James Calls Regulus "my Star" And Regulus Calls James "my Sun"

James calls Regulus "my star" and Regulus calls James "my sun"

prompt: champagne — 745 words (telling sirius that they’re dating ft. brunch and not so gentle threats lmao) @jegulus-microfic

How Regulus had let his boyfriend convince him that brunch was the place to inform Sirius of their relationship is beyond him. A couple fluttered blinks of those bright hazel eyes and a well placed ‘please, love, it’s important to me’ between kisses in bed and it was done.

Regulus has never considered himself a weak man, but fucking hell, if James Potter hasn’t proven otherwise.

Sirius, to his credit, hasn’t exploded. He’s currently seeming rather catatonic where he sits across the table, which is its own sort of concerning, but there’s no immediate screaming. A good sign? Regulus isn’t convinced.

When Regulus catches their waitress on her way past their table, he waves her down. She’s polite with a smile when she steps nearer, asking what he needs.

“Do you have anything stronger than the champagne in these mimosas available right now?” He asks, fluttering a hand toward the few glasses on the table.

“Um, well, there’s vodka in the bloody Marys on our brunch menu. Would you like to order one of those?”

“I’d like a bottle of just the vodka for the table, actually.”

He knows it’s an impossible request, he’s just hoping that maybe sliding her a twenty note or two might convince her to do him this one kindness. Her brow furrows and she looks at Sirius first before glancing past Regulus at James.

“He’s joking,” James says, forcing a nervous sounding laugh.

Regulus sinks in his seat, mumbling, “I’m really not.”

James lets out another shaking laugh before requesting the check as soon as she can get it for them. The poor girl darts another odd look around the table before painting a smile back on and nodding, then she’s gone again. Regulus goes back to staring at Sirius, who has taken to looking at him through narrowed eyes.

“You two are dating.” It’s not a question, no longer needing the clarification given they’ve already explained twice.

Regulus arches a brow. “Should I say it in French for you next?”

“Reg…” James warns.

“Actually, you,” Sirius swivels his focus to James who looks back at him, wide-eyed. “Millions of people on this earth and you decide my brother is the one you want to date?”

Regulus rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck that way. This is the response he expected. Because of course Sirius would jump to that, to the fact that James would choose to be with him, as if it’s some great offense to the order of the universe. 

Instead of offering further comment, Regulus snatches his glass from the table and downs the remaining bit of mimosa in it. He wasn’t joking about the little bit of champagne not being enough to get through this.

“You know I’ll kill you if you hurt him, James.”

Regulus chokes on the gulp of his drink.

Both James and Sirius look at him in concern as he reaches for his napkin and covers a couple more sputtering coughs into it, then wipes at his mouth.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Sirius scowls at him, kicking his shin beneath the table. “You idiot, of course I’d kill him for you. I’d kill him in a heartbeat.”

“Cheers, mate,” James snorts.

“You— Hang on.” Regulus sits up straighter, blinks beneath the crease of his brows, and glances between the two of them. “So, you’re… okay? With me and him?”

“I mean, I’m not totally wrapping my head around it at the moment. Still in shock, maybe, but… sure?” Sirius tilts his head like he’s thinking it over before he shrugs. “You’re both pains in my ass so I guess it makes a little sense.”

James laughs; it doesn’t sound nervous anymore. Now it’s Regulus’ turn to stare blankly at his brother as he tries to make sense of this actually going fairly well instead of being the catastrophic event he had been bracing himself for all morning. 

It’s only when James knocks his elbow into his that he’s pulled from his thoughts. There’s a fond smile on his face when Regulus looks at him, the same kind that has soothed many of Regulus’ worries in the past few months. God, he really does love him, stupid brunch announcements and all.

“Told you it wouldn’t be as big a deal as you thought.” James presses a quick kiss to his cheek.

Regulus notices Sirius’ nose scrunch at the open display of affection and ends up laughing finally, too.

Remus: what’s wrong James?

James: Reg was mean to me today :(

Sirius: really? He’s usually too well behaved for that

James: usually he just smiles politely when I talk to him which is annoying but he proper lost it before

Sirius: he’s only mean to people he trusts not to hurt him for it

James: …are you saying what I think you’re saying?

Sirius: *sighs* yes prongs, I think he likes you more than he lets on

James: :D

fanart for art heist baby by @otrtbs

my masochistic tendencies made me reread ahb and i haven't been this sad and this inspired in a while so enjoy while it lasts

@jegulus-microfic

12 June 2023 Micro-fic

Prompt: warmth

Tags: angst, subjective allegory, no dialogue, references to self harm and child abuse but nothing graphic, sort of toxic past bartylus but it’s not their fault, not sure if you can read this as romantically involved Jegulus but it’s not platonic either, I’m quite literally completely unable to write anything under a thousand words I’m so sorry

WC: 1300 words, average read time 17 minutes

Regulus was always cold. It didn’t matter what season it was, what he was wearing, or how many blankets he was under, he was always, always cold. He wondered if it was a byproduct of living in that godforsaken house for too long. Sometimes, when his mind wasn’t working the way it should and he gave into the temptation to look at Sirius, he would see Sirius burrowed in his friends’ embraces. Like maybe Sirius was just as cold as he was.

For a long time, the closest he came to warmth was Barty. But Barty wasn’t warmth, not really. Barty was flame. Scorching, dangerous, burning, and uncaring of the damage left behind. And Regulus was like a moth. He let himself get pulled over Barty’s edges again and again, each time hoping he may get to soak the warmth up from the coals at the end. Barty left him burned and scarred every time, and Regulus left him snuffed and drenched in return. They both knew they’d kill each other one day, but it didn’t matter. They were both toxic people at their cores. They would poison themselves until one of them dropped dead and the other would follow shortly behind. A sick, twisted, crude facsimile of a phenomenon that neither of them knew but desperately craved.

James isn’t sure when he started noticing Regulus’s eyes on them, but now that he’d noticed, he’s hyper aware of his gaze. At first, he’d thought his gaze was bitter and angry and directed only at Sirius. And, it was, kind of. The farther into the term they got, the more Regulus seemed to lose the battle in himself and the more his eyes would land on their group.

He never seemed to realise he was being watched in return.

James watched Regulus closely and at some point, he realised that the anger and bitterness in his eyes wasn’t actually directed at Sirius like he had thought. Regulus was jealous. His eyes burned with it, desperate, longing stares that shuddered with a kind of sadness that left James with chills along his spine. The longer he watched Regulus, the more he saw. The way his hands never stopped shaking, the way his chapped lips always looked like they were a hair shy of blue, how he always wore long sleeves and jackets no matter the season, and how he caved in on himself, like if he scrunched down into himself far enough, he might find the barest hint of warmth. James isn’t sure when he starts flicking warming charms at the younger boy, but when his tense face smooths out for just a moment every time they hit him, James knew he wouldn’t stop.

He never finds out how Sirius finds Regulus that cold, stormy, December night. All he knows is one minute they’re sitting around the fire in the lounge, and the next, Sirius goes rigid beside him. James doesn’t manage to get a word out before Sirius is gone. He comes back hours later with a half dead, drenched Regulus who’s bleeding from Merlin only knows where and shivering so hard he keeps biting his own tongue. He’s drawn to Regulus with an urgency he’s never felt before, and the fact that he’s not at all a healer doesn’t occur to him. He’s been treating Regulus for years, hasn’t he?

He tries not to let his eyes linger on the countless, brutal scars that line the hidden planes of Regulus’ body as he strips him from the soaked robes he wears, but if the sound of his heart breaking over and over is anything to go by, he’s not successful. He’d be able to recognise Walburga Black’s handy lacero work in his sleep, or the deep wounds left from Orion’s rage, and it doesn’t take him long to discover Regulus’ own work across his left forearm. This body holds the remains of so many different people’s violence. James wonders if it holds a person at all.

He stays with Regulus through his nightmares. Speaks softly to him when he wakes screaming and staring into nothingness with haunted eyes that should never live in the body of an eighteen year old. The words don’t seem to help much, James doubts he even hears them, but the warming charms do. He casts them on the blankets piled atop Regulus, he casts them on the sofa he lies on, he casts them on the much too large borrowed clothes Regulus has on. Anywhere Regulus touches, James funnels warmth into it. Anything to keep Regulus from shivering into tens of millions of tiny pieces right before his eyes.

Regulus will never talk about what happened that dreadful December night all those years ago. He will never speak of what he saw or what he did or what happened to him, but James doesn’t need him to. He knows enough to form his own ideas, and he knows enough to know that when Regulus’ eyes go glassy and void, that warming charms, hot tea, and a warm muffin will bring him back to the present. He knows Regulus will burrow into his side, as though he wishes he could crawl inside James’ rib cage and even then it might not be enough, and James will wrap his arms around him, holding him close for as long as he needs. Never tightly, Regulus fears being trapped more than he fears being touched, but firmly enough that Regulus knows he is held together, kept whole. Regulus will shove his feet under James’ leg, and even through his trousers he can feel how cold they are. He won’t complain, ever, about Regulus’ cold, he just bundles him up, encases him in the warmth James can provide, and soothes the cracks and aches and edges as much he can.

Regulus accepted long ago that he is a weak, weak man. He knew the second he recognised the source of the warming charms he’d been hit with back in school that he would become an addict. James’ warmth is intoxicating. He gives it so freely, completely surrounds Regulus with it, and never tries to take it away. Regulus is a weak, selfish man, and he can’t bring himself to care that he must scald James’ sweet, rich skin with his frigid cold. He can’t bring himself to care when James wraps his arms around him and bleeds his warmth directly into Regulus’ very soul. He feels alive for the first time ever while he’s surrounded by the feeling of James’ heart beating against his back, the smell of a blueberry muffin in front of him, a book he’s not even really reading open in his lap, piping hot tea cradled in his hands, and the hum of a familiar warming charm pulsing around them. He understands what is different between Barty’s flame and James’ warmth now. Barty and Regulus only had one language they could speak. Violence was how they understood each other. James, though? James knew love. He knew kindness. He knew gentle. Years down the line, James is still teaching Regulus new words in this foreign language with the same amount of patience he had when he started. Barty was fire. James is sun. Both similar to each other, both with the capability of destroying Regulus, but only one with the ability to put him back together.

He may never understand how to love another person, but James has enough warmth for the both of them. Perhaps, one day, he may even stop shivering.

knife. 354 words. @jegulus-microfic .

A few days before Regulus is due to get the dark mark he finds a kitten mewling on the steps of Grimmauld place. It’s a tiny thing, gray with little dollops of white on its chest and the tips of its ears. He hesitates before reaching down and scooping it in his arms. The kitten’s reaction is immediate violence, hissing and spitting and ripping scratches across Regulus’ arms with tiny daggers of claws.

Regulus hisses back at it and wraps it in the bottom of his shirt in an attempt to protect his own flesh.

He dashes up to his room, narrowly avoiding his father on the second floor landing before dumping the kitten onto his bed.

It yowls up at him, puffing up its tail.

He’s never going to be able to keep it. Nagini will swallow it down on sight.

But he can’t just abandon it.

He has to save it.

So he does the thing that’s been playing on the edges of his mind for weeks.

He throws some of his things in a bag, scoops the kitten back into his arms, and he apparates to James Potter's house.

He isn’t expecting to find the whole family sitting on the front porch, all sipping tea like some kind of perfect holiday card, but his luck has been pretty shit lately.

“Oh my,” Euphemia breathes.

Fleamont chokes on his tea

Sirius drops his cup.

“Regulus?” James says and stands from his chair. “Are you bleeding?” He comes charging down the steps, stopping only a breath away.

The kitten spits.

“Oh.” James looks at the both of them, eyes soft. “And who is this?”

Regulus gazes down at the kitten. “This is Knife.” He clears his throat and gestures with his bleeding arms. “They’re quite sharp.”

Knife growls in agreement.

“Well.” James takes a deep breath. “Is Knife here to stay?”

Regulus looks to the porch. SIrius is standing at the top of the stairs, his hand reaching back to clutch Euphemia’s hand. He’s clearly straining to hear Regulus’ response.

“Yes.” Regulus looks up into Jame’s wide brown eyes. “We’re here to stay.”