kiss, one that has Reggieâs eyes fluttering shut and his heart welling in his chest. But he pulls away and smiles down at James, brushing a curl off of his forehead.
âReg,â James whispers, nuzzling into their loveâs hand. âWake up, Reg.â
Regulusâ smile falters. âWhat was that, cheri?â he asks softly, leaning closer to James, trying to hear. Man, itâs really cold in here. He needs to pull his blanket back up, it must have slipped down when Harry-
âWake up,â James says again, their voice forceful and firm. âWake up now.â
Regulus flinches at the cold tone, one heâs never heard before, not from James. His eyes close briefly, but once they open again, James is gone. Harry is gone. Everythingâs cold, and everything burns, and he canât breathe.
As Regulus feels the Inferi gripping his legs, clawing at him, dragging him down under the water, he stops thinking; he remembers. He remembers everything.
He remembers fighting with James his last year at Hogwarts, when he should have been studying and being a child for a little while longer, but his parents had different plans. He remembers James leaving him, saying they couldnât be with someone who would take the dark mark, telling him theyâd thought he was different. He remembers seeing them with their head in Evansâ lap not three weeks later, how that had hurt more than any âCrucioâ his mother had ever used on him. He remembers finding out about the Horcruxes. He remembers hunting down the locket. He remembers finding the cave and drinking the poison.
And as he stops thrashing, stops fighting, lets the water and the monsters take him, he remembers the way James had looked when they backed away from him in the astronomy tower that night, heartbreak and tears in their eyes. The way their voice had cracked when they whispered, âI canât love a monster, Regulus.â
Thatâs okay, Regulus thinks as he lets the air escape his lungs. Iâll love you anyway.
thank you @calamitoustide for the idea with this post. i hate you /affectionate
Whyyyyy you made me cryyyyyy
because i am a truly evil person and i desperately need to make people cry but i don't want to actually hurt anyone so i do this :3
jegulus but itâs in a world where royals are of celestial descent and james is part of the family of the Sun, the hope and future of the kingdom of gryffindor. sirius is of star descent, a sun-star himself, but is, unbeknownst to everyone else, a dying one. remus is from the moon family, a previously extinct line, and considered an outcast because of the weird rumors surrounding families from lunar descent. and then you have regulus, an anomaly within the black family, a black hole in a line of stars and galaxies that is destined to extinguish the sun of gryffindor kingdom and bring it to its end.
please dear god tell me you're writing this and then can write fanfiction of your fanfiction i need it to survive
Cold
Jegulus drabble. wc: 1389
Itâs cold here. James is warm, but the room is cold, so Regulus doesnât want to move. He just tucks his head under Jamesâ chin, breathing in their scent with a dreamy sigh. It smells like it rained last night, too, which explains the cold, because Merlin knows neither him nor James remembered to close the window.Â
âPapa,â a little voice says, and Reg sighs, lifting his head from his husbandâs shoulder.
âHarry, come here,â he says quietly, lifting the blanket for the little boy to climb into. He giggles as he does, little hands clenching in the sheets as he pulls himself up under the comforter. He snuggles right up between his two dads, his head replacing Regâs spot under Jamesâ jaw. Regulus doesnât mind, though, because now he can bury his face in Harryâs curls.
Harry smells like sunshine and milk and honey, which Regulus always thought was strange. Heâs a kid; shouldnât he smell like glue and mud and diapers? Heâs meant to be sticky and smelly and weird. But no. The little one always smells like sweet things, safety and comfort, just like his dad. James always smells like wood and cinnamon and vanilla, and thereâs nothing Reggie loves more than holding his son and his husband at once, breathing them in and feeling them. Here and real and loved and safe and warm.Â
Harryâs already asleep again, his chubby brown hands fisted in Regulusâ shirt. His lips are parted in a soft âoâ as he snores, the perfect picture of beautiful innocence. James is drooling into their own curls as they snore, their glasses discarded beside their pillow, because god forbid they take their glasses off before they fall asleep.Â
So Regulus just watches.
He props his head on his hand and his elbow on his pillow, staring down at the two people he loves most in the world. The sun is painting their skin gold and their curls seem to glow against their pillows, and Reg knows that when one of them opens their eyes, thoseâll glow, too, turning that honeyed shade that takes his breath away every time he sees it. And as he watches them sleep, occasionally brushing his fingers through Harry or Jamesâ curls, he thinks.
He thinks about Hogwarts, when heâd accidentally ran into James as he rushed off the train because he was chasing Barty. He thinks about Jamesâ outstretched hand, their dazzling smile as they asked if he was okay as they pulled him off the damp cobblestone. He thinks about Barty and Evan teasing him mercilessly in the dorm because someone had said the words âJames Potterâ at dinner and Reg had blushed.
He thinks about the first time they ever kissed, when Reg was in 4th year and James was in 5th, when Reg had caught a snitch and utterly destroyed Gryffindor, but James had gay panicked too much to care and had grabbed Regulus by the waist the second theyâd hit the ground. He thinks about how their lips tasted, about the way heâd melted so perfectly against them, how heâd never kissed anyone before that and he didnât know what he was doing, but James didnât seem to care. He thinks about their goofy grin when they pulled away, how theyâd pecked his nose before running off to join the rest of the Gryffindor and get cleaned up. He thinks about how heâd found them again after dinner and crashed his lips to theirs, just kissing them as he kept his back against a wall so his knees wouldnât give out, about how they never really stopped kissing after that.
He thinks about when James proposed, the day Regulus had graduated Hogwarts. In front of Sirius and his parents and everyone theyâd ever known, James had gotten down on one knee and asked Regulus to marry them, to make them the happiest man alive. He thinks about how heâd cried and held James tighter than he thought he ever could, just whispering, âyes, I love you, I love you, yes,â over and over again for Merlin knows how long. He thinks about the wedding, small and kind and gentle, filled with the people who loved them and 80s punk rock, courtesy of Sirius and Remus deejaying.Â
He thinks about the times when he and James had danced in the rain, stopped on drives to collect flowers from the side of the road, about the countless times theyâd woken up tangled together. He thinks about the way James had sobbed when Lily had shown up with a sign that said, âyour baby on board!â after their first try with implanted embryos. Regulus had cried, too, of course, but he liked to remember the look on Jamesâ face when they realized they were about to be a father.
He thinks about the nights spent pouring over baby books when Lily was pregnant with Harry. He thinks about his brother crying when he and Remus had met Harry for the first time, holding and rocking him and telling him stories heâd repeat a thousand more times before Harry remembered any of them. He thinks about Remus sitting on the bed by Lily for hours as she recovered, how theyâd all camped in her room for as long as the hospital would let them to talk and be there for her and Harry as she recovered from labor and he recovered from being born (such a horrific practice, from what Reg saw).Â
He thinks about the childhood he never had, about how grateful he is to give Harry this comfort, this safety he never had. About how Harryâs never acted afraid of him, or of James, how heâs always said he loved them before bed and how heâs always been comfortable with hugs and cuddles. He thinks about how incredible it is to be a father, to be in charge of a whole human, to just exist in the same time as this exquisite creature who called him Papa.
He thinks a lot. Too much, probably. Because he almost doesnât notice when Jamesâ eyes flutter open, eyes gold in the morning sun. They smile gently, their eyes locking onto Regulusâ.
âYouâre so beautiful,â Regulus whispers, leaning forward to kiss his husband, careful not to jostle the child against his chest. Itâs a sweet, gentle kiss, one that has Reggieâs eyes fluttering shut and his heart welling in his chest. But he pulls away and smiles down at James, brushing a curl off of his forehead.
âReg,â James whispers, nuzzling into their loveâs hand. âWake up, Reg.â
Regulusâ smile falters. âWhat was that, cheri?â he asks softly, leaning closer to James, trying to hear. Man, itâs really cold in here. He needs to pull his blanket back up, it must have slipped down when Harry-
âWake up,â James says again, their voice forceful and firm. âWake up now.â
Regulus flinches at the cold tone, one heâs never heard before, not from James. His eyes close briefly, but once they open again, James is gone. Harry is gone. Everythingâs cold, and everything burns, and he canât breathe.
As Regulus feels the Inferi gripping his legs, clawing at him, dragging him down under the water, he stops thinking; he remembers. He remembers everything.
He remembers fighting with James his last year at Hogwarts, when he should have been studying and being a child for a little while longer, but his parents had different plans. He remembers James leaving him, saying they couldnât be with someone who would take the dark mark, telling him theyâd thought he was different. He remembers seeing them with their head in Evansâ lap not three weeks later, how that had hurt more than any âCrucioâ his mother had ever used on him. He remembers finding out about the Horcruxes. He remembers hunting down the locket. He remembers finding the cave and drinking the poison.
And as he stops thrashing, stops fighting, lets the water and the monsters take him, he remembers the way James had looked when they backed away from him in the astronomy tower that night, heartbreak and tears in their eyes. The way their voice had cracked when they whispered, âI canât love a monster, Regulus.â
Thatâs okay, Regulus thinks as he lets the air escape his lungs. Iâll love you anyway.
thank you @calamitoustide for the idea with this post. i hate you /affectionate
wtf man how could you
i put my fingers on some keys and then i hit upload :)
no but its really good i wish my fingers could do that
eee thank youu <3
your fingers can do anything my fingers can, just practice! I assure you, i was incapable of this shit a year ago lols
Cold
Jegulus drabble. wc: 1389
Itâs cold here. James is warm, but the room is cold, so Regulus doesnât want to move. He just tucks his head under Jamesâ chin, breathing in their scent with a dreamy sigh. It smells like it rained last night, too, which explains the cold, because Merlin knows neither him nor James remembered to close the window.Â
âPapa,â a little voice says, and Reg sighs, lifting his head from his husbandâs shoulder.
âHarry, come here,â he says quietly, lifting the blanket for the little boy to climb into. He giggles as he does, little hands clenching in the sheets as he pulls himself up under the comforter. He snuggles right up between his two dads, his head replacing Regâs spot under Jamesâ jaw. Regulus doesnât mind, though, because now he can bury his face in Harryâs curls.
Harry smells like sunshine and milk and honey, which Regulus always thought was strange. Heâs a kid; shouldnât he smell like glue and mud and diapers? Heâs meant to be sticky and smelly and weird. But no. The little one always smells like sweet things, safety and comfort, just like his dad. James always smells like wood and cinnamon and vanilla, and thereâs nothing Reggie loves more than holding his son and his husband at once, breathing them in and feeling them. Here and real and loved and safe and warm.Â
Harryâs already asleep again, his chubby brown hands fisted in Regulusâ shirt. His lips are parted in a soft âoâ as he snores, the perfect picture of beautiful innocence. James is drooling into their own curls as they snore, their glasses discarded beside their pillow, because god forbid they take their glasses off before they fall asleep.Â
So Regulus just watches.
He props his head on his hand and his elbow on his pillow, staring down at the two people he loves most in the world. The sun is painting their skin gold and their curls seem to glow against their pillows, and Reg knows that when one of them opens their eyes, thoseâll glow, too, turning that honeyed shade that takes his breath away every time he sees it. And as he watches them sleep, occasionally brushing his fingers through Harry or Jamesâ curls, he thinks.
He thinks about Hogwarts, when heâd accidentally ran into James as he rushed off the train because he was chasing Barty. He thinks about Jamesâ outstretched hand, their dazzling smile as they asked if he was okay as they pulled him off the damp cobblestone. He thinks about Barty and Evan teasing him mercilessly in the dorm because someone had said the words âJames Potterâ at dinner and Reg had blushed.
He thinks about the first time they ever kissed, when Reg was in 4th year and James was in 5th, when Reg had caught a snitch and utterly destroyed Gryffindor, but James had gay panicked too much to care and had grabbed Regulus by the waist the second theyâd hit the ground. He thinks about how their lips tasted, about the way heâd melted so perfectly against them, how heâd never kissed anyone before that and he didnât know what he was doing, but James didnât seem to care. He thinks about their goofy grin when they pulled away, how theyâd pecked his nose before running off to join the rest of the Gryffindor and get cleaned up. He thinks about how heâd found them again after dinner and crashed his lips to theirs, just kissing them as he kept his back against a wall so his knees wouldnât give out, about how they never really stopped kissing after that.
He thinks about when James proposed, the day Regulus had graduated Hogwarts. In front of Sirius and his parents and everyone theyâd ever known, James had gotten down on one knee and asked Regulus to marry them, to make them the happiest man alive. He thinks about how heâd cried and held James tighter than he thought he ever could, just whispering, âyes, I love you, I love you, yes,â over and over again for Merlin knows how long. He thinks about the wedding, small and kind and gentle, filled with the people who loved them and 80s punk rock, courtesy of Sirius and Remus deejaying.Â
He thinks about the times when he and James had danced in the rain, stopped on drives to collect flowers from the side of the road, about the countless times theyâd woken up tangled together. He thinks about the way James had sobbed when Lily had shown up with a sign that said, âyour baby on board!â after their first try with implanted embryos. Regulus had cried, too, of course, but he liked to remember the look on Jamesâ face when they realized they were about to be a father.
He thinks about the nights spent pouring over baby books when Lily was pregnant with Harry. He thinks about his brother crying when he and Remus had met Harry for the first time, holding and rocking him and telling him stories heâd repeat a thousand more times before Harry remembered any of them. He thinks about Remus sitting on the bed by Lily for hours as she recovered, how theyâd all camped in her room for as long as the hospital would let them to talk and be there for her and Harry as she recovered from labor and he recovered from being born (such a horrific practice, from what Reg saw).Â
He thinks about the childhood he never had, about how grateful he is to give Harry this comfort, this safety he never had. About how Harryâs never acted afraid of him, or of James, how heâs always said he loved them before bed and how heâs always been comfortable with hugs and cuddles. He thinks about how incredible it is to be a father, to be in charge of a whole human, to just exist in the same time as this exquisite creature who called him Papa.
He thinks a lot. Too much, probably. Because he almost doesnât notice when Jamesâ eyes flutter open, eyes gold in the morning sun. They smile gently, their eyes locking onto Regulusâ.
âYouâre so beautiful,â Regulus whispers, leaning forward to kiss his husband, careful not to jostle the child against his chest. Itâs a sweet, gentle kiss, one that has Reggieâs eyes fluttering shut and his heart welling in his chest. But he pulls away and smiles down at James, brushing a curl off of his forehead.
âReg,â James whispers, nuzzling into their loveâs hand. âWake up, Reg.â
Regulusâ smile falters. âWhat was that, cheri?â he asks softly, leaning closer to James, trying to hear. Man, itâs really cold in here. He needs to pull his blanket back up, it must have slipped down when Harry-
âWake up,â James says again, their voice forceful and firm. âWake up now.â
Regulus flinches at the cold tone, one heâs never heard before, not from James. His eyes close briefly, but once they open again, James is gone. Harry is gone. Everythingâs cold, and everything burns, and he canât breathe.
As Regulus feels the Inferi gripping his legs, clawing at him, dragging him down under the water, he stops thinking; he remembers. He remembers everything.
He remembers fighting with James his last year at Hogwarts, when he should have been studying and being a child for a little while longer, but his parents had different plans. He remembers James leaving him, saying they couldnât be with someone who would take the dark mark, telling him theyâd thought he was different. He remembers seeing them with their head in Evansâ lap not three weeks later, how that had hurt more than any âCrucioâ his mother had ever used on him. He remembers finding out about the Horcruxes. He remembers hunting down the locket. He remembers finding the cave and drinking the poison.
And as he stops thrashing, stops fighting, lets the water and the monsters take him, he remembers the way James had looked when they backed away from him in the astronomy tower that night, heartbreak and tears in their eyes. The way their voice had cracked when they whispered, âI canât love a monster, Regulus.â
Thatâs okay, Regulus thinks as he lets the air escape his lungs. Iâll love you anyway.
thank you @calamitoustide for the idea with this post. i hate you /affectionate
I woke up and I read this and I was SO HAPPY and my heart was SO WARM and then YOU DO THAT? THIS IS NOT OKAY
I'm sorry this is so cruel WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT
because i use making other people cry as a coping mechanism and this is better than hurting people i love >:3
Cold
Jegulus drabble. wc: 1389
Itâs cold here. James is warm, but the room is cold, so Regulus doesnât want to move. He just tucks his head under Jamesâ chin, breathing in their scent with a dreamy sigh. It smells like it rained last night, too, which explains the cold, because Merlin knows neither him nor James remembered to close the window.Â
âPapa,â a little voice says, and Reg sighs, lifting his head from his husbandâs shoulder.
âHarry, come here,â he says quietly, lifting the blanket for the little boy to climb into. He giggles as he does, little hands clenching in the sheets as he pulls himself up under the comforter. He snuggles right up between his two dads, his head replacing Regâs spot under Jamesâ jaw. Regulus doesnât mind, though, because now he can bury his face in Harryâs curls.
Harry smells like sunshine and milk and honey, which Regulus always thought was strange. Heâs a kid; shouldnât he smell like glue and mud and diapers? Heâs meant to be sticky and smelly and weird. But no. The little one always smells like sweet things, safety and comfort, just like his dad. James always smells like wood and cinnamon and vanilla, and thereâs nothing Reggie loves more than holding his son and his husband at once, breathing them in and feeling them. Here and real and loved and safe and warm.Â
Harryâs already asleep again, his chubby brown hands fisted in Regulusâ shirt. His lips are parted in a soft âoâ as he snores, the perfect picture of beautiful innocence. James is drooling into their own curls as they snore, their glasses discarded beside their pillow, because god forbid they take their glasses off before they fall asleep.Â
So Regulus just watches.
He props his head on his hand and his elbow on his pillow, staring down at the two people he loves most in the world. The sun is painting their skin gold and their curls seem to glow against their pillows, and Reg knows that when one of them opens their eyes, thoseâll glow, too, turning that honeyed shade that takes his breath away every time he sees it. And as he watches them sleep, occasionally brushing his fingers through Harry or Jamesâ curls, he thinks.
He thinks about Hogwarts, when heâd accidentally ran into James as he rushed off the train because he was chasing Barty. He thinks about Jamesâ outstretched hand, their dazzling smile as they asked if he was okay as they pulled him off the damp cobblestone. He thinks about Barty and Evan teasing him mercilessly in the dorm because someone had said the words âJames Potterâ at dinner and Reg had blushed.
He thinks about the first time they ever kissed, when Reg was in 4th year and James was in 5th, when Reg had caught a snitch and utterly destroyed Gryffindor, but James had gay panicked too much to care and had grabbed Regulus by the waist the second theyâd hit the ground. He thinks about how their lips tasted, about the way heâd melted so perfectly against them, how heâd never kissed anyone before that and he didnât know what he was doing, but James didnât seem to care. He thinks about their goofy grin when they pulled away, how theyâd pecked his nose before running off to join the rest of the Gryffindor and get cleaned up. He thinks about how heâd found them again after dinner and crashed his lips to theirs, just kissing them as he kept his back against a wall so his knees wouldnât give out, about how they never really stopped kissing after that.
He thinks about when James proposed, the day Regulus had graduated Hogwarts. In front of Sirius and his parents and everyone theyâd ever known, James had gotten down on one knee and asked Regulus to marry them, to make them the happiest man alive. He thinks about how heâd cried and held James tighter than he thought he ever could, just whispering, âyes, I love you, I love you, yes,â over and over again for Merlin knows how long. He thinks about the wedding, small and kind and gentle, filled with the people who loved them and 80s punk rock, courtesy of Sirius and Remus deejaying.Â
He thinks about the times when he and James had danced in the rain, stopped on drives to collect flowers from the side of the road, about the countless times theyâd woken up tangled together. He thinks about the way James had sobbed when Lily had shown up with a sign that said, âyour baby on board!â after their first try with implanted embryos. Regulus had cried, too, of course, but he liked to remember the look on Jamesâ face when they realized they were about to be a father.
He thinks about the nights spent pouring over baby books when Lily was pregnant with Harry. He thinks about his brother crying when he and Remus had met Harry for the first time, holding and rocking him and telling him stories heâd repeat a thousand more times before Harry remembered any of them. He thinks about Remus sitting on the bed by Lily for hours as she recovered, how theyâd all camped in her room for as long as the hospital would let them to talk and be there for her and Harry as she recovered from labor and he recovered from being born (such a horrific practice, from what Reg saw).Â
He thinks about the childhood he never had, about how grateful he is to give Harry this comfort, this safety he never had. About how Harryâs never acted afraid of him, or of James, how heâs always said he loved them before bed and how heâs always been comfortable with hugs and cuddles. He thinks about how incredible it is to be a father, to be in charge of a whole human, to just exist in the same time as this exquisite creature who called him Papa.
He thinks a lot. Too much, probably. Because he almost doesnât notice when Jamesâ eyes flutter open, eyes gold in the morning sun. They smile gently, their eyes locking onto Regulusâ.
âYouâre so beautiful,â Regulus whispers, leaning forward to kiss his husband, careful not to jostle the child against his chest. Itâs a sweet, gentle kiss, one that has Reggieâs eyes fluttering shut and his heart welling in his chest. But he pulls away and smiles down at James, brushing a curl off of his forehead.
âReg,â James whispers, nuzzling into their loveâs hand. âWake up, Reg.â
Regulusâ smile falters. âWhat was that, cheri?â he asks softly, leaning closer to James, trying to hear. Man, itâs really cold in here. He needs to pull his blanket back up, it must have slipped down when Harry-
âWake up,â James says again, their voice forceful and firm. âWake up now.â
Regulus flinches at the cold tone, one heâs never heard before, not from James. His eyes close briefly, but once they open again, James is gone. Harry is gone. Everythingâs cold, and everything burns, and he canât breathe.
As Regulus feels the Inferi gripping his legs, clawing at him, dragging him down under the water, he stops thinking; he remembers. He remembers everything.
He remembers fighting with James his last year at Hogwarts, when he should have been studying and being a child for a little while longer, but his parents had different plans. He remembers James leaving him, saying they couldnât be with someone who would take the dark mark, telling him theyâd thought he was different. He remembers seeing them with their head in Evansâ lap not three weeks later, how that had hurt more than any âCrucioâ his mother had ever used on him. He remembers finding out about the Horcruxes. He remembers hunting down the locket. He remembers finding the cave and drinking the poison.
And as he stops thrashing, stops fighting, lets the water and the monsters take him, he remembers the way James had looked when they backed away from him in the astronomy tower that night, heartbreak and tears in their eyes. The way their voice had cracked when they whispered, âI canât love a monster, Regulus.â
Thatâs okay, Regulus thinks as he lets the air escape his lungs. Iâll love you anyway.
thank you @calamitoustide for the idea with this post. i hate you /affectionate
wtf man how could you
i put my fingers on some keys and then i hit upload :)
Cold
Jegulus drabble. wc: 1389
Itâs cold here. James is warm, but the room is cold, so Regulus doesnât want to move. He just tucks his head under Jamesâ chin, breathing in their scent with a dreamy sigh. It smells like it rained last night, too, which explains the cold, because Merlin knows neither him nor James remembered to close the window.Â
âPapa,â a little voice says, and Reg sighs, lifting his head from his husbandâs shoulder.
âHarry, come here,â he says quietly, lifting the blanket for the little boy to climb into. He giggles as he does, little hands clenching in the sheets as he pulls himself up under the comforter. He snuggles right up between his two dads, his head replacing Regâs spot under Jamesâ jaw. Regulus doesnât mind, though, because now he can bury his face in Harryâs curls.
Harry smells like sunshine and milk and honey, which Regulus always thought was strange. Heâs a kid; shouldnât he smell like glue and mud and diapers? Heâs meant to be sticky and smelly and weird. But no. The little one always smells like sweet things, safety and comfort, just like his dad. James always smells like wood and cinnamon and vanilla, and thereâs nothing Reggie loves more than holding his son and his husband at once, breathing them in and feeling them. Here and real and loved and safe and warm.Â
Harryâs already asleep again, his chubby brown hands fisted in Regulusâ shirt. His lips are parted in a soft âoâ as he snores, the perfect picture of beautiful innocence. James is drooling into their own curls as they snore, their glasses discarded beside their pillow, because god forbid they take their glasses off before they fall asleep.Â
So Regulus just watches.
He props his head on his hand and his elbow on his pillow, staring down at the two people he loves most in the world. The sun is painting their skin gold and their curls seem to glow against their pillows, and Reg knows that when one of them opens their eyes, thoseâll glow, too, turning that honeyed shade that takes his breath away every time he sees it. And as he watches them sleep, occasionally brushing his fingers through Harry or Jamesâ curls, he thinks.
He thinks about Hogwarts, when heâd accidentally ran into James as he rushed off the train because he was chasing Barty. He thinks about Jamesâ outstretched hand, their dazzling smile as they asked if he was okay as they pulled him off the damp cobblestone. He thinks about Barty and Evan teasing him mercilessly in the dorm because someone had said the words âJames Potterâ at dinner and Reg had blushed.
He thinks about the first time they ever kissed, when Reg was in 4th year and James was in 5th, when Reg had caught a snitch and utterly destroyed Gryffindor, but James had gay panicked too much to care and had grabbed Regulus by the waist the second theyâd hit the ground. He thinks about how their lips tasted, about the way heâd melted so perfectly against them, how heâd never kissed anyone before that and he didnât know what he was doing, but James didnât seem to care. He thinks about their goofy grin when they pulled away, how theyâd pecked his nose before running off to join the rest of the Gryffindor and get cleaned up. He thinks about how heâd found them again after dinner and crashed his lips to theirs, just kissing them as he kept his back against a wall so his knees wouldnât give out, about how they never really stopped kissing after that.
He thinks about when James proposed, the day Regulus had graduated Hogwarts. In front of Sirius and his parents and everyone theyâd ever known, James had gotten down on one knee and asked Regulus to marry them, to make them the happiest man alive. He thinks about how heâd cried and held James tighter than he thought he ever could, just whispering, âyes, I love you, I love you, yes,â over and over again for Merlin knows how long. He thinks about the wedding, small and kind and gentle, filled with the people who loved them and 80s punk rock, courtesy of Sirius and Remus deejaying.Â
He thinks about the times when he and James had danced in the rain, stopped on drives to collect flowers from the side of the road, about the countless times theyâd woken up tangled together. He thinks about the way James had sobbed when Lily had shown up with a sign that said, âyour baby on board!â after their first try with implanted embryos. Regulus had cried, too, of course, but he liked to remember the look on Jamesâ face when they realized they were about to be a father.
He thinks about the nights spent pouring over baby books when Lily was pregnant with Harry. He thinks about his brother crying when he and Remus had met Harry for the first time, holding and rocking him and telling him stories heâd repeat a thousand more times before Harry remembered any of them. He thinks about Remus sitting on the bed by Lily for hours as she recovered, how theyâd all camped in her room for as long as the hospital would let them to talk and be there for her and Harry as she recovered from labor and he recovered from being born (such a horrific practice, from what Reg saw).Â
He thinks about the childhood he never had, about how grateful he is to give Harry this comfort, this safety he never had. About how Harryâs never acted afraid of him, or of James, how heâs always said he loved them before bed and how heâs always been comfortable with hugs and cuddles. He thinks about how incredible it is to be a father, to be in charge of a whole human, to just exist in the same time as this exquisite creature who called him Papa.
He thinks a lot. Too much, probably. Because he almost doesnât notice when Jamesâ eyes flutter open, eyes gold in the morning sun. They smile gently, their eyes locking onto Regulusâ.
âYouâre so beautiful,â Regulus whispers, leaning forward to kiss his husband, careful not to jostle the child against his chest. Itâs a sweet, gentle kiss, one that has Reggieâs eyes fluttering shut and his heart welling in his chest. But he pulls away and smiles down at James, brushing a curl off of his forehead.
âReg,â James whispers, nuzzling into their loveâs hand. âWake up, Reg.â
Regulusâ smile falters. âWhat was that, cheri?â he asks softly, leaning closer to James, trying to hear. Man, itâs really cold in here. He needs to pull his blanket back up, it must have slipped down when Harry-
âWake up,â James says again, their voice forceful and firm. âWake up now.â
Regulus flinches at the cold tone, one heâs never heard before, not from James. His eyes close briefly, but once they open again, James is gone. Harry is gone. Everythingâs cold, and everything burns, and he canât breathe.
As Regulus feels the Inferi gripping his legs, clawing at him, dragging him down under the water, he stops thinking; he remembers. He remembers everything.
He remembers fighting with James his last year at Hogwarts, when he should have been studying and being a child for a little while longer, but his parents had different plans. He remembers James leaving him, saying they couldnât be with someone who would take the dark mark, telling him theyâd thought he was different. He remembers seeing them with their head in Evansâ lap not three weeks later, how that had hurt more than any âCrucioâ his mother had ever used on him. He remembers finding out about the Horcruxes. He remembers hunting down the locket. He remembers finding the cave and drinking the poison.
And as he stops thrashing, stops fighting, lets the water and the monsters take him, he remembers the way James had looked when they backed away from him in the astronomy tower that night, heartbreak and tears in their eyes. The way their voice had cracked when they whispered, âI canât love a monster, Regulus.â
Thatâs okay, Regulus thinks as he lets the air escape his lungs. Iâll love you anyway.
thank you @calamitoustide for the idea with this post. i hate you /affectionate
Knew it. I knew it. I knew what was going to happen and I kept reading.
fuck.
âŠË. â â.àżàż. ââŻđđâŻđđđ
Rule 1: I will write platonic for any ship you want. I will not write romance or smut for a number of ships, which I will clarify in a list here.
Rule 2: I will write smut for any character in my character list, but I will not do 'x Reader' for Regulus Black, Takashi Shirogane, Tony Stark, or Ted Lasso. It just feels weird and I don't like it. orange on the character list means conditional smut; I won't write smut of Magnus unless it's with Alex. I won't write smut of Draco or Harry unless it's with Draco and Harry. it has to be a ship I like, or I won't write it.
Rule 3: if a character is not on my list, you can still feel free to ask for them. if I know the character, I will write platonic for them happily. characters on my list with blue names will not have smut. for one reason or another, I don't want to write smut for those characters, so please don't ask me to.
Rule 4: if a character is not on my list but is from a franchise available on the list, you're welcome to ask. I may have simply forgotten to put them on the list lols. additionally, if you think it might be a franchise I'm willing to write for, you're more than welcome to ask!
Rule 5: I reserve the right to turn down a request, whether it makes me uncomfortable or I just don't have the time. for whatever reason at any time, I can turn it down.
Rule 6: No Severus Snape. No Peter Pettigrew. No Jason Gideon. No 'Hermione x anyone except Ron'. No 'Rebbeca x Ted', no 'Hotch x Prentiss', no 'Pidge x other paladins', no straight!Regulus. It doesn't make sense to me and I don't like it. You're welcome to ask for a celebrity or streamer, but I will probably say no.
Rule 7: Don't spoil JJK. I've only seen ssn 1, I'm poor, I'm sorry.
I know it's a lot, but I'd be grateful for you to respect these rules when requesting things. I'll also make a separate post for my smut rules. Thank you for reading what I write, it means the world to me. <3
divider credits in bio
we have to stop letting people write our pathetic Guys as daddy doms. i hope the next pandemic is premature ejaculation
Keep your priorities straight: post fic.
Cold
Jegulus drabble. wc: 1389
Itâs cold here. James is warm, but the room is cold, so Regulus doesnât want to move. He just tucks his head under Jamesâ chin, breathing in their scent with a dreamy sigh. It smells like it rained last night, too, which explains the cold, because Merlin knows neither him nor James remembered to close the window.Â
âPapa,â a little voice says, and Reg sighs, lifting his head from his husbandâs shoulder.
âHarry, come here,â he says quietly, lifting the blanket for the little boy to climb into. He giggles as he does, little hands clenching in the sheets as he pulls himself up under the comforter. He snuggles right up between his two dads, his head replacing Regâs spot under Jamesâ jaw. Regulus doesnât mind, though, because now he can bury his face in Harryâs curls.
Harry smells like sunshine and milk and honey, which Regulus always thought was strange. Heâs a kid; shouldnât he smell like glue and mud and diapers? Heâs meant to be sticky and smelly and weird. But no. The little one always smells like sweet things, safety and comfort, just like his dad. James always smells like wood and cinnamon and vanilla, and thereâs nothing Reggie loves more than holding his son and his husband at once, breathing them in and feeling them. Here and real and loved and safe and warm.Â
Harryâs already asleep again, his chubby brown hands fisted in Regulusâ shirt. His lips are parted in a soft âoâ as he snores, the perfect picture of beautiful innocence. James is drooling into their own curls as they snore, their glasses discarded beside their pillow, because god forbid they take their glasses off before they fall asleep.Â
So Regulus just watches.
He props his head on his hand and his elbow on his pillow, staring down at the two people he loves most in the world. The sun is painting their skin gold and their curls seem to glow against their pillows, and Reg knows that when one of them opens their eyes, thoseâll glow, too, turning that honeyed shade that takes his breath away every time he sees it. And as he watches them sleep, occasionally brushing his fingers through Harry or Jamesâ curls, he thinks.
He thinks about Hogwarts, when heâd accidentally ran into James as he rushed off the train because he was chasing Barty. He thinks about Jamesâ outstretched hand, their dazzling smile as they asked if he was okay as they pulled him off the damp cobblestone. He thinks about Barty and Evan teasing him mercilessly in the dorm because someone had said the words âJames Potterâ at dinner and Reg had blushed.
He thinks about the first time they ever kissed, when Reg was in 4th year and James was in 5th, when Reg had caught a snitch and utterly destroyed Gryffindor, but James had gay panicked too much to care and had grabbed Regulus by the waist the second theyâd hit the ground. He thinks about how their lips tasted, about the way heâd melted so perfectly against them, how heâd never kissed anyone before that and he didnât know what he was doing, but James didnât seem to care. He thinks about their goofy grin when they pulled away, how theyâd pecked his nose before running off to join the rest of the Gryffindor and get cleaned up. He thinks about how heâd found them again after dinner and crashed his lips to theirs, just kissing them as he kept his back against a wall so his knees wouldnât give out, about how they never really stopped kissing after that.
He thinks about when James proposed, the day Regulus had graduated Hogwarts. In front of Sirius and his parents and everyone theyâd ever known, James had gotten down on one knee and asked Regulus to marry them, to make them the happiest man alive. He thinks about how heâd cried and held James tighter than he thought he ever could, just whispering, âyes, I love you, I love you, yes,â over and over again for Merlin knows how long. He thinks about the wedding, small and kind and gentle, filled with the people who loved them and 80s punk rock, courtesy of Sirius and Remus deejaying.Â
He thinks about the times when he and James had danced in the rain, stopped on drives to collect flowers from the side of the road, about the countless times theyâd woken up tangled together. He thinks about the way James had sobbed when Lily had shown up with a sign that said, âyour baby on board!â after their first try with implanted embryos. Regulus had cried, too, of course, but he liked to remember the look on Jamesâ face when they realized they were about to be a father.
He thinks about the nights spent pouring over baby books when Lily was pregnant with Harry. He thinks about his brother crying when he and Remus had met Harry for the first time, holding and rocking him and telling him stories heâd repeat a thousand more times before Harry remembered any of them. He thinks about Remus sitting on the bed by Lily for hours as she recovered, how theyâd all camped in her room for as long as the hospital would let them to talk and be there for her and Harry as she recovered from labor and he recovered from being born (such a horrific practice, from what Reg saw).Â
He thinks about the childhood he never had, about how grateful he is to give Harry this comfort, this safety he never had. About how Harryâs never acted afraid of him, or of James, how heâs always said he loved them before bed and how heâs always been comfortable with hugs and cuddles. He thinks about how incredible it is to be a father, to be in charge of a whole human, to just exist in the same time as this exquisite creature who called him Papa.
He thinks a lot. Too much, probably. Because he almost doesnât notice when Jamesâ eyes flutter open, eyes gold in the morning sun. They smile gently, their eyes locking onto Regulusâ.
âYouâre so beautiful,â Regulus whispers, leaning forward to kiss his husband, careful not to jostle the child against his chest. Itâs a sweet, gentle kiss, one that has Reggieâs eyes fluttering shut and his heart welling in his chest. But he pulls away and smiles down at James, brushing a curl off of his forehead.
âReg,â James whispers, nuzzling into their loveâs hand. âWake up, Reg.â
Regulusâ smile falters. âWhat was that, cheri?â he asks softly, leaning closer to James, trying to hear. Man, itâs really cold in here. He needs to pull his blanket back up, it must have slipped down when Harry-
âWake up,â James says again, their voice forceful and firm. âWake up now.â
Regulus flinches at the cold tone, one heâs never heard before, not from James. His eyes close briefly, but once they open again, James is gone. Harry is gone. Everythingâs cold, and everything burns, and he canât breathe.
As Regulus feels the Inferi gripping his legs, clawing at him, dragging him down under the water, he stops thinking; he remembers. He remembers everything.
He remembers fighting with James his last year at Hogwarts, when he should have been studying and being a child for a little while longer, but his parents had different plans. He remembers James leaving him, saying they couldnât be with someone who would take the dark mark, telling him theyâd thought he was different. He remembers seeing them with their head in Evansâ lap not three weeks later, how that had hurt more than any âCrucioâ his mother had ever used on him. He remembers finding out about the Horcruxes. He remembers hunting down the locket. He remembers finding the cave and drinking the poison.
And as he stops thrashing, stops fighting, lets the water and the monsters take him, he remembers the way James had looked when they backed away from him in the astronomy tower that night, heartbreak and tears in their eyes. The way their voice had cracked when they whispered, âI canât love a monster, Regulus.â
Thatâs okay, Regulus thinks as he lets the air escape his lungs. Iâll love you anyway.
thank you @calamitoustide for the idea with this post. i hate you /affectionate
*struggles while writing* i suck and writing is hard
*remembers some ppl use ai* i am a creative force. i am uncorrupted by theft and indolence. i am on a journey to excellence. it is my duty to keep taking joy in creating.
