#astronomy is him and reggie

[my-castles-crumbling]

provide - august 6 - jegulus - @stag-microfic - word count: 191

"James?"

He was screwed. Merlin, he was beyond screwed. Might as well throw him out the Astronomy Tower without a wand, because that was how utterly screwed he was.

"James?" Sirius asked again, this time a bit firmer.

He swallowed. "Yes?" he asked, gazing downward, trying to look innocent.

"Can you provide me with a reasonable explanation as to why my brother is currently in your bed?" Sirius said slowly, crossing his arms as he looked down on them both.

"Oh!" James said, his voice rising hysterically, turning to Regulus who gave him a deadpan expression. "Reggie? What are you doing here?"

He wasn't the best under pressure, you see.

Both brothers gave him such similarly unimpressed expressions that he almost pointed out how much they looked alike, but he figured that would be the final nail in his pretty well-made coffin, so he stayed silent, trying valiantly to keep the grin on his face.

Instead, the waited as Sirius turned to Regulus, raising an eyebrow. "Right. But are you sure about this? Really?"

And Regulus just buried his head in the comforter. "Unfortunately," he mumbled, making James beam even more.

[shipspainfulships]

1st year:-

James looks at Regulus and with a blinding smile places his hand forward for a handshake, "hello Reggie! I'm James"

Regulus only looks at James with thinly veiled disgust and says "don't call me that" and walks away.

2nd year:-

James, sweaty and tired from the quidditch practice sees Regulus enter the field and yells, "hey Reggie!"

Regulus glares and says "don't call me that" and walks away.

3rd year:-

On his way to class he bumps into Regulus. He pushes his glasses up and his eyes light up to see it's Regulus, "Reggie-"

Regulus harshly moves past James bumping his shoulder into his and walking away he says "don't call me that"

4th year:-

James finds Regulus behind an aclove reading and plops down. "Hey Reggie"

Regulus looks up and then back down at his book "go away potter"

James smiles and doesn't move.

5th year:-

Walking away in a hurry from Potions class James bumps into Regulus

"hey watch where you- Potter what's wrong"

James silently walks away with his head hung and palms sweaty.

6th year (September):-

"hey" Regulus says with a smile when James finds him yet again at the astronomy tower and sits down with him.

"Reggie" James says warmly and rests his head on top of his head, inhaling Reggie's sweet smell.

6th year (January):-

"hey Reggie" James says with a bright smile that vanishes as soon as he sees Regulus' trembling figure approach.

His reggie looks at him with dead eyes and promptly breaks down in front of him.

James holds him as Regulus' body racks with sobs.

Regulus looks up and shows his left hand. There it was. The dark foul magic that made his Reggie look like a ghost, a shell of himself.

"Reggie-" James starts with pleading eyes,

"no, please, don't call me that" Regulus says softly and then walks away.

James breaks down crying.

Sometime during 1979:-

Lily comes up to James and hugs him tightly.

James tenses up. "Wh- what's wrong Lily"

"Regulus"

One word. One name. And all of James world comes crashing down.

nonononononononononononononononono

His light, his star, his Reggie, gone

James doesn't speak for an entire month.

[jamessluttythighs]

traditional - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 232

“He’s traditional like that, Reggie. He loves to fly laps when he has too much energy. Don’t overthink it,” said Sirius. 

“He’s probably snogging someone else in the quidditch change rooms this time,” Regulus huffed.

Shoving Regulus’ shoulder, Sirius exclaimed, “Too many details, I don’t need to know what you and Prongs get up to! Also, defiling school property?” 

Regulus rolled his eyes at his older brother. They were sitting in the astronomy tower looking at the map his brother and friends had made. The little set of footprints labelled James Potter haven’t moved from the quidditch pitch. Sirius noticed his distress. “Reg, seriously, he has been crushing on you since fifth year. He’s probably doing victory laps now that you’ve agreed to be his boyfriend.” 

Regulus blushed at this statement. “Yeah I guess we don’t have to spend every second together anyway.” Even though he secretly wished they could. 

James had asked him earlier this afternoon to be official and Regulus had agreed. He forgot himself and kissed James in front of a group of first years. The question had sort of just slipped out of James’ mouth. He ran off immediately after grinning to himself leaving a bewildered Regulus behind. This led Regulus to spiral, hence dragging Sirus to the astronomy tower. Regulus decided to trust his brother and ease into the thought that James Potter was now his boyfriend.

[whysosiriushuh]

At The Weekly Black Cousins Astronomy Tower Meet Up

Andromeda: The stars are beautiful tonight.

Regulus: You know what else is beautiful?

Sirius: Don't you dare say you.

Regulus: Yes it's me. The stars are beautiful because they are constantly dying, just like me.

Bella: Looks like the curse got him!!!

Narcissa *spraying him with water*: No! Bad Reggie!

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | june 1 pride | words: 896

“Have you heard that Amelia ran into Regulus Black and Dorcas Meadows on the Astronomy Tower last night?”

“What? Is he cheating on Pandora then?”

“He’s with Pandora? I swear I saw him snogging Lily Evans in the library the other day.”

“Bullshit, she’s muggleborn; his parents would kill him if they found out!”

“Yeah, but he’s still Sirius’ brother, so he’s probably just as rebellious as him.”

Such conversations were everything Regulus could hear lately, as if his dating life were any of other people's business. He knew it was all made up, and he ignored them, even if they became louder and louder every day.

It wouldn’t bother him that much if he was a casanova who craved such rumours about himself. But he was not a casanova; he didn’t even care about women in that way; he much rather preferred men.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? If he said it to anyone besides his friends, he would be eaten alive—first by his classmates, then by his family. Even if the wizarding world didn’t care about who was sleeping with whom, Regulus was still one of the heirs to The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black—of course, his coming out as gay would become the biggest scandal of the century.

All of this to say, he kept his mouth shut and let people talk shit about his love life so his everyday life was safe.

“You know,” James said one night, when they laid on Regulus’ bed cuddling. “If they’re bothering you, we could start some nasty rumour, like that you have chlamydia.” The younger boy chuckled at that.

“I think I’ll pass; I prefer them talking about me like I’m some kind of slag,” he replied softly, brushing hair from James’ forehead.

Regulus felt good and safe while with James. He wished he could feel like that all the time, but only the thought of holding his boyfriend’s hand in the corridor full of people made his guts turn.

So, he made peace with people talking about him. It might’ve been irritating, stupid, and untrue, but he preferred it over whatever would come after those people found out about his actual relationship.

It went on for most of his fifth year—in the daylight he would be presumed fuck boy who had every girl at Hogwarts in his bed; at night he became a little twink in love with the Gryffindor’s Golden Boy.

One day in June, during dinner, some older Slytherin girl waved at him to come to her.

“Go on, Reggie! I wonder what she would want from you,” Barty snickered, pushing Regulus in the girl’s direction. The funniest thing was that Barty knew about Regulus and James' relationship, but he still liked to put the younger boy in situations like this that only fueled the rumours.

He strode off, stopping when he reached her.

“Hello,” he said coldly, “can I help you with anything?”

“Hi, yes, actually,” she answered excitedly. “So, we were wondering which of Meadows, Rosier, and Evans you’re dating. Would you be a darling and clarify it for us?” She finished her question, obnoxiously batting her eyelashes. He didn’t even know her; why would he even want to clarify anything to her?

His eyes went to the other side of the room, spotting that lovely smile of his boyfriend’s. He wished he could point at James and say, ‘That one, I’m dating that one’. Oh, how he wished he could just—

A quiet voice in his head whispered, ‘The only one stopping you is yourself; just go’. He considered it for a second.

Ah, fuck it.

Regulus cleared his throat and looked at the girl with a mean smile. “Yes, actually, I could clarify it for you,” and with that, he turned on his heel and walked away in the direction of the Gryffindor’s tabel.

He could hear his heart pounding, feel his hand shaking a little, and his face turning red more and more with every step, but he wasn’t a coward; he wasn’t backing down now. When James turned his head in Regulus’ direction, his face went pale, like he was seeing a ghost. But Regulus still wasn’t backing down.

In no time, he reached the older boy and, without thinking, pulled him by the neck to kiss him thoroughly. And when their lips collided, it was like nothing else mattered. Even when James needed a second to register what was happening and relax, it was the best thing Regulus had ever felt. And when his boyfriend’s hand touched his cheek and the other one grabbed his thigh, the world around them collapsed, and there were only the two of them.

After another minute (or hour, who knows), they pulled away to get some air, and that’s when Regulus noticed it—James eyes were sparkling with so much love and pride that Regulus could only giggle like a lovesick eleven-year-old. In return, James chuckled softly, caressing the other’s cheek gently.

And then it got to Regulus what he just did. At first, he felt like he might be sick, but a second later, that quiet voice from earlier said, ‘Fuck it, you’re free now’.

And on that note, he looked up at the girl on the other side of the room and shouted, “Is it clear enough now?”

[wisedelusionalmarshmallow]

@jegulus-microfic, July 1st - Astrology, G, Word Count - 384

James was sitting with Remus in the library so they could study for their potions test tomorrow. Of course, Remus was doing the majority of the work and James was just copying whatever he did. Not that James didn't know it, he was just tired.

Even as he was copying down the notes now, he could feel his eyes closing on him.

James stretches in his chair, seeing as him and Remus had been there for nearly three hours. He yawns as he stretches and looks around the library.

In the opposite corner of the library, James spots Regulus Black. His boyfriend is sitting alone, leaning over the desk. He's flipping through a book and making little notes on what he's reading. James wants to go and see what is happening, hoping maybe that will keep him awake.

He turns to face Remus, who is one of the only people that know about him and Regulus. "Moony?"

"Yeah Prongs?" Remus looks up from his books to face James.

"I'm gonna go say hi to Reggie."

"Okay, do you still need my notes?"

"Yes please." James smiles, getting up from his chair and stretching some more. Remus nods to him and then James walks off.

When he gets to where Regulus is sitting, James slides into the chair next to him and peers over his shoulder at what he's working at. Regulus doesn't seem to mind this at all, simply continuing with his task. "Astrology?" James asks, taking note of the stars and planets on the textbooks Regulus was using.

"Astronomy," Regulus corrects.

"What's the difference?" James looks up at Regulus through his eyelashes.

Placing a bookmark on the page and closing the textbook, Regulus looks over to his boyfriend. "Astronomy is the study of celestial objects and Astrology is divination practices, such as zodiacs or tarot."

"You're doing the first one?" James asks, already forgetting which Regulus was working on.

"Mhm. I've got a test tomorrow."

James smiles, "Need a good luck kiss?" He rests his chin on Regulus' shoulder.

Regulus looks down to James, a smile on his face and a knowing look in his eyes. "You're cheeky, you know that?"

James nods with a tired and mischievous look in his eyes, then leans forward and plants a small kiss on Regulus' lips.

[zzeraphilm]

Written in the Stars

Angst - Regulus Black x F!Reader Word count: 1,163 I've been quite busy with work lately, sorry for the short one shot!

Before the summer of 1979, Regulus Black had a decently average school life. The boy found solitude in the Astronomy tower north of the castle. Far from other students and yet was drawn to one particular witch. Y/N L/N was unlike any other wizard at the school. What she lacked in social prowess, she bloomed in intimate confessions. The pair found themselves forever intertwined, always in the same class, always sat next to each other, always in the library at the same time every week. It was only a matter of time until they their time beyond academia branched into bi-weekly escapades in the Astronomy tower. At first, Regulus found it to be a hindrance to his peaceful hobby. But overtime, he craved Y/N’s presence at the mere sight of a telescope. He could feel his skin come out in hives when they were a part, he could not breathe the air that she did not exhale. In her regular outlandish character, Y/N stuck to him like glue the moment they both step foot in the tower. Their silent haven, where the heavens and stars above were their only witness. 

Tracking the stars and journeys of the planets were a veil for these evenings, both sat shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, fingers interlaced as they gaze above at the open sunset. A beautiful scene unlike any other, that would only bloom by their love. 

Y/N knew of Regulus’ dangers and tormenting life, the walls in his mind that he had built from steel and brick would only come down for her. She was determined to be his pillar, his guiding light. He was determined to never harm her, to always protect her no matter the cost. 

“Regulus, do you think you could, leave Grimmauld Place? Like your brother?” The H/C haired witch mumbled. These conversations were always met with a blank stare, the discussion of his heritage was met with destain from her partner. 

“You know it’s not that easy. That bastard ran off because he had a choice, I don’t.”

“Maybe… You could choose me. My mother won’t mind another mouth to feed, really! She loves to cook! She always makes like twelve times the recommended portion sizes! You could come with me next week, when we go back to London. My dad will drive us!” Y/N rambled, trying to ease the tense air between them. Regulus only delicately rubbed the back of her hand, his breathing steadied at the touch of Y/N skin. 

“…Perhaps mon cœur. But there’s too much expected of me this year, now that Sirius is gone. The pride and nobility of the Black family lies upon my shoulders.” 

Y/N was never fond of how her partner spoke so formally around her, the extension of his upbringing bled even into his everyday behaviour. She just wanted him to relax around her. Because to her, Regulus was not the spare turned heir. They weren’t even wizards in her eyes. Just two kids in love who want to spend every waking hour together. 

“I know that, but what I’m trying to say is that, I’m always here for you Reg!” She turns her head to face him, his eyes slightly widened like a deer in headlights, she grips his hand with both of her own, the veins along his boney hands were pumping his blue blood rapidly, she could taste his anxieties. 

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Then hurt me. Reggie, I’m not the delicate doll you think me to be. I am here for you. Because I want you. If it means I get hurt just for being with you then so be it. Because you are who I care about and love. Screw those mad preaching twats, I just want you.” He did not need to speak, Y/N knew him from the way he breathes, speaks and walks. She knows, all that Regulus had to do was come to her.

Before nightfall, the two kissed a goodnight blessing and parted ways to their respected houses. Despite his standing as a Slytherin in Hogwarts, Y/N did not care for the stares from his fellow green scaled classmates. But Regulus Black was not one for social rejection. He had kept his relationship with Y/N as discreetly as he can, only ever brushing his hand against hers for a millisecond whenever they passed in the halls. He made sure that their meetings could easily be read as merely coincidence. But the cunning snakes of his house were not foolish. They know how to plot and scheme in secret. To them, Regulus was obvious and they hated how he reeked of Y/N’s perfume every time he stepped foot in the common room. He would persistently deny that he ever cared for what others thought of him, he knew that he mustn’t tarnish the Black name. Toujours pur. Since Sirius’ excommunication from the family, he represents the family name in Hogwarts. He is to carry his family’s reputation for the future of the wizarding world. He knew the weight that he must carry. 

But Y/N was everything he ever wanted, and everything that his family hated. She was a Gryffindor, she lacked any class or etiquette, and most of all, she was muggle born. He cursed the stars for shining their light towards her, he did not wish to have a beacon of light, he had finally accepted that anchor that ties him to the darkness. Yet there she was, a beam of hope that was merely inches away from his grasp. If he could only reach out, maybe this summer he could escape his destiny. 

That night before he could even shut his eyes, a familiar owl perched on the distant window sill of the dungeon. A letter flew down from the crack of the window, and landed in front of him, the parchment was coarse, his name scribbled on with black ink and the recognisable stamp from his home. The Black sigil only meant one thing. Upon opening it, there was nothing else written on it other than the words:

You will leave for home tomorrow morning. 

Before he could say his goodbyes, he wrote his final letter to Y/N L/N. 

Mon cœur, This arrangement has been the pleasure of a lifetime. But we are still from different worlds. Do not come for me, do not reach out to me.  I will always be grateful for what we had.  Je t’aime, jusqu’à mon dernier souffle.  R.

Regulus did not take the Hogwarts Express back to London with Y/N like they had planned. Regulus Black’s destiny did not lie in his hands, he couldn’t grasp whatever life rope Y/N L/N dangled in front of him. Regulus Black knew that the stars only charted towards his sinful fate. Regulus Black never got to board the Hogwarts Express ever again. 

[vinylfoxbooks]

July 5 - Burnt | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 434 Part 2 of my Medium James AU Previous part

James looks freaked out. Now that Regulus knows about their ability to see ghosts, he’ll sometimes ask them what they’re seeing, asking about the spirits that wander around Hogwarts without people being able to see them. He’s come to know what it looks like when James is seeing spirits that they either don’t know or they’re uncomfortable with. 

But this face? The one that they’re making. They look terrified, but since James doesn’t like talking about the whole spirit thing, he can’t bring it up to them when they’re around people so he holds back for a while, though he does drop off a letter to them, telling them to meet him in the Astronomy Tower. 

They’re about five minutes late to getting to the Tower that night, but Regulus has come to know that James tends to be late. He hates it, but that’s how they are so he can’t do anything about it. 

“Hi Reggie.” James hums, sitting down next to him, “Is everything alright?”

“That’s more what I wanted to ask you,” Regulus says, “You looked freaked out at dinner earlier. I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” 

They’re quiet for a moment before looking out at the stars around them, “There’s someone… new. They’ve been wandering around the Hufflepuff table at meal times the past couple of days. I’ve been trying to ignore them.” 

“Is it because they freak you out?”

James shakes their head, “I always try to ignore spirits because it’s not my business and they… yeah, they freak me out. But I finally saw this spirit that’s been wandering around the table. I don’t know who they’re following but…” They shake their head again, more trying to shake the thought from their mind. 

Regulus moves closer, putting a hand on their arm, “That’s not all is it?”

“I can take a lot,” James breathes, “I’ve seen quite a bit and can handle it but… this person. Almost their entire face is burnt, like I can only make out a portion of their face, their hair is all matted, and their clothing is charred it’s… it just-” James closes their eyes, “I don’t know. They just…”

“I’m sorry, James.” Regulus hums, “Do you want to keep talking about them or do you want a distraction?”

“A distraction would be nice.” James sighs, “I don’t know, it’s… I don’t know why they’re sticking in my mind so much but I can’t stop thinking about their face.”

“Alright, we’ll find something to take your mind off it, yeah.” 

James wraps their arm around his lower back, swallowing, “Yeah.”

Next Part

[wordsarelife]

if you’re thinking of writing anything w regulus black x reader 💓💞 like hc’s about what he would be like in a relationship (would he open doors for u, tie ur shoelace etc etc, restaurant dates) or where reader is all like enemies to lovers with him ?? thank u bby

—dating regulus black

pairing: regulus black x reader

summary: headcanons of being in a relationship with regulus black

warnings: none

authors note: did it a bit different than you asked, let me know if I should do a prequel or anything!!

reading your favourite book to him on the astronomy tower, while his head rests in your lap and you're combing through his hair

he's more of a listener, so when you're having dinner in the great hall, you engage in loud conversation, while he just sits and listen, holding your hand under the table

picnic dates where you swap previously read and annotated books and lay on a blanket all day reading them

brought you a record player from hogsmead, that he keeps in his dorm, so you can listen to your favourite songs while you're spending time with each other

he sometimes dances with you in the dark of the astronomy tower, the first time he had said that all the lessons he took had to be good for something at least

swapping love letters or just short little poems you read and wrote down that remind you of each other

regulus is a really thoughtful person, you sit next to him in class and he often brings you quills and paper, because you often forget them. he has always an extra set for you

you're always wearing one of his rings, at the same time he never takes of the little friendship bracelet you had made for him even before you started dating

you're the only one who's allowed to call him 'reggie'

on those evenings you can't sleep, or everything just gets too much, he stays awake with you and reads your favourite chapter of your favourite book, waiting until you eventually fall asleep in his arms

he often buries his head into your hair, because he loves the smell of it. you never stopped buying the same shampoo after you had noticed that

as stated before, he doesn't talk much around other people and he's not really a big fan of pda (he's more of an behind closed doors kinda boy and generally a very private person)

but what he does is say little phrases of encouragement, during school or just sometimes when he deems fitting. for example: "keep going, baby" or "you can do it, sweetheart"

he's used to you so much, that sometimes he just knows when you need time to cool off, so he keeps quiet and combs through your hair

he thinks its funny when you get mad about something someone else did, you're a big ranter. he just watches you, smiling, as you run around the room and utter different sentences in disbelief

occasionally when you do that, you will turn to him and ask him things like: "do you believe they've done that?" and he will answer: "that's really shitty of them, baby"

honestly, he doesn't even care about the others (obviously he does when anyone hurts you etc) but he could listen to you rant for hours

you go to every single one of his quidditch games, enjoying just watching him play

after the games, you often find yourself in the slytherin common room at the piano (just imagine they had one there) while he teaches you note for note how to play it right

every time regulus shows you how to do something (like dancing or playing the piano) he's very patient with you, never rushing or raising his voice when it takes you longer to figure something out

overall you have a super healthy relationship, because you’re honest with each other and talk a lot about your feelings. that wasn’t easy for regulus at first, but you grew up in a pretty loving and open household where you regularly discussed you’re feelings so you helped him learn how to do that. at least that way you could teach him something too.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 23 - Resist

@jegulus-microfic April 23, Word count 648

As requested by @phoenixtears13 there may even be a part 3

First part

James stood by the quidditch stands, absolutely stunned. Sirius’s little brother had just tackled him and slammed him against these very stands. And what had he done? He’d reacted and swung them around, crushing him against them instead.

Regulus had caught him just wrong, right in the massive bruise hidden by his jumper. He’d growled at the boy. But as soon as Regulus had gone limp in his hands, he’d panicked and tried to find help. Regulus had asked him so quietly and sadly to let him go that he’d just dropped him and prayed the boy could hold himself up. 

James hadn’t been prepared when Regulus shoved him, but he stepped back when he realised what he wanted and watched as the strange boy literally ran away from him. 

The main problem James was having, though, was the whiff of night air and dark wood mixed with something lighter, maybe floral, that had lingered after Regulus had disappeared. He couldn’t quite place it. 

He’d smelt that particular collection of scents before, but he couldn’t remember where. He puzzled over it as he made his way up to Gryffindor Tower and the awaiting party. 

“We did it, mate!” Sirius boomed as he hung off James’s neck, a half-drunk bottle of firewhisky sloshing about in his hand. “Ha, did you see Reggie’s face? He was not happy!” Sirius barked a laugh, and James felt his body stiffen at the name. He couldn’t tell Sirius what had happened after the game. He’d do something reckless. Luckily, Remus came over and peeled Sirius off James’s neck to take him to get some water and food. 

James tried to join in with the celebrations, but he had that niggling thought in the back of his mind, and it wasn’t until he saw someones forgotten potions textbook stuffed down the side of the cushion of the chair he was sitting in did the dots connect.     

A wave of pure panic hit him. He must have looked a right sight as the horror of what those scents meant took over his mind. 

He had to get out of there. So he rushed up to their dorm room and locked himself in the bathroom. He started hyperventilating. He’d smelled that combination in potions class when Slughorn had shown them the mother-of-pearl shimmering potion of Amortentia. 

But how could it smell like Regulus Black? Regulus Black, Sirius’s little brother! Regulus Black, heir to the Black family! Regulus Black Death Eater in training! 

He slumped to the floor, head in his hands. How could this have happened? But nothing had happened, had it? 

James took a deep, steadying breath, raised himself off the floor and went back to join the party. 

For the rest of the night, he kept telling himself it was nothing. Sure, it was a strange combination of scents, but there must be someone else out there that smelled the same, right? 

By the time he went to bed, he couldn’t get Regulus out of his mind. He had to see him. He was sure it was all a misunderstanding. Unable to resist, he pulled out the Marauders Map and whispered to it while tapping his wand against the parchment.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” He watched the inky lines spread over the parchment and reveal the enchanted map of Hogwarts. 

He scanned it, trying to find the little marker that read Regulus Black. He wasn’t in the dungeons or out at the quidditch pitch or anywhere on the lower floors. Surely, at this time of night and after the team’s loss, he should be in bed. He was about to give up when his eyes flickered past a long name at the top of the Astronomy Tower. ‘Regulus Black’, written in Sirius’s elegant script. 

James barely thought about it and, grabbing his invisibility cloak, hurried towards the name. 

Next part

[hyper-trash-panda]

Bad Boys — Legacy

Pt 2/?

Warnings: Blood, violence, cursing

Rated R

Chile, I’m over here bootlegging the Bad Boys movies trying to make gifs 😆😆

The clink of silverware against plates echoed through the dining room. The smell of smothered chicken and roasted vegetables filled the air, but the usual warmth of Theresa's cooking were overshadowed by the heaviness that had settled over the table.

Marcus, sitting at the head, glanced around the table, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a bite from his fork. To his right, Theresa meticulously adjusted her napkin, her lips pressed into a thin line, betraying her discomfort. Next to her, their daughter picked at her food, her usual chatter replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. Reggie was focused on his plate, completely unhindered as he scarfed down every bite. Marcus grimaced.

Mike, sitting to Marcus' left, was still; his fork hovering over his plate as he stole glances towards Valerie. She sat beside him, her smile polite but strained. The air between Mike and Armando, who sat beside Valerie, was charged with unspoken words. Armando's jaw was tight, his eyes flicking between his father and his fiancée, the muscles in his neck taut.

From the living room, the sound of the kids' cartoons provided a distant, cheerful contrast to the uncomfortable quiet at the table, but it only seemed to deepen the discomfort in the dining room.

The scrape of Marcus' chair against the floor as he leaned back to take a sip of water seemed louder than it should have. An awkward, "Sorry." Left his lips before silence overtook the table once more.

Theresa cleared her throat softly. "So, Valerie," she began, her tone warm but slightly forced, "how was your flight?"

Valerie, mid-sip of her water, swallowed quickly, her eyes widening in brief surprise. "Oh, um, it was good," she replied, her voice steadying as she placed her glass back on the table. "It's only a two hour flight from the Dominican Republic, but it was hard leaving my kids."

Mike perked up. “You got kids?"

"In a sense," Valerie admitted, "I'm a school teacher."

Megan's eyes lit up, a spark of enthusiasm breaking through the tension. "Really?," she said, leaning in. "I'm actually working on my master's right now to teach English. What grade do you teach?"

Valerie turned to Megan, her expression brightening. "It's a small district, so we don't really have grade levels. I teach kids from about six to ten years old."

"Oh, those are the fun ages, I should know," said Megan, eyes gesturing to her brood in the next room. "What do you teach?"

"Science," Valerie answered, her smile widening. "My degree is in chemistry, but I also teach them astronomy, earth science, physics, the general basics."

As she spoke, Valerie's eyes drifted to Armando; his arm rested protectively along the back of her chair as he leaned back, picking at his plate. Sensing her gaze, Armando glanced at her and then straightened up, his posture shifting as if already anticipating what she was about to say.

"Actually, that's how I met Armando," Valerie added.

Armando's eyes softened, his usually guarded expression easing for a moment as their eyes met. If one were to squint hard enough, they might believe him to be smiling back.

Marcus interjected with a smirk. "Well don't leave us in suspense, Valerie. I've got to know who managed to melt the warlock baby's heart."

Before anyone could react, Mike's foot shot out under the table, landing a swift kick to Marcus' shin. Marcus winced, but the pain went unacknowledged by everyone else at the table.

"Well," Valerie began, her voice gentle as she thought back, "I was teaching my kids about the rock cycle at the time. My home is set near a small dock, so I was walking along the shore collecting rocks when I noticed a boat floating out in the distance."

Valerie paused, her brow furrowing slightly at the memory. "At first, I didn't think much of it—there are fishermen who pass by all the time—but the person inside this boat wasn't moving, and it gave me an eerie feeling."

The table was silent, everyone leaning in a little closer as Valerie continued. "I got my neighbor, who owns a boat, we set out to check on it. That's when we found Armando. He—um—" Valerie paused, taking in the audience, realizing some of the finer details to be inappropriate, "Wasn't in the best condition. We got him to shore and set him up in my spare room. I spent the next two days helping him through a fever, rehydrating him, and sewing up his wounds until he was strong enough to leave."

Theresa, her eyes twinkling, cut in with a knowing smile. "Well, clearly, he didn't, did he?" she teased, glancing at the engagement ring on Valerie's finger.

Armando picked up the story, his voice steady. "Val got me a job working maintenance for the school. It gave me time to find a fresh start. It was honest work, something I needed."

Valerie nodded. "It took two years, but eventually, Armando proposed." She smiled softly, the memory still fresh in her mind. "And, well, here we are."

Marcus grinned, "Ain't that something," he said, his voice warm. "Congratulations, you two." He nodded approvingly as he noticed Armando's arm had moved from resting behind Valerie's chair to holding her hand on the table.

Mike, who had been quiet, focused on the ring on Valerie's finger. It was a simple design—a double gold band encasing a half-line of small stones. Mike knew that with the kind of money Armando's former cartel life would’ve have afforded him, he could've easily bought something far more extravagant. But this ring, it was a testament to Armando's honest work, to the new life he was trying to build. Mike felt a swell of pride for his son.

Just as Mike was lost in thought, Megan broke the silence with a playful tone. "So, when's the big day?"

Valerie started to answer, "We've decided to wait until Armando joined—"

But before she could finish, Armando interjected smoothly, his voice firm. "Until I've fulfilled my contract with Miami PD," he said, his words carefully chosen.

Valerie blinked, momentarily confused by the shift in their story, but before she could question him, the simultaneous ringing of both Mike and Marcus' phones cut through the room. They exchanged a look, already knowing what it meant.

"Duty calls," Marcus muttered, already pushing back his chair as Mike did the same. Marcus leaned down to kiss Theresa on the cheek, then turned to Megan, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Take care, alright?" he said before turning to Reggie.

"Let’s move," Marcus ordered.

Reggie stood up immediately. "Yes, sir." he replied with a nod, wiping gravy from his lip. He then turned to Megan, his expression softening as he leaned in and gave her a tender kiss before following his father-in-law.

Mike turned to Theresa as he grabbed his jacket. "Dinner was amazing, Tee. I'm coming back for them leftovers."

Theresa smiled, already heading to the kitchen. "I'll pack some up for you."

As Mike headed toward the door, he looked back at Armando, who was still seated, clearly conflicted. "Armando, you're coming with us," Mike said, his voice carrying a hint of expectation.

Armando hesitated, his gaze shifting from his father to Valerie, who looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern. He didn't want to leave her without explaining, but he knew he had to go.

Leaning in close to Valerie, he spoke softly, "Hablamos después, ¿sí?" *we'll talk later, okay?* His voice was firm but gentle before giving her a quick, reassuring peck on the lips.

Valerie nodded, though the worry in her eyes remained. She watched as Armando rose from the table, his movements deliberate as he joined Mike, Marcus, and Reggie at the door.

Eclipse was a far cry from its usual scene. The neon lights that once pulsed in sync with the deafening beats of the music were replaced by harsh, clinical overhead lights that washed the space in sterile white. There was no music now, only the mechanical rhythm of camera shutters and the soft thud of boots across the slick, glossy floor. Crime scene tape flapped gently in the artificially chilled air, marking off areas that had been vibrant just hours ago but now lay in silence, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of a body bag being zipped up.

Forensics teams combed through the wreckage of the night, dusting for prints, collecting fibers, and snapping close-ups of every bloodstain. Detectives huddled in quiet conversation, their voices low, while uniformed officers kept curious onlookers at bay outside. A few clubgoers who hadn't made it out before the chaos were lined up against a wall, their once-carefree expressions now replaced with shock and confusion.

The hum of an Porsche 911 rolled up to the scene, its tires barely making a sound as it came to a smooth stop just beyond the tape. From the driver's seat, Mike stepped out, his crisp black shirt catching the glint of the overhead lights. Beside him, Marcus followed, already tugging at his shirt collar like the tension of the scene had wrapped itself around his neck. Reggie hopped out of the back, eyes wide, taking in the grim scene. Last out was Armando, his posture cool, but his sharp gaze sweeping over the mess in front of them.

The four moved as a unit, heading toward the yellow tape that separated them from the chaos. Mike led the way, his badge flashing like a beacon in the dim light as he approached the officer guarding the entrance. Without a word, the officer lifted the tape for him, nodding in recognition as Mike passed. Marcus followed, flashing his own badge. Reggie was next, getting a quick nod from the officer who had seen him enough times to know he was with them. But as Armando reached for the tape, the officer stepped in front of him.

"Whoa, hold up. Where's your badge?"

Armando didn't flinch, but his jaw tightened slightly as he glanced at Mike. Before he could say anything, Mike stepped back, his usual cocky grin in place as he clapped a hand on the officer's shoulder.

"He's with us. AMMO consultant," Mike said, his voice leaving no room for argument. The officer hesitated for only a second, then gave a quick nod, lifting the tape higher for Armando to pass through.

"Gracias," Armando said, his voice cool and even as he followed Mike and the others toward the center of the club.

They made their way through the scene, weaving past clusters of investigators, toward Kelly, who stood over a body in the middle of the dance floor. Her gloved hands rested on her hips and sharp eyes scanning the evidence in front of her like a puzzle that hadn't yet revealed all its pieces. She didn't look up when the group approached but spoke, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Took you long enough," Kelly muttered, finally turning to face them, her gaze locking on Mike and Marcus. "You're not gonna like this one."

Marcus tugged on his gloves, flexing his fingers as he glanced over at the body Kelly stood over. "Who we looking at?" he asked, his tone casual. Mike, following suit with his own gloves, gave the body a quick glance before focusing on Kelly.

"ID says Maddison Harrison, age twenty-two," Kelly started, but the flatness in her voice gave away the truth. "Dorn ran facial recognition. Real age is sixteen."

Marcus grimaced, his usual bravado slipping for a moment as the reality of the situation hit him. "Sixteen? What the hell's a kid doing in a place like this?"

Kelly handed the fake ID to Mike, her jaw tight. "Good question. And she's not the only one. Found the same quality ID on two other bodies over at the booth." Her eyes flicked toward the far corner of the club, where another pair of black body bags lay zipped up, waiting for the morgue to claim them. "Same story, both kids."

Mike turned the ID over in his hand, barely needing a second glance to recognize the poor craftsmanship. "Who's the genius letting a bunch of kids in with this shit?"

Before Kelly could answer, Dorn approached, tablet in hand. His sudden presence made Kelly stiffen, her posture visibly more rigid, but Dorn didn't seem to notice—or he pretended not to. "The bouncer. He was distracted by a fight that broke out just as the kids were coming in. He let them slide so he could deal with the guys throwing punches."

Mike exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Hell of a time to drop the ball."

"Bouncer remembered the two boys at the booth," Dorn continued, tapping on his tablet to pull up more info. "Said they came in with their dates. Names were Tyler James and Zachery Harris, both seventeen."

Marcus sighed, the weight of it all getting heavier by the second. He crouched down next to the body bag, reaching for the zipper. "Let's see what we're dealing with."

Mike's brow furrowed, and he stepped closer. "Marcus, don't-"

But Marcus ignored him. With a quick, sharp pull, he unzipped the body bag and uncovered the face of the girl. What he saw made him jerk back instantly, swearing under his breath. The teenager was streaked with dried blood that had poured from her eyes, nose, and ears, her expression frozen in a final moment of agony.

Mike, used to his partner's squeamishness after all these years, shot him an irritated glance. "Seriously? After everything we've seen, you still can't handle it?"

"Man, shut up," Marcus snapped back, holding his hand up defensively as he gathered himself. "It's gotta be Helios. Only that nasty shit does this."

Reggie, who had been lingering nearby, furrowed his brow. "Helios? What's that?"

Mike crossed his arms, glancing at the bodies being wheeled away. "Its a new drug. Fucked up shit. Started out west, moving its way east. In the last six months, it's been tearing through the southern coast from Louisiana to here. More addictive than heroin, deadlier than fentanyl."

Kelly picked up where Mike left off, her voice clipped and precise. "It's potent. A little too much, and your body goes into overdrive. By the time you know something's wrong, it's too late."

Dorn, still holding his tablet, added, "Gets its name from the warm feeling it gives you. Like you're being hugged by the sun."

Kelly snorted softly, the sound bitter. "Yeah, but it's more like being roasted alive. Burns you from the inside out."

Marcus, having regained his composure, stood up, though his face was still pale. "Helios literally melts your brain. Cooks you. Blood comes out of everything-nose, eyes, ears. Fucks up everything."

He gagged, clearly visualizing the horror in too much detail, and had to cover his mouth. Mike shot him another annoyed look. "Come on, man?"

"I'm good, I'm good," Marcus muttered, waving him off.

Reggie, his eyes drifting toward the row of body bags being taken out by the forensic teams, swallowed hard. "All of this... was because of overdoses?"

The silence that followed was heavier than any answer. Mike and Marcus exchanged a glance, the weight of it unspoken but shared. Kelly turned back to the body at her feet, her jaw clenched, while Dorn stood by, still tapping through files on his tablet before clearing his throat, "Well, there's some good news. We've got one survivor." He tapped on his tablet for a moment before holding it out to show a picture of a teenage girl with bright eyes and a wide smile, frozen in a moment of happier times. "Hannah Davis. She was rushed to the hospital. Unresponsive, but showing signs of life. Her mother's on her way there now."

Marcus, still shaken from the gruesome sight, glanced at the photo with some relief. "That's something, I guess."

"Yeah, but she won't be ready for questioning until tomorrow," Dorn added, lowering the tablet. "Docs need to stabilize her first."

Mike nodded, his gaze shifting toward Armando, who had been standing silently on the edge of the group, his sharp eyes taking everything in but saying little. "What about you, man? You know anything about this Helios stuff?"

All eyes turned to Armando. He shifted slightly but remained composed, meeting their stares without flinching. "Not much experience with it personally," he admitted. "But my mother buying a batch a few years ago. Back when it was still in its testing phases."

Marcus, leaning against one of the club's broken-down tables, raised an eyebrow. "What was it like back then? Anything like this?"

Armando shook his head. "Weak. Barely gave a buzz. Nowhere near lethal. It was sloppy, low-grade. I didn't think much of it."

Marcus let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Times have changed. This shit now—it's evolved."

Mike crossed his arms, his mind already working on the next step. "You remember who was selling it back then? Might give us a lead."

Armando paused, thinking back, before finally answering. "No clue which gang it came from. My mother handled most of the deals. But I picked it up from a man named Rojas in Mexico City."

Mike exchanged a look with Marcus before turning back to Dorn. "Look into it. Find out everything you can on this Rojas."

Dorn gave a quick nod, already typing away on his tablet as he walked off, disappearing into the maze of flashing cameras and bustling investigators. Kelly watched him leave, a tension settling over her that didn't go unnoticed by Mike. He stepped toward her, voice low, his concern clear. "You good?"

Kelly blinked, snapping back to the present. She gave a tight smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just... gotta help bag evidence." She turned quickly, heading toward one of the forensics teams before anyone could push the question further.

Mike's eyes followed her for a moment, his brows knitting together in thought before he let it go. He turned back to Marcus, who was now pulling off his gloves with a sigh.

"Looks like we'll be stopping by the hospital in the morning," Marcus said. "Hannah's the only witness we've got." He tossed his gloves into a nearby bin. "If she makes it. Who knows how much of her brain was fried from this shit."

The two stood in silence for a moment, the flashing lights and hum of the crime scene continuing around them, as the weight of what was ahead settled in.

The warehouse loomed in the shadows, hidden behind a strip of rotting dockyards on the outskirts of Miami. Once a bustling center for trade, it now stood as a crumbling monument to neglect. Its corrugated steel walls were rusted, streaked with years of saltwater spray from the nearby bay. Weeds and wild grasses had forced their way through the cracks in the concrete, their jagged edges curling around broken pallets and abandoned shipping containers. A cracked neon sign, long since burned out, clung to the roof by a single bolt, creaking in the wind like the last whisper of something forgotten.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of chemicals and mildew. The interior, gutted from years of decay, had been crudely transformed into an underworld den. Makeshift tables lined the walls, strewn with plastic tubs and half-empty bottles of unknown liquids. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting the room in a sickly yellow glow that made everything look like it was drenched in oil. The floor was sticky, littered with cigarette butts, empty fast-food bags, and discarded needles.

In the far corner, near a stack of dented metal drums, a group of men worked silently, mixing powders with practiced hands. They wore torn tank tops and bandanas over their faces, their eyes dull and focused on the tasks in front of them. A radio, perched on a filthy crate, hummed out muffled Spanish music, its static blending with the low hum of machines churning in the background. Beyond them, a staircase rose up to a second-floor office. The steps were rusted, each one groaning underfoot as if they might collapse at any moment. Their railings, once painted red, were now chipped and peeling, revealing raw iron beneath. The stairs led up to a large glass window, cracked but still intact, through which the shadow of a man could be seen.

At the bottom of the stairs, a hulking figure emerged from the shadows. His body filled the space, almost too large for the narrow corridor leading to the staircase. Alejandro’s heavy boots thudded against the floor as he moved, the sound cutting through the murmur of the workers and the hum of machinery.

He reached the bottom of the rusted staircase, paused for a moment, and then ascended. Each step groaned beneath his weight, and the metal beneath his boots seemed to scream in protest. His eyes, dark and unyielding, flicked toward the window of the office above. The dim light reflected off the cracked glass, but he could still see the figure inside waiting for him.

Reaching the top, Alejandro stopped in front of a door, its once-white paint chipped and faded to a dull gray. He didn't bother to knock. He shoved the door open with a grunt, the hinges squealing in protest.

Inside, the office was surprisingly neat compared to the chaos below. The furniture was sparse but modern, a sleek black desk with polished edges, two leather chairs positioned neatly in front of it. Behind the desk stood a man with slick black hair, combed back so sharply it looked like it had been painted onto his scalp. He wore a black button-up shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal smooth, tanned forearms. His expression was calm, almost bored, as he turned to face Alejandro.

The man with the slick hair raised an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation that brought Alejandro to his office. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him, his eyes sharp and calculating. Behind him, a large map of Miami was pinned to the wall, red pins marking locations across the city. A small, gold-plated revolver sat on the desk next to a half-empty glass of whiskey, glistening under the dim light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Alejandro’s eyes flicked to the gun before meeting the man's gaze again, shifting on his feet. He ran a hand over the tattoos snaking up his forearm before speaking, “That girl," he said, his voice low. "She survived. They've got her at Mercy. Cops all over it."

The man behind the desk didn't flinch. His expression remained unreadable as he stared out the window, watching the silent hum of activity below.

"I see."

Alejandro nodded, though his face remained stone cold. The man picked up his glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid inside. "I trust you won't disappoint me, Alejandro," he said, his tone soft but laced with menace.

Alejandro cracked his knuckles, a slow, deliberate sound that filled the silence between them. "I never do."

The man's smile widened just a fraction, his eyes gleaming. "That's what I like to hear." The man gave the slightest tilt of his head, a shadow of a smile ghosting across his lips. “Prepare everything for the morning."

Alejandro's eyes narrowed, his face hardened with understanding.

The headlights of Mike's Porsche cut through the quiet suburban street as they pulled into Marcus's driveway. The hum of the engine faded into the stillness of the night as Mike killed the ignition, but the tension in the car remained thick.

Marcus opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air. The others followed suit, the tension still hanging over them as they approached the front door. Theresa stood waiting, framed by the warm glow of the porch light. Beside her, Valerie stood, her arms crossed and expression unreadable.

"Hey, baby," Theresa greeted Marcus softly, her arms wrapping around him in a comforting hug. She pulled back, studying his face. "You okay?"

"Real bad scene out there." Marcus muttered, running a hand over his face.

Theresa's brow furrowed with concern. "What happened?"

Marcus shook his head, his voice low and tired. "Kids, T. Three teenagers. Overdosed right on the floor of that club. All three gone before we even got there."

Theresa's hand instinctively squeezed Marcus's arm, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "Oh my God..." She knew how much it tore him apart to see kids caught up in the darkness of drugs and crime.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her thumb rubbing small circles on his arm.

Marcus nodded, his jaw tight as he forced the images away.

Reggie cleared his throat and gave a quick nod toward the house. "Where's Megan and the kids?" he asked, looking over at Theresa.

"They're in the back room," Theresa said, her voice soft but steady. "I'm sure they're ready to head out."

Reggie nodded gratefully and disappeared down the hall, eager to see his family and escape the weight of the day.

While Theresa comforted Marcus, Armando drifted toward Valerie. She stood stiffly, her arms still crossed, avoiding eye contact. He stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before wrapping his arms around her. The embrace was tentative, but there was no warmth in her response. She barely moved, her body cold against his.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

Valerie pulled back slightly, her expression distant. "Fine," she replied, her tone clipped. "What’s the case?"

Armando frowned, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "That's not what we need to talk about," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I don't wanna keep dodging this, Vee.“

Valerie sighed, rubbing her temple. "Armando, I'm not doing this tonight. I just got off a long flight."

His patience, already thin from the night's events, was wearing even thinner. "Val—"

Before he could press any further, she cut him off, glancing at the yellow suitcase by the door. "I'm staying at a hotel.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. The distance between them felt more than physical now, and the coolness in her voice made his chest tighten. Mike, Marcus, and Theresa, caught in their own conversation, suddenly fell silent as Valerie's statement hung in the air.

Armando turned to her, trying to mask his frustration, though the edge in his voice was hard to miss. "That's fine," he muttered, "I'll go get my stuff."

Before he could move, Mike spoke up, his voice casual but firm. "Hey, hold up. You cant do that, man. You're still under contract to stay here at Marcus' house."

Armando shot him a look, but the reality of his situation left no room for argument. With a quiet sigh, he glanced at her, searching for some kind of compromise.

Theresa, sensing the tension and trying to defuse the situation, stepped forward. "Valerie, really, it's no trouble. You can stay here with us if you want. You don't have to go to a hotel."

Valerie gave her a tight smile, polite but firm. "Thanks, Theresa, but I've already called a ride. They're pulling up now.“

True to her observation, a dark, four door sedan pulled up to the curb. Armando clenched his jaw as he grabbed her yellow suitcase. "I'll walk you out," he said quietly.

Valerie gave a small nod and thanked Theresa again before heading down the pathway. Armando followed closely behind, his frustration mounting with every step.

The night air was cool and still. The soft hum of the idling car was the only sound as they approached. Armando opened the backseat door, and Valerie slid in without a word. He handed her suitcase to the driver and then stepped over to her window as it rolled down.

His voice softened, almost pleading. "Text me when you get there, okay?“

Valerie met his gaze, her expression softer now but still guarded. "I will." She paused, hesitating before adding, "Maybe we can talk tomorrow. Meet up for lunch?"

Armando nodded, a flicker of hope in his chest. "Yeah, come by the station. We can grab something."

Valerie gave a small nod and leaned forward, placing a brief kiss on his cheek. It was quick, more of a gesture than anything intimate, but it left Armando feeling both grateful and hollow at the same time.

He watched as the car pulled away, the taillights fading into the night. The silence settled back over the street, heavier than before. After a long moment, Armando turned and walked back toward the house, the weight of the day pressing down on him.

Mike stepped out of his car; the late evening breeze carrying the scent of saltwater as it drifted up from the bay. His bachelor pad, perched on the edge of Miami's waterfront, stood like a modern fortress of glass and steel. The house was all sharp lines and wide windows, the city's skyline reflecting off the shimmering surface of the infinity pool out back. Inside, dim lights spilled out, casting a soft glow over the manicured steps that led to the front door.

Balancing a container of leftover smothered chicken in one hand and a stack of mail in the other, Mike felt a flicker of recognition at the car parked in his driveway. The Mustang. His lips twitched into a smile. As he stepped through the front door, the comforting hum of home washed over him—the quiet thrum of the air conditioning, the faint sound of the water lapping against the shore. But it was the sight on his couch that really brought the warmth.

Rita, dressed in one of his crisp, white button-downs and a pair of black leggings, was comfortably sprawled out on the couch, chopsticks in hand as she deftly twirled noodles into a bite. The Chinese takeout box balanced on her lap, its open top revealing their favorite order from a spot they hit up way too often.

She paused mid-bite, her eyes darting to him as he entered. "Yours is on the counter," she said with a grin, swallowing her mouthful.

Mike set the leftovers and the mail down on the kitchen island, his gaze catching the familiar red and gold logo of their usual spot. "Damn, you didn't wait for me?" he teased, crossing the room with easy strides.

Rita chuckled, shifting slightly on the couch to make room. "You know I can't resist their noodles."

He leaned down, brushing a kiss against her cheek, the soft scent of her perfume mingling with the savory aroma of takeout. "Good to know I'm not the only thing you can't resist," he murmured, his voice low with amusement.

Rita rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Please, you're not that irresistible," she shot back, her tone laced with mock exasperation. Mike chuckled as he shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it over the arm of the adjacent couch. The light scent of leather and his cologne lingered in the air as he headed toward the kitchen, flipping open the stainless steel fridge.

"I already ate, by the way," he called over his shoulder. "Marcus had me over for dinner."

Rita raised an eyebrow and followed him, curiosity piqued. "Oh yeah? What did Theresa cook this time?"

Mike turned around, one hand rummaging through the fridge while the other held up the plastic bag of Tupperware with the leftovers. "Smothered chicken," he said with a grin, waving the container slightly as proof.

Rita's eyes widened as she groaned dramatically, resting her hand on the kitchen counter. "Did she use the special gravy?"

Mike gave her a knowing look and nodded. "The one and only."

"You should've brought me some!" Rita half-pouted, stepping closer.

Mike laughed as he began placing the takeout box inside the fridge. But before he could close the door, Rita reached for the container in his hand, making a play for the coveted leftovers.

"Oh no, you don't," Mike said, swatting her hand away as she grinned mischievously. "Woman, don’t you touch my chicken."

Rita threw her hands up in surrender, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're really going to be greedy like that?"

"Hell yeah," Mike quipped, slipping the container safely onto a shelf. "You've got your noodles. This right here"—he tapped the fridge door for emphasis—"is sacred territory."

Rita chuckled, leaning back against the counter. "You're lucky Theresa's food is worth it. Next time, though, I'm claiming first dibs."

Mike leaned forward, resting both hands on the edge of the counter, his dark eyes locking onto Rita's as he absentmindedly fiddled with the buttons of his shirt she wore. The playful tension between them simmered down, replaced by something heavier. "You know," he began, his voice quieter, "if Theresa knew you and I were together, she might’ve packed enough for both of us."

Rita's sigh was almost immediate. She straightened up, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she avoided his gaze. This wasn't the first time he'd brought it up, and she knew where this was going.

"Michael—"

"Nah, don't do that." He shook his head, cutting her off. "It's been almost a year, Rita. A year since we got together, and it's still a secret." His words were firm but not angry, like he was trying to understand, to make her see his side.

Rita closed her eyes for a moment, frustration bubbling up inside her. "We've already had this discussion," she muttered, her tone clipped as she pushed away from the counter.

"We haven't, though," Mike countered, following her movement with his eyes, his voice rising a little. "Every time we try to talk about it, you change the subject or dodge the question. You’re it doing right now."

She turned to face him, her frustration evident in the way her lips pressed into a thin line. "Michael, it's not as simple as you make it sound.“ said Rita as she made her way back to her spot on the couch, wanting the conversation to end.

Mike exhaled, following her movements as they stood by the window. "I'm not saying it's simple. I get that. But we're not just coworkers, Rita. We're… this is more than that."

"And that's exactly the problem," she shot back, pacing now, her voice tight with the weight of what she was trying to say. "I am your captain. The moment people know about us, they'll start questioning everything. Whether I can make unbiased calls, whether I'm doing my job because it's right or because of you."

Mike ran a hand over his face, trying to keep his cool. He knew she was right, but it didn't make it any easier. "I just don't want to keep hiding," he said, his voice softer now. "I don't want to feel like we're sneaking around, like we're doing something wrong."

Rita paused, her back to him for a moment before she finally turned around, her expression softening just a bit. "I don't want that either. But you know how this works. We don't get to have it both ways. And I can't risk everything I've worked for—everything we've worked for—just because we're... together."

Mike let out a long breath, the tension between them hanging thick in the air. "Alright, I'll drop it," he muttered, stepping back.

Rita glanced at him, sensing they both needed a shift. "Since we're already talking work," she began, her voice lighter but still carrying the weight of their jobs, "how was the crime scene? The one you went to tonight."

Mike took a seat on the adjacent sofa to Rita, his arms spreading out across the back, "Seven bodies. All overdosed on Helios. Three of them were underage kids. One of 'em survived, though. She's in the hospital right now, barely hanging on."

Rita nodded, her arms coming to cross over her chest as she crossed her legs on the couch, “Helios is spreading fast. And with this many bodies, someone's got to be moving a lot of it. You know Ernesto Vargas, right? Cuban gang leader?" Mike’s expression tightened as Rita continued, “His body was found this morning at the docks. Him and several of his guys. Shot to hell."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who did it?"

Rita shook her head. "We're still piecing it together. No witnesses, no clear leads. All we know is it was a bust—there was a bag of money left at the scene, untouched. No product.”

Mike crossed his arms, the wheels turning in his mind. "You think it's connected to the nightclub case?"

Rita sighed. "That's the theory. The timelines match up too perfectly. Vargas was a known distributor of Helios and he dies the same day we've got seven OD cases from that same drug. It's too big of a coincidence."

Mike nodded, his expression hardening. "Tomorrow, me, Marcus, Reggie, and Armando are heading to the hospital. See if that witness knows anything that can help us get a lead."

Rita's lips pressed into a line as she considered that. "How's Armando settling in?"

"He's doing alright," Mike replied, though there was something off in his tone. "He gave us a solid lead on someone in the Helios distribution line. Dorn is looking into it"

Rita studied him closely, her sharp instincts kicking in. “That's good news," she said slowly. "But you don't seem thrilled. What's bothering you?"

Mike exhaled, leaning forward. "It's not the intel. Armando's sharp, and he's been pulling his weight." He looked away for a moment, his frustration creeping back in. "It's just... he's got a whole fiancée. Showed up at Marcus' place tonight."

Rita's eyebrows shot up. "A fiancée? And you had no idea?"

"None," Mike said, shaking his head. "Two years and I didn't know a damn thing about it."

Rita's shock softened into confusion. "Is she connected to his past? To the cartel?"

Mike gave a small, bitter laugh. "No. He met her after the McGrath mission. When he was laying low in the Dominican Republic. Her name's Valerie. She nursed him back to health, gave him a place to stay while we were negotiating his deal with the DA."

Rita took a deep breath, processing the new information.

Mike's voice grew quieter, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "I'm his father, Rita. We're supposed to be building something here, and he's still keeping shit like this from me."

Rita moved from her place to sit beside him, her voice softening as she spoke. "Michael, you've both been through a lot. He's spent most of his life not knowing you. This isn't going to be easy for either of you, but he's here now. You're working together, and that's a start."

Mike nodded, but the frustration still lingered in his eyes. "I just thought by now... I don't know. I guess I hoped we'd be closer. That he'd trust me at least.”

Rita placed a hand on his arm. "Give it time. He's working with you, with AMMO. He's in the states now, which means you have a chance to build that relationship. It's not going to happen overnight, but it will happen."

The tension in Mike's shoulders slowly eased, and he gave Rita a small, appreciative smile. Rita gently squeezed his arm, sensing that he'd had enough of heavy conversations for one day. "Come on," she said softly, standing up and offering her hand. "It's late, and we've got a long day tomorrow."

Mike watched her for a moment before taking her hand and letting her lead him. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the lingering frustrations and doubts as they reached his bedroom. Rita was already at the foot of the bed, pulling the covers back, her movements fluid and familiar. Mike watched her for a beat, appreciating the quiet routine they'd developed, even if it wasn't something he could show off to the world. Here, in the dim light of his home, it felt... real.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing a bustling hospital corridor bathed in the unforgiving light of late morning. The scent of antiseptic and the quiet murmur of medical staff hit them immediately. Mike led the way, his crisp, tailored jacket cutting a sharp contrast against Marcus's more laid-back attire, while Reggie and Armando followed closely behind, their eyes scanning the sterile surroundings.

They approached the reception desk, where a nurse in light blue scrubs sat typing on a computer, her fingers moving with practiced precision. Mike, ever the charmer, leaned in slightly, flashing his badge with a brief smile.

"Miami PD. " he said, his voice smooth. "Can you tell us if Hannah Davis is able to answer a few questions?"

The nurse's fingers stilled, and she glanced up at the four men before her eyes settled on Mike. She exhaled softly, a shadow passing over her face.

"She's awake in room 324," the nurse said, her voice measured. "But... she's suffered severe damage to her brain." She paused, her gaze shifting slightly as if unsure of how much to reveal. "Her short-term memory has been... hindered."

Marcus, standing just behind Mike, frowned and stepped forward, his brow creasing in confusion. "What does that mean exactly?"

The nurse's eyes flicked to Marcus, her expression softening as she elaborated, "She's lost the ability to make new memories. She won't remember anything that's happened since the incident. Every few minutes, it resets."

A cold, heavy silence settled over the group. Marcus shifted uncomfortably, his usual humor drained from his face as he processed what the nurse was saying. A kid, just sixteen years old, stuck in a loop, her life paused indefinitely because of a drug overdose.

Mike nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation written in the tight set of his jaw. "Thank you," he said quietly, stepping back from the desk. The nurse gave them a sad, knowing look before returning to her screen.As they made their way down the hall, the weight of the news sat heavy on their shoulders.

Marcus stopped just outside the door, his hand on the handle, and glanced over his shoulder at Reggie and Armando. "Hey, y'all hang back. We don't want to overwhelm the girl with too many faces."

Reggie gave a small nod with a sharp, “Yes sir.”while Armando just shrugged, not taking it personally. They both found chairs along the wall in the hallway, Armando into them while Reggie took to standing.

With a quick exchange of looks, Mike and Marcus steeled themselves before entering the room. Inside, the soft hum of machines filled the space, and the sterile white walls were softened only by the presence of an older woman sitting at the bedside. She had dark hair streaked with silver and light eyes that glinted with fatigue and heartache. Beside her, a young girl lay propped up on pillows, her complexion glowing with youthful health that seemed at odds with the reality they had just been told. Hannah Davis looked like any other teenager, but the hollow space between who she had been yesterday and who she was now seemed to fill the room.

The two men greeted the woman, their voices quiet but professional.

"Ma'am, I'm Detective Mike Lowrey, this is Detective Marcus Burnett," Mike began.

The woman stood and offered her hand, her grip firm despite the tremble in her lip. "I'm Helan Davis. Hannah's mother."

Mike nodded, glancing over at Hannah. The girl's eyes flitted between the detectives and her mother, a nervous energy radiating from her. Marcus softened his stance a little.

"Mrs. Davis," Marcus began, "if you're okay with it, we'd like to ask Hannah a few things. We'll take it slow. If she needs a break at any time, just let us know."

Helan hesitated, looking down at her daughter, her fingers brushing lightly against Hannah's hand. "It's okay, honey," she said softly. "Just tell them what you can remember."

Mike stepped closer to Hannah's bedside. "Hannah, we just need to know what happened last night. Anything you remember can help us."

Hannah swallowed, her eyes darting to her mother, seeking permission or maybe forgiveness. When Helan nodded, Hannah looked back at Mike, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maddie... my friend... she wanted to go out with this guy from her Geometry class—Tyler."

Marcus raised a brow, waiting for her to continue. She paused, her eyes welling up with the weight of the truth.

"But Tyler didn’t want to go out unless Maddie found a date for his friend, Zach. So... Maddie asked me to go with them."

Marcus exchanged a look with Mike, both sensing the nerves in Hannah's words.

Hannah hesitated, glancing down at the blanket in her lap. "I thought we were just going to the movies." Her voice wavered. "But then... in the car... Maddie gave me a fake ID. She said we were going to sneak into a club."

Helan's jaw tightened, though she stayed silent, squeezing her daughter's hand.

Mike nodded, taking this in. "Do you know who gave you the fake IDs?"

Hannah shook her head. "Zach got them. From some guy at a gas station... in an alleyway."

Marcus cut in, his tone gentle. "Did you or Maddie plan to meet anyone at the club?"

"No," Hannah whispered, shaking her head again. "At least, not that I knew of."

Mike pressed forward, his voice soft. "What about the vape pen? Where'd you get that?"

Hannah hesitated again, looking back at her mother. Helan squeezed her hand tighter this time, offering a small nod of encouragement.

"Maddie... Maddie went up to a guy at another booth. She got the pen from him. The same guy Zach got his from." Her voice cracked, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She turned to her mother fully now, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to—"

Helan wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling her close as she started to cry. "Shh, honey. It's okay. We'll get through this," she whispered, her voice steady, though her eyes betrayed her fear.

Mike waited a beat before asking the final question. "Hannah, can you describe the guy Maddie talked to? The one with the vape pen?"

Hannah sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I never saw his face... but I remember he had wings."

"Wings?" Marcus asked, puzzled.

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, her voice distant, like she was trying to reach for the memory through fog. "Tattooed on his chest. They were... big, like angel wings."

Mike and Marcus exchanged a glance. It was a small detail, but one that could make all the difference. Mike nodded, taking a mental note of it.

Just then, Hannah turned to her mom again, her voice smaller this time. "Mom... I need to use the bathroom."

Helan nodded quickly, helping her daughter out of bed. Hannah stood shakily but managed to walk the short distance to the bathroom door on her own, closing it softly behind her.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Helan's composure shattered. Her body slumped as she pressed a hand to her face, choking back sobs that came in short, sharp gasps. Mike shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to approach, while Marcus stood still, giving her a moment.

Helan's voice was choked with emotion as she spoke. "I just... I don't know what happened. I normally keep such close track of her. I'm always so careful. But with my husband away on his business trip—he hasn't answered a single call—and the workload piling up at the office... I thought she was fine. She's always been so independent. I never imagined..."

Marcus stepped forward, his tone comforting. "None of this is your fault, Mrs. Davis. Kids make mistakes, and sometimes things slip through the cracks. It's not a reflection of your parenting."

Helan's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and despair. "Not all kids end up dead or with their memory permanently damaged, Detective. It's not just a mistake. It's—" Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands, sobs escaping despite her attempts to stifle them. “She'll never be the same, will she? She won't even remember this conversation in a few minutes."

The weight of that truth hung in the air, pulling all their hearts down with it.

Marcus cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "We'll find the people responsible for this, Mrs. Davis. I promise you that."

Helan's eyes met his, searching for something—hope, maybe, or a reason to believe. She gave a small nod, wiping her tears away as best she could. Helan wiped her eyes, trying to pull herself together. "The doctors want to run a few more tests before they discharge her later today. They said it's important for Hannah to return to familiar surroundings to minimize her distress when her memory resets."

The weight of Helan's words settled heavily in the room. Mike and Marcus shared a solemn look.

"Mrs. Davis," Mike said gently, "we'll make sure to keep you updated on our progress. We're committed to finding the people responsible for this."

Helan nodded, her face pale but resolute. At that moment, the bathroom door opened, and Hannah emerged, her face fresh from washing up. She looked between her mother and the detectives, her confusion evident.

"Mom, who are they?" Hannah asked, her voice tentative.

Helan's face fell as she realized the implications. "They're detectives from Miami PD, sweetie. They were asking about last night."

The realization hit Mike and Marcus simultaneously. Hannah's memory had reset; the last twenty minutes had vanished from her mind as if they never happened.

The hallway was quiet, the kind of quiet that amplifies every small noise. Armando sat leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. Across from him, Reggie stood like a sentinel, his posture rigid, the muscle memory of his Marine days still alive in the way he held himself. His eyes were fixed forward, scanning the hall as if waiting for something—anything—to happen.

For several minutes, the only sound was the hum of distant hospital machines and the quiet shuffle of medical staff moving in and out of rooms. But soon, Armando became aware of another sound—a rapid, relentless tapping. His eyes stayed closed, but his brow furrowed in annoyance.

Reggie's foot was tapping against the tile floor, the pace picking up every second. Armando let out a small sigh, trying to ignore it. The tapping, though, became impossible to drown out. After a few more moments, Armando's frustration peaked.

Without opening his eyes or changing his posture, he asked, voice casual yet irritated, "You waiting for permission to piss, or what?"

The tapping stopped immediately. Reggie looked down at his foot, realizing Armando was addressing him. "Uh... no," he said awkwardly, "Detectives Lowrey and Burnett told us to wait out here."

At that, Armando opened one eye and cast a dubious glance in Reggie's direction. "Detectives Lowrey and Burnett, huh?" he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You always refer to them like you're in basic training?"

"It's called respect," Reggie replied, crossing his arms. "Something you wouldn't know much about."

Armando let out a low scoff, now sitting up a little straighter. “Yeah? What's that supposed to mean?"

Reggie shifted his stance, his voice calm but pointed. "You still call your father by his first name like you're a stranger. You clearly don't respect Detective Lowrey."

Armando straightened up completely, his easygoing facade slipping. His jaw clenched as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Watch it, man. You don't know anything about me."

Reggie didn't back down, though. "That's the problem, Aretas. No one knows anything about you because you don't let anyone in. Hell, your own father didn't even know you were engaged."

The tension in the air snapped like a wire pulled too tight. Armando shot to his feet, "Mind your fucking business, Sargent Boy Scout."

Reggie stood his ground, meeting Armando's intensity without blinking. The two stood there, locked in a silent standoff, their frustration bubbling to the surface. Just as it seemed things might escalate, a nurse wheeled a cart right between them, breaking through the tension with an obliviousness that only heightened the absurdity of the moment.

Armando clenched his fists, but as the nurse passed, he took a deep breath and forced himself back into the chair, muttering under his breath. He leaned back, trying to settle his irritation, while Reggie returned to his watchful stance, though the air between them remained thick.

It wasn't long, however, before the familiar sound of Reggie's foot tapping started up again, quieter at first but picking up speed just like before. Armando squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation before muttering a curse in Spanish.

"Por el amor de Dios, *For the love of God* go to the fucking bathroom already!"

Reggie, startled, looked down at his foot and then back at Armando. "Uh... yeah, okay. I'll be right back."

As Reggie hurried off down the hall, Armando finally allowed himself a moment of peace, the silence—at last—returning to the hallway.

Reggie rushed down the hospital halls, turning the corner and practically skidding into the men's room. He made a beeline for the first open urinal, the pressure of needing to pee finally releasing with a sigh. As he finished up, he made his way to the sinks, washing his hands with a few quick pumps of soap. His mind was still half outside door 324, keeping an eye on things.

Just as Reggie rinsed his hands, the sound of a toilet flushing drew his attention. From the stall emerged a massive man, easily towering over six feet, he rolled his white sleeves down to cover arms of heavy black tattoos that snaked up farther than Reggie could see. His surgical mask concealed most of his face, but his eyes were sharp, darting around like he was more alert than a typical medical staffer.

Reggie's instincts flared immediately. Something about the guy wasn't right. He washed his hands too fast, barely scrubbing before bolting from the restroom with a casualness that felt forced. Reggie shook the water from his hands and, without thinking, began to tail him.

The guy moved swiftly, but not with the purpose of someone who belonged there. Reggie followed him discreetly through a few turns in the hospital corridor until the man disappeared into a supply closet. Reggie waited a moment, leaning casually against the wall, his mind racing. Something about this situation screamed wrong. He glanced down the hallway but stayed put, waiting for the man to reemerge.

After a few minutes, he couldn't afford to leave his post any longer. He made his way back to Armando, who was still lounging in his chair with an indifferent expression. Reggie sat down, his eyes never leaving the supply closet.

Armando, noticing the tension, raised an eyebrow and followed Reggie's gaze. "Why you staring like that?"

Reggie leaned forward slightly, his voice low. "The man that just came outta the bathroom—big, tatted up, scrubs and a mask—he's not right. He went into that supply closet, but something about him... it didn't feel like hospital staff."

Armando straightened up in his chair, shifting to get a better look at the man, who had just emerged from the supply closet and was now rifling through some files at a nearby desk. Nobody else seemed to notice him, which struck Armando as odd. He wasn't interacting with any other staff, like he was trying too hard to blend in.

"You sure about this?" Armando asked, his eyes narrowing.

Reggie nodded. "Problem is, I can't act without approval from the detectives, you know? I’m still a rookie."

Armando rolled his eyes, pushing himself out of the chair. "Rookie my ass," he muttered, brushing past Reggie.

"Wait—Armando!" Reggie whispered urgently, trying to stop him. But Armando was already halfway across the hall, ignoring the warning.

Armando walked over to the vending machine, the perfect cover to observe the guy without being obvious. He punched in some buttons for a coffee, all the while stealing glances at the man rifling through the files. From his position, Armando could see the bulge at the man's ankle—a telltale sign of a concealed weapon. Definitely not standard hospital issue.

Just as Armando's eyes moved up from the ankle holster, the man turned, catching him watching. For a split second, their eyes locked.

Then, without warning, the man bolted.

The files scattered to the floor as he took off down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing against the sterile tiles. Armando cursed under his breath, spilling the hot coffee as he turned to run after the guy.

Armando's boots pounded against the hospital tiles as he sprinted after the tattooed man, his heart racing but his mind focused. He dodged nurses, rolling carts, and patients being wheeled down the halls, keeping his eye on the man as he knocked over everything in his path. Chairs clattered, trays crashed, and people were shoved aside as the guy barreled through the corridor like a wrecking ball.

Despite the chaos, Armando managed to avoid the obstacles, slipping past tumbling chairs and hurdling overturned carts with ease. Just when he was about to close the distance, the tattooed man sent an older woman's wheelchair spinning into the middle of the hall, knocking her to the ground. Armando gritted his teeth as he jumped over her fallen form. He cursed under his breath and, despite the rush of adrenaline and frustration, skidded to a stop.

"Damn it!" he muttered, turning back.

The tattooed man was getting farther away, but Armando couldn't ignore the woman. He rushed back, kneeling beside her as she reached out, confused and shaken. Her face was pale, her breaths shallow with shock. Speaking softly in Spanish, Armando reassured her as he gently helped her up and steadied her in her wheelchair.

"Está bien, señora. ¿Estás herido?" *Its okay, ma’am. Are you hurt?* he asked, his voice calm despite his urgency.

The woman blinked up at him, her hands trembling as she gripped the arms of the chair. "No, no, gracias... estoy bien. Solo me asusté..." * No, no, thanks... I'm fine. I just got scared...*

"Lo siento mucho," *I am very sorry* Armando said quickly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before checking her over one last time before he bolted back down the hall. The chase wasn't over.

Armando pushed the door to the stairwell open with his shoulder, his eyes scanning downward as he leaped down the first flight of stairs. The clattering of hurried footsteps echoed beneath him, and a flash of a bald head caught his attention a few floors below. That had to be him.

He jumped two steps at a time, his breaths coming in short bursts as he descended rapidly. The tattooed man had a good lead, but Armando wasn't about to let this guy get away. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses. Every turn of the stairwell felt tighter, every floor a blur as he pounded down after his target. The sounds of the man's movements echoed in the concrete stairwell, guiding him like a beacon.

When Armando finally hit the ground floor, he could hear the heavy thudding of footsteps just ahead. He tore through the lobby doors, his eyes locked on the back of a man sprinting toward the exit. Armando lunged forward, closing the distance in a final burst of speed before he tackled the man from behind, sending them both crashing to the floor.

They hit the ground hard, sliding across the smooth tiles. Armando wrestled with the man, using every bit of strength he had to pin him down. It took a few seconds of struggling, but eventually, Armando managed to flip the guy over and press his arm into the man's chest to keep him still.

But as soon as the man turned, Armando froze. It wasn't the tattooed guy. Not even close.

The bald man beneath him, wide-eyed and gasping for breath, was in his fifties, a look of sheer terror plastered on his face. His hospital scrubs had become bunched up and he looked nothing like the muscular figure Armando had been chasing.

"What are you doing?!” the man shouted, trying to wriggle free.

Armando blinked in disbelief, the realization sinking in hard. He'd grabbed the wrong guy.

"Shit!" Armando muttered, quickly letting go and jumping to his feet.

The man scrambled to his feet, his face flushed with anger and confusion, but Armando was already scanning the lobby. His true target was nowhere to be seen.

[my-castles-crumbling]

obnoxious - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 227

Regulus was horrible with words.

He wasn't sure why, but he seemed to have a block. Some sort of mental wall that made it impossible for him to express his emotions.

"You're stunning," James would say sincerely, eyes wide with emotion, a smile on his face.

"You're the worst," Regulus would retort, scowling.

"You're amazing, Reggie," James would murmur to him in the dead of night, in the small space between their touching foreheads.

"You're alright," would be the best he could reply.

"I'm so lucky to have you," James would grin when Regulus finally relented and agreed to look over his potions essay.

But "You're obnoxious" was the best he could do.

He knew James understood that his witty retorts and dry replies were how he showed love. But he wished that he could say more. That he could express that James was, truly, more than he deserved.

So, finally, a year into their relationship, when he was able to choke out an "I love you," into the silence of the night as they sat atop the Astronomy Tower, he almost took it back. Because the vulnerable expression of affection felt similar to literally handing James his still-beating heart.

James, however, knew exactly what to say. Drawing him in to his arms and kissing his head softly, he murmured, "I know, baby. And I love you."

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Best Friend - R. B. x gn!Reader

A/N: This is the second part of Best Friend, first part here. Just like the first part, this fic is dedicated to @blackenedalley 💛 Sorry if Reggie is ooc or too cheesy. Also, I am fully in support of Barty calling his friends ‘babe’ no matter their gender. Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N

CW: Angst at the beginning, jealousy, insecurity, Barty Crouch Jr, Barty’s plots, soft fluff, hand-holding, kissing, little bit of jealousy from Reggie, lots of kissing at the end, soft fluffy ending, Reggie calls the reader ‘love’, reader is in deep love

910 words

The more Regulus hangs out with Lily, the worse your jealousy gets. You hide it as best you can, of course. But the others are starting to pick up on it.

“Pining much?” Barty comments during class, as you sear your gaze into the back of Regulus and Lily’s heads.

He’d chosen to sit with her today. Her! Instead of you!

You slump into your seat and shrug, “I dunno, Barty,” you mumble. “Maybe there’s no hope for me anymore.”

Barty gives you a look. “Babe, this is Reg we’re talking about.”

“Exactly,” you reply morosely. “Which means it’s hopeless. I’m his best friend. Not his… whatever we’d be. Partner or something.”

Barty sighs and shakes his head. He reaches over and flicks your forehead. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t have you all down like this. It’s depressing.”

“Talk to him?” you ask suspiciously, rubbing your forehead.

He grins a bit. “Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll get him back on track.”

You eye him warily and nod slowly. There’s no stopping him either way. Once Barty puts his mind to something, he’s unstoppable.

Might as well go along for the ride.

It’s three in the morning and you’re on top of the astronomy tower, studying star charts. It’s the first time you’ve truly hung out with Regulus since he befriended Lily.

And it’s the first time you’ve talked to him since Barty’s promise of talking to him.

“I missed you,” Regulus says softly, marking a star’s placement on the map.

You stay quiet, working on your own map. “Really?”

He pauses and looks up at you. “Yeah. You know I love hanging out with you.”

You stay silent for a moment before whispering, “I missed you too.”

Regulus’ gaze softens. He reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You give his hand a squeeze back before letting go, expecting him to do the same.

Instead, he entwines his fingers with yours. He doesn’t say anything, just goes back to working on his star map with your hand held securely in his.

Your cheeks warm. You look down at your star map, so acutely aware of the way his thumb is gently rubbing against yours.

Maybe there is hope after all.

Your hope comes to fruition after a hangout with Barty.

You’re out by the greenhouses, enjoying the sunshine. Barty’s laughing at one of your dumb jokes when he nods his head towards the castle.

“Your lover boy’s coming this way.”

“My…” You turn to look.

Regulus is walking towards you, looking oddly hopeful. You’re about to call out to him when Barty moves.

In one swift action, he stands up and presses a kiss to your cheek. You’re too stunned to pull away.

You gape up at Barty, utterly confused. “Wha—?”

He pats your shoulder, winks, and grins. “Just helping the cause along.”

“Barty.”

Regulus’ voice is frigid, the coldest you’ve ever heard. His face is stony, his wand gripped in his hand.

“Reg!” Barty steps away from you and raises his hands. “I was just leaving.”

“Good.” Regulus’ gaze doesn’t leave Barty until he’s made his way round a corner and out of sight.

Then he turns his gaze to you. “He kissed you.”

Your cheeks flush. You feel uncomfortable under his unreadable stare. “I don’t know why…”

“Maybe he likes you.”

You fidget with your hands. “I don’t think so. He said he was ‘helping the cause along’?”

Regulus’ expression changes. Softens a little. “Oh.”

“You know what that means?”

“Yeah.”

Regulus studies you for a moment, then reaches out. He cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as if wiping the kiss away. Your breath stutters in your chest.

“He kissed you,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”

Your eyes must be wide open, because all you can see is Regulus’ gaze as it drops down to your lips.

For a moment, time stands still. And then you both move.

Your lips meet in a soft press of warmth. The kiss is slow, chaste; and yet it sends tingles spiraling throughout your body.

You pull back a bit, savoring the moment. Regulus’ breath puffs across your mouth.

“You kissed me,” you whisper.

A slight smile tugs at his lips. “I did. And I’m going to do it again.”

He kisses you again, less chastely this time. You revel in it, melting into the kiss.

When he pulls back, you’re breathless. Your mind feels like it’s working on overdrive, trying to process the moment.

“What about Lily?” you ask.

Regulus blinks and tilts his head. “What about her?”

“I thought…”

He strokes your cheek again, making you lose track of your words. “I thought I told you. She’s just a friend. You’re irreplaceable.”

A smile spreads across your face. Irreplaceable?

“I am?” you ask softly.

Regulus leans in and kisses you again. “You’re everything to me, love.”

Your heart thrills at his words. Love… He’d called you love… “You’re my everything too.”

He smiles and lowers his hand from your face. He takes your hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere less open.”

You follow him in a daze, lost in the swell of happiness and love that overtakes you. He called you love…

You almost blurt it out right then and there. I love you, Reggie…

But you manage to keep it to yourself for now. Soon. Soon you’ll tell him.

Just not yet.

[breakmyheartwolfstar]

So we all love a supportive James Potter, right? But you know what I also love? A supportive Sirius Black.

James wants to be quidditch captain? Sirius is up at 5 am with James to go through drills with him, talk strategy for upcoming games he can suggest to the current captain and makes sure he gets enough sleep the night before every game.

Peter wants to start a chess club? Sirius helps spread the word by telling every single person he comes in contact with and makes flyers, finds a place to hold practice and plays with Pete a few nights a week to keep his mind fresh.

Regulus suffers from anxiety? Sirius always knows when his baby brother is feeling anxious. He can see it in his body movements or his eyes. He’ll take Reg to either the black lake or the astronomy tower, holds his hand or puts his arm around him, he tells Reggie about his day and always brings snacks with him to give because he knows Reggie doesn’t eat when he’s anxious.

Remus wants to do better in his studies? Sirius will rewrite his notes for him to make them neater because his Moonshine has a tendency to just write on all over his parchment with no organization, gives him a kiss every time he answers a question correctly when quizzing him and makes him take breaks so he doesn’t get overwhelmed.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Heavily inspired by Footnote

Barbie dolls: Regulus black x your bitch ass :) love you

Words: 2.5k ish

Summary: Regulus get trashed and confesses his love for you, you tell him to tell you in the morning when his ass is sober

Warnings: mentions of suicide, also Reggie is called gay by the narrator, underage drinking, drunkness written by someone who exclusively drinks Dr pepper, regulus cries and whines a lot, y/n joke, readers a perfect of no specified house, regulus gets no repercussions

Regulus was not a big fan of parties. He’s too Y/N for them, he once tried to bring a book to one. Barty threatened him with a knife. However even with his extreme hatred for B.O. he felt like dabbling in underage drinking. Regulus he was totally in love with his best friend, that’s you, a while ago. It was unfortunately in the Astronomy tower.

During class, he was muttering angrily to Barty about how you had ditched him for some dumb Ravenclaw, contradictory terms. Barty whispered that just because Regulus was in love with you did not mean he had to make it Barty’e problem at 2 am. With that Regulus froze, staring out at the wall. He was, wasn’t he?

He felt his mind screaming bloody murder, throwing plates and family heirlooms. How could he fall in love with his best friend? How gay was he? How much of his brother’s shadow was he? Regulus reached out and gripped Barty’s forearm. Barty turned back as the class was dismissing, filing out down the stairs. Barty patted Regulus’ shoulder before tearing his arm out of Regulus’ grip. Regulus stared out at the ledge.

“Barty, I must kill myself. It seems I am more of my cousin’s brother than I first realized.” With that Regulus flung himself towards the edge of the tower. Barty caught him by the back of his shirt, pulling Regulus tightly his chest. Barty awkwardly waddled Regulus towards the steps as Regulus continued to rabidly claw at Barty. Barty Stopped Regulus, ducking his head down to fling Regulus over his shoulder. Regulus bared his teeth, still trying to rabid his way out of Barty’s grip.

“It’ll pass, dear Reginald, It’ll pass.” Barty whispered, patting the back of Regulus thigh as he walked them both back to the commonroom. After that Regulus was well aware of his feeling for you. You weren’t. You were blissfully unaware. Alas, Regulus doesn’t know how to handle rejection that isn’t really rejection so he was offered alcohol by Barty.

So yes, Regulus went to a party. And no, he didn’t really like it, but he got booze so he accepted it. Barty didn’t even need to give Regulus a drink, Regulus was stealing them out of people’s hands. Barty got distracted dancing with Evan and others he entirely forgot he was on babysitting duty. Until he left to the bathroom and as he was washing his hands he gasped and stared in the mirror.

So he went searching for Regulus. Barty went around asking partially peeved people if they had seen a twat around shoulder height with black hair and an ugly shirt walking around. Most of them said no but one pointed Barty down a dark passageway behind a tapestry.

Barty sighed when he found Regulus sitting down the passageway on the floor. A small stack of red solo cups sitting next to him. Barty sat next to him. Regulus sighed. As he started talking, Barty realized how trashed he truly was. Regulus kept drifting off and staring over Barty’s shoulder, his words mixing together like food dye in water. Barty sighed standing up and pulling Regulus onto his feet. Barty kicked the stack of cups away deciding it wasn’t his problem.

On the way out Barty found Dorcas and Evan standing with each other. Pandora had decided she’d prefer to nap than go to a party. Barty gestured to Dorcas and Evan that they were leaving. Regulus was hanging off of Barty’s shoulder, mumbling about your eyes.

Evan pulled Regulus’ other arm over his shoulder. The three of them helped pull Regulus down the halls. As they were heading towards the dungeons they heard another set of footsteps. They got worried thinking it was a teacher or snobbish prefect, ducking behind a corner. Unfortunately Regulus didn’t get the message still muttering on about you. Dorcas slapped a hand over Regulus’ mouth. It was too late though, your head poking out from around the corner.

“Hey guys. Whatcha doing over here?” You asked, giving them a smile. Regulus’ head snapped up at your voice. He sighed when he saw you, leaning his head on Barty’s shoulder.

“Oh just hiding from snobbish prefects.” Barty said, rolling his eyes. You pointed to the prefect badge on your chest. Barty shrugged.

“He did say snobbish,” Dorcas muttered. “Which excludes you.” Evan nodded.

“You’re not snobbish. You’re more like snoggish.” Regulus whispered, his voice ebbing back and forth. He waited for a laugh for his pun, when one didn’t come he continued. “You know, cause like you’re not a snob but snob is like snog and I want to-“ Barty saved Regulus the embarrassment, covering his mouth with his hand. You gave Regulus a worried a look.

“I see you guys went to that party that’s against the rules.” You said, giving them a joking grin. Regulus lifted his head away from Barty’s hand.

“I didn’ want to. Barty forced. Do you still love me?” Regulus rushed out, skipping over words his mind deemed unnecessary. Evan rolled his eyes. If Regulus wasn’t trashed more than Barty’s bed, Evan would mock him. Dorcas groaned slightly. You gave Regulus sad eyes as you watched his waterline fill with tears.

“Yes, baby. Of course I still love you.” This seemed to be the wrong move because it made Regulus cry. You cooed as he pushed his face into Barty’s shoulder, his body shaking. Evan scoffed and released Regulus, moving to stand next to Dorcas. Regulus flung both his arms around Barty’s neck, sobbing more. Barty groaned at the added weight.

“Uh, you know. I heard that the professors have their hands kinda full tonight because all those fights from last week. So there wont be anyone to bust your party. I’ll take Regulus and tuck him in, you guys go have fun.” Barty shook his head at you. You held you hands up, already peeling Regulus’ arms off Barty.

“The Slytherin commonroom is already on my route so I’m really just feeding two birds with one seed.” Regulus sniffed as he realized who was holding onto him, staring up at you with puppy eyes. Barty looked over to Evan and Dorcas. They both nodded. Barty shrugged.

“Okay, but if he’s not in bed when I get back, I’m going to kill you.” Barty said. You nodded. Evan quickly pecked your cheek. Regulus groaned. You rubbed his back, trying to soothe him.

“Best prefect ever, I love you so much.” Evan muttered before latching onto Barty’s hand and heading back towards the party. Dorcas watched you as you looked down at Regulus, a small smile and soft eyes. She felt sick to her stomach. She left with the boys, not knowing she could handle another second of your gushy love. You pulled Regulus up more, heaving his arm over your shoulders. He started muttering going on and on about the party. You hummed, giving him positive reinforcement when he gave you a moment to speak.

Eventually with a lot of working and pulling and huffing you made it to the Slytherin dorms. You helped Regulus out of his shoes, tossing his legs into his bed. Regulus kept talking as you pulled his blankets over him. You started tucking the blanket in around him. Regulus pulled his arms out from under the blanket, grabbing onto your shoulders. He whispered your name. If you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t have understood him.

“Yes, my love? I’m not getting you a burrito, you know what happened last time. Never again.” Regulus clumsily brought one of his hands up to your cheek, making you meet his eyes. He looked like he was about to cry again.

“I like you.” He whispered. You nodded, a grin twitching at the corner of your lips.

“I know.” Regulus groaned at you.

“I’m lying, I love you.” You nodded again. You gently tucked one of his curls away from his eyes.

“I know. I love you, too.” Regulus huffed at you, getting irritated that you didn’t seem to be understanding.

“No. I love you. Like kissing.” You nodded slowly. You noticed a book off to the side, sitting on top of his blankets. You picked it up as you answered him.

“I know.” You bookmarked the page and set it on his nightstand. You looked back to Regulus, finding his face in his hands. You heard him sniffle. You frowned and gently pulled his hands away.

“Why are you crying?”

“If you love me why don’t you do anything?” Regulus huffed. You cooed, cupping his cheek.

“Well you never said anything. I had my suspicions but I wasn’t going to assume on something like that.” Regulus groaned again, harshly knocking his head into your arm. You gently pecked the back of his hand.

“Well then can you kiss me now?” Regulus asked. You shook your head. Regulus whined, starting to cry. You leaned over him wiping his tears away.

“Why?” He mumbled, pitifully.

“You’re drunker than a skunk, babe.” Regulus groaned, shoving at your shoulders. You knew you were wearing a shit eating grin by now but it was silly to you. You lightly grazed your lips over Regulus’ cheek, making him freeze and stare at you with sparkling eyes.

“Tell you what, if you can remember to talk to me tomorrow about this, I’ll give you the best kiss I can muster.” Regulus gaped up at you, holding onto your shoulders again.

“Really?” He asked. You hummed and nodded. Regulus had a smile already growing on his face. You finished tucking him in before slowly backing away. Regulus fell asleep before you made it out the door.

The next morning you were chatting with another prefect in the Great Hall. They were telling you about how they caught two Hufflepuffs higher than a kite sitting behind a potted fern. You were interrupted by Barty, plopping down between you two. Barty threw his arms around you. Regulus stood on the other side of you. You smiled up at him. He looked tired. Regulus was sporting Dorcas’ thick bright green sunglasses. He glanced down at you. If you could see his eyebrows, you assumed he’d be lifting one. You ducked one hand behind him, holding onto the back of his knee. You just barely traveled up, grazing over the back of Regulus’ thigh.

“You remember anything I told you last night?” You asked. Regulus shrugged.

“I remember making a bad pun about snogging and that’s as far as my memory goes.” He pushed Dorcas’ sunglasses further up his nose.

“Mr. Black you know the dress code.” You heard Slughorn’s voice behind you. Regulus glanced back.

“Suck my dick.” Slughorn gave Regulus a disgusted look as Regulus turned back around. You looked back at Professor Slughorn.

“It’s fine. I’ll write him up.” Slughorn looked between you two before stalking off. You trailed your fingertips up and down the back of Regulus’ leg. “truly you should not have done that.” Regulus shrugged.

“He’s just jelly because he can’t pull off those cool shades, huh Reg?” Barty said. Regulus reached around you and smacked the back of Barty’s head. Evan sat across from you.

“God I wish you would pull those off.” Evan muttered. Regulus flipped Evan off.

“Well I like them. I think you make them work.” You smiled up at Regulus. You felt slightly more judged just staring up at a pair of sunglasses with barely a quarter of Regulus’ face peaking out from under them. You felt Regulus gently nudged your chin up with his finger.

“Next time you go into the dorms, can you talk quieter?” You glanced over at Pandora’s voice. She was standing over Evan staring at you. Regulus dropped his hand to hold onto your shoulder.

“Yeah sorry.” She nodded, sitting down next to Evan.

“You were in the dorms?” Regulus asked. You glanced over at him.

“Yes? Baby, I’m the one who took you back to bed.” He nodded.

“Oh yeah, you did do that. I remember tripping over your feet in the halls.” You rolled your eyes at Regulus.

“Well don’t be a bitch, Regulus.” Evan muttered.

“I’ll be your bitch, Rosie.” Barty muttered, winking across the table. Evan snarled at him.

“Not over breakfast guys. You have to let Regulus gain at least one third of memories first. Also it’s gross.” You said, pointing your fork at them. You heard Regulus mutter a ‘huh’ at the mention of his name.

“You can join.” Barty whispered.

“No they may not.” Evan said, annoyed.

“So you admit there is something to join in on?” Barty pointed at Evan. Evan pinched his lips together, caught.

“You walked right into that one.” Dorcas muttered, joining the table. You zoned them out, giving your attention back to Regulus.

“How are you feeling?” Regulus glared at you, or so you assumed.

“Like someone pierced an arrow through my temples.” You cooed, pressing your chin into his hip.

“I’m sorry, baby. If I had known you were going I would’ve gotten a better babysitter.” Regulus scoffed.

“I’m not a child. You’re not getting a babysitter, because I’m not a baby.” Regulus muttered.

“Fair, but you like when I call you baby.” You patted his thigh, giving him a cocky grin.

“Deception, lies, and deceit.” Regulus said. You hummed, tauntingly. Regulus shook his head, choosing to ignore you. You tilted your head.

“You really don’t remember anything you told me last night?” Regulus shook his head, looking down at you.

“Why? Did I say something wrong? I swear I showed it to the doctor he told me to wear socks on my hands to bed, I’m working on it.” You stared at Regulus for a moment. You felt the part of you brain that worried for your friends tell you to ask about what he showed and what it had to do with socks on your hands. But the other part of your brain muttered ‘Do you know what that is? Not my problem’.

“No. Nothing wrong.” Regulus tilted his head to the side, staring at you from behind his obnoxiously large sunglasses. Regulus clicked his tongue.

“Yeah well, whatever. Do you think my teachers will notice if I skip?” You nodded.

“Yes, you’re never absent.” Regulus scoffed at you. He squeezed at your shoulder.

“Well consider this: I don’t want to go.” You hummed. Regulus nodded at you.

“Thats a good point.” You walked Regulus to his first class, abusing your prefect privileges to have your tardy ignored. You were a little upset Regulus didn’t remember anything but you assumed he’d remember later on during the day.

He did not. And you did not bring it up. You’d just have to wait until Regulus got lost at a party again.

Part two

[glassy-eyed-poet]

Jegulus Headcanons (Fluff and angst):

James doodles on Regulus' notebooks while they are studying together

Regulus tried teaching James how to play the piano (failing because James was too distracted by Reggie) while James taught Regulus how to cook

James came up with the most ridiculous nicknames for Regulus (who pretended to hate them)

Their favourite song to dance to in the astronomy tower was Voulez-Vous by ABBA (let's be real, James is a sucker for ABBA)

James only allowed himself to cry in front of Reg, because he was scared anyone else would judge him

After Regulus was forced to get the dark mark, he obliviated James so that he could be happier with someone else

James went to Grimmauld Place after Regulus died to talk to his portrait

The portrait of Regulus liked having Harry in the house, because it reminded him of James (in a non-creepy, fatherly type of way)