main pairings are jegulus & nottpott. however, i also adore wolfstar and moonwater. the ship world is vast & free will exists!
note: i highly suggest you refrain from wasting your breath on hating these ships anywhere near my blog because i, quite literally, could not care less. ☺︎
⟡ i sometimes post + reblog nsfw content, so please be 18+ when following me. i am also quite uncomfortable with those below that age who interact with me. please heed this!
this corner of the world is a safe space. i do not tolerate any hate, racism, homophobia, transphobia, and the like.
! i do not support jkr in any way, shape, or form.
blog content: short fics / headcanons / my universe
💌 i'm also on ao3 as deartobio. (yes, kageyama tobio.) i welcome asks & would love to be friends, please don't be shy to reach out.
started (& caught up with) cosmosbooks’ consume. this morning — was weighed down with how heavy the topics were, but how beautifully written. cannot wait to see how regulus’ revenge unfolds and how the imminent confrontation with sirius happens.
prongsfoot and commenting the most scandalous things under each other’s instagram posts. i’m talking “a hair tie & 5 minutes” and “my hole is pulsating your name in morse code”
sirius will randomly go into regulus’ room and update him on all of the drama in his life, and they’ll reflect on it, and then he’ll leave. this happens about every four months.
little potter's a potter – a jegulus raising harry fic: 784 words.
Harry fidgeted as he carried the carefully wrapped package into the kitchen. Inside was the result of six weeks of secret Saturday afternoons spent at Mrs. Smith’s pottery studio, a kind Muggle woman who agreed to teach Harry the basics after Hermione introduced them.
“Do you think he’ll like it?” Harry whispered to his Papa, who was putting the blueberries on top of the pancakes for James’ birthday breakfast.
Regulus smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at their son. “He’ll love anything you make him, darling, you know that.”
“But what if they’re wonky? The handles aren’t even and–“
“Perfect isn’t the point,” Regulus gently interrupted. “The fact that you made them with your own hands is what matters.”
Harry nodded, but still anxious. At fourteen, he wanted so badly to give his Dad something special, something that showed how much he meant to him.
The sound of descending footsteps made them freeze.
“Quick, act natural!” Regulus hissed, a playful gleam in his eyes as he hurriedly transfigured a napkin into a sunflower.
James appeared in the doorway, clearly just got out of bed with his hair sticking up in all directions and scratching his stomach. His eyes widened at the sight of the decorated kitchen and the breakfast spread.
“Happy birthday!” Harry and Regulus shouted with glee as they wrapped him in a hug.
“Thank you, my love,” James said before kissing Regulus on the cheek. He turned to Harry and kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you, bug.”
James broke into a wide grin as he walked near the island. “What's all this, then?”
“Breakfast for the birthday boy,” Regulus said, guiding his husband to a chair. “Then presents later.”
Harry could barely contain himself, picking at his own food while watching his Dad eat. When James finally set down his fork, Harry practically leaped from his seat.
“Can I give him mine now?” he asked his Papa, who nodded with an encouraging smile.
Harry placed the package in front of James. “Uh.. Hermione helped me find the class, and I’ve been going every Saturday while you thought I was at Quidditch practice.”
James raised an eyebrow. “So that’s where you’ve been sneaking off to.” He unwrapped the gift carefully, pulling away the tissue paper to reveal two handmade ceramic mugs.
The first one was painted in Gryffindor red and gold with “World’s Best Dad” written in Harry’s elegant handwriting, years of Regulus’ insistence in cursive lessons paying off.
The second has a more elaborate design: a golden Snitch, a proud stag, a sleek black cat, and the equation "J+R=H” painted in cursive.
James took his time to stare at the two mugs, turning them over in his hands.
“Harry made them on his own,” Regulus said softly and proudly. “From scratch.”
James looked up, his eyes a bit glassy behind his glasses. “You made these? For me?”
Harry nodded shyly. “I know they’re not the best, but–”
He didn’t get to finish because James stood up and pulled him into a very tight hug. “They’re absolutely perfect to me,” James whispered into Harry’s hair. “No one has ever given me anything more special.”
Harry felt love bloom in his chest as he returned the hug with the same intensity. “The cat is supposed to be Papa, of course,” he explained when James finally released him. “And the stag is you as Prongs, and then there’s me with the snitch because I don’t have an Animagus yet. Then, all of us together in the equation.”
James let the Animagus comment slide, they told him he could start trying at sixteen. He picked up the second mug again, tracing the equation with his finger. “J plus R equals H,” he read quietly. “Our little family.”
“Do you really like them?” Harry asked, still a bit nervous.
James set the mug down carefully and placed both hands on Harry’s shoulders. “I am going to use these every single day,” he declared. “In fact,” he turned to Regulus. “I think I need some more tea right now, in my new favourite mug.”
Regulus filled the “World's Best Dad” mug with tea as James pulled Harry in for another hug. “Thank you,” he murmured and kissed him on the temple. “This is the best birthday present I could ever ask for.”
Later that night, Harry noticed that James did use both mugs throughout the day. He even called Uncle Sirius in that mirror of theirs to brag that Little Potter is now a potter!
And if his Dad looked at the equation after every sip, well, Harry pretended not to notice. But he couldn’t help the surge of pride and love every time.
faint - jegulus - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 327
“Procrastinated again?”
Regulus’s cool voice caused James to jump. He’d been in the library for hours, working on assignments he’d put off for far too long. It was a horrible habit of his–ignoring things until they were due the next day, then panicking and working for a mind-numbingly long time just to produce work that was half of what he was capable of, hating himself the entire time.
“Something like that,” he sighed, looking back to his textbook. Merlin, when was the last time he’d eaten? Breakfast? He felt faint. What time was it?
“Potter, someday you’re actually going to have to learn the definition of ‘deadline,’” Regulus drawled, crossing his arms and staring down at him.
James clenched his jaw. Normally, being teased by Regulus would have brightened his day immensely, especially after the radio silence he’d been treated to. But now, with three essays to write, he was just trying not to completely freak out and cry. “Well, it hasn’t happened yet,” he mumbled.
But when he looked up, there was something almost pitying behind the stern glint in Regulus’s eyes. Slowly, the Slytherin reached into his pocket and handed him a bundle of food. “Eat. You look awful.” He grimaced, but James could see the amusement there.
A rush of gratitude flooded through him. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the food. “So you’re talking to me again?”
“I’ve decided that you need my help, so I’ll be gracious,” Regulus replied, sm”Welirking slightly and sitting down next to him. “But you’ll need to make up for cancelling our date. I’m thinking a lavish dinner. Home-made cake. A back massage. Just to start,” he gave him a devious grin.
“Baby, if you help me get this all done, I’ll fucking propose,” James replied honestly, rubbing at his tired eyes.
Regulus turned a bit pink. “I-Well, we-we should get started,” he stammered, looking away.
James grinned. Oh yes, he would propose. Someday. Of that, he was sure.
the little menace – a jegulus raising harry fic: 1,319 words.
Seven-year-old Harry sat at the top of the stairs, peering through the banister rails at his parents in the living room below. Papa was doing that thing again.
“Jamie, love,” Regulus said, his voice taking on that particular tone that Harry came to recognise. “Do we really need to attend Narcissa’s garden party this weekend? It’s going to be dreadfully stuffy.”
Harry watched as his Papa moved closer to his Dad, placing a hand on his chest and looking up through long eyelashes. His grey eyes widened just so, and his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly.
“Babe, we already owled her our attendance,” James said, though Harry could tell from his Dad’s softening expression that his Papa was winning. “And you know she’ll hold it against us for months if we don’t show.”
“But I thought we could take Harry flying instead,” Regulus countered, his finger now tracing circles on James’ chest. “You know how he loves it when we both go with him.”
James sighed, clearly have lost the fight. “Fine. I’ll owl her with some excuse.”
Regulus beamed victoriously and pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek. “You’re the best, my love.”
Harry’s eyes widened with understanding. So that’s how it works, he thought.
“Harry James Potter-Black, you are going to school today and that’s final,” James declared the following Monday morning, arms crossed as he stood in Harry’s doorway.
Harry, still in his pyjamas, clutched his stuffed hippogriff. “But Dad, I don’t feel well,” he mumbled, then remembered his Papa’s tactics. He slowly looked up, making his silver eyes as wide as possible.
“I just wanted to stay home with you and Papa today,” he added, his voice softening to match the tone Regulus used. He even tilted his head slightly to the side, letting his messy black hair fall across his forehead.
James’ stern expression faltered. “Harry, are you... are you trying to sweet-talk me?”
Harry blinked innocently. “I just miss you when I’m at school all day.”
James pressed his lips together, fighting a smile. “That’s– well, that’s–"
“What’s happening here?” Regulus appeared behind James, already dressed in his casual robes to send Harry. “Darling, why aren’t you dressed yet? You’ll be late.”
“He doesn’t want to go to school,” James said, turning to his husband. “And he’s using your techniques to try and get out of it.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow. “My techniques?”
“Yes, yours,” James insisted. “The wide eyes, the pretty voice, the whole act. He’s perfected your gig.”
Regulus glanced at Harry, who immediately demonstrated by widening his eyes even further and adding a slight pout.
Regulus’ mouth fell open. “I don’t do that!”
“You absolutely do,” James chuckled. “And now this bug has learned it.”
Harry, seeing that his attempt might be failing, decided to double down. “Please, Dad? Papa could teach me potions today instead. That’s like school.”
James turned to Regulus with an accusatory look. “See what you created?”
Regulus couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m both horrified and impressed.” He moved to sit on the edge of Harry’s bed. “Nice try, little one, but school is non-negotiable.”
Harry sighed dramatically. “But it works when you do it with Dad.”
“That’s different,” Regulus said, his cheeks turning slightly pink.
“How?” Harry asked.
“It just is,” James interjected, trying not to laugh. “Now get dressed. You’re going to school.”
Two weeks later, Harry stood in front of the toy shop window in Diagon Alley, his whole face practically pressed against the glass as he stared at the new Nimbus Junior.
“Dad, Papa, look!” he called to his parents. “It’s the fastest kids’ broom ever!”
James chuckled. “We’re here for your new school robes, kiddo, not brooms.”
Harry turned to face them, a plan already forming. He walked over slowly, taking Regulus’ hand first. “Papa,” he said softly, swinging their clasped hands gently, “don’t you think I’ve been really good lately? I finished all my homework and even cleaned my room without being asked.”
Regulus looked down at his son, immediately recognising his own tactics being used against him. “Darling–”
“And my old broom is too small for me now,” Harry continued, now employing the full-power puppy dog eyes that he’d been practising in the mirror. “Please, Papa? I promise I’ll be extra careful.”
Regulus looked helplessly at James, who was watching the scene with sheer amusement.
“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” He cheekily whispered to his husband.
Harry, sensing an opening, turned his attention to James. “Dad, you always say I’m a natural flyer like you. So you want me to have the best broom, right? So I can be just as good as you?”
James’ resolve visibly weakened. “Well, when you put it that way...”
“Jamie!” Regulus chastised, then realised he was being hypocritical. “I mean... we should discuss this first.”
Harry looked between them, his silver eyes impossibly wide. “I’ll do extra chores,” he offered. As if Kreacher would ever let him do that. “And I won’t ask for anything else for my birthday.”
The two men exchanged a look that contained an entire conversation.
“We’ll think about it,” James finally said, which Harry knew meant ‘yes’ in parent language.
He beamed, dropping the act immediately. “Thanks, Dad! Thanks, Papa!”
As they continued toward Madam Malkin’s, Regulus leaned over to James. “We’ve created a monster, haven’t we?”
“Completely your fault,” James replied with a grin before pressing a kiss to his temple. “He got that from you.”
They watched as Harry skipped ahead, already planning his first flight on his new broom.
“Harry, come down! It’s time for your haircut!” James called up the stairs, but there was no response.
“Harry?” Regulus tried, setting down the Prophet.
Silence.
They exchanged knowing looks before heading upstairs. They found Harry curled up in his window seat with a book, pretending not to hear them.
“Interesting,” James said from the doorway. “I could have sworn I called you for your haircut.”
Harry slowly looked up, his hair falling well past his ears now. “Do I have to? I like it long.”
“It’s covering your eyes now, my love,” Regulus pointed out. “You can’t see to read your books.”
Harry closed his book and came over to them, tilting his head to look at Regulus. “But Papa, you said you liked my hair long because it reminds you of Dad when he was young.”
Regulus shot a guilty look at James. “I might have mentioned that.”
Harry pressed his advantage, turning to James. “And Dad, don’t you always say I should make my own choices about how I look? That’s what you told Grandmother Walburga when she said my clothes were too Muggle.”
James sighed. “Using my words against me, huh, little bug?”
Harry nodded, his expression as earnest as he could make it. “I promise I’ll let you cut it when it gets in the way of Quidditch.”
The two men looked at each other, silently communicating again.
“Fine,” James conceded. “But when you can’t see the Snitch because of your fringe, don’t come crying to us.”
Harry grinned triumphantly before trotting over to give them kisses. “Thank you! I love you!”
As they headed back downstairs, Regulus whispered to James, “He’s getting too good at this.”
“He’s got us both wrapped around his little finger,” James can only laugh.
Regulus sighed, not denying it anymore. “At least we know he’ll always be able to get what he wants in life.”
“Heaven help us when he’s a teenager,” James groaned.
“Heaven help everyone else,” Regulus corrected with a grin.
From upstairs, the little boy was already planning his next conquest: perhaps a snake as a pet, or a sleepover at Neville’s, maybe even those Quidditch gloves he saw last time.
He knows he can absolutely make those happen. And if his fathers say no, he can always ask Uncle Paddy.
remus with a cane and he hits every annoying piece of shit walking the castle halls with it. it happens so often, peter started tallying who gets hit the most. (it's mostly sirius and james)
marauders band au and it’s post-break up jegulus (they’ve been over for two years) and the boys are releasing a new album and i’m getting over you is the title track. fans and industry friends are there. the track is quite upbeat — james’ voice is loud and clear but so is his suffering disguised as nonchalance. his eyes are closed almost the entire song and when he opens them they’re glassy and they immediately spot regulus casually standing at the back.
