Regulascain
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“Can I kiss you, again?"
The words are raspy and weak, and so, so very genuine.
Regulus sits and questions all his choices. While doing his best to turn a blind eye (though he only has the one) to the weird ache in his chest when he takes in the words, and focus more on the matter at hand.
"No," Regulus whispers. He shuffles on top of James, leaning closer. "What are you to do when the emperor passes?"
James' eyes widen, he lurches back. Head pressing further onto the pillows.
Regulus follows, the knife pressing harder into the skin, which stretches and pales under the pressure.
"Mourn him," James says simply.
Regulus raises a brow.
"And after that?"
Or,
Regulus is welcome back to court, one-eyed and vengeful, after a ten-year banishment under the edict that he and James marry. The problem is, well, that he rather despises James. -
You Didn't Put Those Bones in the Ground by Regulascain
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
08 Jan 2026
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He hates him. He loves him. He's twelve, crying in his brother's arms. He’s twenty with a knife he wants to hold against Sirius' throat. He wants to cut deep and feel the blood splatter against his face, to feel Sirius go slack in his arms. He wants to gut him from the inside out, and with Sirius dead, James would follow swiftly. He remembers the balls they attended together. How James would take him for a dance, and how Regulus would tolerate his stupid, pretty, unbearable face for Sirius’ sake.
That was years ago now, Regulus is grown now. Preparing for his inevitable succession to the throne. He is heir now, after all. Regulus is grown, and he is made of nothing but anger. Nothing but spite. Nothing but murderous intent. He wants to kill them both. Unfortunately, that's not in the cards
Or, Regulus has been heir to the throne for five years, after his estranged brother's title was stripped from him. In those five years, Regulus has more than proven himself worthy of the title. Now though, He must travel to James' kingdom to unite their kingdoms in a peace treaty. With this, comes the buried past brought to light.
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Nick's cold.
He's thirsty, too. But it's the cold that he focuses on.
They snag a room for cheap, all Nick has to do is sweet-talk a guy, tell him his shirt's sick–that he, himself, used to like that music too a good couple months ago, before everything went to shit. Said he liked his hair while batting his eyes. And the guy coughed up a room key for four tokens a night, says they get the buddy discount. Nick leaned against the wall and beamed at him. Noting the red spreading up the back of the guy's neck as he murmurs a thank you. Troy pulled him off with a scoff, stumbling down the hallway towards the back.
Or, trick find another high to indulge themselves in the night of the bazar.
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Nick's back to the west, he faces the east: the past left behind him, the brunt of it sitting heavy in California, with what's little left covering the footsteps he’d left behind in each state. Little by little, he left it behind as he traveled past the Midwest and into something new. He shut his eyes and breathed that weight down until it was barely anything at all.
A family left sitting around the dinner table, one seat empty. The scrape of silverware against plates, and polite mumblings. An elephant sitting in that room, instead of him.
Or, while Nick finds his peace and keeps his eyes to the East, we, as Orpheus, crane our necks and look back. The West sits with an unburdened past shroud about the land, a family left behind, and far too delicious to ignore.
Series
- Part 2 of The Scream Becomes A Yawn
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Nick looks up again, finding the man from earlier already looking over at him.
It’s that visual electric snap that rarely happens with strangers, that shock of inexplicable recognition, that fast catch and firm latch that happens when a cerebral switch is flicked. Recognition that Nick can’t quite place–and that the man seems to have. A twitch of his insincere smile, pulling down as he fights back a real one. A dip of his chin, and a slight pull of his brow.
Nick physically recoils, not knowing where this familiarity is coming from. People are friendly, conversational, kind–but, and this is not said to stereotype…this man seems to be none of those things.
There's a glint of something in his eyes, a flicker of mania. Something Nick only seems to see nowadays when he glances at his reflection.
Or, Nick learns how to stay gone when he runs.
Series
- Part 1 of The Scream Becomes A Yawn
Recent series
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Summary
Bones and all au
- Words:
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