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i know only three (3) THREE!!! jegulus fanfics that i actually truly enjoy and im going to list them here so yall are blessed bc i dont gatekeep:
- stockholm syndrome by pieceofchocolate
it has nothing to do with kidnapping or abuse dont worry guys its about traveling and theyre in stockholm at some point
- teach them how to dream by calamitoutside
yall remember when alex changed the world with those teacher reg x dilf james fanarts?!?? well thats it but a fic and its so good i promise so domestic and just well written and amazing
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legend - @wolfstarmicrofic - wolfstar raising harry - word count: 277
“One more story?” Harry begged, big green eyes boring a hole in Sirius’s heart. “C’mon, Paddy, I’ll go to sleep right after, promise!”
“Harry, I–” Sirius began to argue with the five-year-old, already feeling himself give in. Curse Lily Evans for giving Harry those eyes.
But Remus walked in at that moment, sitting on Harry’s bed and taking Sirius’s hand. “Have you told him the legend of the Nighttime Wolf?” he asked, turning to Sirius with wide eyes.
Grasping the fact that he was supposed to play along, Sirius shook his head. “N–no. Do you think he wants to hear?” he asked, pretending to be unsure.
“I wanna, I wanna!” Harry screeched, bouncing in his bed.
“Fine,” Remus sighed, winking at Sirius. “I guess you’re old enough to not get scared. Legend has it, there’s a monster called a Nighttime Wolf that roams around here when it gets dark.” He spoke in a quiet, eerie voice, smirking slightly. “Like a werewolf, but worse. Big teeth. Huge claws. Giant eyes.”
“Really?” Harry asked, looking nervous.
“Mhm. And guess what he eats?”
“What?” Harry asked, eyes wide as saucers.
“Tired children,” Remus said ominously, looking to Harry. “Are you tired?”
“I…” Harry began, looking terrified, but then he looked to Sirius, who was obviously trying to hide his grin. “Uncle Moony! You’re lying!” he yelled, slamming his little fist on the pillow.
Remus grinned. “Am not. I’m the Nighttime Wolf. And I’m going to eat you if you don’t go to bed, just watch!” With that, he dove forward, pretending to take bites out of a hysterically laughing Harry, while Sirius watched in amusement.
James didn't hear the front door open. He didn’t hear the keys jingle, or the careful click of polished shoes stepping into their flat. He was too busy sulking under a duvet cocoon, face half-buried in a pillow that still smelled like Regulus’ cologne and laundry soap.
It wasn't even raining outside, but it felt like it should be.
Regulus stood in the bedroom doorway, briefcase in hand, head tilted just enough to catch the lump on the bed with a fond sort of exasperation. James Potter was not quiet by nature. Not still, either. But here he was, face turned toward the wall, shoulders hunched, blanket pulled up over his ears like he was trying to disappear into the mattress.
Regulus didn’t speak. He set his case down, toed off his shoes, and crossed the room. Gently, he perched on the edge of the bed.
“You’re home early,” James mumbled, voice hoarse like he’d been lying there breathing too hard, too slow, too sad.
“I had a feeling,” Regulus said simply, reaching a hand out to trail through James’ messy curls, pushing them off his forehead. “Did you get the results?”
A beat passed. James didn’t answer right away. Then, finally, his voice cracked a little as he whispered, “I failed.”
Regulus said nothing. No gasps, no reassurances. He just nodded, fingers pausing in James’ hair for the briefest second before continuing with the same quiet tenderness.
“Barely?” Regulus asked.
James snorted weakly, then let out a short, bitter laugh. “Not even close.”
Another pause. Then, Regulus moved carefully around the bed, lifting the blanket and sliding in behind James. James didn’t resist — he never did, in these rare moments. He shifted automatically, pressing his back against Regulus’ chest, curling forward just a little more so he could be held.
Regulus wrapped an arm around him, firm and grounding. His nose tucked behind James’ ear.
“You studied,” Regulus murmured.
“Didn’t matter,” James muttered.
“You tried.”
James’s shoulders trembled. “Still failed.”
“I know.”
James sniffed. “I feel stupid.”
“You’re not.”
“But I feel it.”
Regulus didn’t argue this time. He let James feel whatever he needed to feel, held him tighter when the shaking in his shoulders turned to full-body tremors, when he bit his lip to keep the tears quiet.
He didn't offer solutions. James didn’t need that right now.
What he needed was this. Warmth. Safety. A quiet, steady rhythm of Regulus’ breathing behind him, a thumb brushing slow circles against the back of his hand. He needed to be small for once, to let go without needing to put on a brave face.
So Regulus held him, and didn’t say much more than what mattered.
“You’re allowed to be upset,” he whispered against James’ neck. “You’re allowed to fail.”
“I wanted to make you proud,” James confessed, voice muffled and thick. “You always do so well and I just— I wanted—”
“You do make me proud,” Regulus said firmly. “You’re brilliant. Kind. Relentless. One stupid exam doesn’t take that away.”
James squeezed his eyes shut.
“I’m going to try again,” he said after a long silence. “Even if I hate it.”
“I know,” Regulus replied. “And I’ll be here. Every time.”
James turned in his arms then, finally meeting his gaze with tear-bright eyes and a weak, grateful smile.
Regulus leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Then another, just beside his mouth.
“Now go back to sulking,” Regulus murmured, pulling him close again, “and let me take care of you, for once.”
James exhaled into his chest, the tension starting to ebb.
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