#AND LUCIUS WHEN HE COMES BACK BECAUSE COME ON NOW

[saltpepperbeard]

me realizing i’m going to have to endure the “i’m seeing how this character is going to look and it’s almost sending me into cardiac arrest” thing for almost everyone in s2

[timmydraker]

Tim calls a family meeting and everyone is assuming he’s got a big case he needs help with, which is alarming for someone who refuses to admit that some cases are beyond him.

So, everyone shows up at the cave only to be ordered upstairs by Alfred. For those who only showed up to make fun of Tim for needing help, this is confusing because case work ain’t allowed upstairs.

All do them figure out quickly that this means it’s not to do with Gotham or Ref Robin, but the man behind the mask.

Bruce and Dick were there first and because Damian is always with one of them, so is he.

Steph picks up Barbara and Cass, with Duke already at home and Jason showing up at the same time as Kate and Lucius.

When they all get into the lounge room used for when people are over, just two doors down from the actual family room, they all find themselves chatting casually as they stave off their own worries or confusion. Some of them try find out if anyone knows what’s going on, but when Alfred and Barbara reveal they have no idea, they give up and make a few guesses but no more.

When Tim finally comes in after Alfred received him, he looks tired.

It’s not usual for Tim to get distracted with work and not sleep for a while, but he will conk out for hours when he decides to and wake up alright.

The bags under his eyes, the redness within them, and the way he looks close to tucking himself into a ball…

Bruce is immediately leaning forward, opening his mouth to make sure his son is okay but Tim just raised a hand to silence him. “Just… just let me speak, okay? I need to do it now or I’m not going to be able to.”

Everyone gives him a nod or look of understanding, making him twitch a smile before inhaling deeply and psyching himself up.

“I have cancer.”

…

Nobody speaks as Tim exhales shakily.

Everyone is staring wide eyed at the young man before them, who just reached the legal drinking age, and trying to asses his physical form for an understanding of what he just said. They’re all trying to gain X-ray vision to see exactly what is hurting him all while trying to convince themselves they heard him wrong.

Tim closes his eyes and speaks automatically, leaning into facts like he always does when he’s freaking out, “I noticed I was getting by more tired and fatigued around last year. My doctor said I have a low white cell count but he wasn’t alarmed as it was still in the normal range. But a few months ago I started to note that bruises were taking far too long to heal and I was getting a lot of pain around my joints and bones.”

He inhaled again, shakier than before at the same time that Alfred sits himself down with a hand over his mouth.

“It’s stage 2 and because of my lack of a spleen it’s going to be a harder process for treatment but fortunately I own a medical company so there’s that at least.” He makes a sort of joking smile that falters immediately, falling into a pulled back frown that comes with someone whose about to sob as he adds, “But it’s also aggressive so I-I don’t know how-how to-fuck-“

Dick and Cass are immediately moving off the couches they are on and catch him as he finally crumbles into himself.

Bruce is next to follow, the stoic man openly crying for the first time in years.

Jason and Damian are in shock, both frozen in place as dread takes over their minds.

Steph is looking out the window, as if staring at some kind of his or deity and demanding an expiration as to why they have to hurt her loved ones so badly. She’s crying, but it’s silent which is all the more harrowing.

Lucius places a hand on Alfred’s shoulder to comfort the elder even as he himself itches to go comfort the young boy who helped him run the company when he was at his worst.

Kate leaves the room to go call Bette, needing her mentor because this is just something she can’t handle.

Duke is sobbing into his hands as he leans into Barbara’s lap. Barbara who is clinging to him like a lifeline as she feels her world shift once again, feeling so angry and confused at how one of them could be threatened like this. Of all the ways they could go out, was it really going to be cancer?

It was a harrowing experience for all of them to remember that they were human in more than just their flesh being able to bleed and be wounded, but for it to grow sick. For it to age and attack itself.

They were human at the end of the day and Tim…

In Metropolis, Clark Kent rushed into the bathroom at his work to throw up as he heard a conversation miles away.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Slick

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: A new day dawns and your soldiers are still with you. Warnings: ALL PORN NO PLOT. (Like they don't even move from the bed.) SMUT, MMF threesome, man on man action, soft dom marcus, subby lucius, fingering, anal fingering, unprotected p in v, anal sex, pussy eating, mutual dick sucking, lots of praise kink, oil, body massage, a call back to S2E3 but this time with DUDES, reality? get that out of here! we've got roman dudes covered in oil fucking, not beta read, very lightly edited because your girl wants these horny words exorcised out of her loins. Words: 4,000.

A/N: Hi. It me.🧍🏼‍♀️ I've returned to offer you more Gladiator II sex. Read their prior adventures here and here. I had this pretty close to done well before the RUSH of all of the Pedro/Paul content today, but tonight I finished and lightly edited it (please accept any mistakes and overly repeated words). This is the first time I've written this form of male on male, so I hope I did well. Also, shout out to @magpiepills for being my smut guiding angel for some wording, @yopossum for the pink donut pic (I swear, this is not a euphemism), @itwasntimethatdidit40 for being just as enthusiastic about these three as I am, and as always forever and ever @ohheypedrito for shouting at me in text when she read it. And now in the words of @luxurychristmaspudding...

Trēs Masterlist Masterlist

---

Morning dawns and your soldiers are still there. Marcus holds you tight, his strong arms still wrapped around you. Your fingers trace the lines of his face, resting easier in slumber. He awakens at your touch, stirring and tightening his arms around you. His brown eyes flutter open, his dark lashes framing his tired eyes that focus on your face.

“Angel,” he whispers, voice rought with sleep. His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. His lips capture yours, kissing you deeply and slowly.

His tongue teases your lips, urging them to open as he deepens the kiss.

His other hand roams your body, slipping between your thighs, fingers ghosting over your folds. “Need you,” he rumbles against your skin.

"But first, I need to get you nice and wet for me," he purrs. His thumb circles your clit as he sucks a mark onto your collarbone.

You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Marcus chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin as he works his way lower.

You feel Lucius wake behind you, a soft gasp escapes his lips.

Marcus lifts his head, looking over at his young soldier. “Salve soldier,” he rumbles. “Watch. Watch as I fuck our angel.”

Lucius swallows hard, his cock already hardening against your backside. “Yes, M-master,” he responds.

The general shifts you onto your back, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His brown eyes lock with yours as he lowers his head, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. You shiver in anticipation, your hands gripping the sheets.

Lucius props himself up on his elbows. His wide blue eyes watching every movement with his plush lips agape. You turn your head and watch him watch as Marcus dips a hand down between your bodies.

Marcus's thick fingers slide through your folds, spreading your wetness. He teases your entrance, circling it slowly before pushing two fingers inside. You gasp, arching into his touch as he pumps them in and out.

“Already so wet for me, aren’t you Angel?” Marcus groans against your neck.

“Yes,” you moan, staring into Lucius’s eyes.

"That's it," he growls. "Open up for me, open up for my cock.”

His fingers work you open, curling and scissoring inside you as his thick thumb circles your clit. Your hips rock against his hand, seeking friction.

Beside you, Lucius’s breath comes in quick pants, his eyes darting between your face and Marcus’s hand.

Marcus's fingers pump steadily in and out of your slick heat, stretching you for his thick cock. You writhe beneath him, soft moans falling from your lips as pleasure builds within you.

"Please," you whimper, your hands grasping at his broad shoulders.

He chuckles darkly, nipping at your earlobe. "Patience, Angel. I want you dripping for me first."

His thumb presses firmly against your clit, rubbing tight circles as his fingers pump you. Your back arches off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over you.

"That's it," Marcus growls approvingly. "Cum for me. Show my soldier how good I make you feel."

Your eyes lock with Lucius's as your orgasm washes over you. His blue eyes shine as he watches you fall apart underneath his General’s touch.

You whimper when Marcus withdraws his fingers. He holds them up in awe of how they glisten in the soft morning light, coated with your arousal. "Taste her," he commands Lucius, holding his fingers to the soldier's lips.

Lucius eagerly obeys, running his tongue along Marcus's fingers and moaning softly at your taste. Marcus's eyes darken as he watches, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Good soldier," Marcus praises, pulling his fingers from Lucius's mouth with a wet pop. "Now watch closely. See how I take our angel.”

He positions himself between your thighs, his cock brushing against you. You cry, grabbing at the skin of his strong arms desperate and needy to feel him inside you.

He grips your hips, holding you steady as he slowly pushes inside. You gasp at the delicious stretch of him, your walls fluttering around his cock as he fills you completely.

“So tight,” he groans, his eyes locked on yours. “So perfect.”

Lucius watches with rapt attention, his chest heaving quick breaths. His hand moves to grip his own hard cock, but Marcus stops him with a sharp command.

"No touching, soldier," Marcus says firmly.

Lucius obeys. His hands fisting in the sheets instead.

Marcus begins to move, his hips rolling against yours in steady rhythm.

He thrusts into you, his power stretching you with each deep stroke. His strong hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he guides you in a steady rhythm.

“That’s it Angel,” Marcus growls, his hips snapping against yours. “Take it, show my soldier how good I make you feel.”

You moan in response, your own hips grinding against his. With one hand on your thigh, Marcus lifts your leg higher around his waist. The change in angle causes him to hit that spot deep inside you, making a sharp cry escape your lips.

"You're mine,” he declares. “Mine to fuck, mine to pleasure."

Lucius whimpers softly. His blue eyes are dark with lust as he watches his general claim you. His cock stands proudly, leaking precum onto his toned stomach.

“And who do you belong to Soldier?” Marcus asks, turning his head towards Lucius.

“You, Master,” Lucius groans, his voice strained. “I belong to you.”

“Look at how much she loves it,” Marcus continues, his gaze never leaving yours as he drives deeper. “She can’t get enough.”

Your eyes dart to Lucius, whose breath comes in desperate gasps as he watches you both. His body trembles, his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip.

“You want to touch yourself, don’t you?” Marcus asks him, his voice taking on a more dominant edge.

Lucius nods frantically. “Yes, Master.”

“Not yet soldier, not yet.”

Marcus increases his pace, his thick shaft driving into you harder and faster. The slick sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure and his deep grunts of exertion.

Marcus senses your orgasm, his thumb finds your clit and begins rubbing tight circles. "Cum for me, Angel," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Let my soldier see how good I make you feel."

The dual sensations of his cock and thumb push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you in intense waves. You clench tightly around Marcus's shaft, milking it with every pulse.

"Good girl," Marcus praises, continuing to thrust through your orgasm.

Beside you, Lucius whimpers, his hands fisting the sheets tightly as he watches you come undone. His cock twitches against his stomach, leaking steadily.

As your orgasm starts to ebb, Marcus slows his movements. With a groan, he pulls out of your still quivering heat. You whine at the loss, feeling empty without him filling you.

Marcus settles on his back next to you, his cock still hard and slick with your orgasm. He reaches over and grabs the oil cannister.

“Rub me, both of you,” he commands in a low voice, shifting slightly to make room for Lucius beside you.

Your hands tremble slightly, your body still overwhelmed by the orgasm Marcus just gave you, as you take the cannister from his grasp. The smooth glass feels cool against your skin as you pour a generous amount of golden oil into Lucius’s outstretched palm before you trickle a stream of oil down Marcus’s broad chest.

His deep brown eyes move between you and Lucius, something akin to adoration flashes quickly through them.

Your hands glide over his broad chest, Lucius takes care of his strong legs.

Marcus’s body is peppered with scars from his many battles, your hands soothe each mark.

His skin almost glitters in the light of the rising sun. Every curve and ridge of his body gleams like he’s made of bronze.

Lucius’s hands glide over Marcus’ toned thighs, working the oil into his skin.

Yours and Lucius’s hands worship the General’s body, your eyes fixated on his cock, standing hard and tall in between his thighs, twitching.

His body is soon covered in golden oil, slicking down his body. You slide your hand down his stomach down to his cock, looking up at his eyes for silent permission. He grunts and nods, raising his hands to cradle the back of his head.

You trail your fingers along the length of him, mesmerized bu the way his skin shimmers under the oil. Lucius’s eager hands mirrors your movements.

“More,” Marcus orders, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel both of you on me.”

He looks like a Roman statue posed like this. His body covered in shiny oil, his posture relaxed and strong.

“Show me how much you want it,” Marcus commands, his tone low. “Both of you.”

You kiss your way down his chest, your lips tasting the rich taste of the oil on Marcus’s body. You reach his thick cock, pulsating with need and look at Lucius in silent communication. You both share a smile before leaning in closer together, your breaths mingling as you let your tongues dance around the head of his shaft, both of you savoring the taste of him.

“Fuck,” Marcus breathes, his voice gravelly as he watches you both work in harmony. His gaze flickers between your mouth and Lucius's like a predator reveling in the beauty of his prey. “Worship me.”

You take turns tracing your tongues down the length of Marcus’s throbbing cock, his hips jut up with a hiss with each gentle flick and teasing spiral.

You take turns alternating between drawing your lips around the head of his cock and kissing up his shaft, each time making sure to lock your gaze with Marcus's. His brown eyes blaze through yours, your body feels alight with satisfaction knowing how much you affect him.

Lucius leans closer, his breath mingling with yours, and together you both envelop Marcus's cock.

Marcus lets out a deep chuckle as you and Lucius moan around his cock before he reaches down, gripping Lucius's chin to draw him closer. Their eyes lock before Marcus pulls him up into a heated kiss that makes your whole body shiver. Their lips meld together, grunts and groans escaping their lungs. You watch, enamored by the two strong men getting lost in each other. Marcus’s large hand glides down Lucius’s back, pulling him closer. The General and his soldier entwined in raw desire for each other.

Marcus pulls away, glancing down at you. “Look at her,” Marcus breathes against Lucius’s lips, his voice thick and primal. “She’s waiting for us.”

Lucius’ blue eyes are filled with lust when he looks at you.

“Sit on me Angel,” Marcus orders.

You swallow hard, feeling a rush of heat bloom across your skin at the command. With a slight nod, you shift your body, feeling the slick oil coating your skin as you rise from your spot and position yourself above Marcus.

You meet his gaze—intimidating yet tender—as you slowly lower yourself on him, feeling the broad head of his cock press against your entrance.

You pause for just a heartbeat, relishing the tense stretch of him him. Lucius watches intently, kneeling next to Marcus on the bed.

“Go on, Angel,” Marcus urges, his voice a low rumble. “Take what you need.”

With a deep breath, you sink down further.

“Gods, you feel incredible,” Marcus groans, his hands gripping your waist firmly, guiding your movements as you settle fully upon him. “Now move.”

You lean forward, resting your palms on his broad chest for balance, gripping his skin as you slip from the oil, your breath quickening as he begins to rock his hips beneath you.

Lucius watches, shifting closer, his hands wander over his own body, slick with oil.

Marcus presses his heels into the mattress, driving up into you with powerful thrusts that makes you see stars. You moan loudly as you feel Lucius inch closer, drawn to you.

“Faster,” Marcus growls, his hands tightening on your waist, urging you to pick up the pace. You obey willingly, relishing the way his cock stretches you open, filling you completely as you rise and fall atop him.

“Good girl,” he grunts, his muscles tense beneath your palms as he drives deeper, brushing against that sweet spot inside you. “You’re doing so well.”

You’re a mess of oil and sweat, Lucius’s hands run along the curves of your breasts before he leans down and takes one into his mouth. You gasp at the sensation of Marcus thrusting beneath you while Lucius’s warm mouth envelops your breast, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak of your nipple.

“Take it all, Angel,” Marcus growls, his voice thick with approval as he watches Lucius worship you. “Touch her soldier, help me make her cum.”

You ride Marcus harder as Lucius slides a hand down your torso, tracing a path until his fingers reach your sensitive clit. You gasp at the sensation, your body responding to the touch of both men.

The room is filled with the sounds of your moans and the wet slap of skin on skin as you ride him, Lucius’s fingers pressing and circling your clit.

Your orgasm flows through you, your legs shaking, head thrown back, eyes fluttering shut as you cum on Marcus’s cock.

Marcus's grip on your waist hardens, guiding you through the tremors of your release as he thrusts upward with primal intensity. His breath comes in ragged growls, his body flexing beneath you with feral energy as he watches you unravel.

Lucius doesn’t relent either, his fingers still circle your clit, pulling every last shudder from your body as the waves of your orgasm still crash into you.

Your hips undulate atop Marcus, your voice ragged from screaming and moaning as you still ride the earth-shattering orgasm.

Lucius’s mouth moves to your lips, kissing you deeply, swallowing all of the sounds that escape your throat.

“Lay back, Angel,” Marcus instructs, as he shifts beneath you. You feel his hands release their grip just enough to allow you to move. You push yourself up from him, feeling the slickness of oil coating your skin as you slide off his cock, a gasp escapes your lips at the sensation of emptiness. You turn and lay back upon the soft bedding, the fabric cool against your heated skin.

Marcus stands, heading over to the amphora and pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Soldier, attend to her," Marcus orders. "Lick up the mess I've made of our Angel."

"Yes, Master," Lucius replies eagerly, quickly shifting to settle between your spread thighs.

He gazes up at you reverently for a moment before lowering his head and running his tongue along your slit, lapping up your wetness. You moan softly, threading your fingers through his dark hair. His tongue delves deeper, thrusting into you and moaning at the taste.

Marcus watches, his eyes dark with lust as his soldier pleasures you. He takes one last drink of wine before reaching for the vial of oil, pouring some into his hand. "On your knees, soldier," he commands gruffly. "Present yourself to me."

Lucius obeys immediately, raising his hips while keeping his mouth latched onto your core. Marcus moves behind him, spreading Lucius's firm cheeks to reveal his tight hole. The general drizzles the warm oil down Lucius's crack, letting it trickle over his entrance.

He shivers at the sensation, a muffled moan vibrating against your cunt. Marcus sets the vial aside and begins massaging the oil into Lucius' skin. His thick fingers rub firm circles around the tight ring of muscle, coaxing it to relax.

Lucius moans into your wet heat as Marcus slowly pushes a finger inside him, working the tight ring of muscle open.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him close as his tongue adores you.

"Get nice and loose for your general's cock,” Marcus rumbles approvingly, pumping it in and out.

The soldier's hips jerk, grinding back against Marcus's hand as he eats you out with renewed fervor. His tongue swirls around your clit before sucking it between his lips.

"Ohh," you cry out. Pleasure crashing over you as Lucius works you higher up the cliff.

Marcus continues fingering his soldier open. "Look at you, so eager for it," he praises. "Such a good soldier, servicing our Angel while I open you up."

Lucius rocks back to meet each thrust, whimpering and moaning into your slick folds. His tongue moves erratically against you as Marcus takes him apart with his fingers.

Marcus gazes down at you as he opens Lucius with his fingers. Your thighs begin to tremble, another orgasm building rapidly under both men’s attention.

“Close… close,” you moan out, your hips rolling to meet Lucius’s movements.

"Cum for him, Angel," Marcus commands, voice deep and authoritative. "Cum on my brave soldier's tongue."

With a sharp cry, you shatter, inner walls clenching rhythmically as ecstasy crashes over you. Lucius moans deeply, lapping at your release.

“Beautiful,” Marcus admires, pouring oil on his hard cock and stroking it. “Now Angel, watch as I take my soldier.”

Marcus grabs Lucius by the hips and with one swift, possessive motion, he sheaths himself deep inside Lucius. Both men gasp, Lucius buries his face into your thigh, his hands gripping the bedding as Marcus starts to thrust, deep and slow.

You feel each powerful thrust with each tremor that moves through Lucius against you.

You watch in awe, heart racing, as your General begins to claim his soldier.

“Take it, soldier,” Marcus’s voice is a low rumble against the backdrop of Lucius’s soft whimpers. “Show our Angel how well you take me.”

You grab Lucius’s chin, tilting it up to look him in the eyes, staring into the ocean of blue gazing back at you filled with waves of admiration and arousal.

You watch as power and submission join, filling the room with a symphony of skin slapping against skin and sounds of shared pleasure.

“More,” Lucius gasps, his body arching towards Marcus, urging him to give more of himself. He takes your breath away, vulnerable and fierce beneath Marcus’s strength.

Marcus responds with a feral smile, increasing his pace, each thrust hammering deeper into Lucius, pushing them both closer to that cliff.

“Let her hear you,” Marcus urges, his own breaths growing ragged. “Let her hear how good I make you feel, soldier.”

“Angel,” Lucius cries out for you, his voice raw and needy, his eyes staring into yours. His muscles tense and flex with each thrust that rolls into his body.

Marcus looks at you, his strong brow furrowed in determination as he spits in his hand and leans forward, wrapping his arm around Lucius's waist to firmly grasp his soldier’s cock.

“Feel it,” Marcus grunts. Lucius's eyes flutter shut, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. He squeezes your thigh harder, pulling you closer grounding himself.

You lean in closer, mesmerized by the scene unfolding before you, wanting to be closer to Marcus. He reads your body like a battlefield.

In one fluid motion, he lifts Lucius against his chest while still thrusting inside of him. Gasping, Lucius clutches at Marcus's larger hands and holds them tightly.

“Come here Angel,” Marcus grits, his tone dropping an octave sending goosebumps up your spine. “Help me make my soldier cum.”

You obey without hesitation, moving quickly to kneel in front of the two soldiers. Your fingers glide over Lucius’s taut chest, tracing the muscles that ripple beneath your touch as Marcus continues to claim him, thrusting deeply, rhythmically.

“Just like that,” Marcus growls, locking eyes with you. “Touch him Angel.”

Your heart races as you curl your fingers around Lucius’s cock, stroking him in time with Marcus’s thrusts. Precum drips out of the tip, your hand gliding smoothly along his length.

“Together,” he commands, his voice a possessive whisper that resonates in your core. “Let’s take him apart.”

You lean closer, your breath ghosting over Lucius's ear as you begin to quicken your pace. His body responds in kind, every stroke of your hand pulling more desperation from him.

“Angel,” Lucius groans, his voice trembling with need. “Master.”

You lean forward, sealing your mouth over his, kissing him. You swallow down his moans as Marcus drives into him, each snap of his hips against him a declaration of his dominance.

“Don’t hold back,” Marcus growls, the echo of his voice vibrating off the walls of your bedroom.

Lucius's breathing grows more shallow against your lips. You hold onto him tighter, mimicking his every movement as he responds to the General's touch. He pulls away, biting down on his lip before begging. "I can't... I can't keep this up much longer."

“Cum then soldier,” Marcus demands. “Let it all spill for our angel.”

“Cum Lucius,” you whisper, your fingers tightening and twisting. “Cum for us.”

His breath hitches and with a low moan, Lucius breaks, his body tensing and tightening. “I’m—” he gasps, eyes squeezing shut as his length throbs in your hand.

Marcus thrusts harder as his soldier’s body quakes against him. With a battle cry that echoes, Lucius spills himself hot and thick across your fingers. You caress Lucius’s flushed face, brushing away the sweat that formed on his brow. He pants, his eyes rounding with affection as he stares into your eyes.

“Good soldier,” Marcus grunts before letting out a primal growl and pulling out. “Lay with our Angel,” he commands, “I want you to watch me cum for you.”

You spread out on the mattress, Lucius collapses next to you, his chest heaving, his blue eyes still glazed with pleasure.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Marcus growls, standing tall looming over the bed. He towers over both of you, golden skin glistening in the soft light, each muscle defined as he strokes himself. “Watch me cum for you two.”

His hand works his length, teasing the tip as he stares down at you both. Lucius's hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours as both of you watch Marcus in awe.

“Tell our Angel what you are,” Marcus demanded.

“Y-Your obedient soldier,” Lucius answers, never breaking eye contact with his general.

“And what do we crave?” Marcus growls, voice deep and rumbling.

“Our Angel, sir,” Lucius responds, his voice hoarse with need.

Marcus grunts, his grip on his cock tightening as he thrusts his hips forward.

“Marcus,” you moan. “Cum for us, General.”

It is as if his name on your lips was enough to shatter him. With a guttural groan, Marcus’s hips buck forward, his thick white ropes flying over both of you, hot and sticky against your skin.

“Angel,” he growls, collapsing onto the bed and crawling to lay next to you.

He catches his breath, his large chest heaving up and down.

“Kiss her soldier,” he sighs, grabbing you and pulling you close against his sticky skin. “Taste my Angel’s lips for me.”

You giggle as Lucius nuzzles his nose against yours and chases your mouth, needy and desperate for your kiss. You moan as his soft lips part yours and taste all of his desire for you.

Marcus chuckles softly behind you, rumbling against your back. “Just like that,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and satisfied. “Let her feel how much we crave her, and then, we shall rest and bathe.” 

[mackk122]

Tittle : First time (part 1).

Part.2

Pairing~Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 5k.

Warnings~ none :)

Summary~ Younger Sister to the twin Emperors.As you are forced to sit and watch the games, a certain gladiator catches your attention.

Notes: This is just a build up to the next part. Raw, next question…

.·:*¨༺𓆟༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺𓆟༻¨*:·.

As I sat there awaiting my brother’s speech to announce the general, my mind wandered off searching in the crowd.

‘How could so many people sit here and enjoy these brutal games?’ I thought, I could hear the commotion but cared less of what was being spoken.

Still lost in my thoughts I jumped at a hand being placed on my shoulder- it was Lucilla.

“And where does the mind of the young princess of Rome, wander off to?” She spoke softly smelling the little bundle of flowers in her hand.

“Ah, just thinking about the games” I gave a fake smile. I had to be cautious about what I said or did, for my twin brothers didn’t take criticism lightly.

She smiled and gave a soft nod, understanding where I was coming from. All of the sudden the sound of horns and the crowd’s cheers erupted, drawing me out of my mind. The gladiators all came out, these men which have not felt peace since before their homes were taken.

I noticed very quickly a young man in the center of them, from what I could see he was a natural born leader, and very handsome. He commanded the gladiators as if it were his own personal army, when he moved they moved at his discretion. As the game went on I could barely stomach the man getting throw into the pillar. I turned away only for Caracalla to speak.

“Sister you must watch, isn’t it magnificent?” He grinned devilishly. I didn’t respond, for fear I would vomit because of the gore.

“YOUR EMPEROR IS SPEAKING TO YOU!” He shouted staring at me as if I was the crazy one.

“Brother! Our sister doesn’t mean to offend, remember it is but her first time sitting here to watch” Geta replied calming our brother down. As Caracalla turned back around amused at the center of the arena, Geta gave me a warning look.

As all of this was happening the rhino then slammed into the wall, and the two gladiators began to fight. My stomach began to turn, I prayed the man I saw earlier would not be slain.

As he fell to the ground and the bigger man stood above him asking the crowd for mercy or death, my heart sank.

The crowd began to cheer ‘Mercy’, and my brother stood to his feet, he turned to Lucilla who looked as if she was terrified for this man’s life.

“Shall I spare him?” Geta asked.

“Yes!” I shouted before Lucilla could answer her face slightly confused.

“Spare him” she spoke strongly to the Emperor.

With his body now facing the crowd and arm stretched out, he began to speak the words muffled in my head only focusing to the stranger on the ground, the crowd cheered and I looked up to see he had granted him mercy, I took a breath of relief.

“No mercy! I would rather die by the sword than receive mercy from the Roman’s!” Lucius shouted as he was on his hands and knees.

My eyes widened and I turned to Lucilla, she equally fearful for this young man. And they began to fight again, this time Lucius took victory. The crowd erupted into applause at the sight of this gladiator. He looked up into where we were sitting, and our eyes locked for a moment before he walked out of the arena.

─────── ·𖥸· ───────

“Lucilla” I said softly, catching up to her and the general. She turned to me with a soft smile but I knew something was wrong.

I pulled her into a hug, “That man, who is he?” I whispered in her ear. The manner of tone she used for him to be spared, was almost as if she’d known him.

“I’m afraid I know not what you speak” she spoke back pulling away. “Princess” she nodded and they continued to walk.

‘There is something she knows’ I thought to myself. I began to walk back to my brothers only for them to have left me at the colosseum.

“Fantastic” I breathed out.

“Ah, Princess” Macrinus spoke.

“Oh!” I turned stunned, not expecting him to be there. “Your gladiator is really something, what was his name?” I smiled.

Macrinus gave a sly look before responding, “He goes by Hanno…” he looked at me head turned slightly, “huh… princess” he said before leaving.

‘Hanno..’ I thought and a small smile appeared on my lips. ‘I will meet this man’ I thought to myself determined to speak to him.

.·:*¨༺𓆟༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺𓆟༻¨*:·.

As Lucius sat at the table getting stitched up, his mind kept wandering to the woman, behind the Emperors.

“What is on your mind gladiator?” Ravi asked him.

“That woman… not the generals wife- the other one, she is the princess… correct?” He asked staring at him.

“Yes… and why do you care?” Ravi smiled his brow raised. Lucius gave a look before it turned into a smile. Macrinus appeared

From around the corner congratulating him.

“Keep doing well and you’ll get what you want” he spoke.Lucius stopped him before he walked away.

“I want to meet the princess as well” he said stern. Macrinus chuckled and continued to walk.

[calliopesdiary]

10 Things I HATE About: You.

summary: James is starting to get desperate when Lily continues to reject his attempts to date her, as she reveals she's not allowed to date until her completely opposite twin sister does. which seems highly unlikely, (thats why its such a good rule). so James comes up with a grand plan to get Sirius to date her, what could go wrong?

(literally just the story of 10tihay)

wc: 1,585

pairings: evans!slytherin!reader (jeezus thats a mouthful) x sirius black

tropes: grumpy x sunshine, because of a bet

contents: angst? (if that's what we call it) to comfort, happy ending, james doesn't think before he does something, mulciber is sexist (but what’s new)

a/n: this will come in two maybe three parts so stay tuned!

Pt.1-3

(ON INDEFINITE HIETUS)

TO PUT THINGS LIGHTLY: you didn't give a damn about your bad reputation.

Lily on the other hand? did, very much so.

Which is one key reason she didn't appreciate James Potter chasing her around like a lost puppy dog 24/7 365.

Yet she was (unfortunately) falling for James, but couldn't do anything about it since she was forbidden to date by her father until you did, her twin sister.

you guys were insanely different, like night and day.

Lily was a goody-two-shoes, good grades, kept her mouth shut, a clean record.

You on the other hand- while you had also good grades, your record was not clean.

but between having shouting matches with Lucius and Severus about their sexist tendencies or muggleborn rights:

you'd been in detention quite a few times.

but people always seemed to think you were a scary, bitch of a slytherin.

but it's not like many of the slytherin's liked you always, you were a muggleborn after all.

not to mention; relationships made you want to hurl.

and Lily detested you for that.

"Can't you just be a normal person with normal person interests for once!?"

"now, where's the fun in that?" You reasoned from your spot on the library's couch.

"Y/n, Please? You know I like him." Lily begged, her bottom lip jutted out in a stupid pout.

"And? You shouldn't, Lils. He's actually daft." She groaned irritatingly.

"Where are you from? Planet Loser?"

"As apposed to Planet 'Look At Me, Look At Me!'"

"Sirius, Sirius- Please!" James pleaded from his position below Sirius, up on top his knees.

"James, you are quite literally asking me to do the impossible."

"Sirius- She can't date, until Y/N does... and- and you, you my handsome friend- can date her- so I can date Lily!"

James had his hands holding desperately onto Sirius'.

"500 Galleons." Sirius ripped his hands away from James, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Deal."

They shook on it.

You found it quite odd, how it seemed like you were being stalked all of the time.

You were at quidditch practice when a boy with medium length, raven hair came up to you.

you knew exactly who this was.

"Hi, love." he took your sweaty hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.

"Sirius, Sirius Black." he flashed that 'Sirius Black Grin'.

"I'm well aware." You smiled begrudgingly.

"You don't seem incredibly happy to see me, Evans." He just kept on grinning, grinning like he won the Quidditch World Cup or something.

"I'm not, Black. Please leave me alone." You gathered up your things quickly, wanting to get out of his sight.

Sirius seemed a bit put down, nobody had ever been this insistent to get away from him.

usually girls would through themselves at him.

not you though.

he liked that.

very much so.

He cleared his throat. "So, Friday then?"

you stopped walking, turning your head back to him.

"Friday? what about Friday?" You scoffed.

"I'll pick you up on Friday to go on a date."

Damn, that was smooth, even you had to admit it.

"No thank you." you weren't sure what emotion to feel at that moment- embarrassment, annoyance, irritation.

but so far, his plan wasn't working.

but it will.

you had walked off long before he left the pitch, before returning to James in the courtyard.

He slumped against a tree, sighing with annoyance.

"We're screwed." He groaned pessimistically.

"Come on, Pads. Be a bit optimistic."

"We're screwed!" He cheered sarcastically.

The days following were odd, and more annoying then usual.

Sirius Black wouldn’t cease following you around.

Slytherin had a Quidditch Game that day, and you really couldn’t stand Mulciber and Avery’s constant berating of the fact a girl was Slytherins seeker.

“You know— Mulciber, L/N is actually one of the best seekers we’ve had at Hogwarts in years.” Sirius explained proudly.

“but it seems that you can’t wrap your utterly sexist brain around that.” He cooed, Mulciber turned as red as lava.

“She’s only there for eye candy, Black. you understand she’s a filthy mud blood, right?” Mulciber barked, Sirius then wondered; with all this barking he’s doing, maybe he’d like me to throw a stick?

“and what has that got to do with absolutely anything?”

“come on, Black. don’t act like you are this muggles rights activist, you’re a Black.”

Sirius hated being reminded of that fact, he had ran away over a year ago.

“and— besides, L/n is only on the Quidditch Team because she has good tits.”

Sirius clenched his fists, before he shot towards Mulciber in an angry rage.

only he was allowed to say you had good tits.

the punches flew as Avery stood at his spot by the wall, his face not having any color what so ever. he looked like he had seen a ghost.

obviously, all good things must come to an end. as McGonagall stormed out of her office to take points away from both houses, and to instruct Avery to take Mulciber to the hospital wing and then to Detention along with Sirius.

in Sirius’ book, it was worth it.

“he got detention? for you?” Dorcas repeated for about the seventh time in the past three minutes.

“Yes, Dorcas.” You were disgusted by what Mulciber had said about you.

“come on, sugar. everyone here knows you have lovely tits.” Barty mentioned from his place shoved (lovingly) into Evan’s armpit while gnawing on his bicep.

“okay— yeah, whatever. but i certainly don’t need to hear about it from Mulciber and his pet rat.”

You bid farewell to your friends before returning to your dorm.

and you couldn’t wait to plop down on your bed and watch a movie, that was your ideal thursday night.

until something was in the way, and by something i mean a giant bouquet of flowers and by in the way i mean they were right smack in front of your door.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

you held a tiny note in your hand, having plucked it from the flowers seconds earlier.

“Dear Y/n.”

“don’t listen to Mulciber, he’s harmless. (and jealous that you actually made the quidditch team.) i siriusly (haha, get it?) want to take you out on the finest of dates tomorrow night, would you please accept?”

(: -sirius b. ps. you looked very nice today.

a smile cracked from your lips, before shaking it off and picking the flowers up off the floor.

a date? with you?

why would he want a date with you? where was this obsession coming from?

you supposed you could do it as an act of public service, (to yourself that is) since it would probably not be enjoyable enough for the both of you.

and he did just beat someone up for you.

so why not indulge in him for an evening?

Friday Night had rolled around and you were nervous, he’d only been talking to you since monday and you weren’t sure if you shared the feelings.

but after that night, everything changed.

Sirius was sweet, lovable, and overall not how he seemed.

On the outside, you perceived him as this immature, prankster of a boy who hadn’t gotten enough attention as a child so he felt the need to beg for it everywhere he went.

but on the inside? he was soft, kind, and on top of that he was a gentlemen (which was very unexpected).

“I’m sorry.” you noted.

“sorry for what, dollface?” he chuckled.

“I misjudged you.” Sirius’ brain clogged with worry.

“how did you perceive me before?”

“well— i thought you were immature.” you began, not easing his worries one bit.

“and… i thought this was all a big prank.”

“it’s not.” he quickly answered, but it was, he was lying.

it wasn’t a prank per say, but it was a bet.

which may have been worse.

"Pads!" James yelped, sprinting towards him once he came back from your date.

"Prongs." Sirius greeted him cordially.

"So? How'd it go?" He sat down like he was the best friend character in a 2000s movie hearing about the main characters date with her crush.

"Good, She seems like a nice person."

"Pads, you seem all down in the dumps." James frowned, wrapping an arm casually around his best friend's shoulders.

"What's got your mind going?" Remus did the same as the former, leaning onto him gently.

"well- I'm not sure about this, I may be a bastard but I don't want to hurt her. She thinks I'm being serious."

The worst part about this was: that Sirius was already feeling serious about it, as Serious as Sirius could be.

Seriouser then he's ever Sirius'd.

but you didn't deserve this.

and boy, did he feel shit about it.

[multifandom-worlds]

In The Shadows

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: secret relationships, non-canon, profanity

Authors Note: This is a reader insert fic, but the background is basically the reader is Draco Malfoy's twin sister. If I have forgotten any warnings, do let me know, please!

Your content consumption is on you.

“Why was she wearing your jersey, Mattheo? Answer me that: why does another woman get what’s mine?” You demand, walking into changing rooms. You knew everyone was out; you counted them yourself. Mattheo was standing up, waiting for you to arrive. 

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you wearing another man’s name?” Mattheo retorts, stalking towards you. He’s used to you cowering, becoming putty in his hand, but this time, you were defiant. You were not going to let him intimidate you. 

“I don’t think I’ve met someone with such pathetic critical thinking skills,” You shot back. “It’s not just “another man’s last name” like you so kindly said; it’s my fucking last name, Riddle. If you used your brain for once in your goddamn life, you’d see I’m wearing my brother’s jersey. Why am I wearing my brother’s jersey? Because someone is too fucking embarrassed to be seen with me that he refuses to let me wear his. I’m beginning to think you just want me for sex, and that’s is”

Mattheo stops his advances, caught off guard by your aggression. He was not at all used to you standing up for yourself. Not to mention reducing his love for you to merely sex. “...Don’t say that, love. You don't mean that you know I love you; it's just…”

“It's just what, Riddle? Your father? Do you realize who I am? Who my family is? I'm a motherfucking Malfoy. I am the daughter of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, the fucking death eater.” You look up at him, all your insecurities manifesting into anger.

“No…your brother,” Mattheo says meekly.

You look at him dumbfounded. “My brother? You're worried about my brother? My brother couldn't punch his way out of a wet paper bag. Are you worried he'll tell our father? Baby, father would be happy I'm dating the literal Dark Lord’s son. That gives him a leg up, so to speak.” 

Mattheo raises his hand to cup your cheek before he hears the changing room door open. He immediately takes three steps back as Astoria walks in, his jersey in her hand. “Here you go, Matty.” She says, a nauseatingly flirtatious tone in her voice. She gasps when she sees you, grabbing onto Mattheo’s bicep. “What are you doing here? This is the men’s changeroom.” 

To his credit, Mattheo steps away from her but is not quick enough for your liking. “She was just...” he began before you cut him off, your jaw tight, and a look of pure hatred burned behind our eyes. 

“Leaving.” You spoke with absolute authority. “Goodbye, Riddle, good fucking riddance” You turn and walk away without even a second glance. However, you do linger at the door, silently hoping he comes after you.

You could hear Astoria laughing, “she actually believed she had a chance with you? She really is an embarrassment to her family. Now let’s go; I have a reward for you!” 

You walk away after that, knowing you’ll only break your own heart more. You walk away, the tears threatening to spill. How can you be sad about something nobody knew about? What do you say when people ask…what do you do? You move on in the shadows, just as you were loved in the shadows. 

You navigate your way through the Slytherin common room, staying near the walls and doing your best to avoid the partygoers. You have no desire to party; all you want is your bed. It was then that you felt a familiar, calloused hand grab your wrist. Turning around, you come face to face with Mattheo’s captivating smile. For a moment, you nearly forgot everything he put you through.

“I was wondering when you’d show up, Mally. A party is not the same without you.” He says, pulling you close and nuzzling his nose against your neck while wrapping his arms around your waist. You wanted to believe him, believe that he finally decided to love you publicly, but you could smell the fire whisky on his breath. He's drunk. 

“You’re drunk, Mattheo. Leave me alone; I’m not partying tonight.” You say, pulling away from his grip. “Go party with Astoria; she must be just dying to spend time with you since you’re single, after all.” 

He looks at you, confusion twisting his gorgeous features. “I’m not single? What do you mean, Mally? I’m dating you. I have been through the 7th and 8th year. I want to stay with you.” 

You sigh, stepping back away from him further, with tears prickling in your eyes. “That would mean so much more if you weren’t drunk, Matty. It’s over for us, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” You turn from him and slip effortlessly into the writhing student body. 

You collapse on your bed and release the sob that had been building in your throat all afternoon, ever since seeing Astoria wearing Mattheo’s jersey. ‘It’s better this way,’ you told yourself; this way, you can find someone who loves and appreciates you in the open, not hiding you away like some dirty little secret. You cried yourself to sleep that night with Mattheo's shirt tucked tightly to your chest, not wanting to wake up the following day.

The following days dragged on. You did everything you could to avoid your ex, but it was getting more challenging by the day. One night, after you and Mattheo had been partnered for Charms, you broke down to your brother, confessing everything. Your 2-year relationship with Mattheo, your “break up,” all of it. You cried in Draco’s arms for hours, and like the dutiful brother he is, he consoled you the whole time, quietly seething. How dare someone do this to his beloved sister? How dare someone reduce her to tears like this? 

You were almost asleep, floating just on the precipice of dreams while Draco was reading you a story, when there was a knock on your dorm door. You move to get it, but Draco stops you. “You need to sleep, moon. I’ll answer it.” He says softly, pushing your hair from your face. 

You heard the door open, and Draco stepped out into the hallway. What you didn’t expect to hear, however, was the conversation. 

“What are you doing here, Riddle? Haven’t you done enough?” Draco says, his tone angry.

“What are you talking about, Draco? I came to check on her, but she hasn’t been answering my messages; she’s ignoring me. I just want to talk to her. Is that so bad?”

“Why would you keep her a secret, Riddle? My sister is brilliant and incredible. She is more my father than I could ever hope to be. She is the greatest duellist this school has ever seen, which is why she’s the Slytherin Dueling Club Captain, and you threw her away for Astoria? All she ever wanted in her life was someone to see her for who she was, not what she could be. She hoped it was you, but keeping her a secret, that's not what you do to someone you love. Leave her alone, Riddle.”

Draco shut the door before you could hear Mattheo’s response. It warmed your heart that you had someone in your corner, your confidant, your protector. You now understood what Fred and George were saying - having a twin is the best thing. 

You pretended to sleep as Draco walked back over, but you felt his lips land softly on your temple. “Goodnight, little moon. I’ve got you.”

Mattheo catches you in the hallways while you are walking between classes with your brother several days later. “Mally, wait, please... talk to me. There has to be a misunderstanding. Please.” He looks like he hasn't slept in days. 

“For the last time, Riddle, leave me the fuck alone!” You yell while pushing him away from you, but he comes back like a moth to a flame. Clearly, you were going to have to tell him in a language he would understand. Once he got within arms reach, you punched him square in the nose. You could feel the cartilage break under your fist. “I told you, leave me alone, Riddle! You had your chance with me, and you gave that up.”

Mattheo holds his nose while looking at you in complete shock. Everyone in the hallway was looking at you in complete shock. You walk away, Draco hurrying after you, leaving Mattheo to deal with his broken nose himself. You could faintly hear a commotion happening behind you, but you didn’t dare look around. 

The rumours began mere hours later and steadily built up momentum as the days passed.

“Did you hear Mattheo Riddle got his nose broken by that Malfoy girl last week?”

“Did he actually? How did Tom react?”

“I still can’t believe Mattheo got his nose broken by a girl.”

You were growing tired of all the gossip about you. You heard from Draco that Mattheo had started withdrawing from everyone; clearly, he was, too. The guilt began to eat you up alive - was he actually that in love with you that your separation was this hard on him? There’s no way he loved you, not with how he acted; maybe he was just embarrassed. Hopefully, he was just embarrassed, but you couldn’t worry about that; you had bigger things on your mind - the Dueling Club tournament. 

You sit back, watching your team dominate, cheering them on and giving the newer ones points before they step into the ring. You have to sit with the other house captains, something about rules or whatever. You clock Mattheo, sitting a few seats down, but pay it no mind.

Slytherin and Gryffindors were neck and neck; this next duel would decide who won that year's tournament. You stepped up for your house, stepping into the ring amongst hoots and hollers. After some intense planning, Harry Potter steps into the ring. The whole room fell silent. The Chosen One, the boy wonder up against Hogwart's greatest dueler. This really would be a duel to remember.

“I guess we’re doing this, Potter.” You chuckle, taking your wand from your robes and holding it comfortably in your hand. You scan the room before your eyes lock with Mattheos, and you see a myriad of untold emotions. His eyes draw you in, locking you in place. The world beyond you slips away, melting into a sea of nothingness; nothing mattered to you more at that moment than Mattheo. 

Until, out of your peripheral vision, you see a spell coming hurling your way; instantaneously, you snap into action, quickly casting a barrier and returning the spell at him. “That was a good try, Potter,” You taunt, waiting for him to engage again. His eyes burn into you before slinging spell after spell at you. One or two of them connected, but it wasn’t enough to win.

“Fuck you, Malfoy! Fight back, you coward!” Harry hissed, growing more and more agitated as the duel commenced. He was getting sloppy, precisely what you counted on. He may be “The Chosen One,” but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a hothead and a thoughtless dueler. 

“Easy, Potter, don’t lose your head,” You taunt again, stalking around the ring like a predator stalking its prey. You watch closely, taking note of his actions as you patiently waited, waited for the right time to strike. 

Now.

You go on the offence, unloading a flurry of harmless attacks, each one hitting its target with deadly accuracy. Within seconds of your attack, that match was called, and Slytherin was named winner of the Tournament. Your whole house jumps up and swarms you, chanting your name. You were enjoying all the celebration when you saw Mattheo pushing through the crowd. You prepared yourself mentally for whatever argument was about to ensue, but when he reached you, instead of starting an argument, his lips collided with yours. 

The kiss was electrifying, hungry, desperate, and everything you needed it to be. Mattheo's hands danced their way down your face to the side of your neck, resting there as if they were always meant to be there…and perhaps they were. 

“You're mine, do you understand me?” He growls as he breaks the kiss. “No more of this ignoring me bullshit. I know where I fucked up, but I need you back, Mally. Please, no more hiding, no more keeping you a secret.”

You look at him, seeing the vulnerability he’s showing in front of everyone. He bites his lip, and his hands begin to tremble ever so slightly. You knew in your heart what to stay. 

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Mattheo Riddle, but you’re my goddamn idiot.” You punctuate your sentence with a kiss, sealing everything.

[moonlightspencie]

only like you can

Description: based on ‘already over’ by sabrina carpenter— ex boyfriend!james and reader just can’t seem to stay away from each other.

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: some suggestive content (pg-13 pretty much), angst with a happy ending, lily evans is mean in this one for the plot

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: aging them up to allow for the suggestive content. they’ll be 19 in this (first year starts at 14 instead of 11)

here’s the playlist

Running through the halls as a first year with your brand new group of friends, you never would imagine you’d end up dating one of them. You definitely never thought you’d have a break-up with one of them.

But, you just had to fall for Jamie in your third year. And he just had to ask you out in fifth. You were blindsided by his confession in the best way, and falling into a relationship with your closest friend was as easy as falling asleep.

Overexcited hugs after he’d win a quidditch game turned into kisses. Whispers of goodnight as you headed off to different rooms turned into sneaking into one another’s beds. The casual ‘I love you’ between friends turned into a kind of love that had both of you thinking about the future.

But, things changed again after a year.

Accusations started getting thrown around left and right. He’d say that you weren’t making time for him anymore. You’d argue that he seemed more interested in spending time with Lily. A back-and-forth would always spread like wildfire until you couldn’t breathe.

The break up was mostly mutual. You said you wanted it to happen, but you knew you were lying to yourself. He agreed, but it was only because he didn’t want you to know he was still invested. It left both of you putting happy faces over broken hearts, agreeing that you’d still be friends despite the fact that you knew you’d never get over him if he stuck around. But, never getting over him still felt better than losing him entirely.

You were sat in the common room, laughing over some dumb joke Sirius had made at Lucius Malfoy’s expense. The fire was blazing, keeping you all warm in the late-autumn that was otherwise freezing. You were next to James on the couch, Sirius was on the floor in front of the fire, and Remus and Peter were in a couple of chairs. It was nice. Cozy. But, coming down from your laughter, you let your head drop to the side, finding a familiar comfort.

Remus looked at you as you did, quirking a brow. You’d landed on James’ shoulder.

“You two back together?” he asked.

“Oh,” you said, quickly lifting your head again. “Sorry, Jamie.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright. Habit.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

A tense silence fell over the small group. Then, James stood.

“I’m going to grab a sweater. Be right back,” he announced, walking towards the stairs.

You looked after him until he was out of your sight, turning your head to find three pairs of eyes on you.

“Love,” Sirius said cautiously, almost grimacing.

“I know,” you sighed, leaning back into the couch. “I know. I just— It’s hard.”

He sighed, moving from his spot to sit in James’ spot on the couch. He tossed an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side a little.

“Might help if you two quit finding ways to be next to each other every time we go someplace,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “I know.”

“Why did you two break up if you both clearly want to be around each other all the time?” Peter asked, furrowing his brow.

“We weren’t good together.”

The three boys shot each other similar looks, knowing there was nothing they could say to help you in that moment. You merely sighed, staring into the fire as Remus tried to redirect the conversation.

James came back a minute later as they chatted over some fiasco in Potions class, a sour look on his face when he saw Sirius had taken his spot. His brow only set harder when he saw the arm around your shoulders. He sat in another chair, following your gaze into the fire, not wanting to look at his best friend and now-ex-girlfriend practically cuddling. It made him sick.

You didn’t feel much better, noticing him looking so downtrodden and being unable to kiss away that frown of his.

But you had to remind yourself of why you broke up in the first place. ‘It’s for the better’, you kept repeating to yourself in your head, trying to block out how badly you wanted to just talk to him. It was getting ridiculous, you knew that. It didn’t make it any easier, though.

“I think I’m ready for bed,” you mentioned after half an hour of sitting quietly.

A small chorus of ‘goodnight’ followed you to the stairs, and you trudged up to your room, feeling gloomy. You brushed your teeth, washed your face, and pulled on your pajamas. It was days like this that you were glad you got a single room for the year. You settled into your bed, cracking open the book on your nightstand to practice a little escapism. You were two chapters deep when you heard a knock on your door.

You crawled out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you went to open the door. When you pulled it open, your eyes went a little wider.

“Hey,” James said, looking shy.

You swallowed. “Oh. Hi.”

“Could we talk? Please?”

You contemplated it for a moment, trying to tell yourself it was a bad idea. But it was late. And you missed him. And you really didn’t want to turn him away.

“Yeah. Come in,” you said quietly, a small smile on your face.

He walked in slowly, unsure, as if he hadn’t spent the entirety of the past year sneaking in every other day. You looked at his back for a moment, noticing him with his hands up in front of his stomach.

“Don’t pick at your nails, Jamie,” you said, moving around him to sit on your bed.

He chuckled softly. “How’d you know? You couldn’t even see my hands.”

“How wouldn’t I know?”

His smile faded a bit at that. “Right.”

You sat quietly for a minute, practically hearing the gears turning in his head. He stared out the window in your room, his brows a little furrowed.

“What is it, James?”

His eyes snapped to yours. He sighed, looking at your bed.

“Can I sit?” he gestured next to you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, scooting to give him some more room.

He sat, looking around at anything but you.

“What’s up?”

He shrugged. “Uh, I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, you know.”

“You came to talk to me about it.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, chuckling to himself humorlessly. “I don’t want this to come across weird.”

“It’s fine, James. I’m used to you.”

He smiled, though it dropped quickly. “Is there something going on with you and Padfoot?”

Your eyes went wide, a laugh escaping you.

“Excuse me?”

“He took my spot on the couch. Kinda cuddling you.”

“James,” you said, getting his attention. “That’s insane. He sat with me because I was sad. He was being a friend, like every other time he’s hugged me or comforted me.”

He nodded, letting out a breath. “Sorry. Just got a little paranoid, I guess.”

“That’s okay. I get it.”

He swallowed. “Do you not want to be around me?”

“Why would you ask that? We agreed to be friends after…”

“I know, but I just don’t know how to act around you now.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this, either. We’re in a weird place, now.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out.

You looked at him for a moment, and he shot you another shy smile. It was strange to see him so timid, but you couldn’t help but smile back. Even acting so strangely, he was still the same old Jamie.

“Is that all? I’m pretty tired.”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. That’s it. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

He started standing, and you walked him to the door. He suddenly pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly to his chest. You leaned into him, relishing in that feeling while you could. He pulled away, opening your door.

“Night, Jamie.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled, not moving.

He quickly leaned down, just barely pressing his lips to yours, but it was enough to send your heart fluttering. He pulled back as quickly as he leaned in, muttering a quick ‘sorry’ before leaving. You shut your door, the tension in your body finally releasing. You fell into a restless sleep that night.

The following week felt as difficult as the first week after the break up. Sirius and Remus would try to comfort you, and Peter would offer silly jokes to stop you from looking so sad all the time.

You’d gone to dinner with Remus and Peter after they’d pleaded with you that night, figuring you still needed to eat despite your feelings. No sense in making yourself feel even worse if you could help it.

Dinner was surprisingly good. You laughed with the two boys, almost forgetting about your troubles as you chatted with them. Until you heard a pretty loud mention of ‘James’ coming from a few people down the table.

You paused, listening when you heard his name come out of Lily’s mouth. You focused hard on your plate, hoping she’d keep up her volume. Yeah, it was probably wrong to snoop, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care all that much.

“… Maybe this weekend,” she said, a few giggles coming from her friends. “He always goes to Hogsmeade on Sunday afternoons.”

“Now that he doesn’t have that girl hanging on him, you actually might have a chance,” one of her friends added in, to which you clenched your jaw in annoyance.

“Maybe. He’s been pretty off since they broke up.”

“Good,” another girl added. “It probably means he needs a reason to move on.”

You decided you’d heard enough, standing from your spot.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked, looking to Remus with a frown.

“Common room. I’ll see you guys soon,” you said, waving a goodbye to both boys.

You were fuming as you walked back to the common room. It hurt more than you thought it would to think about him with anyone else, but especially her. You’d never been too sure about her intentions with the friendship she had with James, and this just solidified your concerns. Not to mention, her friends clearly didn’t like you. You didn’t even know them, and they had to nerve to talk about you like you were merely an inconvenience the whole time. You were stewing in that feeling, trying not to let it affect you too much, and failing miserably. You didn’t even notice your name being called behind you.

“Y/N,” he called again.

You looked up, turning towards James’ voice. His face dropped when he saw you.

“Hey,” he said, rushing forward to you. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Just upset.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He sighed, leaning over to catch your eye. You chewed on your lip, the pit in your stomach only growing. You couldn’t stop thinking about Lily’s plan for the weekend, especially now that you were face to face with him.

“It matters to me,” he said softly. “Please? I just want to help.”

“You can’t help, Jamie,” you shook your head.

He was silent for a moment, thinking. You fiddled with your hands, looking down at your shoes. He called your name again, quietly, to get your attention. You looked up, heart still fluttering when you looked in his eyes.

“How about we go steal some of Mooney’s chocolate and just sit for a while?” he offered. “Then, maybe we can talk later?”

You couldn’t help but smile a little at the suggestion. You didn’t even think it could be considered stealing anymore. Remus always stocked up extra on his desk, knowing his roommates were prone to grabbing some every now and then.

“I’m taking that smile as a ‘yes’,” he said, a smile growing on his own face. “Come on.”

You walked alongside him as you headed towards Gryffindor tower, holding yourself back from taking his hand. Particularly flexing your self-control muscle when his fingers would brush softly against the back of your hand.

“You know, he just got some with caramel in the middle,” James mentioned as you climbed the stairs.

“Yeah? Are they any good?”

“Mm,” he nodded enthusiastically. “Very. I think you’ll like them.”

You laughed. “Sounds like you do, doesn’t it?”

He snorted a laugh. “How’d you tell?”

“It’s my sixth sense.”

“Sure, it is,” he responded. “I always thought it was knowing when I was picking at my nails.”

“See, that’s just me knowing you after all these years. Bit different.”

He chuckled, saying the password to let you into the common room. The portrait swung open, and he snuck you up to the boys’ shared room.

“Here we are,” he said mischievously, walking towards Mooney’s desk.

You shut the dorm door, walking over as he handed you a few chocolates.

“Thank you.”

“Thank Mooney,” he said, smirking. “Let’s sit. Come on.”

You took a breath, sitting with him on his bed. It all felt okay, until you remembered why you were there in the first place.

You opened the wrapping on one of the chocolates, popping it in your mouth silently. James watched you, sighing softly when you didn’t say anything after a few minutes.

“Don’t like when you’re quiet like this,” he mumbled. “Scares me.”

“Scares you?” you questioned.

“Well, last time you were quiet like this, we had a conversation that…” he shrugged. “It wasn’t very fun, was it?”

You hummed. ‘Not very fun’ was an understatement. The day you broke up, you sobbed until you threw up.

“Sorry,” you said. “I could start yelling if you’d like?”

He laughed. “Don’t think I’d like that much, either.”

You smiled, though it was half-hearted. He could tell.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

You shrugged. “I’ll just have to get over it. I don’t think there’s much to talk about, honestly.”

“Alright,” he conceded. “Would it make you feel better to… I don’t know. Read?”

“You’d read?” you asked, amused.

“No, I’d made you read to me,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Don’t know if I’m up to that, right now.”

“Later?”

“When?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow?”

“What’s today? Friday?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You considered it, liking the idea of spending more time with him despite how bad of an idea it was to be alone. Especially after last time.

Then, a worse idea came to mind.

“How about Sunday?”

He raised a brow. “Sunday?”

You nodded. “If that’s okay. I know that’s a Hogsmeade day, but everyone will be out of the castle. We’d get to sit by the fire in the common room. It would be nice and quiet.”

He cracked a small smile. “That does sound nice. Can I pick the book?”

“Of course,” you nodded.

You knew it was a little underhanded, taking him away from Hogsmeade for the day. It was really just a form of delaying the inevitable. He was bound to move on eventually. But why did it have to happen that weekend? He could wait a little bit longer, you reasoned.

Though, you still knew the real reason was that you would do anything to keep him from hanging off of someone else’s lips. You didn’t quite care if it was a bit selfish.

Saturday came and went. Sunday morning you woke up with a small smile on your face. Despite the fact that it may have been a bad idea to set aside alone time with your ex, especially just to get him away from another girl, it felt nice to relish in the familiarity of being with him.

Hours later you were curled up on the couch with James looking over your shoulder as you read to him. He’d make a stray comment here and there about the plot or laugh at the jokes, but was otherwise surprisingly tuned in. You were halfway through when he yawned.

“Tired?” you asked, pausing your reading to look up at him.

“A bit,” he shrugged. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Oh.”

You furrowed your brow as you looked away, then glanced back at him.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. “Just too excited for you to read to me, I bet.”

You chuckled, ignoring the heat in your cheeks as you turned back towards the book, ready to start reading again. Then, he started shuffling around.

“What are you doing?” you asked with a sigh.

“Gonna lay down,” he shrugged, “Can I…”

He paused, scrunching up his face a bit. You watched him, questioning.

“Can you what?”

“Probably a bad idea,” he said shortly, shaking his head.

“Just tell me.”

He looked a little shy as he glanced at you. “Was gonna ask if I could lay on your lap.”

“Oh,” you said, nodding once. “Well, as long as you don’t try any funny business, I don’t see why not. It’s preferable to you putting your feet on me if you lay the opposite way.”

He laughed. “I suppose that’s true.”

He waited another moment, then started laying down, his head resting on your legs. Once he was comfortable, you started reading again. After a while, you weren’t even sure if he was awake anymore.

Even more time passed, and you heard him softly snoring, a smile on your face as you looked down at him, one of his hands having squeezed it’s way under your leg. You ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly, continuing your reading silently.

An hour later and you were finished with the book, your hand still brushing through his hair as a habit. You watched him for a few minutes, letting out a soft breath.

“Jamie,” you called quietly, the hand in his hair moving to brush across his cheek. “James.”

He stirred, groaning. “Mm?”

“You fell asleep,” you said with a grin. “I let you nap for a little over an hour, but if you want to sleep tonight you should probably wake up.”

He grumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. “Don’t wanna get up.”

“Always so grumpy when you wake up,” you mumbled, more to yourself than anything. “Come on, Jamie. We can go snag some tea or go for a walk or something.”

He sighed softly, stretching out a little bit before he started moving away from your legs, pulling his hand out from under your thigh. He started sitting up, not realizing he was terribly close to you until you were looking at one another, feeling his gentle breathing fan on your face. You swallowed, trying hard not to glance down at the lips you knew were soft and skilled.

He didn’t care to try so hard.

He leaned in before you knew what was happening, kissing you like it was the first time. His hand came up to cradle your face, tilting your head to allow him to deepen the kiss, his tongue soft against your lip as he waited for you to grant him access. It certainly didn’t take you long to oblige him.

He leaned his body into you, and eventually started pulling you underneath him, your head hitting the couch cushions as he settled in between your legs. It was all desperation and passion as his hand slipped up under your top, brushing over the fabric of your bra to squeeze gently at your breasts. You leaned into his touch, soft noises escaping you and going directly into his mouth.

You felt his chest heaving against your own as you kissed, his hips rolling against you, desperate for friction that he’d missed for so long. Desperate for you.

You bit at his lip, breaking away only to kiss down his jaw. He hummed softly in satisfaction, but grew impatient, moving to capture your lips with his own once again.

It was only when a real moan managed to leave you and linger in the air that his hand stopped groping at you. His lips slowed, and he finally broke away, catching his breath like he’d been underwater.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words rushed. “I shouldn’t have done that. Again.”

“Not your fault. I kissed you back.”

He chewed at his lip. “We should really stop this before it starts happening more.”

“We should,” you nodded.

He swallowed, eyes roaming over your face. You leaned up, capturing his lips again, this time gently. He allowed it, though this kiss lasted a much shorter time than the previous.

“Maybe we should take that walk,” you said, trying to break the tension.

“Might need to wait a few minutes, love,” he said, not-so-subtly glancing down at his pants.

You laughed, though you felt that funny feeling in your stomach when he called you ‘love’ again. You followed his gaze, raising your brows.

“Yeah. Probably don’t want to go around like that just in case. Not exactly hard to miss,” you snorted.

He rolled his eyes, sitting up straight. You watched him, moving to sit back up yourself. He stared ahead at the fireplace.

“Stop looking at me,” he said, not even glancing in your direction.

“What?” you laughed.

He glanced at you. “It’s not helping my little situation, you know?”

“Me looking at you is making it worse?”

“You existing is hard enough to ignore when I get like this,” he said with a laugh. “Not to mention when you can… You know. See it.”

“Well, I can’t exactly see it. You do still have pants on, you know?”

He chuckled, though he hid his face in his hands as his cheeks turned pink.

“Stop giving me ideas. It’s not fair, love.”

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, ignoring your own… feelings. “I’ll be quiet and look away.”

He nodded, shutting his eyes and letting his head loll back on the couch. You tried hard not to think about how effected he was, and tried even harder not to think about how effected you were. You stared at the window nearest to you, thinking about absolutely anything else. After a few minutes, he sighed.

“Okay. I think I’m good, now.”

You laughed, pulling him off of the couch and pulling on a sweater you’d brought along. You left the common room together, meandering in the halls talking about nothing. Before you knew it, more voices were joining your two in the corridors.

“Oh boy,” you said softly.

“What?”

You looked at James. “You really want to run into our friends right now?”

He hummed, then opened his mouth to speak. Only very briefly, though, as a familiar face came into view.

“James,” Lily beamed, ignoring your presence entirely. “We missed you in Hogsmeade. Why did you stay behind?”

James looked at you, quirking a brow curiously when she said ‘we missed you’. She’d never exactly been in the marauders group during Hogsmeade outings, and both of you knew it.

“Was just busy,” he shrugged.

“Too busy to hang out with us?”

“Who’s ‘us’?” James laughed. “Did you join in with the boys today?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Just… Thought it might be nice if you would have been around so we could have spent some time together.”

You held yourself back from rolling your eyes as she looked at him, twirling her hair almost cartoonishly as she spoke.

“Maybe some other time,” he said simply. “Had more important things to do today.”

“Aw,” she cooed, laughing to herself. “More important than me?”

You chimed in. “Ooh, with an ego like that, maybe you should try spending time with Sirius.”

James snorted a laugh, though Lily didn’t think it was quite so funny.

“At least I’m not hanging off my ex boyfriend.”

You furrowed your brow, ready to throw an insult right back at her.

“Why is that your business?” James said quickly. “We’re still friends. Friends are known to hang out, you know?”

She ripped her sour gaze from you, looking surprised that James would defend you. He didn’t give her time to reply, taking you by the arm and dragging you away from her before you did something he knew you’d regret. You huffed a sigh.

He started walking you towards the kitchens, you were sure, to get you some tea. You crossed your arms when he finally let you go, once again stewing in your annoyance.

“Trouble in paradise?” you asked, seemingly unable to hold your tongue.

“What?”

“Why did you defend me?” you asked. “I thought you and Evans were like… Involved.”

“Why would you think that?” he asked incredulously.

“After everything…” you stopped. “For one, she sure seems to think you’re an item. Or at least that you will be very soon.”

He sighed harshly. “I know you were always on edge about her, but you know I’ve never felt that way.”

“I was right to be on edge.”

“Why? I never would have done anything.”

You shrugged. “Freaked me out how much she liked you. And how much she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes, she does. Her friends all gossip about me, you know? Like I’m just some obstacle standing in the way of you two getting together.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“I heard it, James.”

He paused before you entered the kitchens, his brow set.

“What do you mean?”

You let out a breath. “Promise you won’t be mad at me?”

He merely raised his brows in question, waiting for your explanation.

“They were talking a few days ago during dinner and thought I couldn’t hear them. They were saying that you’d be easy to bag now that I’m not around and you’re, like… emotionally compromised.”

“Emotionally compromised?”

“Not in those words, but… Yeah. That was the jist of it.”

He shook his head. “Why would they say that?”

“Because she’s always been into you, James. It’s why I didn’t like you guys together all the time, it made me feel really insecure.”

He had the decency to look a little guilty before he perked back up.

“Wait, why would I be mad at you for that?”

You sighed, wishing you could avoid this particular bit about what you’d overheard.

“She, uh,” you looked away. “She was planning on making a move on you today. That’s why her friends were talking about you.”

“And?”

“And, I might have asked you to stay behind today because I knew about her plan.”

The wall to the side of you looked very interesting in that moment. So interesting, in fact, that you didn’t notice the smirk on James’ face until he started speaking.

“You made me stay back to read with you so Lily couldn’t try to… what? Stare at me all afternoon?”

You frowned deeper seeing the teasing look on his face.

“She’d probably try more than staring.”

“Oh? What, like snogging on the couch and letting me feel you up? Didn’t want something like that to happen?”

You smacked his arm. “Asshole.”

He shook his head, tucking you under his arm as he ushered you to the doors.

“Can’t believe you sabotaged her.”

“So you think—”

“I think it’s kinda hot.”

You bit back a smirk, shaking your head. “Shut up.”

Almost two weeks later and you felt more down than ever. After your tea, you’d had another conversation about how you really shouldn’t be alone like that. You knew it was for the best, but it still hurt to reinforce the idea that Sunday would be nothing more than a post-break up slip-up. James himself started to say it was mistake. He only stopped when he saw your face drop, changing his wording, but still meaning the same thing. You tried shaking it off, but you couldn’t stop the memories of how it felt to be under him again.

Though, it turned out that James wasn’t having it any easier.

“What’s been wrong with you, mate?” Remus asked, walking towards his bed.

James turned his head to look at his friend, his cheek still squished into the pillow.

“I don’t know. I just feel awful.”

Remus sat on the edge of his bed. “You’ve been really off the past two weeks. Something happen?”

James shrugged, not responding.

“You know you can talk to us? Better than rotting away in bed all day.”

“I don’t know, Mooney,” James said, shoving his face back into his pillow. “I just miss her.”

Remus huffed a sigh, patting his friend on the back.

“I know you do.” He readjusted his seat on the bed. “Have you talked to her about, well, anything?”

“Yeah, we tried,” James replied, though he knew that it didn’t exactly go to plan when he did. “Doesn’t make it hurt less.”

“Do you want to opt out of the prank tonight? The boys would understand if you didn’t want to be around her.”

“No,” he said quickly, lifting his head. “No. I want to be there.”

“Alright. You’ll have to get out of bed for that, you know?”

James snorted, pushing Remus off his bed.

“Ah, screw off, Moons.”

Remus chuckled to himself. “Dinner is starting soon if you want to eat. She’ll be there, but we can keep you guys apart.”

“I don’t think being apart is helping.”

Remus looked on, disagreeing, but not willing to argue. “Alright. Well, get ready. I’m going to walk over in ten minutes.”

Remus left the room, heading off to wait in common room to give James some privacy. He was leaned against the back of a couch, fiddling with the edge of his sweater, when you slid next to where he stood.

“Hey, Mooney.”

He smiled. “Hey.”

“Are you going to dinner soon? I was thinking of heading down.”

He nodded. “Waiting on Prongs.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “He okay? He wasn’t in Defense Against the Dark Arts today. Not like him to skip that class.”

Remus swallowed. “He’s been a little under the weather.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

“Yeah. He’ll be okay, though.”

You sighed. “Is he coming tonight, still?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “Just asked him.”

“Okay.”

“Is that… Okay with you?”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

He gave you a knowing look, nudging your arm with his own.

“You’ve been a little sad lately. I can tell,” he said quietly. “Think I know why, too.”

You hummed. “I’ll be fine. Just difficult right now.”

“If you ever need anything…”

“I know,” you laughed. “Promise I’ll tell you if I do.”

He smiled, turning back forward and crossing is arms. You waiting in a comfortable silence, though you stood noticeably straighter when James came down the stairs. He stuttered in his steps when he saw you, a shy smile immediately on his face.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Jamie,” you said, returning his smile.

Remus looked between the two of you seemingly in a staring contest for a few seconds before clearing his throat. You both looked at him, clearly a little embarrassed.

“Ready, you two?”

“Yeah,” you said as James merely nodded.

You walked to the great hall in an obviously-tense silence. Remus was starting to regret getting James out of bed, the whole group feeling a little awkward as neither of you could keep your eyes off each other.

“Geez,” Peter started, clearly not reading the room. “You two didn’t stare at each other this much when you were dating.”

Sirius slapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head. You were hoping they’d eat a little faster so that you didn’t have to sit across from James anymore, even though you never minded the view.

Your wish came true, but you weren’t sure if you were in a better position, now. You’d gone back to the boys’ dorm to plan out the prank: turning the black lake blue. What you hadn’t anticipated in this plan was that one of the more uptight prefects would be wandering around the lake when you’d done your magic on it.

You were currently running through the trees, trying to get out of the sight of the boy. Though, at some point James had taken your hand, dragging you behind him. You chocked it up to a force of habit, as you found yourself doing quite often since you’d broken up. But you weren’t sure how much you could blame on habit as he pinned your back against a tree, staring down at you like he was going to kiss you again.

“Jamie—”

“Shh,” he shook his head, bringing a finger to his lips.

You waited in a tension-filled silence, hearing footsteps zoom past, just far enough where you wouldn’t get caught if you stayed still. You stood and listened until you were sure you were in the clear. But James didn’t move.

“He’s gone,” you whispered.

“Yeah.”

“We could go.”

“We could,” he nodded in agreement.

You looked up at him, admiring his features lit up in the moonlight. Your next move you’d blame entirely on gravity. It was magnetic, the way you came together. Neither of your faults, really.

Or so you told yourself.

You kissed him against that tree for far too long, feeling giddy and breathless when you finally pulled away.

“Bad idea,” you stated.

“Really bad idea,” he nodded. “Couldn’t help being alone this time, though. I don’t think it’s our fault.”

You chuckled. “You sound like me.”

“Not a bad thing, I don’t think.”

You shrugged, looking at him with stars in your eyes. You tried thinking of anything to talk about to keep your mouth busy.

“Full moon is coming up.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Mooney started feeling a little sick this morning. Probably’ll get worse the next couple days.”

“Right. You three going with him, again?”

“Yeah,” he nodded again. “You’ll be there to patch us up if we need it, again?”

“Always.”

He smiled, eyes flicking down to your lips again.

“Jamie, don’t do that,” you shook your head.

“Why not? I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know,” you melted a little. “I have too, but if you keep looking at me like that, we won’t just be kissing.”

He raised his brows. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

You chuckled, a smile on his face as he watched you.

“That’s the kind of bad idea I think we couldn’t bounce back from so easily.”

He hummed, jokingly discontent. Though, he did plan on keeping the thought of what could have been in his head for when he was alone. He moved away from you, holding out his hand.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead you back towards the castle. That Saturday morning he’d come back unscathed from their time during Remus’ transformation. They surprisingly all had, much to your delight. All that had to be down was getting Remus into bed so that he could sleep it off as the morning came around.

You walked into their room that afternoon to find Remus, passed out, tangled up in his blankets. You smiled, leaving a fresh cup of water on his nightstand for when he woke up. All of them seemed to be asleep. It had been a long night.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Remus’ forehead, then turned to leave.

“Y/N?”

You turned back around, replying in a quiet voice. “Oh. Hi, Jamie. Why are you awake?”

“Dunno. Just couldn’t sleep since we got back.”

You hummed. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” he mumbled. “You do the work for potions yet?”

You shook your head. “No. Not yet.”

“Would it be okay if we…” he started asking, looking at you fully as he sat up. “I don’t understand it. I could use some help.”

You smiled softly. “Of course. I can go get my stuff—”

“I could just come with you,” he said quickly. “Don’t want to wake the others, anyway.”

You nodded. “Okay. Yeah, that’s fine.”

He trailed after you sleepily, and you wondered why he’d want to even try to write an essay running on no sleep. It seemed silly at best, and was outright counterproductive.

He sat in your bed, rubbing at his eyes as he tried listening to you explain what you needed to do for the essay.

“Jamie, I don’t think you’re absorbing any of this,” you said with a light laugh.

He cracked a small smile. “Your bed is too comfy. I always wanna fall asleep here.”

You sighed. “Why don’t you take a nap, then? I can finish my essay and help you when you wake up.”

“You sure you don’t want to lay down, too?”

You snorted. “That’s asking for trouble.”

“Just for a little? Promise I’ll do the work later,” he said, giving you wide, pleading eyes. “You always help me sleep better.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

You set aside your work, laying next to him, pulling a blanket over both of you. He smiled as you snuggled into the pillow.

“What?” you asked.

He shrugged, the smile stuck on his face. “Nothing.”

You closed your eyes, feeling his arms pull you into his chest, but choosing not to say anything about it.

You woke half an hour later, and, as promised, James worked on his essay with you.

It became habit. Every Saturday you’d meet up to work on homework. A way to be together without being together. You mostly held back from kissing him, but he couldn’t always say the same. Then, inevitably, every Sunday you’d feel your heartbreak as you’d have the same conversation about how bad of an idea it was to keep doing this every week.

But you couldn’t stop.

Another weekend, another opportunity to pretend like you the study date in James’ room wouldn’t take a turn. You sat across from him on his bed, a book and some parchment in front of you.

“I don’t know why we have to write an essay on centaurs, anyways,” you huffed. “I feel like we’ve already discussed everything we needed to in class.”

James shrugged. “At least it’s only two pages. Could be worse.”

You grumbled your dissent, shutting the book after you’d written only half a page. He looked up at you, a smirk on his lips at your dramatics. He rolled his eyes playfully at you, shutting his own book.

“Alright. Do you want to go over the History of Magic assignment?” he questioned.

“Not particularly.”

“Good,” he said with a breath. “I really didn’t want to either.”

You snorted. “Why’d you ask then?”

He shrugged, moving both bits of parchment and the books off to the side.

“Trying to find a reason not to kiss you.”

You rolled your eyes. “We both know that’s a bad idea.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Hasn’t stopped us before, though, has it?”

You bit back a smile, not moving when he moved closer towards you. He reached a hand up, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip with the rest of his hand resting on your jaw. You watched him carefully, taking in the way his eyes sparkled as he looked at you in the warm lighting.

“Jamie…”

“Tell me you don’t want me to.”

You shook your head. “I can’t say that.”

He nodded, moving even closer, almost waiting for a sign that you’d push him away. That sign never came. He leaned in, ghosting his lips over yours until you took the lead, finally pressing against him. He pulled you into his lap immediately, arms holding you in like he was afraid you’d slip away from him if he didn’t. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand playing with the soft hair at his neck the way he always loved.

He smiled into your kiss, deepening it when you pushed up against him desperately.

Good things never seemed to last, though.

The door swung open suddenly, and you jumped away from James, clearly having been doing something you really shouldn’t have been. Sirius stared at the two of you, a look on his face that you seldom saw from him.

“We were just—” James started, but stopped immediately.

You were just what? There was no way to explain your way out of what Sirius had seen.

He shut the door behind him. Lingering near it with his arms crossed.

“Pads…” you said, unsure what you even wanted to say.

“You’ve got to stop this,” he said plainly, looking between you both. “Whatever this is, it needs to be done. The sneaking around was cute in the beginning, but I’m sick of it, now.”

Your stomach dropped, scooting even further away from where James sat stock-still on the bed.

Sirius sighed. “I love being your friend, both of you. But, Y/N, comforting you every time this happens is insane. Especially when you’re trying to pretend it isn’t because of you two holding on to each other when you clearly think you shouldn’t be.”

You nodded solemnly. He shifted his attention to James.

“I’ve had to listen to you cry yourself to sleep too many times, mate. It’s been months of this. You keep hurting yourselves and each other over and over again, and for what? An easy lay?”

“It’s not like that,” James said quickly.

“Then what is it?” Sirius asked pointedly.

You swallowed, turning to see James look like he was holding back tears as he stared back at his friend.

“I— I love her,” he said breathlessly. “You don’t know what this is like, Sirius. She’s my…”

You found yourself staring at him as he spoke, your heart beating out of your chest. You swallowed with a dry throat, unsure what to do. You felt frozen.

“You both agreed you couldn’t be together anymore, did you not?” Sirius asked, though not without a softness in his tone. “I’m sorry this is hard for you both, I am, but it’s been hard for the rest of us, too. We’re constantly wrapped up in trying to help you both out of this, but you keep going back behind our backs when you know it’s just hurting more.”

“I don’t know what to do,” James said, turning his gaze to you. “I don’t know what to do. I— I don’t know how I’m supposed to just be your friend. I don’t know how I’m supposed to pretend like I’m not in love with you. Like I haven’t imagined marrying you since we were fifteen. I don’t know why you wanted to break up.”

You felt tears sting your eyes. “You said you wanted to, too.”

“I lied,” he exclaimed. “I only said that because I was scared. I didn’t want to admit that I never wanted to leave you when you were telling me you didn’t think I was worth it anymore.”

Your mouth dropped open, tears falling down your cheeks. “I never said that.”

He opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut again. Before you had a chance to say anything else, he was launching himself out of bed, pushing past Sirius and out the door.

“Jamie—” you tried, though it fell on deaf ears.

You buried your face in your hands, letting your tears fall. You felt the bed dip next to you, Sirius’ arms curling around you and pulling you in. Your head fell on his shoulder as you cried.

“I didn’t know he didn’t… I thought he wanted things to end. I didn’t know he’s been so upset.”

His hand rubbed on your back. “You’ve both been holding onto this for too long. At this point, do you even want to be broken up?”

“We were always arguing together. The last two months we were together was nothing but going at each other.”

“What about now?”

You wiped your eyes, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

“Do you still think it’s for the best? Because you clearly can’t stay away from each other,” he said, then sighed. “Either you guys need to distance yourselves or get back together. I hate seeing you cry like this.”

“Even if I wanted to be with him, I don’t think it would work.”

“Why not?”

“He wouldn’t want—”

“He just told you he’s in love with you,” Sirius exclaimed. “He never stops talking about you and how much he misses you. He cries himself to sleep over you, and then dreams about you when he finally passes out. Of course he’d want to be with you, don’t be stupid.”

Your eyes widened. “Since when are you mean to me?”

“Since you started talking with no sense. You’re supposed to be the smart one out of all of us.”

You smiled, shaking your head as he laughed.

“Just, quit acting like you two aren’t crazy for each other. You have been since we were kids,” he said, shrugging in disbelief. “You need to talk to him. And I mean talk, not…” he raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“You know where he ran off to?”

“Probably that silly tree of his in the courtyard?”

He nodded. “That would be my guess.”

“Thanks, Siri,” you said, hugging him before you stood. “Wish me luck.”

“If either of you comes back crying, this better be the last time,” he said, hiding a smile with raised brows.

“I’ll do my best,” you smiled, leaving the room.

You were right about where he’d be. You walked up to James as he sat on the ground under the tree, staying quiet for a few moments as you breathed in the cold air.

“Why are you here?” he asked, looking straight ahead.

“Sirius talked some sense into me. He’s being surprisingly mature today. It’s scary.”

He nodded. “He does that on occasion.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

He shrugged. “S’fine.”

“It’s not,” you replied, shaking your head. “I keep hurting you, and I hate that. I didn’t know it was that bad for you.”

“How couldn’t you?”

“When we had that conversation, when we broke up, I thought you’d be fine. I was convinced you’d be better off without me, and I thought that maybe we’d be better as friends. We wouldn’t stop arguing over stupid shit.”

“We could have worked it out.”

“We never talked about it.”

He sighed. “I guess.”

You let a silence wash over you for a minute, feeling him moving a little closer to you.

“It’s cold out here. You’re not dressed warm enough.”

“I’m fine. Not cold yet,” you said.

He hummed. “What did Sirius say?”

“Thinks we should either stay away from each other or get back together. Really, he told me those were the two options.”

“So you came out here to let me down easy for the last time?”

You reached out, touching his arm. He looked at you, furrowing his brows. You smiled softly.

“I was actually coming out to see if you hated me. In the hopes that you don’t—”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

His face softened. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. Please.”

“Jamie, I never stopped loving you. I shouldn’t have ever… I wish we would have just talked about everything. I hate not being with you,” you confessed. “Like, shit, James, we started scheduling study dates just to be around each other. I’ve never seen you so passionate about homework.”

He laughed. “It was never the homework I was excited about.”

“Me either.”

He watched you carefully. “You’d… You actually want to try this again? Us?”

“If you’d have me.”

He let out a breath, hands moving to your face as his lips pressed against yours. This time entirely uncaring if anyone saw you. He pulled away, pressing several soft kisses to your cheeks and forehead until you were laughing, pushing him away slightly.

“You really, really mean it?” he asked.

“Obviously we’ll have to talk about this. We need to make sure we actually communicate this time around.”

“Anything for you, love.”

“But yeah, I mean it.”

He smiled brightly. “Evans is gonna be pissed when she sees us snogging in Hogsmeade this weekend.”

[umbrellajam]

I feel like whether Tim is on some level suicidal in RR #12 is very open to interpretation, which is part of what makes it fascinating!

because Tim's homecoming to Gotham is the culmination of an upward/self-actualization arc, after struggling through multiple low points/depression/an extended breakdown.

he finally got proof Bruce is alive. managed to claw Tam and himself out of the Cradle and away from the Council of Spiders/LoA by the skin of their teeth. thumbed his nose at Ra's and reaffirmed his own principles by blowing up all the LoA servers. finally kind of processed that Kon and Bart are both alive again - he just tackle-hugged Kon in RR #9 and told him, "when you found me in Paris, I was in a bad place. Now... Now I'm in a good place." he's full of renewed purpose and the realization that he doesn't, in fact, have to do things alone! (team-up Robin ftw!)

so probably not actively suicidal

but then in all of his frantic calculations to thwart Ra's and save each and every person Bruce loved - he doesn't factor himself in. he doesn't put himself on that list of loved ones and set up a contingency for preserving his own life (wtf Tim).

or does he??? that's where the ambiguity comes in for me, because we don't actually see him discussing the full details of his plan with anyone. and he doesn't mention it in his internal narration, either! because his internal narration is always super reliable..... hmmm.....

we know that Dick isn't aware of any other contingencies, or indeed the full details of the plot they were thwarting - after catching Tim, Dick has to ask him, "You want to tell me what that was all about?" and of course "How did you know I'd be there to save you?"

and as I've mentioned before, I don't think Tim had actually planned for Dick to save him, so his "You're my brother, Dick. You'll always be there for me," response is uh, both loving BS and a "genuinely felt expression of retroactive faith", as Silver put it (and which has been stuck in my mind in glowing cursive letters ever since, lol).

but. we do know that as part of his plan to thwart Ra's ninja-assassinate-Bruce's-loved-ones plot, Tim calls all three of his best friends into Gotham. (among all his other rallied allies.) his best friends who are various combinations of flight and/or superspeed capable. and who had each just smugly patched in via comm to confirm that their protection jobs were all successful, meaning Tim knew they were available if he potentially needed them.

the fact that the rest of the Core Four then twiddle their thumbs and let Tim keep fighting Ra's on his own after confirming Alfred/Selina/Barbara are safe, instead of zipping over to have his back (ie punch the jackass through a wall) almost has to be because of: (a) Tim's plan to deliberately stall so Lucius could file the WE paperwork (on the Watsonian level), (b) Yost allowing Tim to have his Final Showdown with the villain of the arc on his own, and also (c) Yost setting up the emotional climax/reconciliation of Dick catching Tim (both on the Doylist level).

like, Tim stalls Ra's for long enough that Dick is able to glide and grapple his way over from his own ninja-busting detail, we don't think the speedster or the Superboy could have gotten there in time?

Dick is the one who caught Tim because it was thematic, it's a motif in their relationship and the resolution of their 12-issue arc, and don't get me wrong I wouldn't change that moment for anything - but! he wasn't the only one around who could have done so.

and Iiiiii have to suspect Tim would know that? there's ambiguity and room for interpretation, of course, especially since Tim doesn't say anything at all or call out to anyone as he's actually falling.

but also. Kryptonian superhearing? Tim's comm which could very well still be connected? could he have been relying on allies listening/clue-ing in, whether or not he actually explicitly sketched out a back-up plan with anyone to come back him up, after Lucius was done transferring WE? all according to (dumbass improvised) keikaku??

idk! seems plausible to me, but it's all so open to interpretation, it makes my brain go BRRRRRR 😊 like you can make a compelling case/headcanon/fic any way you look at it!

anyway. Dick catching Tim is very much The Moment Ever Of All Time <3 but also the thought of Kon just hovering at the ready to grab Rob but spotting Dick!Bats swooping in and being like ":))) oh ok. they both need this." is v. hilarious to me

[lesbojournals]

Poly!Marauders x Slytherin!Reader

part one two three four

When Regulus dropped you off at the Gryffindor common room, you made it straight for the liquor. 

“You alright?” Peter asked hesitantly and you took another shot.

“Fine!” You snapped.

Peter watched in horror as you drank vodka straight from the bottle. He decided then to alert the boys of your odd behavior, especially because he had overheard you hadn’t been planning on drinking. 

You continued to drink and took heavy breaths between each gulp. Remus appeared at your side suddenly, and you rolled your eyes at him before he could even say anything.

“Dove?” He asked, confused at your state. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t call me that.” You sneered at him. “I’m going to dance.”

And with that you left for the middle of the common room, where most of the girls had begun to dance. You followed suit, bottle in hand.

Remus gaped at the way you spoke to him, and confronted the other boys about it.

“She said what?!” You could hear Sirius bellow from where you were, and you knew you were about to be in for it. 

You took another swig. Was it just you, or was everything getting really blurry? You started hiccupping when James approached you. You took another gulp. 

James reached and grabbed the bottle from you successfully before you could do anything about it.

“What, Potter?” You swallowed bile you felt come up. 

James looked at you in shock. Were there two of him?

“Look…” You droned. “I get it. The gig is up. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

James raised an eyebrow at you and grabbed your wrist. “Come with me.”

He weaved you through the crowd and you halted when you arrived at the stairs leading to the boy’s common room. The stairs were winding and curving in your vision.

You pointed at the stairs, another hiccup escaping you. “The stairs, bad.”

James sighed dramatically and picked you up with ease, and you yelped. You closed your eyes as you were carried up the stairs, and felt bile rise up your throat again. You swallowed it and breathed heavy.

When you got inside the dorm, James gently put you down to face a very irritated Sirius and hurt Remus.

“What’s going on?” Sirius demanded. 

Your words slurred together as you spoke. “You’re what’s goin on.”

“Sit down dov-” Remus stopped himself from calling you his nickname for you. “Drink some water.”

“No!” You swayed back and forth, and James attempted to put an arm around you but you pushed him away.

“You…you think I dunno what’s goin on?” You leaned on the wall for support. “You can prank Severus but you can’t prank me.”

“Prank you? Are you mad?” Sirius’ anger was growing increasingly as well as his worry. 

“You’re…mad.” You countered, and took a long blink. “Pranking girls to love you.”

This caused the room to fall to silence. You felt the room spin and let out a soft “Oh, god.”

You ran to the toilet (that you were well acquainted with now) and threw up, starting to cry heavily as you did so. The boys came running after you, and James went to hold your hair but you waved him away.

“You’re just mean.” You gagged. “Who even does that to someone?”

“Dolly, did you think we were pranking you by flirting with you?” Sirius asked as you were mid-gag.

Still drunk, but no longer nauseous, you leaned back into the wall behind you. “That’s what…that’s what they said...called me daft and a traitor.”

“Who.” Remus sounded vicious.

“Lucius ‘n Severus.” You replied.

“I’ll kill them.” Sirius said, and Remus nodded.

They shared a look with James, who also nodded, clearly having some secret couples eye-conversation you couldn’t get in on. 

“What?” You asked, hiccuping while another tear strayed down your face. 

James wiped the tear and pushed your hair back. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Let’s get you cleaned up, yea?”

While Sirius and Remus disappeared to wherever, James helped you wash your hair and brush your teeth. He gave you a change of clothes (his and Remus’), turned around, and patiently waited as you drunkenly struggled to get into new clothes. When you were done, you wordlessly slumped into Remus’ bed. When James heard the bedsprings creak he turned around, seeing you curled up in his Quidditch jumper sniffling.

“Love,” He cooed. “What’re you doing?”

“I feel stupid.” You spoke, liquor still doing its talking for you. “I thought you guys really liked me.” James cooed again, coming to join you on the bed. “Baby, don’t you realize it’s not a joke? We do like you. We really, really, like you too.”

You looked up at him, eyes teary and big. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really. Now get some rest sweet thing.”

You nodded and hugged a balled blanket of Sirius’ tight as you curled up in Remus’ bed. James put a blanket on top of you, dimming the candlelight. Soon you were sound asleep.

[ruinofchimera]

Please tell us more about Voldemort's relationship with Severus, and why you think it differs so much from Voldemort's other relationships

Whatever it is that lingers between Tom and Severus—power, manipulation, some dark bond none of us can fully grasp—it naturally ignites chaos in the mind of the beholders. And if you’re eager to feel that burn, I’ll gladly embrace you in it. To you brave, reckless souls, I say this: your wish is my command.

So, here we are, picking apart how Severus Snape—mudblood, poor, and bruised from the heavy hand of a Muggle father—managed to land himself a spot at the table with the most rabid pack of blood purists you’ve ever seen. A table, mind you, he had no business sitting at. The Death Eaters, that tight little clique of privileged purebloods, had no real reason to let in this scruffy little outsider. Sure, Snape was useful. Very useful. His skills were sharp as knives, and he could do their dirty work, get his hands filthy so they didn’t have to. But useful doesn’t mean welcome. Useful doesn’t mean accepted. You know who else was useful? Fenrir Greyback and his mangy lot. They brought terror to the doorsteps of half the wizarding world, and did Voldemort’s cause no small service. But did they get a place at the inner circle? Did they get respect? Hell no. They were the dirt beneath the boots of the real Death Eaters. Useful filth. And then there’s Snape, embodying everything these purists claim to despise—a half-blood with a tainted surname, living in squalor, dragged through the muck by a Muggle brute of a father. By all accounts, Death Eaters should have spat in his face and tossed him out like yesterday’s rubbish. But no. Not only does he get a seat at the table, he rises. He’s placed on a pedestal, standing closer to Voldemort than some of the most loyal, purest-blooded lackeys in the room. Voldemort, in all his cold-blooded glory, didn’t just tolerate Severus. He raised him up, right in front of their sneering, offended faces. Now, here’s where it gets really interesting. If you think Voldemort did this out of some sense of gratitude, you’ve missed the point entirely. Tom Riddle doesn’t do gratitude. That kind of sentiment is beneath him, an alien concept. Voldemort doesn’t reward; he uses. Deeds done in his name are expected, not appreciated. You’re not going to get a pat on the back from a man who thinks the world owes him its loyalty. Snape’s service should’ve earned him nothing more than a brief reprieve from pain. A loosening of the noose around his neck, if he was lucky. That’s Voldemort’s way—keep them all desperate, keep them all afraid. So why did Snape, of all people, get raised up? Why did he, the least likely among them, become a favorite?

Mind, it’s not just me declaring Snape as Voldemort’s favorite. That dark, twisted bond is laced into nearly every interaction between the two, as if something unspoken and festering passes between them. But it’s Narcissa Malfoy who lays it bare. A woman born into the highest echelons of pure-blood privilege, the very foundation on which Voldemort’s so-called supremacy stands, doesn’t hesitate when she calls him “the Dark Lord’s favorite, his most trusted advisor.” Let that sink in.

Here is the wife of Lucius Malfoy, a man whose lineage is steeped in the darkest of traditions. But when her family’s future is on the edge of a wand, when her son’s life dangles by a thread, she doesn’t rely on Lucius, doesn’t turn to Bellatrix. No, she comes to Severus, because deep down, she knows. They all do.

It’s something more insidious, something that slips through the cracks in the floorboards of Voldemort’s ideology. He is the one Voldemort trusts, the one Voldemort leans on, the one whose counsel can shift the dark winds of fate. That is real power, raw and untouchable. Narcissa sees it—how could she not? Even with all her aristocratic pride, even with the weight of her name and her family’s legacy pressing down on her, she understands that none of it means a damn thing next to what Snape has. Narcissa, with her family’s long, proud heritage, has to grovel before someone who, by the very logic of Voldemort’s cause, should be inferior. But Snape is different, and everyone knows it. They may not say it, they may not even want to admit it, but they know. He operates outside the lines, above the fray, immune to the very rules that were meant to keep people like him down. Snape, the half-blood, the one with the muddied past, holds a kind of sway that no one else in Voldemort’s ranks can claim.

Oh, there comes the bitter irony of Peter Pettigrew. After years of scraping and groveling, thinking he’d earned his place in the Dark Lord’s favor, Peter is handed over like a rag for Severus to wring out. Peter, one of the smug Marauders who’d gleefully hounded Snape through school, reduced now to something just shy of a house-elf, bowing and cringing under Snape’s very roof. A cruel twist of fate, no doubt arranged with Voldemort’s signature malevolence. Was this some attempt to plant a spy in Snape's house? Maybe, if you take it at face value. But think for a moment—Voldemort, who couldn’t pry Snape's treachery from his skull with all the power of Legilimency, putting his trust in Wormtail to do the job? The rat that couldn't outsmart a dormitory prank, never mind a master of deception like Severus?

No, this isn’t espionage; this is karma. Cruel, twisted karma orchestrated by the Dark Lord himself. You can almost picture Severus watching Peter scuttle about his house, casting him those withering, superior glances—knowing full well that Tom has given him this indulgence, this little taste of vengeance. Snape treats Wormtail with open contempt, because he knows he can. He knows it’s allowed, expected even. It’s as if the tables have turned in the most bitter of ways, a humiliating reversal of fortune. Pettigrew, who once revelled in Snape’s humiliation, now reduced to the lowest of roles, while Snape—Voldemort’s golden boy—sits at the top. Isn’t it delicious? You’d have to be blind to chalk it up to coincidence. Moreover, Pettigrew’s fate is all the proof you’ll ever need that Voldemort’s rule isn’t founded on something as simple or sentimental as loyalty. Loyalty? Sacrifice? Please. Pettigrew’s life was one long, groveling act of desperation to stay in the Dark Lord’s good graces. You bring your master back from the brink of death itself, and still, all you get is contempt. Voldemort demands service, sure. But service? Guarantees nothing. And when you set Severus and Peter side by side, the question gnaws at you. Why? Why is Snape the favored one, the exception, the enigma in Voldemort’s otherwise brutal, predictable hierarchy? What makes him different? There’s something between them—something that doesn’t follow the usual logic of power and punishment. Voldemort doesn’t just tolerate Snape’s defiance; he rewards it, bends the system to accommodate it. Something unspoken, something hidden behind the masks they both wear, grants Snape a level of favor that Pettigrew could only dream of.

What’s crucial to grasp here is that Voldemort doesn’t spare anyone. His entire ideology is rooted in cruelty, in domination, in the ruthless obliteration of all who oppose him. He doesn’t just eliminate enemies; he obliterates them, wipes them from existence without a second thought. And yet, here’s the anomaly: Lily Evans, mother of Harry Potter, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and a Muggle-born witch, is offered a chance to live. Live. This decision, however, is directly tied to Snape. Snape had begged Voldemort to spare her, and it is this plea—Snape’s plea—that softens the Dark Lord’s otherwise unyielding cruelty.

To truly grasp the enormity of this act, we need to take a step back and consider Snape’s position in all of this. Remember, Severus was just 21 years old when he found himself pleading with Voldemort, one of the most dangerous dark wizard in history, to spare Lily Evans.

Snape wasn’t the imposing, confident figure we often associate with him thanks to Alan Rickman’s performance—he wasn’t a man exuding quiet menace, seemingly capable of standing toe-to-toe with Voldemort. No, at this point in canon, he was barely more than a boy, a young man fresh out of Hogwarts, with no powerful lineage or wealth to protect him.

And yet, despite this—despite the sheer imbalance of power between them—Snape dared to approach Voldemort. Voldemort. With a plea. Not for himself, but for a Muggle-born witch. At best, Snape’s request might have been laughed off, dismissed as the desperate wish of a foolish young Death Eater. But it wasn’t. For some reason, Voldemort didn’t just tolerate Snape’s plea—he actually acted on it.

Consider how critical this moment was to Voldemort’s larger agenda. At the heart of his entire scheme is a singular, consuming fixation: the annihilation of the child prophesied to be his undoing. Harry Potter is Voldemort’s obsession, the one threat he must eliminate to secure his dominion. The Potters were no longer just enemies—they were the key to his future, and Harry was the focus of his most crucial mission. In this context, sparing anyone even remotely connected to Harry was an extraordinary risk. Leniency wasn’t just unnecessary—it was dangerous. By showing mercy to Lily, Voldemort risked undermining his own carefully constructed agenda. And this wasn’t a moment where Voldemort could afford to make mistakes.

This unprecedented act of “mercy,” this concession Voldemort granted Snape, became the very thing that led to his downfall. Had Voldemort simply killed Lily Evans on the spot, as he did James, she would never have had the chance to sacrifice herself for Harry. The protection her sacrifice invoked—the ancient magic that saved Harry’s life and turned Voldemort’s killing curse back on him—would never have existed. Voldemort, the cold strategist, fell because he didn’t bend for anyone—except, inexplicably, for Snape. And that single, dangerous deviation cost him everything. That’s how it’s all started.

And there it is— how it’s all ends. Voldemort’s final words to Severus Snape before he executes him. But pay attention to how he begins. “Clever man,” he calls him. He suggests that Snape might’ve already known the truth of the Elder Wand’s treachery. Tom would never acknowledge someone’s cleverness if it undermined his own intellectual abilities. If he implies that Snape may have already unraveled the mystery of the Elder Wand, it undoubtedly indicates that Voldemort had recognized Snape’s crucial role in the wand’s problems long before. It’s not just idle chatter or casual flattery. No, it’s a bloody confirmation that Voldemort himself had long ago pieced together the mystery of Snape’s involvement with the wand. This wasn’t some last-minute realization that forced his hand. It wasn’t ignorance that delayed Snape’s death, not at all. It was deliberation. Voldemort, for all his cruelty, wasn’t stupid. He suspected, long before that moment, that Snape was at the center of the problem with the wand’s loyalty. He just chose not to act on it until the very last moment.

He held back from executing him, searching for any other way around the wand’s limitations, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve killing Snape. But when it came down to it, when all other options were exhausted, Voldemort finally made his move.

And what does he do? He delivers a speech. A bloody speech, full of regret and excuses—“I regret what must happen.” Does that sound like the Voldemort we know? The Dark Lord who kills without a second thought, who carves his empire from the bones of the disobedient? Hell no. This is the man who thrives on fear, on swift, brutal punishment. And yet, here he is, delivering justifications like some guilty executioner. This isn’t Voldemort’s usual method. This isn’t the whip coming down fast and hard. This is something altogether more… hesitant.

That speech, soaked in rationalizations, tells us everything we need to know. Snape’s death wasn’t just business—it was personal. It’s a messy, ugly end to the unexplainable dynamic between them. Even at the very end, Voldemort is bending, twisting, trying to justify his actions to the one man who had managed to worm his way under his skin. And in that second, we see something rare—a glimpse of the complexity in their relationship. Voldemort’s usual ruthless efficiency is absent.

His “I regret it,” spoken once more, stands out like a blade in the gut, sharp and unexpected, slicing straight through Voldemort’s usual cold indifference. The Dark Lord, who has never spared a thought for the wreckage in his wake, lets these words hang in the air, unnatural as they are. A man who’s never known the weight of remorse now offers something that almost feels like regret. Not true regret, of course—Voldemort doesn’t have the luxury of feeling something so weak, so human. But still, It’s not a sentiment he offers to anyone else. It’s almost as if Voldemort doesn’t know how to process this lingering attachment, as though Snape’s mere existence demands something from him that Voldemort is incapable of giving. Snape occupies some strange corner of Voldemort’s mind, twisted and dark it may be, that not even the Dark Lord himself seems to understand. Despite the fact that I’ve painted a whole canvas of tangled thoughts on the strange relationship between Severus and Tom, I’ve barely begun to tug at the thread of their inexplicable dynamic. There’s so much more I could unearth, layers of intrigue and tension that ripple through every scene between them, and I could easily go on for hours about the small, delicious details woven into their story. But, as it happens, my full-time job is already sharpening its knife and aiming for my back, so I'll have to bring this whole saga to a close with the following quote:

For me, the intensity of this scene speaks volumes about their relationship, capturing the very essence of what makes these two so bloody fascinating. The way their gaze alone can make Death Eaters flinch under the weight of their unspoken understanding. It’s not fear, not exactly. It’s something colder, something deeper. As though they’re witnessing a bond forged in the dark, a grim understanding that none of them can ever be a part of.

That’s what keeps dragging me back to these two. The tension, the labyrinth of contradictions, the complex tangle of manipulation. I want to look away—hell, I should look away, just like the Death Eaters did. But there’s something about it, something that coils around me, tightening like a serpent’s embrace. Can you blame me?

[maddybthorne]

One of my favorite things in the Harry Potter fandom is how we all *know* Lucius Malfoy is so fucking tired of hearing about Harry Potter.

It (of course) starts when Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, the gossip and hero worship (or hatred) he could not escape, he’s a well known public figure he needs to be able to socialize with the general population. It’s fine, he told himself, it will die down in a few years. Then I will be free of Potter.

Then comes his son’s first year. September 1st 1991 he gets a letter from his son. The first words are “Harry Potter refused to be my friend” nothing about the sorting besides a footnote. No he gets five paragraphs detailing his son’s interaction with Potter. It’s fine, he told himself, my son will eventually get over this (he never does). Then I will be free of Potter.

Then Voldemort is resurrected. And all he talks about is Harry Potter. Capturing him, torturing him, killing him. Doesn’t matter what the conversation starts as. It will always turn back to Harry Potter. It’s fine, he tells himself, my lord will eventually kill the boy. Then I will be free of Harry Potter.

The battle of Hogwarts. Harry Potter is dead. Lucius feels a deep sense of relief for the first time in roughly 8 years. His son can’t keep complaining about the boy, the dark lord has succeeded and the general public will surely be banned from speaking of the boy. He’s finally free.

And then. After being hit by a killing curse in front of his eyes. Harry Potter takes off his invisibility cloak and shows everyone he’s alive. And then he wins the war.

And Lucius dies a bit on the inside. Not because his lord is dead. Not because he will probably be locked away in Azkaban.

No. It’s because now more than ever, everyone will be talking about Harry Fucking Potter.

I’d like to believe it drove him to a mental breakdown.

(And then, post war he’s just chilling as a hermit or something, maybe in Azkaban, relieved that he can’t really talk to people so they can’t bring up Harry Potter. And his son walks in and says he wants to introduce his new boyfriend.

And it’s Harry. Fucking. Potter.

He tries to jump out a window.)

[dragonmuse]

Keep It In The Box : An Essay on OFMD Season 2 and the Failure to Heal

(here in is my season two reaction. It contains many many spoilers. It's also about 3k words long so you know what you're getting into.)

“See, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box in my mind, and I put the things in the box..” -Frenchie, Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death

…..and then he never opens it. Chekov’s locked box has no key in season two.

On first watch, it seemed clear to me that Frenchie’s declaration was a narrative plant. Clearly the whole season would be about that box of pain and trauma being opened, sorted through and at least the beginning of healing. The show had developed a reputation after season one of being kind and focused on queer narratives of healing from childhood. Ed and Stede’s parallels in their childhood traumas were frequently on display through season one and were repeated in flashback throughout season two. Jim’s season one arc about becoming someone who doesn’t think just of revenge and can now forge meaningful connections was profound, beautiful and often funny. Izzy is an antagonist because he doesn’t want Ed to move on or stop acting like the trauma-response version of himself. The antagonist wants to stop healing. The point is to grow, to change, to learn how to love. It’s one of the things that made season one work for me at the time, despite reservations about pacing and tone.

So naturally season two should follow suit. It’s a kind show! About healing and falling in love!

For the first several episodes, the remaining crew on the Revenge go through a gauntlet of trauma, forced to do and receive violence at Ed’s whims as he careens from self-destructive behavior to self-destructive behavior. This is the wounding setup. It was dark, but it seemed like it would have a payoff and at first it did.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments of the season comes in one of the small respites in those early episodes as Jim recounts Pinnochio to Fang to soothe him through his grief. That was the show that I expected. The kindness of that moment struck me very deeply. It gave me some understanding of Archie too, who seems to fall for Jim right at that moment.

That scene is the show season one promised. Season two led with packing Frenchie’s box full to bursting. Here is the fight to the death between lovers, there is a first mate who is mutilated and rotting in the very walls (the rot of the Revenge itself), and there is the storm of Ed’s rage and pain that threatens to consume all of them.

So surely these remaining episodes would concentrate on finding the humor in healing from those moments. That is the setup. Frenchie has a box. The box must eventually open.

Except time and again, all the characters who suffered are told that the only way to deal with what they’ve been through is to stick it in the box and never open it again.

Pete tells Lucius that he’s unable to move on and needs to let it go. Izzy has a story about a shark. Ed’s apology to the crew which doesn’t even contain the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just…accepted. I kept waiting and waiting for a meaningful apology to the people Ed had hurt the worst with his actions, but it seems all we get is Fang saying ‘eh, no problem, I got to hit you back so I feel better’.

The playful theme of ‘pirates are just violent sometimes’ from season one becomes a grinding horror machine in season two when every atrocity visited on someone is forgiven because the narrative needs it to be. Ed and Stede spend more time making amends with each other over the bloodless night on the beach than either of them spend trying to repent for their actions towards anyone else.

And let’s talk about Ed. Arguably this season pivots on his narrative, on his path to healing and growth. A path that starts at a very low point. His moment in the gravy basket, deciding he wants to live because there are still things to live for is so great! So one might assume that what would follow would be him pursuing those things, making amends, making connections. He and Stede have a wonderful moment, talking about being whim prone and how they’ll work to avoid that, build a relationship by going slower.

Yet, at no point do either of them stop following whims. They never heal or learn from what’s happened to them. They both keep running from thing to thing, particularly Ed. It’s a whim to sleep with Stede, it’s a whim to run off to fish, and the finale gives us just more of their whims. Ed drops fishing as fast as he picked it up. He finds those leathers in the ocean, murdering the symbolism of leaving them behind. Even the inn is a whim, one of those things Ed decided he’d be good at without evidence. And Stede joins him in that without a single on screen conversation about it ahead of the moment.

Ed needs to heal himself and to do that he needs to confront what he’s done and do the work to heal the wound. Instead, he doesn’t meaningfully apologize to anyone, besides Stede and Fang. Despite Izzy’s dying words (we’ll get to that), not only do we never see the crew caring about Ed, working to make him family in the same way they do with Fang and even Izzy, he also doesn’t choose to stay with them. So what is the point? Where is the healing? Or does even Ed, beloved main character, have to live with it all stuffed in a box?

He ends the season in the leathers he threw away, in a relationship that’s barely stabilized, going to live in a house which we are told by the narrative (in that they are very very clearly paralleling Anne and Mary with Ed and Stede or why do we even get that whole Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? episode) will only end in them setting fire to each other to stay warm.

But Vee, I hear you cry, it’s a ROM-COM. This is all meant to be ha-ha funny and you are taking it so seriously!

Cool beans. Then why the hell isn’t it funny? Healing is often filled with comedy because people deal with pain with humor. You can heal and laugh at the same time. The finale especially is almost entirely devoid of laughs, almost entirely devoid of joy until the last minute for that matter. The episode that should show off with a flourish how far everyone’s come, mostly serves to show that no one has grown.

Okay that’s Ed. I want to talk about Lucius next. Our former audience surrogate (that’s taken away in season two when he doesn’t get enough screen time to perform that role and no one takes his place) really goes through the wringer. He experiences many many terrible things, including sexual assault (which is made into a grimace-laugh line that doesn’t take away from it’s seriousness because oh hey, that can be done as it turns out). He’s nervous, he’s smoking, it’s clear he’s suffering.

There’s a beautiful moment where Pete tells him ‘hey, I was also in pain. I grieved’ and that’s great. It’s good that Pete sets a boundary about Lucius not obsessing over the past to the point of occluding their future.

We even get our comedic moment where Lucius pushes Ed off the boat (still not apology, but I’d lost hope for that by then) and that doesn’t help enough. So Izzy comes in with a shark and the advice that you just have to move on.

Just…you know. Play pretend. Forget.

Shove it in a box. Ed didn’t take my leg, a shark did. Ed didn’t kill you, a shark did. Live with the person that tried to murder you because it’s your fault you dangled your leg over the side of a boat. That is the show’s message. I thought on first watch, that surely this would also come back up and be explained that you can’t live that way, that that is no way to heal. That it would become clear that this was no way through. You cannot make everything into sharks.

Lucius can move forward and still carry pain. He can still want a meaningful apology and still want to talk to his lover about what he’s dealing with while moving forward toward a brighter future.

And what of the flirtatious promise of relationships and connections being the way to heal? Look to Oluwande and Jim, whose heartfelt romance from season one was relegated to the bins of history in favor of a narrative that made him a brother Jim once had sex with. They could have had Archie AND Oluwande, who in turn could also have Zheng, but that never seems to be an option. With a single short conversation, they are broken up with, despite a brief tease at the birthday that they still ‘dance’ together, it never actually manifests. Jim and Archie never talk about what they went through. It’s swept under the rug as fast as knives are lowered.

Lucius also no longer flirts with other people, the solution to his pain is to propose and get married (but not too married, lest we forget that they’re two men, they don’t even get to be husbands or even the more respectful mates, no. They’re mateys.) This season proposes that the only happy endings are monogamous ones, where no one talks about anything painful that went before.

To ensure that message, beyond assuring the success of Oluwande and Zheng’s relationship, Jim and Archie almost entirely disappear from the narrative. Sorry you guys were given layers of trauma and no growth and not even much to do this season, we need to make sure that everyone remembers Oluwande is the break in Zheng’s day so when he says that to her five minutes later we know exactly what he’s referencing. No time for Archie to learn what an apology is or for Jim to get one line in with Oluwande that isn’t affirming their newfound broship. Must do more flashbacks to things we just did two episodes ago!

The show even dangles the conversation of the Revenge being a safe space. Why would any of them ever feel safe when the man who tortured them is allowed to walk among them and they are expected to forgive and forget? What’s safe about that? The ship is never made safe for any of them, but that’s never addressed.

And Zheng! Amazing, hysterically funny Zheng! She loses her ships, her entire way of life, the kingdom she built for herself and then…she doesn’t even get to captain the Revenge. We don’t know what becomes of her fleet, of her plans, her ambitions. Don’t worry about it, she has a romantic partner and isn’t that what every lady wants in the end?

(But Vee, I hear you cry again, there will be a season three! Maybe it will be All About Zheng! To which I say: then why did they present us with the most series finale feeling episode ever? If there’s more, I have no idea where it’s going. BUT VEE: BUTTONS AS SEAGULL ON THE GR- Fine. It’s time.)

Let’s talk about Izzy Hands.

Izzy manages more healing than anyone else this season. He reaches his lowest point, suicidal in the bowels of a ship that’s become a prison (very much in contrast to Ed’s suicidal low). The person he loves most in the world has shredded him physically and emotionally (and if you’re in the camp that thinks Izzy deserves the abuse that Ed gave to him, I would really like you to sit quietly with yourself and ask why you think there is ever anything anyone can do to deserve that treatment). He’s low, he shoots Ed to protect everyone, and then seems to plan to drink himself to death, mourning his losses.

And then another beautiful moment! The crew move past their own pain to help him. They work together for the first time and it’s to give Izzy mobility back. He treasures it. He cries over it. He uses that kindness extended to him to reach a new understanding of Stede and help him succeed, doing the work to make real amends. He sings in drag, he’s vulnerable and beautiful, celebrating the side of himself that he must’ve loathed in the first season. He’s an elder queer man, coming into himself.

He never gets an apology though. (‘Sorry about your leg’ without eye contact is not an apology. There is no responsibility taking, no acknowledgement of the weeks of torture that came with it.) Izzy also never really has an honest conversation with anyone about what it means that the man he loves punished him so severely for the crime of trying to protect the crew (yes, lest we forget, Izzy lost his leg because he was trying to keep Ed from re-traumatizing the crew and himself).

Izzy does all this work, but even he’s not allowed to take it out of the box. It’s a shark, not Ed. Ed is just ‘complicated’ (the language of abuse here is so upsetting and I think not even intentional).

And then he dies. His last act? To apologize to the man who tortured him and shot at him. To have done all this work, to take on all the blame. And then die.

In a rom com.

This show ends in a profoundly unfunny moment of telling the audience: this is the one character that did the work, that made amends, that tried his hardest to accept the parts of himself that he had a hard time embracing and formerly embittered him. He’s fully accepted his queerness and turned it into beautiful music. He’s disabled, and he worked hard to accept that. The man he loves will never love him back, so he worked hard to make Stede able to meet Ed on an even playing field. The Giving Tree gave up its limbs and its trunk, and it’s not even allowed to be a stump to sit on.

Kill the queer elder, who has managed to figure out how to live and in his own way how to heal. Kill him before he manages to teach anyone else how to meaningfully move forward (he almost gets it with Lucius, almost, but it’s meant to be rule of three, you know. Cigarette..shark…and then…and then fuck it, Lucius doesn’t even get to say a word at his funeral).

The message of this season again and again is that there is no healing, just moving forward. Like a shark. Like a bird that never lands.

That is not a kind show.

Season two is not a kind season.

It splinters people up and jams them back together without purpose or reason. It tells everyone who experiences pain that they should shove it in a box and not deal with it. No one who really needs one gets an apology of any sincerity. No one puts in the work to gain forgiveness. (Ed wearing a onesie is not The Work. Ed fixing a door is not The Work. Ed broke people that the show wants us to care about. Ed never does the work of making those amends. He fires off a Notes app apology at best. After all, it’s what he told himself via Hornigold in the gravy basket: you move on or you blow your brains out! Good thing he took his own advice and therefore had to change nothing to get his just rewards.

I would’ve taken just fifteen minutes of Ed trying to actually make amends. It could’ve been hilarious! Imagine awkward Ed trying to dance around what he’s doing with Jim and the two of them having a knife throwing competition about it. Or him and Frenchie attempting to make music together, writing a song about the raids they went on! It’s not just the crew robbed of their healing because of this, it’s Ed himself. He never meaningfully changes or makes amends. How is he any different at the end of the finale then he is standing on the edge of that cliff with Hornigold? He hasn’t moved on, he hasn’t healed. He tried one thing (fishing) that doesn’t fucking work and then he runs right back.

No one leaves this season better than they went into it. They’ve lost an elder queer, they’ve lost their joyous and queer polyamory, they’ve lost a chance for meaningful reconciliation with Ed and Ed lost any chance of looking like he gave shit if they did. Stede grows enough to accept the crew’s beliefs as important and then leaves them behind without a care.

Izzy gets a beautiful speech about piracy being larger than yourself. Ed and Stede, within twenty minutes of that speech, leave piracy. They are incapable of giving themselves to something bigger, apparently. They haven’t learned to be a part of a community. They haven’t healed from their childhood trauma or their fresher wounds. They are still just following their own whims.

Zheng’s life work is in tatters, but it’s fine, she has love. Oluwande and Jim aren’t together, but it's fine because they both have dedicated monogamous partners. Lucius was deeply scarred by what happened, never recovers much of his first season personality, but hey he got-well it’s not married exactly- but you know good enough!

Frenchie, who has a box forever locked in his head, is captain. Because the key to success is to lock it all in a box and never open it. What a message. What a show. Conceal, don’t feel. Smile because it’s a happy ending. Don’t mourn the dead, don’t try to tell people what happened to you (they will literally run away or cry too hard to listen and really you’re just bumming them out), and any meaningful change you make is only rewarded with death.

Frenchie is now a pirate captain with a box in his head full of trauma that’s never been opened, leading a crew with more wounds than scars. Wonder how that could turn out? Wonder how many years before he might want to retire and then happen to run across a gentleman pirate. As if no one learned anything at all.

[dumbkiri]

A FEAST FOR BIRDS

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

When Jason Todd comes back to earth and faces off with his vigilante family along with villains, he settles his problems as much as he could. He reunited with his family, but still kicked villain ass. As the holidays approach, Jason is struck with a range of emotions. An unexpected visitor makes her way in Wayne manor with a child in her arms. Apparently, the child belongs to him.

[ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP]

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues. I wanted to see if Jay can stay at your place for a bit? Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys? He would love to see his uncles and of course, his grandfathers. It would mean a lot to us if you can do this. If not, I can work around the company with him by my side. One day he will inherit what my father built, and I might as well get him to see his own building. Anyways, please let me know what you think. We miss you and the family a lot, see you soon Bruce.” 

Dick leaned back into his chair and listened to the recent voicemail [Name] left for Bruce. Her voice rang with some truth while it felt like she was hiding something. He fiddled around with one of Batman’s batarangs thinking about the woman. They haven’t seen her or Jay in two years. He had to have missed something in her voice message. He knows it. 

Dick leaned forward and pressed play on the voicemail, listening to it for the fifth time this afternoon. 

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues.”

 This part alone made no sense to him. If his memory serves him right, Bruce and [Name] came to an agreement that he would watch over the [L.Name] Industry allowing her to live her life with Jay. Bruce never mentioned any “company issues” that she brought up in the call. Then again Bruce has Lucius to run Wayne Enterprise, so maybe Bruce neglected her company due to his commitment to being Batman. Although, that still made no sense because [F.Name] and Bruce had a great partnership. 

[Name]’s dad knew who Bruce truly was in the night thus granting Lucius to work very closely with one another. [F.Name] would create technology that Lucius would then make into gadgets for Batman. After [F.Name] passed away, the plans he had were burned to make sure they didn’t get into the wrong hands. Bruce feared to keep the works [F.Name] worked endlessly on and made sure to get rid of everything he could in his archives. 

“Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys?”

Thanksgiving…that is tomorrow!

“Bruce! Alfred! ” Dick shot up from his chair when the realization hit him. He dressed out of his uniform and into his casual clothing as quickly as he could. Whenever [Name] did drop Jay off for the holidays, she did it the day before so he could spend more time with them. 

A million worries were hurdled at his body thinking back to another Wayne that was present in the house. “Jason, if you can hear me from down here!” Dick huffed up the stairs, “Let’s go out for some lunch! I am so hungry!” Was it a lame excuse for his brother-in-arms, yes. But if he had a chance to spare Jason from seeing [Name], he would do it in a heartbeat. Jason doesn’t know he has a kid, let alone a kid with his ex-girlfriend. 

When Bruce described the relationship between Jason and [Name], he went on about true love. A happiness he didn’t think would surround him when he watched Jason smile at [Name]. The teasing he would do to the both of them like a real parent. Bruce watched them create a beautiful bond at a young age. 

Then when Jason died, Bruce watched the heartbreak crush [Name]’s heart. Dick remembers the conversation between him and Bruce when the news of her pregnancy hit him like a truck. 

..

“She looked at me like I killed him.” 

“Bruce, you can’t think like that. [Name] is just hurting, you said so many times. They were meant to be together.” 

“She told me that she’s pregnant.” 

“W-what? She’s only 16, Jason really- Fuck, what do we do now? We have to support her, you did tell her that right?” 

“Of course, I did. She accepted my help and she told me that she wants us to get to know the child. That she still wants to be a part of our family. So I told her that I will send $4000 to her account every month for any expenses she has. She didn’t accept any more and I didn’t agree to any less. I don’t feel right though.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean that we get to live and see the child Jason made with [Name]. We get the luxury of knowing his child while he rots in the ground. If he knew, do you think he would have left? If [Name] got to him before the fake letter, would he have stayed?”

“Maybe, but at least we can do right by him and support his family. That’s all we can do for him now. It’s okay to cry, Bruce. Loss shouldn’t be associated with shame.”

..

He reached the top of the stairs and cringed at the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the mansion. 

As casually as he could, Dick entered the living room and heard the echo of two voices at the entrance of Wayne Manor. He sneaked around the couches and furniture thinking someone at the door would catch him from so far away. 

“Who are you hiding from?” 

Dick panicked and spun around to see Jason on the couch reading a book. He heard Alfred welcome [Name] into the manor and he knew the old man would lead her to them. With fast thinking, Dick ran over to Jason and shoved his sunglasses onto his face, “Quick! Wear these and this!” Then he stuffed a black face mask into Jason’s book. 

“Dick, what-” 

“Jason, please!” Dick pleaded and helped put the sunglasses on while Jason reluctantly put the face mask on. Jason wanted to ask more until Alfred walked in with a woman and a child in her arms. Swiftly, Dick pulled Jason’s red hoodie over his head and turned around to greet the visitors. 

“[Name], it’s so nice to see you!” Dick shouted and enunciated her name to get it through Jason’s thick skull. He walked over to the woman and gave her a hug mindful of the sleeping child in her arms…wait, what? Jason squinted behind the sunglasses and observed the child some more which Dick fawned over like some lovesick idiot. 

“Wow, he’s grown so much,” Dick awed at the sight of the child and gently touched the unruly black hair that reminded him so much of the Wayne boys. 

“I’m sorry for the apparent unexpected visit, I did leave a voicemail for Bruce,” [Name] huffed and shifted her child more comfortably in her arms to which Dick reached his arms out to her. Without hesitation, [Name] smiled gratefully and handed her kid over to Dick. She watched Dick whisper to her sleeping son and told him, “We’ve decided to do a road trip instead of flying. Jay insisted that he wanted to see the “world”, but there’s only so much adventure he can handle. He’s going to wake up super excited to see his favorite uncle.” 

Dick’s mind blew up as his eyes looked from Jay to [Name] who giggled at his reaction. “You’re kidding, he said that? I’m his favorite uncle?” 

Well that confirmed to Jason that the kid is definitely not Dick’s. Honestly he’d be pissed if Dick had a child with his ex-girlfriend. There were so many questions running through his head and he wanted to ask them. But the silent glare he got from Alfred in the corner of the room told him to stay put with not a word. 

“Yes, it’s always been you, Dick,” [Name] unwrapped her scarf from her neck and shoulders. Finally her eyes spotted the giant man sitting on the couch adjacent to where her family was at. She observed him quietly and looked down at the book in his gloved hands. Dick nor Alfred introduced the stranger to her, so she took it upon herself to be polite. 

“Hello,” She stepped around Dick and reached her hand out with a courteous smile, “My name is [Name] [L.Name].”

Jason closed his book and stood up from the couch. He towered over her and flashbacks of their time together brought longing in his chest. He remembered everything about her from her smile, to her eyes, to her personality. She hadn’t changed one bit. He reached his hand out and shook hers. His tongue twisted and more questions slammed into him. 

“This is my friend, Lazlo,” Dick chimed nervously, internally cringing at the fake name he gave Jason. 

This piqued [Name]’s interest and she giggled, “Lazlo, that’s a cool name. Can he hear me or speak to me?” She asked, releasing Jason’s hand and quietly whispered the last part over her shoulder to her friend. 

Dick shook his head and said, “He’s actually a mute. Anyways what brings you here to Gotham. Don’t say holiday cheer either.” He walked between Jason and [Name] and took a seat next to Jason's closed book. Meanwhile Alfred dismissed himself knowing that Jason will not be able to say a word. 

Jason sat back in his seat while [Name] sat on the couch across from them. She visibly relaxed in comfort and sighed tiredly, “My mother wants to force a marriage onto me and like some teenager, I ran away. Plus there are some things I have to do at the company. I wanted to see if you guys are okay with babysitting Jay while I dust the old mansion down the street. Haven’t been there in years.”

She laughed and Dick joined her. He shifted Jay into his lap and said, “Of course, we would be happy to take care of the little one. I, for one, missed him a lot. Is the marriage the reason why we haven’t seen either of you? It seems like a lot.” 

[Name] straightened out her back and looked away from his bright blue eyes. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she explained a bit more, “Yes, it’s a reason. The marriage is with a business partner. He’s a bit older than me and has spoken about having a family with me. My mother is ecstatic about more grandchildren, but I am not. There is only one person I truly love and that is Jay’s father. I cannot imagine having children with someone else when Jason is still fresh on my mind. And he gave me a brilliant child to cherish in his memory.” 

Dick could see Jason tense up at the revelation and saw from the corner of his eyes Jason look at Jay sleeping in his arms. The atmosphere grew heavier by the second and he had to do something. Something to appease Jason’s longing. 

“Do you think Lazlo can hold Jay? He knew Jason before his death and-” 

“Of course!” [Name] gestured to Jason, with a kind smile on her face, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lazlo. But I’m going to tell you now, Jay looks exactly like his father.” She giggled and Dick looked at Jason with expecting eyes. 

Slowly, Jason sat up and hesitantly opened his arms up. He wasn’t ready to hold his child while keeping his emotions bottled up. “You can do this, Lazlo,” Dick’s voice reassured him, “He won’t break in your arms.” 

[Name] laughed from her spot and pointed at Dick, “Hey, you were afraid to hold him the first time too!” 

Dick shrugged and argued back, “He was a lot smaller back then.” Then he scooted closer to Jason making the transfer a lot easier for the both of them. In his sleep, Jay immediately snuggled up against Jason’s chest surprising the boy’s mother. 

“Oh wow,” [Name] awed at the sight, “He normally doesn’t do that. Jay only snuggles into me, I’m kinda jealous he’s doing it with someone else.” She gave Jason a fake pout with a teasing tone in her gentle voice. But all he could focus on was the peaceful look on the child’s face. 

This boy is his son. 

Jason pulled Jay closer to his body as his chin touched the crown of the boy’s head. Then he felt a lone tear slide down his cheek. Thankfully he wore a face mask and sunglasses to hide his joy. [Name] spoke the truth when she said Jay looked like him. Jay is his mini-me. 

“So how many instruments can he play now?” Dick asked. 

“He only plays the piano, Dick,” [Name] rolled her eyes playfully, “but he can speak three languages. Sign language being one of them.”

Sign language? Jason thought and picked his head up with interest. He recalls that they learned sign language for fun to talk behind her mother’s back. 

“That’s right, I remember you teaching him. Although, I think he flipped me off once.” 

“Don’t say that!” [Name] laughed. 

“I’m being serious!” Dick shouted back with a smirk on his face. 

Jason leaned back into the couch while Jay fit perfectly in his arms. The boy laid on his chest with his legs being held in a gentle, but protective grip. Jay’s head laid onto his shoulder and Jason could hear the soft breaths that left the boy’s lungs. Soon, the voices of [Name] and Dick dissipated and the breathing of his son lulled him to sleep. 

Jason would do anything to keep [Name] and Jay to himself. Even if that means revealing himself to them in the near future. For now, he’s comfortable with blissful ignorance. 

……

“Mama, can I stay in Mister Lazlo’s arms a bit longer?” 

A tiny voice woke Jason from his sleep and he felt small hands clenching the sides of his hoodie. He blinked his weary eyes open and saw the living room in a dark tint. He forgot he wore sunglasses to hide his face along with the face mask. 

“Jay, it’s time for dinner. You and Mister Lazlo have slept long enough. You both need to eat. And you don’t want Grandpa or your uncles waiting for long do you?” 

“But he feels safe and warm, mama.” Jay mumbled and Jason slowly rose up from the couch, steadying a startled Jay in his hold. He looked down at the child with a funny bedhead and couldn’t help but chuckle at the surprised look on the boy’s face. 

[Name] fixed her son’s hair and looked at him lovingly, “See, Mister Lazlo is ready to eat too. Perhaps you can ask if he wants to sit next to you for dinner?” She looked at her son expectantly and the little boy nodded his head. He raised his arms up and sighed to Jason, 

“Mister Lazlo, would you sit next to me, fuck you.”

The ending part took Jason and [Name] completely off guard and the mother reacted quickly pushing her son’s hands down to his sides. With a scolding shout, she said, “JJ, where in the world did you learn that?” She gave Jay a hard look and the little boy obviously seemed confused. 

“What do you mean, mama? I asked him nicely.” Jay tilted his head to the side in a questioning manner. 

“That last sign, isn’t really- It’s a bad word, JJ!” [Name] huffed and softened her look, “Who taught you that and what did they say it meant?” 

What Jay answered made sense to Jason, “Uncle Damian said that it meant ‘please’. He said to only use it for them and not you though.”

“So Dick was right when he mentioned you flipped him off,” She rolled her eyes then focused back on her son, “Please, don’t use that anymore, it’s really rude. Use the sign for me as please from now on, understood?” 

Jay nodded his head obediently then looked at Jason with bright silver-blue eyes, “Understood, mama. Sorry Mister Lazlo.” 

Jason chuckled and shook his head, signing, “It’s okay, you did great. And yes, I would like to sit by you for dinner. As long as you give me any leftovers you have.” 

Jay giggled and jumped up signing back, “It’s a deal!” The little boy ran off towards the direction of the kitchen and the adults were left on their own. 

“He gets excited to meet new people,” [Name] spoke softly, her eyes warming up talking about her son. “JJ has a heart of gold and he loves everyone he meets like his own family. Especially the Waynes. When his father passed away, I panicked because he wouldn’t have a father figure to be his mentor. Yet Bruce proved me wrong. JJ instantly grew fond of his grandpa and uncles. They all became his father figure, some better than others in different aspects. Speaking of which, I might have to wrestle Damian for teaching Jay that obscene gesture.” 

[Name] laughed at the end and looked at Jason for some approval. He quickly signed to her, “We can jump him together. The demon spawn won’t know what will hit him.”

Just like her son, she smiled and said, “It’s a deal.”

[wisteria-lodge]

If you're comfortable answering, how do you think JKR intended Draco to come across, and how did he actually come across in your mind?

I think Draco was intended to come off as a weak and kind of pathetic bully. The Dudley Dursley of the Wizarding World. 

That’s how we’re introduced to him: “Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.” Almost he first thing we hear Draco say is the very Dudley-ish -  “I'm going to drag [my parents] off to look at racing brooms... I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Later books re-contextualize this as a brag - he is not actually able to bully his father into buying him presents, and instead of Dudley's tantrums Draco likes to embellish things in order to seem more impressive and get the result he wants. But initially, I think Draco = Dudley. They both dislike people who are different, dislike Harry for being more special (and because they’ve been given tacit permission to bully him...)They’re spoiled by their parents. They’re even both platinum blonde. 

JKR loves the idea of an antagonist who realizes that they were wrong and *you were right* a little too late, and then has no choice but to punish themselves. (Basically the entire deal with Snape.) So - Draco and Dudley get some of that treatment too. After Dudley meets the dementor he breaks down, has a moment where he leaves Harry a cup of tea, and another where he says “I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” BUT Dudley’s initial breakdown is framed as pathetic (even a touch comedic.)The tea he leaves outside Harry’s door has gone cold, and when Harry steps in it he initially thinks it’s a dumb prank. Dudley says “I don’t think you’re a waste of space” only in response to a comment Harry makes. Hestia Jones is super unimpressed, and thinks Dudley should be doing more. 

Like, JKR is aware that it’s not *completely* Dudley‘s fault he’s like that. Dumbledore comments on the “appalling damage [Vernon and Petunia] have inflicted on the unfortunate boy sitting between you.” But the damage is still done, and Dudley is meant to be seen as a figure of pity. All this is supposed to read as ‘too little, too late.’ If Dudley were less of a coward, a stronger person, a better person, he would’ve brought Harry the tea directly. 

Now let’s look at Draco, who is given some *very* similar beats. We see him crying in the bathroom, comforted by Myrtle (a comedic character) very similarly to how Dudley basically goes into shock after the dementor. Draco and Dudley are both framed as weak, but able to see the error of their ways, and their breakdowns set up an important plot/character moment for Harry.

Draco’s little “I can’t— I can’t be sure,” when he’s asked to identify Harry at Malfoy Manor is another beat of ‘too little, too late.’ Harry takes Draco’s wand a few minutes later (absolutely castration imagery - just look at how the text treats Lucius losing his wand) and then Dobby shows up to low-key shame Draco by doing the job that he [narratively] was supposed to have done: rescuing Harry and friends, probably dying in the process. I do think that’s how we’re supposed to read that scene. And then Harry gets these very similar selfless beats of saving Dudley (from dementors) and saving Draco (from fiendfyre.) That’s why JKR is so baffled when people like Draco, think he’s attractive, or ship him with Hermione. It’d be like shipping her with Dudley, it doesn’t make sense.

But a couple things went “wrong” when Draco was released into the world. For one thing, I think a lot of people saw his more indirect underhanded approach (he likes rumors, smear campaigns, blackmail, poison, sneaky back entrances, tricking/provoking Harry into breaking rules) as evidence that he's clever, and not that he’s a cowardly, spineless little weasel.

Then because JKR is committed to making Draco look ineffectual and comedic, she also makes him… not that bad? Most of his bad behavior goes down between books 1 and 3, and I’m sorry - when you’re 12 your politics are your parents' politics. You are not not responsible for that. By the end of the series Draco’s politics *have* changed, pretty drastically, and they changed under challenging circumstances.

I also think JKR accidentally gave him a better relationship with his father than she meant to? Jason Isaacs plays Lucius Malfoy as cold, I could see him being a *bit* of a bully when it comes to Draco -  but in the book, they go on outings, Draco complains to his father, Lucius is patient with him, gives him advice, sets boundaries, sends him little newspaper clippings in the mail. Lucius and Narcissa are running around without wands during the Battle of Hogwarts looking for him, and it’s supposed to be like “here are the Malfoys defanged.” But it's just a sweet moment. And if you’re positioning Draco as a romantic lead, then yeah I’d say that “good relationship with his parents” is an attractive trait.

The movie also did Draco Malfoy a HUGE favor by saying that yes, he absolutely does have the Dark Mark. That is never confirmed in the book. You can make the case that he doesn’t have it, and he’s doing what he does and embellishing the truth to seem more impressive. Hermione doesn’t think he has it. Ron says “I still don’t reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join.” If he doesn’t have the Dark Mark, Draco gets to stay a semi-pathetic minor villain. But the second he does have it… well now you have someone who was given this tattoo/brand thing the *moment* he turned 16 (Draco has a June birthday) and now is 100% stuck. He is on a magical leash to Voldemort. He can’t run, can’t hide. All he can do is ride out this thing as best he can, and hope it doesn’t kill him or his parents. That’s a much more sympathetic character.

And my last thing, about the moment where he lies for Harry in Malfoy Manor (movies frame it as 100% a lie, books keep it more ambiguous)... is I don’t think J. K. Rowling realizes that Draco is the first person in the entire 7th book who helps Harry, at all. Molly Weasley is actively sabotaging the Golden Trio's planning by splitting them up and making them do wedding chores. Xenophilius Lovegood betrays them, Bathilda Bagshot betrays them, Rufus Scrimgeor is no help, Remus Lupin needs *their* help, Dumbledore gave them a series of maddening riddles. Snape gives them a weird puzzle to solve (also he’s very much acting under Dumbledore’s orders…) So when Draco DOES put himself on the line to buy them a few minutes, it makes for a pretty striking moment. He also keeps to this lie even when Lucius tells him not to, he lies to Bellatrix, he is almost certainly going to have to repeat this lie to Voldemort, who can read minds… 

So I think most fans look at Draco and see someone who is arrogant, a little bit of a shit, but is also sensitive, clever, emotional, nonviolent. (He’s definitely got a little bit of boy band non-threatening sexuality going on.) Draco will go out on a limb for the people he loves, and he comes through when it counts. There’s a survivor-mentality practicality to him, which is especially appealing in a series where so many characters are so willing to martyr themselves.

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (finale)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 5.7k

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, hurt/comfort, fluff, use of Y/N

A/N: Holy. Friggen. Crap. WHAT A RIDE! Thank you all so much for enjoying this story with me - it has truly felt like the most niche book club and I have had so much fun chatting with you all. Feel free to send in requests for these lovely characters in the CBBH universe - I'd love to continue playing with them! xx

Lily and James Potter returned to 12 Grimmauld place on the 3rd of November – Sirius’ birthday. There were long hugs, a lot of tears and soft dinner conversation, but there would be no gifts or raucous celebrating. 

Regulus Black was arrested at Malfoy Manor as a marked Death Eater, but with the backing of James, Sirius and Dumbledore, the Ministry allowed Regulus to be placed on house arrest, confiscating his wand whilst he awaited trial. Dumbledore assured the group that because of Regulus’ defection, his support of the Order, and the memories that Dumbledore, you, and those who were present on October 31st provided the Ministry, Regulus would likely be acquitted of his charges, or at the very least receive a lighter sentence. 

Tom Riddle was quickly charged with treason, tyranny, countless charges of the use of unforgiveables, countless charges of leading or causing the death of wizards, witches, and muggles, countless charges of torture and brutality, eliciting fear and chaos, and illegal use of Dark Magic. He was sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss and the act was carried out on the 5th of November. 

Peter Pettigrew did indeed receive a fair trial for his role in the Wizarding War. He was questioned under Veritaserum, and it was found that he was guilty of treason, using unforgiveables, contributing to the fear and chaos of a treasonous leader, the use of Dark Magic, and sexual assault and brutality. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Lucius Malfoy came looking for his son and was thus arrested by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the charge of being a marked Death Eater. He was questioned under Veritaserum which proved Lucius was guilty of harboring dangerous criminals, using unforgiveables, contributing to the fear and chaos of a treasonous leader, and the use of Dark Magic. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban. His property and vault at Gringott’s were seized by the Ministry and, after taking what was owed for reparations, was placed into his son’s name. 

The Ministry respected Narcissa Malfoy’s dying wish and placed Draco Malfoy in the care of Sirius Black and Y/N L/N. The Ministry offered the couple access to the Malfoy vault to support Draco’s upbringing, but they opted to leave it aside for the child to choose what to do with the fortune when he was of age.

Narcissa Malfoy’s funeral took place on the 7th of November. The blustery November air accosted the patrons which mostly consisted of Order members and a few of Narcissa’s friends who were able to dodge persecution for their roles or complacency in the war. She was awarded an Order of Merlin posthumously for her role - a title she now shared with you, Sirius, James, Lily, Remus, and later Regulus along with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. Draco left his mother a beautiful bouquet of narcissus, baby’s breath, lavender, and pink camelia’s. You and Sirius gave her a bouquet of edelweiss, fern, and gladioli. Blue hydrangeas and hyssops came from Regulus who was unable to attend due to the nature of his house arrest but were placed at Narcissa’s headstone by Lily and Harry in the family plot of Malfoy Manor. Andromeda, Ted and Nymphadora Tonks stood by you, Sirius, and Draco at the headstone during the funeral service as Dumbledore spoke of the bravery, loyalty, and dedication Narcissa showed not only to her son and her family, but to the greater wizarding world on the 31st of October. 

“There is not one witch or wizard amongst us today that does not owe Narcissa Black Malfoy a considerable debt. Without her bravery and cunningness, evil could very well have prospered, dooming us all to life of immense pain and suffering. She dreamed of a legacy - of a better future - for her own son as well as for every child of wizard kind. Narcissa was a beyond bright student during her time at Hogwarts, a strong leader in her social circle, a skilled healer during the war, and an incredibly brave soldier. Though, possibly her favourite and certainly her greatest role was that of a loving mother; for she died to ensure that her son would live to see a better tomorrow. Narcissa Black Malfoy is the type of person, friend, partner, and parent that each of us should aspire to be. May her legacy of love and loyalty live eternally.” He said as he raised his wand.

One by one, every person present raised their wand to the heavens in honour of Narcissa Malfoy and her sacrifice to the wizarding world. Draco, Harry and Nymphadora, along with the Weasley children and Neville Longbottom who did not yet have their own wands raised a narcissus flower in solidarity.

The remaining marauders, you, Lily, and Regulus did indeed stay at 12 Grimmauld place for some time. The house was unrecognizable from the time Regulus and Sirius spent growing up there; it was bright, it was colourful, it was full of children’s laughter and squealing, it was a place people liked to come to visit, and it was chock full of love. 

The problem with the new and improved Grimmauld Place? 

Your tribe quickly outgrew it. 

As time went on, your memories seemed to return to you basically in full, and the full extent of your trauma reared its ugly head. For years you became hyper-focused on knowing where each member of your family was at any given moment, and a panic attack threatened any moment you didn’t have everyone important to you within your periphery. The Third Worst Day™ of Sirius’ life (in chronological order, the first being the day he almost ruined things between you two, the next being the day you ‘died’) was the day Lily and James suggested to you, him, Remus, and Regulus that they should perhaps fix up Potter Manor and move their ever-growing family there. It was partly the worst day because of how the idea of James and Lily moving away made him feel, but it was mostly because of the mental breakdown you had at the news. 

“You can’t! You can’t do this! I just got you back, we just got each other back. You can’t do this!” You shouted as everyone tried to get you to breathe. The numerous hands approaching you placatingly was in fact not what you needed at the moment, and you fell into a manic state.

Needless to say, the suggestion was not met well by you, and ended with you being admitted to the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo’s. Sirius sat at your bedside with your hand in his, Lily and James in chairs across from him whilst Regulus and Remus stayed home and watched the children. 

“I cannot live without any of you anymore. I’m sorry, but I refuse. I can’t do it.” Sirius admitted quietly to his friends as he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

You had been dosed heavily with calming draught and dreamless sleep in order to prevent any seizure activity, which you became plagued with due to the trauma of the brain from memory retention and prevention throughout the war. 

“I can’t either.” James admitted, causing Lily to turn and face him.

“I’m sorry Lil’s, I know-” he cut himself off to take a steadying breath. “I know when we got married, you probably imagined us living at the Manor or maybe in another place as independent adults. After we lost mum and dad, I’m sure you imagined us taking that over in their place, and I think I wanted that too, but now, knowing what we know, I would have done things differently. I wish we had moved in with mum and dad and been there to enjoy their last few years with them. We had our own flat at the time and Moony, Pads, and Vix had theirs and I was so lucky that I got to spend as much time with Vixen as I did, being her order partner and all, but then she was gone, and I regretted ever spending a single moment away from her. Now...now I’m afraid that every second I don’t spend with you – all of you, any of you, my family – is a second wasted and I don’t want to waste another precious second. Not anymore. Not ever again.” 

Lily looked imploringly at her husband.

“You really are a bell-end.” She muttered fondly.

“Pardon me?”

“Do you really think I imagined us living alone in that big ass manor just us and our kids? What part of that do you think appeals to me? I love you, James, but a girl needs backup to deal with the likes of you.” 

Sirius and James exchanged a bemused glance before Lily continued.

“I want to live the rest of my life with my family. That’s you, James, and our kids, but it’s also Sirius and Y/N, it’s Remus and Regulus and Draco. Hell, if Alice and Frank or Marlene and Dorcas told me they wanted to move in I’d happily help them pack the boxes.” She laughed as she looked at you and Sirius’ intertwined hands.

“I think we’re all going to be stuck with one another until the end of time.” James said as he pulled his wife into his side.

Sirius smiled greatly at them. “Until all the mischief is managed.”

After that, the friends all agreed that none of them were willing to part from the group, and if for whatever reason anyone felt the need for more privacy, they would opt to build an outbuilding on the property.

“Oi! You’ve gotta knock, Prongs! Fuckin’ wanker.” Sirius had shouted as he hastily pulled the sheets up around the two of you.

“Uhm, maybe you’ve gotta lock the door, Pads.” James muttered with a mouthful of muffin as he came in to sit on the edge of the bed, completely unperturbed by the fact that the two of you were still naked and very recently involved in unmentionable deeds. 

Nevertheless, no one ever felt the need to build their own place on the property.

And Sirius made sure James got a taste of his own medicine a time or two after that incident.

Lily Evans Potter did indeed contact Healer Grundke at the end of the war and was brought on to work under her as an intern whilst she worked toward getting her Healer license. She spent many years in general medicine before moving fulltime to labour and delivery. Sirius often teased her that between the number of days she has spent in labour & delivery as a patient and as a doctor, he was surprised any of their other friends ever saw her. 

His nose was charmed green for a week.

Regulus Black was eventually acquitted of his crimes. He was placed on a sort of life-long probation in the form of a tracking spell on his wand that would alert the Ministry of him ever practicing Dark Magic. He opted to stay with his brother and his friends though he pretended to hate every minute of it. In truth, Regulus found great joy in being an uncle to Sirius’ and James’ children and Godfather to his best friend’s daughter Luna Lovegood. He declined the opportunity to join the Wizengamot, stating that as the rightful heir to the Black name, Sirius should be the one to take the Black’s seat.

Sirius Black, in Sirius Black fashion, dramatically refuted this idea. He did not want to pick up the mantle that was laid for him by the generations of Black’s before him; he refused to sit in the nearly still warm seat that his father had left. It took Regulus, Remus, and Lily all to tell him how much good he could do by not only bringing in a younger generation’s perspective to the Wizengamot, but as a wealthy heir to a pureblood line, a war hero, and an advocate for werewolf and muggleborn rights, he could bridge the gap between the left and right-wing members of the court.

It also helped that you had told him he’d be the only one capable of making the robes look punk rock. 

James Potter opted to be a stay-at-home dad and uncle to care for the children living at Potter Manor. The Potter vaults had enough money in them to last his family multiple lifetimes without every making a dent, and with the money Lily was making as a healer, there was no need to be worried financially. Also, being a kid at heart made him the absolute best friend of any child who met him. As the children grew older, he and Mrs. Weasley worked together to homeschool the children of the Order until they were old enough to attend Hogwarts.

Remus Lupin, never one willing to ride on his friend’s coat tails, spent the first few months following the war applying to various jobs through out Wizarding London. He had hoped that between his stellar academic record, his time spent as a prefect and tutor, his Order of Merlin, and his dedication to the winning side of the Wizarding War, that he would be able to secure a job within wizarding society. Unfortunately, it seemed the wizarding world still had a long way to go with the prejudice it held for werewolves. Walking through Diagon Alley feeling sorry for himself, Remus spotted a “for lease” sign in the window of what used to be a pet store. He immediately sent an owl to the landlord and asked for a meeting. 

Though Remus tried to refuse, Sirius and James insisted on investing in Remus’ planned bookstore.

“I’m not borrowing money, Prongs.” Remus muttered defiantly.

“It’s not borrowing, Moons! It’s an investment! If anything, you’ll be making me more money.” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Moony, please,” Sirius added...well, seriously, “think of how pissed off my ancestors would be to know I’m investing their money in a half-blood werewolf’s business which happens to stock muggle literature?” 

With a mischievous smirk, the deal was settled, and the lease was signed. 

Remus wasted no time to get started at the bookstore. He walked into the small storefront and conjured a broom, deciding to start by sweeping up the hay and owl droppings.

No sooner had he started did he hear the door chime. 

“Oh! My apologies, we’re not quite open yet.” Remus offered as he made his way to the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you and Regulus standing in the entry.

“I should hope not. This place looks awful.” Regulus commented with a wrinkled nose.

You elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“Looks like you could use some help.” You said cheerily as you held out a stack of papers. Remus took them gently to find your CV and cover letter. Before Remus could even look up, Regulus dropped his on top of yours in Remus’ hand.

“All my references are either dead or in prison so.” He offered with a shrug.

“I’ll vouch for him.” You said.

You were smiling at him so kindly and so sweetly, Remus wanted to cry. You had always been his biggest supporter; championing him through every milestone in Remus’ life. He was certain he didn’t deserve even half of the love you gave him, but he was eternally grateful for every drop of it.

“Thank you, guys.” Remus said wetly as he pulled the two of you in for a hug. Regulus groaned the entire time but when Remus finally pulled away, he had a slight blush. 

“Yeah, yeah. Well, what is family for?” He muttered which elicited a sharp gasp from you and a bark of laugh from Remus.

“Don’t be going soft on us now, Black!” Remus said with a laugh and ruffled his hair. 

“Fuck you guys, clean this barn up on your own.” He grumbled as he turned to leave, but the two of you wouldn’t let him.

He was grateful that you didn’t. 

Sirius eventually proposed to you – though beg was likely a more appropriate definition.

“We should get married.” He had said to you late one night as he came back to the bedroom after putting Draco down. 

You lowered your book into your lap as you considered him. “I beg your pardon?”

“We should get married.” He repeated plainly.

Your lip threatened to quirk into a smirk, but you kept your face blank. “And why should we get married?”

Sirius guffawed at you. “Uhm, maybe because we’re in love? And I’m the best and would be the best husband?”

You continued to stare at him.

“Why shouldn’t we get married?” He asked, now beginning to panic.

“I never said we shouldn’t.”

“Then why won’t you marry me?” He shrilled as he moved to kneel at the end of the bed.

“You’re the first thought in my mind when I wake up in the morning and my last thought at night before I fall asleep. Fuck, you make up the majority of my dreams too. Did you know that? Did you know that I go to the Ministry and count down the minutes until I get to see you again? Did you know that when you’re at work, I spend my time thinking about what you’re doing, who you’re talking to, what they’re saying to you and you to them? And not in a stalkery way, I swear. But I just think you’re the coolest fucking person ever and I’m jealous of everyone who gets to listen to you speak when I’m stuck at home or at work. And I watch you with Draco -our sweet boy - and our Godson and the other children and I get fucking giddy thinking that I get to spend the rest of my days with a woman so lovely. So, marry me. Marry me, damnit!”

It was a battle to keep your face straight but by the absolute grace of God you did before saying “Siri, babe, you’re coming off a little desperate.”

There was a brief pause before you got a “you cheeky little minx” and 45 seconds of tickling which turned into kissing which turned into touching which turned into so much more.

You were sticky and satisfied as you both caught your breath, still intertwined with one another when you said, “I will.”

“Hm?”

“I will.” You repeated as you leaned onto your elbow so you could look him in the eyes. “I’ll marry you. Marry me.”

Sirius stared at you in awe before pulling you down into his embrace for a searing kiss which once again turned into so much more. 

And you guys did. Marry each other, that is. It was a beautiful spring day on the grounds of Potter Manor with only your closest family and friends. It was perhaps a touch smaller than what either you or Sirius grew up picturing your wedding to be, but it was so much better than either of you could have ever imagined.

“...I thank my lucky stars every day that I get to love such a wonderful woman. There’s not one person in this world who deserves to know the likes of you, me least of all, but will do everything I can to ensure I get to keep what little light you’re willing to share with me forever. I have already loved you in sickness and in health, for rich or for poor, and in life and in death. There is not one planet in any universe, nor a timeline that exists where my love for you does not. I vow to you that you will never spend a day in this life not being loved by me. Wherever you go, I go; in this life and the next.” Sirius said through his tears. 

With a smile you began your own vows. “Sirius, I have had the absolute pleasure of getting to witness you become the man you are today. It wasn’t always easy or pretty, but I have seen you through it all; the good, the bad, the really bad, and the ugly. And I have loved you through all of it. As I laid dying, I told James that I didn’t regret a single moment of this life with you, and that is still true today. Every moment, all the blood, sweat, and tears, brought us here today - and I would still do all of it again if it meant getting to stand here today by your side. I made a vow that I would find you in our next life and I would love you there too. Well, here I am. I found you. I will always find you.”

Lily, Marlene, and Alice stood by your side, and James, Remus, and Regulus stood by Sirius’ as your magic was bound together, and you were pronounced husband and wife.

Sirius hung the framed parchment that Remus had found in the wooded area where he first met Regulus in his office. The note symbolized your dedication to him, to your friends and family, and your unyielding perseverance. The parchment was later joined by your wedding pictures, drawings that he and Harry had painted back in Grimmauld place as well as pictures Harry and Draco had given him since, and the first ever check he received for his investment in A Marauder’s Map to Books. 

You loved working at Moony’s bookstore; everyday felt like getting to hang out with your best friends even though you pretty much lived with them as well. It was nice to see Remus and Regulus in a setting outside of the parental/guardian role you’d all taken on following the war. You were surprised at first (though you supposed you should have known better) that Remus and Regulus worked really well together – Regulus’ uptight and serious façade was well balanced with Remus’ laidback and jovial personality. Regulus would handle the more difficult customers whilst Remus made sure every customer who came in felt welcome. Things often fell by the wayside or got overlooked when Remus was away due to the moons, and Regulus was quick to pick up the slack. Regulus would often get too caught up in work and forget to stay fed or hydrated, which Remus counteracted by briskly walking past Regulus and placing biscuits and cups of tea brewed exactly to Regulus’ liking before he could refuse. If you noticed Regulus’ cheeks tinge peak and a shy smile grace his lips – you didn’t mention it. 

Draco grew to be a very happy child; you and Sirius couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride every time that boy giggled or laughed. You kept your word and left the Malfoy vaults untouched save twice a year when Narcissa would purchase a gift for Draco on June 5th and December 25th. 

He was such a good son and an even better big brother. 

Draco was the most jealous of Harry when Harry became a big brother to his sister Jasmine Potter. It was hard not to chuckle at how proud the four-and-a-half-year-old was as he bragged about being the ‘bestest big brother’ and watching Draco skulk around the house. 

“I could be a big brother! Really, I could. I’d be so nice and gentle, and I would share all my toys!” He told you and Sirius solemnly as you tucked him in to bed. You assured him he would indeed be a wonderful big brother, but not to worry about it too much as you were sure Lily and James could use two big brothers for their newest addition. 

You both gave him kisses goodnight and closed the door behind you. You’d hardly made it two steps from the door before your husband had you pushed up against the wall. 

“I could be a really good daddy too, you know?” He whispered into your neck before starting to suck on your pulse point.

You couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped your lips. “Are you trying to tell me something?” 

Sirius kissed his way back up your jaw before slotting his lips against yours. “Perhaps we should give the kid what he wants.” He managed between kisses.

You chuckled.

“He gets everything he wants already, Siri.” You whispered back as you pulled his body flush with yours.

“What about me, hm?”

You pulled your head back to search his face. “Do you want another baby, Sirius?”

Sirius’ pupils seemed to blow wide at the sentiment. “I don’t so much want a baby as I want your baby, my love.” He whispered reverently.

Your restraint snapped and you launched yourself at him. He caught you as your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, carrying you down the hall to your bedroom.  

Approximately ten months later you gave birth to your daughter Aurora Black.

September 1st, Kings Cross Station

“Merlin’s saggy balls, how do you – for fuck sa– oh, got it!” Sirius could be heard behind you as he fought with the pram. 

“Would you watch your mouth?” Lily muttered.

“Yeah Pads, watch your fuckin’ mouth!” James loudly announced causing other parents to look over at the absolute freak show that was the Potter & Black family’s stepping onto Platform 9 ¾.

“Sorry.” You offered with a quiet smile to a particularly perturbed looking couple as they grabbed their smarmy looking child and ushered him away from the likes of you. “Wankers.” You muttered as they hobbled off.

“Who’s a wanker, mum?” Draco asked as he slid up beside you. The rotten child knew he wasn’t supposed to use such language but couldn’t pass the chance at getting to repeat your nasty comment.

“Presently, it’s you.” You commented while teasingly narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Oi, leave your poor mum alone! You’re buggering off to Hogwarts and leaving her with the likes of me for the next ten months.” Sirius said as he (finally) made his way to you with the pram in tow. The three-year-old twins seemed none the wiser that they just nearly got folded into the damned thing and thrown onto the tracks in a fit of rage. 

“My deepest condolences during this trying time.” Draco offered you severely.

Sirius scoffed and you laughed as you pulled him into an embrace. You were waiting for the day he pushed you away because hugging your mom goodbye in front of your friends was embarrassing. But today, you relished in the feeling of your first child letting you hold him tight.

“I’m so proud of you, Draco.” You murmured into his platinum hair.

“Thank you, mum.” He responded quietly. 

“Draco! Harry! Over here!” The sound of Hermione Granger interrupted your hug as Draco turned to wave at his friends. 

“Be good kid, okay? Look out for your sister?” Sirius asked as he pulled Draco into his own embrace.

“’Course, dad. I’m not new here.” He teased as he ruffled Aurora’s hair.

“Draaaccoooo...” She whined in response.

“Go see ‘Mione.” You ordered Draco with one last side hug. Harry and Draco swapped parents and siblings to give their respective goodbyes before heading off to catch up with their friends. 

“Are you ready, Rory?” Jasmine Potter asked your daughter kindly. She was a year above Aurora and was very excited to get the chance to show her younger cousin around the castle. 

Your daughter looked between her cousin and her parents before Sirius spoke up. “Jazz, do you mind giving us a minute?” He asked his Goddaughter.  

Jasmine turned to talk to James and Lily who were busy entertaining Posie and Lyra as you and Sirius bent down to talk to Aurora.

“What’s on your mind, love?” You asked your daughter gently.

Your heart welled as Aurora’s eyes turned glassy.

“I’m not ready.”

Sirius made a cooing sound as he wiped the tears from under her lash line. “What are you most worried about, my little star?”

Aurora sniffled miserably. “What if I’m sorted into the wrong house?”

You and Sirius couldn’t help but rear your head at the comment. Out of all the things you thought would be worrying your daughter on her first day of boarding school, which house she got sorted into was not it.

“Rory, that’s the exciting part baby.” You tried as you rubbed her arm consolingly.

“I get it, Ro, I was worried about which house I was going to be sorted into as well.” Sirius commented.

Aurora rubbed a fist against her eye as she turned to consider her father. “Really?”

Sirius nodded solemnly. “Really. You see, I came from a long line of proud Slytherins. I was supposed to get sorted into that house too, because I was supposed to be just like them. But I couldn’t be like them, I could only be like me. So, I was sorted in Gryffindor, even though my family didn’t like it.” 

“Did you get in trouble?”

Sirius nodded sadly. “I did.”

“But Ro, you know that no matter what house you get sorted into, me and daddy are going to be so, so, so proud of you. And we’ll be proud of you because you’re you, not because you were sorted into Ravenclaw or Gryffindor or Hufflepuff or Slytherin.” You added with a soft smile.

Aurora seemed to consider this. “Well, Harry and Jazzy are in Gryffindor, and Draco is in Slytherin. I’d like to be in one of those I think.”

You nodded at her, but it was Sirius who answered.

“That’d be pretty cool, huh? But listen, I met the most fantastic people in my house even though I knew no one in it when I first got sorted. Uncle Prongs and Uncle Moony were my dormmates for seven years and look at us now! Completely co-dependent and still living together.”

“What is co-dependent?” Aurora asked with furrowed brows.

“Not important. What I’m trying to say is, Rory, you are going to give that hat a run for its money, you know why?” Sirius asked.

Aurora shook her head.

“Because you are your mother’s daughter. And she is the the most loyal, the most cunning, the bravest and the smartest person I know. You’ve been raised by the most spectacular person, and any one of those houses will be lucky to have you. Got it?”

You watched as Rory took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before offering her dad a solid nod.

“Atta girl!” He said as he enveloped her in a hug and kissed her head. “You show that sorting hat who’s boss.” 

Aurora chuckled as she moved to hug you.

“I’m so proud of you, my love.” You said into her hair. She tightened her hold on you before letting go and stepping back.

“I think we’re ready for you, Jazzy.” You called, and the older girl came and took Aurora’s hand as they headed towards Draco and Harry to board the train.

James and Sirius wolf whistled and hollered, waving frantically as they watched the kids walk away. Hermione, Harry and Draco chuckled while Neville and Ron turned beat red at the attention.

You propped Lyra on your hip and the two of you continued to wave as the train pulled away. None of you stopped waving until you couldn’t see your babies anymore.

A sob tore its way through James, and you looked over to see Lily making alarmed eye contact with you as she awkwardly patted his arm and he and Sirius leaned into each other.

“First time?” An older woman asked as she went to walk past you.

“No” was yours and Lily’s chorused response as you peeled your husband away from his best mate and moved him toward the pram where your youngest two sat forgotten. 

“Lord, is it going to be this bad every time we send one of the kids off the first time?”

“It’ll be worse!” Sirius cried emphatically as he fell into your arms, basically crushing poor Lyra who was still sat on your hip. You looked over to Lily hoping for help only to see her in a similar predicament. 

“Sirius Black, at this rate our youngest three won’t ever want to come back to Kings Cross Station.” You muttered as you moved Lyra to your other hip so you could support your husband’s weight.

“Good! Then they’ll never leave me!” 

Your heart twinged as you patted Sirius’ back.

“Siri, look at me.” 

For a moment you thought he might refuse, but he unfolded himself slowly and stood to look at you. 

“This is what we fought for, my love.” You said as you caressed his cheek. “So that our babies could go to Hogwarts and learn and be children and be free and be safe.”

“I still hate it.”

You laughed at his petulance. “Me too, actually. Do you think Hogwarts is hiring? What if we all just move there?”

“Great idea, Vix!” James cheered from beside you, eyes rimmed and cheeks glistening. “Lily flower could work in the infirmary, Padfoot could teach astronomy, you could teach muggle studies, I could teach flying, Moony could teach defence against the dark arts and Regulus could teach potions! It’s perfect!”

Though you had to admit this plan of James’ actually sounded pretty perfect, your attention turned to little Posie falling asleep in Lily’s arms. 

“Why don’t we discuss this more once we get these kiddos down for a nap, hm?”

Sirius found you later sitting in the sunroom with a book in hand. He thought you made the prettiest picture sitting in the soft sun filtering through the leaves of the trees outside, plants surrounding you with your nose buried in a book. So, he took a picture. 

“I wasn’t ready!” You whined with a smile on your face.

“You’re always ready.” He said as he pressed a kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry I was such a mess at the train station today.” He said as he lifted your legs off the loveseat to sit down and replace them atop his lap.

“You don’t have to apologize, Siri.” You said as you tapped him with your book. 

“I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.” He commented, his gaze seemed far away as he watched the branches dance in the September breeze.

“You can do that tomorrow.” You whispered back.

A smile graced his face before he turned to look at you. “I love you; did you know? I don’t think I say it enough, but I do; I love you.”

He punctuated his sentence with three loving squeezes of the fat of your thigh.

“Sirius. Every breath I take means ‘I love you’.” You responded and sealed it with a kiss. 

You got an owl from Draco and Aurora later that night.

Aurora was a hat stall.

She was also sorted into the same house as her mum.

Thank you so much for reading! Can't get enough? Check out these CBBH themed one shots, or, feel free to request a one-shot from your faves in this universe!

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 5

Part 4, Part 6

Summary: You had betrayed the ones they had thought once you cared. (yall did this)

Warnings: Spoilers for Gladiator 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

"What do you mean?" His voice was low, he pushed himself up, the sheets slipping from his chest as he searched your face, his expression a mixture of concern and suspicion.

"They're planning to break Lucius out of the arena. They think he's still alive." You paused, watching for any reaction from him. The silence that followed hung thick in the air, and Caracalla's jaw clenched. He looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "Lucius," he repeated the name.

“How did you come to know this?” "Because," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "they believe you trust me." The words felt like a betrayal as they left your lips, and yet, they were the truth. His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite read—anger, frustration, maybe even a hint of fear.

"Trust," he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, as though the word was a weapon he didn’t quite know how to wield. His eyes, once warm and filled with some semblance of affection, now seemed distant, almost guarded. His fingers, which had so often sought out your touch, remained still on the sheets, as if even the simple act of reaching for you might be a betrayal in itself.

You held your breath, unsure of how he would respond, but knowing that what you had just confessed could change everything. His gaze lifted to meet yours, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, or maybe it was fear.

"I didn't ask for this... for any of this." He rubbed his hand over his face, the motion rough, almost as though he were trying to wipe away the weight of the conversation, the truth of it.

You swallowed, your chest tight. "I didn't either," you replied, your voice trembling despite your best effort to remain composed. "But it's happening. And now you have a choice to make. Do you trust me enough to help stop it, or do you let them believe you’re still their ally?"

Caracalla pulled the sheets closer to his chest. “Tell the guards. Stop them.” He said with a quick haste. You nodded and got up, moving towards the door. As your hand reached for the door, you paused, your fingers brushing the cool metal of the handle.

You turned back slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him.

"You'll be okay?" you asked, your voice tentative, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself more than him.

Caracalla’s gaze flickered over you for a moment, his jaw tightening. He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, it was in a voice that held a surprising calmness, as if he were trying to reassure both of you.

"I’ll be fine. Go." His eyes didn’t meet yours again, and his words felt heavy, almost final, as if the decision had already been made.

You lingered for a beat longer, but then nodded, stepping out of the room. The door clicked shut behind you.

The silence in the hallway felt suffocating as you made your way down the corridor. The Praetorian barely looked up as you entered, the usual indifference etched on their faces. But you could see the shift, the way they straightened when they realized it was you. The wife of the emperor.

One of them, a tall figure with a sharp jaw, stepped forward, lowering his spear slightly as he spoke. “My lady,” he said with a formal bow, his voice carrying the faintest edge of uncertainty, “what brings you here at this hour?”

“General Acacius and Lucllia plan on committing treason this night. They plan on breaking out a gladiator for their own support.” You said.

His gaze flickered to the others, a brief exchange of silent communication passing between them. The air in the corridor grew taut, as though everyone had just realized the gravity of the situation.

“My lady,” the tall Praetorian spoke again, his tone urgent yet measured, “are you certain of this? Can we trust the source of this information?”

You cleared your throat, “yes.” You said sternly and quickly, not going to tell the guards that you were once ‘apart’ of their treasonous plan for a second.

"Understood," the tall Praetorian said, his voice steady, though the edge of authority was now unmistakable. "We will inform the captain and have the necessary measures put in place immediately." He gave you a small but respectful nod, signaling that the gravity of your words had not gone unnoticed.

The click of the Praetorian's boots faded as they hurried down the hallway, their steps carrying the urgency of your message. But even with their departure, the silence seemed to hang in the air longer than before. Was this even you?

You turned on your heel, your eyes briefly falling on the flickering torches lining the walls, casting long shadows across the stone. Every step felt heavier than the last as you made your way toward to the throne room where voices have been heard.

———

“The honor, the dignitas that Rome has bestowed upon you — all this forfeited by your treachery. Thanks to the civic virtue of men and women like Macrinus and the lady here your insurrection has been revealed—“ The emperor Geta was soon cut off, talking to both General Acacius and Lucilla.

“Torture me if you want. But don’t lecture me.” Acacius said, with his hands cuffed around chains.

“Your name and deeds will be forgotten, lost to history. You are damned to oblivion.” Geta snapped back, he hated when he was seen as a lesser power.

Lucilla looked to you across the room, she did not say anything nor did you. Once a friend you had known since childhood all gone and torn to pieces. Only mouthed, ‘your father.” You looked away.

Acacius sneered, despite the chains, his expression unbroken. “You damn me? I don’t care. Everything is forgotten in time. Empires fall. So do emperors and empresses.” That last word sent Caracalla over the edge. He had that same look in his eyes, the same ones when he wanted bloodshed. His fingers flexed at his sides, a subtle but unmistakable sign of restraint.

“Why wait? I’ll gut him right now“ Caracalla called out, grabbing a nearby soliders sword. You stepped back a couple of paces. The rest of the room held their breath. The emperor, Geta, looked as though he were about to intervene and did exactly that.

“Brother! Brother! His death must be public.” He grabbed onto Caracalla, holding him back as he tried to swing his sword at them. You were holding your breath and clutching the fabric of your clothing in the dead of night.

But Caracalla wasn’t listening. His focus remained locked on Acacius, whose smirk never faltered despite the chains binding him. The man was unbroken, mocking even the emperor's words.

“Public yes, Hang his entrails from the city gates!” He yelled and now was pointing his sword over at Lucilla who was still beautiful as ever, even in shackled in chains. “And crucify her! Crucify her!” He yelled over and over again.

“Take them AWAY!” Geta had shouted louder over his brothers outburst.

As the praetorians moved to drag Acacius and Lucilla away, the room seemed to contract, the shadows of the torchlight lengthening like hands reaching for everything that had already been lost.

Caracalla seated himself on the throne and held onto himself, trying not to lose himself. You pick up your dress that flowed behind you and sat yourself down in front of him while Geta was talking to the others about what had just happened.

The tension in the room felt almost suffocating, every word spoken hanging like a heavy cloud over all of you. Caracalla's chest heaved with shallow breaths as he clutched the armrests of the throne, his fingers white with the pressure.

You grabbed his hand and put it between yours. Caracalla’s hand twitched at your touch, his fingers flexing for a moment as if they might pull away, but they didn’t. Instead, he let you hold it, his breath still ragged as his eyes remained fixed ahead, distant.

He didn’t look at you when he spoke, his voice low, strained. “What was it you said? About... trust?”

You swallowed, the words heavy in your throat. “I meant it. I—” You hesitated, unsure if you should finish the sentence. Was this the right moment to remind him? To remind yourself? “I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Caracalla’s gaze flickered briefly to your face, and for a second, it was like you could almost see through the walls he had built around himself. His lips pressed together in a tight line, but his grip on your hand tightened, almost imperceptibly.

"You're the only one," he murmured, the words barely audible beneath the cacophony of voices around you. “The only one I trust.”

You looked at him confused and longing when he said that, almost bringing you back to when you had first met him.

Geta's voice rose sharply from across the room, pulling you back into the present. “I will not have this insurrection stain my reign. The punishment will be swift, and it will be harsh. I want him in the arena tomorrow.”

Caracalla’s jaw tightened. He barely seemed to register the emperor’s words, his mind already consumed by the storm of his own thoughts. You looked at him, your thumb gently tracing the back of his hand, grounding him—grounding yourself.

“Caracalla,” you whispered, “whatever happens next, don’t forget who you are. Don’t let them make you forget.”

He leaned forward and put his head on your shoulder. ‘The sickness of his mind’ Geta would call it, it was too much for him right now and couldn’t help your heart. You could feel the tension in his body, the ripple of anger that had once been so sharp now bleeding into something deeper—something almost desperate.

He pulled back slightly, enough to look at you fully, his face illuminated by the flickering torchlight. His expression softened for the briefest of moments, as if he were searching for something—some reassurance, some sign that he wasn’t as lost as he felt.

“You’re still here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even after all of this. You’re still here.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling over you like a promise, like a vow you had made long ago. “I’m not going anywhere, Caracalla. Not unless you push me away.”

His fingers twitched, the smallest movement that still carried so much meaning. He didn’t speak, but for the first time in what felt like ages, since… then. That you might had it in you to be able to care and love him again, as you did once before.

But then, as the voices of the court began to rise again, as Geta’s orders were being put into motion, the reality of the situation crashed back down. The fate of Acacius and Lucilla, the punishment, the public spectacle—all of it was about to unfold.