#he loves his son radar so much :((

[drop-the-curtain-123]

ok very specific gripe about assassination classroom

But how comes the series is all "be yourself, use your hobbies, despite everyone judgement, for good" then just... Never questions the roasting of Mimura air guitaring?

Look at my boy! He's so unwell afterwards

Ik now there are more scenes later in the manga that again use it as a Punchline. It just encapsulates that weird gap of "things that are just never Not the Joke/Mocked" which kind of defeats the show messaging 😭

t's not even used in a "do it anyway, grow strong and proud" like some others, it's just. There.

(hi rinka btw happy belated birthday to you)

Anyway unconsequential nitpicking rant over, have a good day.

[swampmartinis]

mad dogs and servicemen is such a gem of an episode. we get radar being adorable with his animals, henry being a doting dad to radar, margaret reading radar's letter for him and smiling as he falls asleep, trapper gently getting the patient to open up about his trauma, frank being wrong as always, it's just a beautiful episode :)

[organchordsandlightning]

thoroughly pleased to announce that radar mouthing ‘i love you too mom’ to the home video his mother sent him CONTINUES to make me 🥺

[saturnxlust]

Age Gap

Van der linde gang x Fem!Reader

Dutch Van Der Linde

He def goes for younger girls

He looks like the type

You caught his eye with your outfits

Hes 44 but i feel like he wouldnt want a age gap over 10 years

If you got the courage to make the first move he would admire that about you

Definitely sweet talks you about being a smart girl

Lord the amount of praise this son of a bitch would give you could boost even arthur ego

Def a sugar daddy, before the events of black water

After he would try his best but he left most of his money behind in his old house

Arthur Morgan

He isnt that old but he def wouldnt go over 5 years

He finds it odd and repects his women too much

This is the man to go to if you want a sugar daddy

He will gladly spoil you with all the money he loots from dead O’driscols

He also gives out praise but thats just the man he is

If hes not complimenting you and how stunning you are 24/7 he feels like a awful person

He would so totally call you his “sweet baby” or “babydoll”

If you wear pink dresses he’d definitely be wrapped around your little finger

If not and your more of a streatwear person he’d loose his mind at low rise or cami tops

Again you’d have him wrapped around your finger immediately

John Marston

Hes definitely not old and would NOT go under 4 years😭

This guys only 26

Hes not a sugar daddy

Sorry babe

But he thinks your cute

He def likes girls with a attitude

Just look at abigal for christs sake

He was married to her😭

He would try to be good for you

Wanting to take you and run off into the sunset, but he couldnt leave dutch like that

Not after everything dutch had done for him

You would have to get along with jack to even be on johns radar (sorry🥲)

He wants you as soon as your motherly to jack

He talks to arthur about you

He calls you “sweet girl” and “doll” in that gravily voice

Hes incredible, really

Hosea Matthews

Okay well hes old😅

Def a sugar daddy

I mean have you seen him?

He goes for at least 10-12 years younger 😍

After bessie he really didnt think he’d fall in love again but when you came in twirling you hair and giggling he’d be a teenager all over again

You could ask him to shoot the man next to him for no reason and he’d do it

Hes quite literally wrapped around your finger

I say that because he would not leave you alone

Constantly holding you and treating you to gifts and fancy things

He once bought you a diamond necklace in saint denis

Whether you protested or not is up to you

He doesnt let you out of his sight and will not stop rambling to dutch about you

Dutch is too tired and crazy to deal with hosea and sends him your way to obsess over you😊

Sean MacGuire

The belief is hes mid 20’s so im gonna say 25

He definitely is like john and goes for 3 years younger

But i see him as the type to like older women cough cough mary cough

He likes the contrast of him being a stupid asshole and you being a sweet little thing

He trys his best with money but like john has very little so if he buys you something its usually something small

Though he never really feels accomplished after he gets you something small

So he saves for a long time and buys you something a little bigger like a silver necklace or a nice bracelet

His accent gets in the way of things sometimes but he will call you “sweet thing” though it sounds more like “sweet ting”😭

Love him though

Javier Escuella

Another baby of the gang🫶🫶

Hes 26 so he goes for the same range as john

He also doesnt have much money and buys you small things

But he makes it up by calling you endearing nick names

“Mi amor” “dulce nina” “Querida”

You get the point

“Ojalá pudiera comprarte más mi amor pero debes saber que esto es de mi corazón”

I love him sm

He would sugar daddy you if he could

Probably gets upset when he cant buy you things

If your family is rich he refuses your offers of giving him money

It doesnt feel right to have a sweet girl like you give him money when he should be the one providing

It gets him upset to see you want something he knows he cant afford

Has lowkey thought about robbing a very rich man cough cough braithwates cough to buy you things

When on the boat if you go with them he keeps an eye on you

Not liking the scene already, older predatory men being all around you made him extremely uncomfortable

He doesnt want to tell you what to do he always wants it to be your choice but it scares him that he cant really do anything to protect you

Though if it was dire enough he woukd throw the whole plan down the drain to cut open a older guy that got too power hungry and grabbed you

“No te lastimó, ¿verdad, querida?.”

Charles Smith

Hes not as young but doesnt go for under 5 years

Hes got some money to buy small things every now and again

He calls you “baby” and “little girl” alot no matter the age gap

It could only be a few months and he still would💔

He shows you how to hunt and stuff as bonding

He sees killing a deer together and bringing it back to pearson as romantic

But he still takes you on dates

When he can

Hes usually on watch duty as he is literally a unit of a man

This kid is huge

Around 6’6 and 240 pounds

Dwarfs even the biggest of guys, yes even arthur😭

Josiah Trelawny

Trelawny the man you are😍

Hes definitely rich

He has a house with his wife in saint denis

He is quite old so I imagine no more then 10 years difference

He calls you “darling” and “sweet girl” in that trans Atlantic accent

He definitely spoils you rotten

Only the best for his sweet girl

He takes a lot of time to take care of you as well

He doesnt spend time with the gang and only pops up when they need him for things like stealing from rich people

He never lets you pay

Are you kidding

He’d rather die then have you pay for something

Thats a little dramatic but i know he would never feel good about himself ever again if he got to a point where you had to pay

Like what do you mean he doesnt have enough money

No no darling put yours away papa trelawny will have a sweet little chat with the man trying to embarrass him infront of his woman

“YES I HAVE ENOUGH MONEY ARE YOU INSANE, no dear its okay you dont need to pay. BACK TO YOU DONT YOU EVER-“

Obviously there are ones i didnt put in here like micah, pearson, uncle, lenny ect. I dont know enough about them nor do i like most of them (except for lenny i love him sm)

[daisyblog]

First Date

Unexpected Love Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN are set up on a date.

2019

Jonny had separately nagged YN and Harry to let him set them up on a date. Harry’s argument was that he was in the middle of writing his second album, and wanted to be on his own after his last break up. YN’s protest was that she was a single working Mum who didn’t have the time, and added “nobody wants to date a single mum”. 

After what felt like months of constant begging, Harry and YN both gave in to their friend and agreed to go on a date. Jonny had arranged for them to meet at a small quiet restaurant on the outskirts of London, knowing Harry would want to stay under the radar. 

YN had been nervous all day. She had messaged Jonny several times to try and cancel but he insisted that it was just nerves and she should give it a chance. Harry felt mixed emotions, part of him was nervous, he was meeting someone new but the other part of him was excited because he knew Jonny wouldn’t set him up with just anyone. 

Harry arrived at the restaurant first, being fifteen minutes early. He was shown to their table which he was grateful was tucked into a corner away from other tables. He knew that was down to Jonny’s request. Wanting to calm his nervous, Harry ordered a bottle of wine for them, hoping YN liked it too. 

He had just taken a small sip from his glass, when he saw the waiter walking towards him with a woman following behind. Harry stood from his chair, ready to greet her. “Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you”. Harry spoke first, bringing YN in for a hug. 

“Jonny and his persuasive ways huh?”. YN joked, causing Harry to smile knowing Jonny must have nagged YN as much as he had nagged him. 

Harry pulled YN’s chair out for her to sit before taking his place back in her own. “I ordered wine, I can get you something else if you’d prefer”. 

“No…wine is perfect, thank you”. YN smiled with appreciation, showing her little dimples. “I like your tattoos”. She complimented as she noticed them on his arm, that was exposed due to his short sleeved shirt. 

Harry glanced down as he looked at his arm, smiling slightly at the mixture of ink that covered his skin. “Uh thanks…I have too many to count”. He giggled. “Do you have any?”. He gestured to his tattoos. 

YN hesitated before explaining. “I have one…on my wrist”. She turned her hand over to reveal the delicate ink on her right wrist. “It’s my son’s name”. YN watched for a change in Harry’s response or how he may end the date now. 

But what surprised YN was Harry’s genuine grin as he looked down at her wrist. “What’s his name?”. His question was genuine, YN could tell by how he looked at her directly in the eye which a soft look. 

“Jacob”. YN smiled as she thought about her favourite person. The little boy who saved her in more ways than he would ever know. “He’s five and a real sweetheart.”. Harry noticed how YN’s whole face lit up as she spoke about him. “Does me having a son not bother you?”. YN couldn’t help but ask.

Harry frowned at her question before shaking his head. “Of course not…I don’t date people based on if they’re a parent, or if they have a certain job or x amount of money in the bank…I date people for them.”. 

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help but ask, I’m not used to people being so understanding when it comes to Jacob”. YN apologised, hoping she hadn’t ruined the date before it had started properly. 

“Hey…it’s fine, you can be yourself tonight…there’s no judgement from me.” Harry reassured her, knowing how it felt for someone not to get to know you and having a false opinion. 

“Thank you…that really means a lot”. YN smiled before taking a sip from her glass, needing to treat her dry throat. 

“So tell me about you and Jacob…I can see he’s your life and I want to know more”. The sentence caused a spark in YN’s chest at how interested Harry was in not only her but the one person who mattered the most. 

Harry and YN had talked, laughed and smiled all evening. YN couldn’t remember the last time she felt like herself and was able to be just YN and not just a Mum. Harry wondered how he hadn’t met YN sooner because for once someone didn’t want to speak to him because he was Harry Styles, he could see that YN was genuinely interested in getting to know him as just Harry. 

Harry had learnt that YN was in university studying business when she fell pregnant but had to drop out before graduating. But now owned her own florist in London. He noticed that she hasn’t mentioned her family apart from Jacob, but decided it was best to leave it that way for now. She didn’t ask one question related to the band or his music, she asked questions about his family, where he grew up, his childhood memories and all the little things that built up who he is today. 

After they had finished their meals and nicely argued about how the bill was going to be paid, they found themselves walking through a quieter part of town, still chatting and giggling like two teenagers. They wanted to blame the wine but deep down they both knew it was from the excitement of each other. 

Harry had arranged for a taxi to drop them both back home. They were both supposed to realise that YN didn’t live far from Harry’s Hampstead house. He walked YN up to her door to make sure she was home safe. They both stood staring at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence. Smirks covering their smiles. 

“I had a really nice time tonight”. Harry broke first, meaning what he had said. 

“Me too!”. YN felt shy for the first time all evening. 

“Can I see you again?”. Harry was bold, he hadn’t felt like this after a date before and he wasn’t willing to lose his chance. 

YN smiled, she felt special and chosen for once and inside she was screaming with happiness. Harry really wanted to see her again. “I’d love that”.

They quickly swapped numbers and Harry was eager to arrange to see YN again. Before making his way back to the taxi that was waiting patiently, he leaned in to hug YN goodbye. It was like neither of them wanted to let go but the feeling of Harry’s lips leaving a peck on her cheek is what caused YN to jump around in happiness once she closed the door behind her that night.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r

[multifandomgirl08]

The Secrets Out [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship)

Photo Credit: Pinterest/Google

Format: Social Media

Summary: It's the start of a new year. You and Max decide to tell the world about Nico.

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

maxverstappen1

Liked by danielricciardo and 395,734 others

tagged: ynlnusername

maxverstappen1 Thank you to my wonderful girlfriend Y/N who had been on this crazy journey with me this past year. I know that it hasn't always been easy, but I'm so grateful that you've stuck it out with me. You have been my greatest supporter this year, and the best thing to ever happen to me and my son. I wouldn't have been able to accomplish half as much as I have this year without you by my side.

danielricciardo They grow up so fast 😭🤧

ynlnusername Thank you Daniel for being the best babysitter we could ask for!

landonorris The best? What about me?

maxverstappen1 Sorry mate, but little man says otherwise

pierregasly Both of you are wrong, Nico likes me the best

danielricciardo Lies! I am that child's godfather, I know he likes me the best

ynlnusername Children, please calm down

danielricciardo Yes, mum! landonorris Sorry, Mum. Love you.

fan2 Do Max and his girlfriend have a son together that we never knew about?

fan4 Not possible, they've only been together for a couple of years and the kid looks to be quite a bit older.

fan27 Was this the little boy that was hugging Max after his last World Drivers Championship win? If it was, how did they keep him under the radar for so long?

fan67 Best kept secret on The Grid.

Dec 31, 2023

ynlnusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen and 235,876 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

ynlnusername Thank you for taking a chance on me, telling me about the closest thing to your heart, and welcoming me into your family with open arms. Thank you for making me feel loved every day and for the greatest unexpected gift in Nico. It's been almost three years that we've been together, and I hope that 2024 is an even greater year for us.

maxverstappen1 ❤️❤️

victoriaverstappen Look at my nephew! He's so big!!

comments on this post have been limited

redbullracing 📍CM.com Circuit Zandvoort

78,492 likes

redbullracing Finally! Just in time before the start of testing for the 2024 season.

The next Verstappen that's going to be driving for Red Bull racing! We'll keep a seat open for him in 2039.

- The Red Bull Racing Team

View all 271 comments

f1fan2112 Max Verstappen has a son that the world didn't know about!

f1 Talk about a prodigy in the making.

mstappenfan Legend 🤝 Legacy

January 1, 2024

taglist: @karmabyfernando

[orange-peony]

Written for @flufftober with the prompt "fireplace".

A little wolfstar raising Harry, rated T.

“He’s so irritating.”

“Tell me about it,” Sirius says. “He’s my cousin Cissa’s son.”

“And he’s so bloody posh!”

“Language,” Remus chides gently from the kitchen, busy with Christmas preparations.

“The b word is not swearing,” Harry declares with a frown, then softly, to Sirius, “is it, Pads?”

“Nah,” Sirius says, waving his hand in dismissal. “Tell me more about that obnoxious Malfoy kid.”

*  ~  *

“And he’s so fucking annoying with his pointy face and his white-blond hair,” Harry says, scratching his arm where another mosquito bite is swelling up.

“Language!” Remus says, even though Sirius can’t even see him. His husband seems to have a special radar for swear words.

“Sorry,” Harry says, looking much less concerned than he probably should. Sirius feels a little guilty because he’s always swearing in front of Harry, but brushes it off as teenagers being teenagers. “And he’s just—so tall and so smart and so…”

“So?” Sirius asks with a frown.

“So irritatingly fit!”

“Wait, what?” 

*  ~  *

“Do you think they’re going to spend much longer snogging on the train platform?” Sirius asks with a resigned sigh.

Remus chuckles and wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Summer is long when you’re seventeen,” Remus says calmly.

“But they’re going to see each other in a couple of days!” Sirius protests. “We’re dragging the brat to France with us on holiday.”

“If I recall correctly,” Remus starts, his voice like a caress on Sirius’s cheek. “The first time we parted for a couple of days, you cried and begged me to come and visit you at James’s house.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sirius replies grumpily.

He thinks a kiss is in order, at least to distract him from his godson being snogged within an inch of his life by a Malfoy.

*  ~  *

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sirius groans, covering his face with his hands and making Draco squeal in embarrassment.  

He supposes it’s kind of his fault. He should have probably sent his Patronus to Harry before Flooing straight to his kitchen. But Harry is his son. And he’s been living on his own for only a week, so Sirius was worried and wanted to check on him.

He wasn’t expecting to find Draco Malfoy making himself tea in Harry’s kitchen, wearing only Harry’s oversized hoodie and a pair of boxers.

Sirius covers his eyes and makes a disgruntled sound.

“I’m going to go grab my pyjama bottoms,” Draco says. “I’ve made enough tea for an army. Help yourself, Sirius.”

“It’s Mr Black-Lupin for you,” Sirius grumbles.

“Oh, stop being impossible, Pads,” Harry croaks, appearing by the kitchen door wearing just a pair of pants and a collection of love bites. “Morning, love. Thanks for making tea.”

*  ~  *

The fireplace roars to life as a green flame appears and Draco’s blond head pokes through.

“May I come in?” he asks, looking extremely nervous.

“Of course,” Remus says, uncrossing his legs and sitting up.

And Sirius should have known. He should have fucking known, because Draco sendt an official request to speak to him and Remus, written on the fanciest parchment Sirius has ever seen (and he grew up with a bunch of pure bloods). Draco is wearing the most dazzling formal robes, and he has a small, blue box clutched in his shaking hands. He looks like he’s about to be sick. He looks even paler than usual.

“I—I know you have your reservations about me, and rightfully so,” Draco starts, and Sirius is about to say well, of course, you little Harry-thief, but Remus places a hand on his thigh, and Sirius just exhales and listens. “But I love Harry with all my heart. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him, and I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to make him the happiest man on earth. So, please, I know I’m asking you an awful lot, but…”

“Can we say no?” Sirius asks, but Remus pokes him in the ribs.

“Of course, you can marry Harry,” Remus says with a warm smile, and Draco starts crying straight away, looking at Sirius, waiting for his approval.

Sirius sighs.

He should have seen this coming.

He really should have.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But I reserve the right to tease you both mercilessly and to swear in front of your kids.”

“Deal,” Draco says with the brightest grin.

[beingsuneone]

Memories & Delusions

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

SYNOPSIS: Jason Todd is dead, you have to remember that; even if the newest villain in town is both incredibly sexy and reminds you of the boy you used to love.

FANDOM: DC

PAIRING(S): Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Tim

GENRE/AU: fluff, different timeline AU (not mentioned in detail but the timeline is different than canon), canon divergence, reader is kind of like Stephanie so NOT Bruce’s kids but she does live in the manor.

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of blood and injuries.

A/N: I could fs do a part two to this ;)

DEDICATIONS: Myself for having this idea for more than two years and finally getting it out in writing in some way

CREDITS: N/A

“Jesus Christ! Who the fuck is this guy, Batman?” You exclaim, panting hard through your mask; whoever this Red Hood guy is… he really knows your team's weaknesses. It’s disconcerting.

Weirdly enough, he’s left you mostly alone.

Bruce shrugs from across the room. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

It’s a blur of movement as Red Hood tries to attack mostly Bruce, only attacking Dick or you if you get in the way.

He’s said almost nothing since this fight started.

After a few minutes, Bruce sends a signal and jumps out of the half destroyed building; Dick follows and jumps out shortly after.

Leaving just you and Gothams latest criminal.

You’re about to turn to jump again, when suddenly your wrist is caught in Red Hood’s hand.

The familiarity of it makes you gasp and freeze.

He stares down at you, intimidating and silent through his red helmet.

Returning his stare, with as much fiery energy as you can muster, you try to pull your wrist away; His grip is like iron and you can’t.

“Don’t get in my way, Y/n.” He says, making your heart drop with the use of your civilian name. “I won’t choose between you and my goal.”

Your back is rigid and you’re breathing has stopped… if he knows your name, that means he probably knows everyone else’s too.

Fuck.

He finally lets go, brushing past your stiff body.

You’re too shocked to follow him.

….

“He knew my name, Bruce!” You say, feeling panicked. “Do you know what that means?”

Bruce nods curtly. “It means you aren’t suiting up until we’ve taken him down.” You try to protest but Bruce holds a hand up to cut you off. “It’s not up for discussion.”

You fidget with the small red pendant hanging around your neck, something you do whenever you’re feeling too many emotions.

It reminds you of Jason, the first boy you’ve ever been in love with and also the last; Jason was also Bruce’s second adopted son.

Jason Todd died five years ago.

But when he was alive… There was something special about him. He was always so eager to help Bruce by being robin.

That was back before you had your own suit; really, you’d only gotten a superhero identity so you could hunt down the joker and get revenge for Jason, but Bruce had managed to convince you not to do that in the last five years.

Probably for the best, even if seventeen is too young for someone to die; even if having a strong bond ripped away from you before it could become anything still hurt so badly.

You follow Bruce down into the batcave. “What do we know about Red Hood? Do we have any idea how he originated? It seems like he just popped out of nowhere.”

Bruce contemplates his answer as he unlocks the bat computer. “All we know is that he would have had to fly under our radar for months in order to take over the whole underground drug ring.”

You over hover his shoulder, trying to see what’s on the screen below him. “I don’t understand how we wouldn’t hear anything about him? With that many people who work for him, you’d think one of them would mention something.”

He hums in response. “They must be terrified of him.”

Alfred inserts himself into the conversation and ushers you back into the main part of the manor. “Alright, Miss. Y/n, You’re officially off duty indefinitely.” He pauses. “Like Master Bruce said, it is safer if you disconnect yourself from your hero identity.”

You frown. “If he knows my real name, he probably knows where I live.”

“He also told you, quote ‘don’t get in my way’ end quote.” Alfred tuts. “He clearly has no intention of hurting you as a civilian.”

You huff and head up to your bedroom, feeling like you really need to be out there but not really knowing why.

You suppose you don’t know what to do with your time anymore, now that you’ve been superhero-ing for so long.

When was the last time you read a book? Or watched a movie, just because you wanted to? It’s been too long…

Your bookshelves mostly carry decorative encyclopedias and other books that would bore you to sleep, so you leave your room and head just down the hallway.

The door creaks as you push open and clicks when you push it shut; then, you’re left in the silence of Jason Todd’s bedroom. Unchanged and untouched from the last moment he was in here.

It’s a little messy but nothing out of the ordinary for a teenage boy; the bed was never made, and his clothes were ever put in his drawers despite them being washed.

There’s books pulled out and just scattered in places, schoolbooks, comic books, novels… finally you spot what you wanted to find.

It’s a very old and very worn copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, something the two of you used to read together when you’d sneak onto the roof of the manor at nighttime.

You’d watch the stars and one of you would read the book out loud, until eventually you both would pass out and give Bruce a heart attack the next morning.

Maybe it was time to revisit that tradition, even if you were only reading to yourself.

Bruce and Alfred are in the Cave so you find your way into the roof and lay back. The shingles are definitely more uncomfortable without Jason to lay on, but it’s still a nice feeling nonetheless.

Just the act of laying under the stars with that book in your hands, makes you feel a kind of warmth that you haven’t felt in years.

You close your eyes and take a long, deep breath of night air; It’s fresh and ever so slightly damp, but in a way that makes you feel nice. The cold nips at your body in all the right ways.

Unfortunately, all bliss is momentary, and someone clearing their throat makes you jump a couple centimeters upwards.

You’re met with the bright red helmet of Red Hood.

“Pride and Prejudice, huh?” He says casually, though you're pretty sure he has a voice changer on, which makes his voice sound more irritated than it probably is.

You back up a few inches. “Bru-” Red Hood slaps a hand over your mouth before you can finish yelling for help.

You squirm in his grip, but he just maneuvers you so that your back is to his chest and you can barely move which makes your body lock up again— you can’t help the feeling of familiarity that settles in your stomach, or the way your body reacts to his.

Worst of all, he smells just like… no, it must just be where you are.

Jason Todd is dead.

And yet.

“Relax, Y/n, I’m not here to hurt you.” Something about him makes you listen and you relax your body. He kind of half-scoffs in response. “Are you done?”

You nod as best you can. He releases you.

“Who— why are you here?” You say, trying to ignore the fact that everything about this masked man reminds you of Jason.

Your chest rises and falls irregularly as he stares at you.

His head snaps away randomly. “Why should I tell you that?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question.”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

There’s a look of defiance shared between the two of you, or, at least, on your end. You can’t actually see his face so you’re really just assuming.

You spin away and blow out a labored breath. “God, I must be going insane…” Even the way he talks with you sounds like Jason.

“You’re so short, you look like a bunny who lost its carrot.” He says with a laugh.

“I do not!” You exclaim angrily, your mouth dropping open. “Okay, that’s it, I’m calling Bruce.” Your hand slips into your pocket to pull out your phone, and just as it's out of your pocket, Red Hood grabs your wrist; he traps it in one spot and yanks the phone from your hand.

He gently sets it on the ground. “Tell that fucker whatever you want, but wait until I’m gone.” The tone in his voice sends a chill down your spine. He seems so angry…

With that, he leaves, taken the same way that you took off the roof.

You stand there until you hear the roar of his motorbike, and then you finally retreat from the roof with the book clutched tightly to your chest.

…..

“I’m going with you, Bruce. You can’t stop me.” You say, already moving to try to grab your suit.

“No, you’re not.” He says sternly, blocking your path. “You need to stay out of this fight.”

You raise your eyebrows in challenge. “I’m going whether you let me wear that suit or not.” Bruce apparently doesn’t like this because he frowns even harder than before. You continue, “You can’t go alone. Dick is out of town and Tim is at school. Let me come.”

“You forget I did this by myself for quite a while before I adopted Dick.” He says firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Bruce doesn’t need your help, you know that; helping him isn’t your real goal.

Ever since the rooftop incident with Red Hood you’d gone into some sort of obsessive spiral over his similarities to Jason.

You feel like you need to talk to him again, touch him again… just to see why he’s so familiar; you feel insane.

The deepest parts of your brain scream at you that it’s not just similarities, that he really is Jason but… he can’t be; you watched them bury Jason’s body.

“There’s something else going on with you.” Bruce says, basically sizing you up.

You stiffen, which unfortunately gives away your next lie. “There’s nothing going on with me.” No excuse comes to mind so you don’t say anything more.

Bruce pauses for a beat.

“This has nothing to do with Red Hood.”

“Okay? Why would that matter?” You say dismissively, but also way too fast. “I don’t think keeping me locked up at home helps anyone.”

He sighs and finally caves. “Fine, you can come.”

…..

You aren’t sure how this situation devolved so quickly, but your communications got cut off a while ago and you haven’t been able to find Bruce or navigate very well through the rubble.

You’re bleeding heavily from a few different cuts and you’re pretty sure you sprained your ankle.

The faint cackle of the Joker makes you dive under a fallen piece of concrete, because if he comes this way he’ll surely kill you.

But the laugh recedes so you crawl out and sit against it instead.

You’re just about to start sobbing from the pain when you hear footsteps again; you go silent and try to move but you don't allow that.

You see a flash of red, and then Red Hood turns a corner into your line of sight.

“Christ’s sake, Y/n.” He mumbles. “What happened?” He approaches and drops down so he’s sitting on his feet, he stares for a moment, and you assume he’s assessing your injuries.

“You can’t call me that— here.” You hiss when he presses a finger against your ankle.

He stands up and takes both your hands, completely ignoring what you said. “Up. But don’t stand on your bad ankle.”

You grip his hands and stand up, holding your bad ankle in the air; Red Hood scoops you up bridal style not a moment later.

You squeal. “What are you doing?”

He stops walking and turns the face of his helmet directly toward you. “I’m taking you back to my base so I can help you get fixed up.” He interrupts you before you can speak, answering the question you were going to ask. “Batman isn’t here anymore, he went to follow after the Joker.”

It’s a rough walk to his bike, and it lasts for about ten minutes; ten awkward minutes of you being carried by Red Hood.

Red Hood who’s supposed to be a criminal and your enemy. Red Hood who brings you more comfort than he should just because of who he reminds you of.

He settles you onto the bike, pulling out an extra helmet before he speeds off.

…..

“Jesus, you sprained your ankle really badly.” He curses, performing whatever medical procedures as you hiss and whine at the pain.

He’s already stitched and/or dressed any of the open wounds you had and he saved the worst for last.

“Okay,” he says absent-mindedly. “I can’t do this properly with this thing.”

He reaches for his helmet but you stop him. “You’re taking your helmet off?”

He hesitates, then nods slowly. “I have to. If you don’t want to see, then shut your eyes until I’m done.”

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut.

He sighs softly and gets back to working on your ankle.

…..

“I swear to god, Bruce, it’s him. Red Hood is Jason.” You say, purposfully making your voice flat and void of emotion. “He has to be.”

Bruce just stares.

And stares.

Sympathetically, softly. But he stares.

“Jason has been dead for a long time, Y/n, and you know that.”

“No— I know, but he can’t be— that has to be him.” You back up into one of the chairs in the batcave, trying to calm your racing heart; you still try to keep a calm outward facade.

“What makes you think he’s Jason?” Bruce asks.

You weakly gesture at nothing with your hand. “Just look at him. He’s— everything about him is the same.”

Tim snorts from the computer. “The running drug rings and murders?”

“Not appropriate, Tim.” Dick says flatly and Tim’s face falls quickly.

You don’t blame him, you probably would have made a joke like that too.

Shaking your head, you stare at the floor past Bruce. “They sound the same, they talk the same way, they look similar— hell, they even smell the same.”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “How do you know what he smells like?”

“Uh…” you stall. “You know, close combat.”

Apparently, he drops it even though he clearly doesn’t believe you, because he asks another question. “We’ve never seen Red Hood unmasked, how do you know they look similar?”

You shrug. “They just do. There’s just something about him. I haven’t been able to shake the feeling for a while.”

It’s silent again for several long moments.

Then Bruce shakes his head absentmindedly.

“Jason is dead, Y/n. No matter how much we miss him, he can’t come back.”

But he’s wrong, he has to be.

Because no one is that similar to someone. You’re sure of it.

……

Your cheeks are wet and your eyes are starting to become raw from you rubbing at them.

Sobbing pathetically on the rooftop of the manor because you had to be reminded about a death that happened a long time ago is not the highlight of your day.

It’s stupid, going from sure of yourself, to telling yourself you’re so stupid for ever thinking it could be true in the first place.

There’s footsteps beside you, but you don’t look up. You don’t care enough to see who it is.

You fidget with the necklace around your neck as you sniffle into your knees.

Something clicks and then hisses as if air pressure is being released before you hear a tiny thud, and then someone pulls you into them.

You know who it is now.

“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly. You know you could look up and confirm your suspicions at any moment but you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

It’s not true, after all, because it can’t be. It’s not possible.

You shrug against him. “I’m reopening old wounds for no reason.” You pause. “Why do you trust me?”

He’s silent, contemplative for a while. “You’re you.”

You laugh dryly. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“You haven’t even bothered to look have you?” His hand strokes lines in your hair. “You could. I don’t think I’d mind.”

“I don’t want to know.” You say, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m not ready for that.”

He nods, you can feel the movement through his body, even though it’s subtle.

You sit, wrapped up in his arms for a long while before he clears his throat softly and asks, “what old wounds have you been reopening?”

Your eyes well again, but you choke back the tears. “An old… friend, I guess. He died.” You start to pull back but you don’t look at his face.

Instead, you bury your face in your hands again. He lets you pull back. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You shrug. “It was a long time ago, he just meant a lot to me— and it’s really hard because you remind me so much of him.”

He makes a sort of strangled sound and then clears his throat again but more rough this time. “Why do you say that?”

His voice sounds even more similar without the helmet and voice changer. This man is going to be the death of you. Maybe literally. “I don’t… I don’t know. It’s just everything.” You shake your head and laugh sardonically. “It’s driving me insane.”

“How did he die?” His voice is darker than before, and there’s a sort of undertone you can’t place.

“Brutally.” You stop, take a deep breath, and offer only a bit more context. “The Joker.”

He hums. “The Joker‘s alive and ruling this dumb city.” He pauses. “How do you think your friend would feel about that?”

“Probably about the same as I do. Sick.” You run a hand through your hair, purposefully trying to avoid seeing his face. “That’s why I became a hero, you know. I wanted to kill the joker because he killed Ja- um, my friend.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“People stopped me before I did something I couldn’t come back from.” You say, wrapping your arms around your legs. “I hope the joker suffers a terrible death, but I don’t think it should be by my hands. He wins if I spend the rest of my existence regretting it.”

Red Hood picks up his helmet and clicks it back on. “Right.” He stands and stares down at you. “I have to leave now.”

You shudder at his sudden coldness, and stand abruptly. “Okay, I— um, goodbye…?” You want to smack yourself at how unsure you sound. “Did I say something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “I just don’t know why you would ever regret ridding the world of someone like The Joker, that’s all.”

Stiffly, you nod and wipe your hands on your pants.

“Sorry about your friend.” He finishes, before leaving you alone on the roof again. “Too bad I didn’t know him.”

Basically, crushing any hopes you might’ve had that he was Jason.

……

This is an atrociously stupid idea, you know; driving directly into the den of Gotham's biggest drug lord is the smartest thing to do.

But Gotham's biggest drug lord is Red Hood, and you’re fairly sure he won’t hurt you. Mostly.

His lackeys though, don’t seem so forgiving.

“Who the hell are you?” The man who barks the question at you, is raggedy looking and has the worst, most distasteful tattoos you’ve seen in your life.

“I’m here to see Red Hood.” You amend quickly, “I’m a friend of his.”

“Yeah, right.” The other guard says, a bulky looking woman who is also insanely beautiful… unsettlingly so. “A fragile little thing like you, friends with our boss… please.”

You scoff. “Trust me, I’m not fragile.” Stopping, you contemplate whether it’s a good idea to start something, considering your ankle is still healing. “Just call him.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

An old phone hangs on the wall and she picks up the receiver and quickly dials a number. “Hey, I have a woman here who says she’s the bosses friend— her name? I have no clue— Oi, what’s your name?” The woman barks at you.

“Y/n.”

“Her name’s Y/n.” She’s silent for a minute while we all wait, then she hangs up the phone aggressively and yanks your arm into her grip. “Lucky. Let’s go.”

The corridors are a bit confusing to navigate, but you’re mostly just following the woman, who seems very familiar with them.

After ten minutes you reach a door, it matches almost every other door, but it has ‘boss’ written crudely on it in spray paint.

“You’re on your own from here.” She says gruffly before stomping away.

You take a moment to collect yourself before you knock, and the door swings open before you can even finish knocking.

“Why are you here?” Red Hood sounds breathless behind his mask, as if something winded him. “How did you remember how to get here?”

“I’m… actually not sure.” You chuckle quietly to yourself as Red Hood pulls you inside.

He sits down at a desk after pulling a chair out for you to sit in. “Again, why are you here?”

Your heart seizes for a moment as if the reason why you’re here hit you all over again. “I want you to show me who you are.”

“Are you sure?” Red Hood questions slowly, his body locking up. “You’re not going to like it.”

You nod curtly. “Yes, I need to know.”

He takes a deep breath and stands up, coming right up close to you. Far enough that you could see his face clearly but close enough to have your knees buckling.

He reaches up and presses a button you can’t see. The helmet hisses and opens, he pulls it off.

And your jaw drops.

Standing there, in grown up glory, black hair, green eyes that used to kill you, is Jason Fucking Todd.

“You’re— You’re not— dead.” You stammer, almost reaching out to touch him before you yank your hand back.

You’re so irrationally angry and also relieved and devastated all at the same time.

Jason sets the helmet down. You can’t decide whether to hug him and never let go or slap him for waiting so long to tell you. “That’s a… complicated story.” He pauses. “I promise I’ll tell you that story but I just— can’t get into that right now.”

You nod slowly. “Okay… that means I can get fucking pissed now.”

You’ve clearly confused him when you wrap your hands around his waist and squeeze tightly while also cursing him out. “I can’t believe you waited this long to show me.”

You can see the smart-ass comment on the tip of his tongue but he bites it back. “I knew you’d find out eventually.” His eyes caress your body and there’s a look of longing lingering in his eyes; he seems to be contemplating something. “Fuck it, I’ve been waiting too long to do this.”

You barely have time to react as Jason lowers his face down to yours and kisses you; As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you kiss back.

His hands go to rest on your hips, as you slowly get pushed back into his desk behind you. When you hit the ledge of if, Jason lifts you onto its surface, and pulls back.

“I’ve wanted to do that since we were kids.” He says quietly.

You gently touch your lips, almost in disbelief. “I’ve been wanting you to do that since we were kids.”

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

[xoxo-mylove]

Missing Something You've Never Had

(Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader, Batmom!Reader x Batboys)

*NOT EDITED*

Word count: 5,162

Synopsis: You walk in to your home to find your family looking a t you like a stranger. Your family’s counterparts discover the life they could have had and you severely miss your version of the batboys.

Warnings: Angst, LOTS and lots of angst, self-hate, Bruce Wayne’s destructive thoughts, parental issues, mommy issues and hell daddy issues too, very sad in general, I’m sorry in advance, fluff toward the end

(*A/N: I lied in my last post lol I definitely was not writing but I finished this very sad batmom one-shot that I hope will make up for it before going into this new year! I won’t guarantee another one-shot soon but I will promise you it will be an Al Ghul!Reader! So be on the lookout!! Anyway, keep in mind this Bruce is very much canon Bruce Wayne who is allergic to affection. I hope you enjoy lovelies)

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Coming back from work and seeing your family look at you like you were an alien was definitely...shocking. And yet right there they were. 

After not seeing your family in the kitchen once you arrived home. you immediately went down to the Batcave.

Walking down the steps and approaching your husband with a smile you didn’t even hear Barry’s shout  ‘Wait Y/N!’ before you embraced your love and felt him stiffen under your touch.

It seems that your action ensued silence over the room and you slowly let Bruce go and looked around the room to see your boys looking at you with obvious shock underneath their cowls and masks.

 Damian looks at you with an expression you haven’t been faced with since when he first arrived at the manor. Your baby boy looking at you with suspicion and contempt was staggering. This was the first crack that formed in your heart.

Then there was Tim. Your Tim, looking at you with a guarded appearance and eyes screaming caution. Like you weren’t supposed to be there. Your boy who would immediately come to you after his night out and seek a hug. Now it was like he was looking through you, creating yet another crack in your heart.

Next was Jason whose face added to your heartbreak when he merely glanced at you. Not even sparing you an extra look as if you weren’t someone on his radar. Your Jay-bird looking at you with such indifference and lack of love.

And your first son. Your oldest looking at you with no love but concern. Not concerned for you but for his brothers. As if your mere presence was disrupting something. As if there is no reason you should be there.

No reason.

You glance back at Bruce to see him looking at you with that stare. The guarded batman stare. Now you feel dizzy. Quickly glancing towards Barry not wanting to see your Bruce looking at you like that, you face Barry with widened eyes and a flushed face. 

Barry looking at you with genuine sympathy says the words that confirmed all your worst fears. “This isn't your family Y/N. They’re from a different universe” 

God, you're going to be sick.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

After seeing your shocked face and the uncomfortable, suffocating silence in the room Barry took you back inside the manor to explain to you and Alfred what happened. Leaving your fa- leaving them in the cave.

Apparently, Barry had a run-in with reverse Flash and somehow your family was sucked into a wormhole transporting them into another universe while taking a version of your family in that universe here. in your universe..... It was all very confusing and devastating to hear and you shed a few tears.

You had to have asked Barry a dozen questions about this other universe about where they could be, how this happened, and most importantly, how you were going to get them back. Barry told you that he and the league are figuring it out and will find them and you believe him.

So here you are sitting at dinner with a different version of your family in silence. It actually makes you want to cry.

Right now the boys would be telling you and Bruce about their day and catching you both up on their lives. Instead, they’re looking down at their plates while awkwardly glancing at you and hurriedly glancing away once you make eye contact with them. 

It’s horrible.

And don't even get started on Bruce, that man has made a point to not even glance at you the entire duration of dinner. Just sitting there with a blank face and clearing his throat every few minutes.

It’s horrible.

Having enough of the silence (felt like knives in your back not being able to talk to your family) you clear your throat and immediately all their eyes shoot towards you.

Flushing from the attention your smile hesitantly chooses to try and talk to them instead of silence. They are still your family. They’re still your boys and husband. You’re just not their person right now. And until you can see your family again (you will see them again) you still care for these people and will do anything to make sure they are comfortable in their home.

“I- I know this is- well this situation we are in is very.... umm well it’s very”

“Weird” Dick blurts out before he can stop himself, earning a look from Bruce whose attention has been solely on you since you opened your mouth.

“Yes, Hon- I mean yes, Dick It’s very weird. But this is--- no matter what universe you all are from it’s still your home. And I don’t want you guys to be uncomfortable in your own home so if you have any questions just.... well just ask.”

the silence stretches out between you all before you hear a voice from your left.

“What exactly are you to us- I mean what are you to them?” Tim asks.

The question itself was easy to answer before but now in front of the boys who you know have got through horrible and traumatic things just the same as yours. You don’t know how they will react especially Bruce, Mr. Idontdesrvelove. (Though he’s gotten so much better with you and the kids)

“Well, I'm your guy’s mom.”

Silence. Deafening silence and then Alfred thankfully arrives, saving you from the conversation you know you’ll have to have at some point. But not today. Not when it’s so fresh. 

“Miss Y/N, you do have an early day tomorrow so I think it’s all time we retire to bed. I'm sure you all are especially tired from your night.” Alfred says with a sympathetic tone you are so grateful for.

“Of course” You stand up from your chair drawing attention to you once again.

You face your......you face the boys and smile softly and bid them goodnight. Hoping that when you wake up that this is all a bad dream and Bruce will be snoring in the bed and you hear your kid's voices outside the door.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Bruce’s POV

This is all very uncomfortable. Bruce has a wife whom he’s never met in his life and who is the mother to his children.

Bruce watches you walk up the stairs to a bed that they share or he shares with you. The other him.

Ever since you hugged him in the Batcave and looked at him with eyes so tender and full of love Bruce couldn't help but feel a small amount of jealousy of....the other him. He has it all. He has children and a wife. Who loves him. He must not be as fucked up as he is. Your Bruce probably still has his parents or didn't witness their murder and has healthy coping issues. Yeah, he's envious of this other him.

Bruce looks to his kids to see them also confused staring at you. Is this what your kids have as a mother? Someone to go to for that soft and soothing guidance. How he remembers his mother was to him. He’s not just envious of the other Bruce but envious for his children. His rampant thoughts are stopped when Alfred- your Alfred speaks again. 

“master...Master Bruce, I've set you up in the spare room by master Jason’s. It is ready for you to retire in whenever you see fit. Boys your rooms are... well they  are ready for you but if this manor is different ill be happy to show you the way.”

“Don't worry Alfred this manor is the same as ours” Jason speaks up for the first time since arriving.

“Very well boys if you need me I'll be in the kitchen preparing tea for Miss Y/N” Alfred takes his leave and the boys instantly start up their conversations.

“This is freaky..” Tim says while glancing at his Bruce and brothers.

“Yeah. We have a...mother in this universe” Dick hesitantly says, like saying the word ��mother’ is all but confusing to him.

“yeah, I probably don’t get snuffed by Joker in this one” Jason offers sarcastically. Bruce closes his eyes at this and leans back in his chair. He saw Jason’s Robin costume. Identical to the one in their Batcave. Maybe this universe isn’t as good as he thought if your Bruce still couldn’t save Jason from his fate.

Damian ever the blunt kid speaks Bruce's thoughts, “Tch, I don't think so Todd. I saw your infamous Robin costume. Identical to the one in our universe” He says snidely. 

“Yeah, me too evil spawn. It’s called a joke.” Jason responds while rolling his eyes.

“Boys. Enough” Bruce says with a firm tone that stops all conversation.

“Let’s go to the sitting room we have a lot to discuss.” Bruce stands up and leaves the kitchen hearing the sound of footsteps and disgruntled murmurs trailing after him.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Bruces POV

The boys and he have been talking about how to get back to their universe for a while. Bruce has made it a point to not bring up you in the conversation. Silence just ensues and awkward answers when you are brought up.

Talking with Dick about using the Batcave to contact this universes League and help get home he sees Damian get up off the chair and stride to a cabinet filled with...CDs? Damian grabs four of them and hesitantly grabs another looking at it for a second before putting it underneath the other four and walking back to the couch.

“I found CDs that have our names on them.” He announces effectively stopping all conversation and capturing all of our attention.

The silence stretches out before Dick speaks up, “Should we watch them.” When everyone is still silent he hurriedly explains himself “Well, I just mean are you curious about how the other versions of us live. Especially with Y/N”

It's silent again until suddenly Jason stands up ripping the CDs from Damian's hands (making him scramble up to get them back before Dick scolds him) and puts one in effectively shutting everyone up and their attention is drawn to the TV.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Dick’s POV

This whole day has been extremely weird and uncomfortable. Especially uncomfortable to know that another version of him has another mom. And yet as he watches the home video play out the feeling of uncomfortableness leaves and jealousy replaces it.

He watches Bruce and you record yourself making him his birthday breakfast. Something that sounds so simple and normal it makes Dick’s heart break a little.

“BRUCE STAWP!” You squeal dodging the whipped cream he tries to get on your face. “What? You can do it to me but I can’t do it to you?” your Bruce asks with a smile and whip cream plopped on his nose. “Yes, it is fair because I am the one making our son's birthday breakfast,” You say looking into the camera with a big beautiful smile. The boys and Bruce see your Bruce pick up the camera and record you putting the finishing touches on your Dick’s pancakes. “It’s six a.m love, the kid is still drooling right now” They hear Bruce say behind the camera.“Still Bruce, we need to sing happy birthday first thing in the morning!” your say with a childish whine. While balancing the tray of breakfast food and smiley pancakes in a tray.

Dick feels his throat close up and the need to run away while watching the video. This love that he sees you have for your Dick and the care your Bruce is showing is something he has never experienced since living with Bruce and yet misses. Can you miss something you’ve never had? Because this is definitely how he feels. Dick remembers the touch and love of a mother and watching this just reminds him of the feeling.

The boys watch as Bruce records you opening the door to your Dick’s room and see little dick sleeping with drool on his pillow.“God, he’s going to be embarrassed when he’s older and watches this video” they hear Bruce say with a quiet laugh. You turn and give him a fake stern look and crouch down by Dick’s bed and softly shake him awake. Your Dick slowly opens his eyes and focuses on you. His face instantly lit up and a smile breaks out on his face. “Mom!” he yells out happily pulling the covers back while you set the tray on his lap. Giving him a kiss on the cheek good morning. They hear Bruce laugh and tell Dick happy birthday while giving him an affectionate head shake. The boys and Bruce watch Dick and the two of you sing ‘Happy Birthday’, eat pancakes together, laugh and smile, and basically be a family. The video ends with Dick taking the camera from Bruce and whispering into the lens saying, “This is the best Birthday ever!” with a cheesy smile on his face.

Dick is uncharacteristically silent while everybody looks at him. He finally stands up and takes his CD out putting someone else’s in drawing their attention back to the TV. 

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Damian’s POV

This whole thing is ridiculous. Everyone is getting all sappy over a single woman who none of them know. Damian sees this as stupid and it quite frankly makes him angry. He already has a mother. he doesn't need to listen and watch himself with a strange woman. 

And yet just like Dick, the anger turns to sadness and he also becomes jealous. Watching another version of himself receive the love and attention that Damian has only seen in movies and read in books. And yet as he watches him and his siblings fight to open presents he is reminded that he is just a kid.

Who just wants a family.

“Everyone! Everyone!” Video you calls out to your children currently fighting for presents. “Because this is Damian’s first Christmas with us he will be opening the first gift,” you say in a tone that makes all your children concede and watch Damian open one of his gifts. As you hand your Damian a gift wrapped in Christmas Robin wrapping and a black bow he immediately dives in and opens it to find a collar. Confused he looks at you and at his father to see you both smiling at him, chuckling. Your Damian watches you leave the room and come back in with a black kitten with white paws in your arms. Damian lets out a loud gasp and runs to you taking the cat in his arms. The camera zooms in on his blinding smile and his small whisper of “Thank you Ummi” to you. The boys and Damian watch as you give him a big kiss on his forehead and Bruce giving him a big hug.

The silence stretches out between the group because everyone knows that in their universe Damian doesn't receive Alfred the cat in such a memorable and sweet way.

Damian especially is just staring at the screen yearning for that motherly love. And a bad thought crosses his mind of what if they just stayed here. Damn the consequences. He wishes for this mom.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Tim’s POV

Tim’s always been curious and once he saw you giving an affectionate hug to Bruce and the pain that went across your face when his brothers and he looked at you with indifference.

 Watching his brother's faces while they watched their home videos he was a little scared of his.

 His mother has always been distant and he’s never really experienced motherly love but watching you in the home videos, he’s scared to see you with him and be consumed with jealousy like his brothers. Scared to watch you love a version of himself and not experience that love. 

And yet he watches his video and is filled with that feeling anyway.

“Hellooo whoever is watching this home video!” you say with a smile. “It’s probably us sweetheart,” Bruce says popping into the frame. You hurriedly move the camera away from him and talk to the camera. “Ignore him. But today we are at Tim’s school watching him graduate!” you say with a happy squeal and turn the camera to zoom in on Tims's figure clad in his cap and gown, oblivious to your recording him. “Tim is graduating with high honors and receiving multiple awards tonight” the boys and Bruce listen to your Bruce say in an obviously proud tone. The boys watch as multiple names are called and you both politely clapping for every student. And once you hear Tim’s name you both go ballistic. While as ballistic as your Bruce could go by whistling and clapping louder than ever with a proud grin. But for you, you're screaming at the top of your lungs, on the verge of sobbing, shouting “My baby boy!” earning looks from bystanders and laughs from your husband. The video ends with your Bruce recording you giving your Tim the biggest hug and kiss on the cheek while he smiles a bashful smile and celebrates with you and his dad.

Tim’s thoughts run rampant so much that he needs to lie down. He’s never felt this bitter and angry. His Bruce didn't come to his graduation and he’s watching everything he’s ever wanted happen on screen.

 It's not right and it's not fair. 

Why does your family get you and they don’t?

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Jason’s POV

He already knows what’s going to be on that CD. He knows how he’ll react and he knows that he mentally can’t do that right now. He can’t watch something that he died for (a mother's love) play out in front of him.

He won't do it. 

“I’m going to bed” Jason suddenly announces. It's suffocating in the living room and he can’t deal with looking at anybody’s face any longer.

He doesn't stick around for an answer he just goes up to his...other his’s room. He expects to see a room identical to his but once he opens the door he sees a completely different room.

This one looks lived in. Like someone uses it. In his universe, he rarely goes into his childhood room. Too many memories and too many feelings he rather not face. But this room. There are recent pictures of him. Multiple pictures of him and his... family all happy together.

He hurriedly looks away and strips himself of his extra gear and lies on his..or his bed in silence. He feels uncomfortable very weird.

He turns on his side prepared to close his eyes and hopefully not wake up for a long time when he sees it. On his bedside table is a framed photo of you and him. He’s in front of you smiling a cheesy bright smile (missing teeth prominent in the photo) dressed in a Peter Pan costume. Your arms are wrapped around his neck with a beautiful grin on your face dressed in a Tinker bell costume. 

It’s so stupid but it makes him smile like a fool because at least a version of himself finally received the love of a mother. 

Something he’s yearned for all his life before joker was to have a mother in his life and the thought that he gets that in a different universe is what makes it easy for him to close his eyes and sleep that night.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Bruce’s POV

Jason just left and the suffocating silence returns. 

Bruce sees Dick slowly rise from the couch and tell everybody to go to bed and something about talking more in the morning. He hears his sons rise from the couch sleepily making their way into their rooms and feels Dick linger by the doorway.

“Bruce are....are you going to bed?” he hears the hesitance in his voice and he wonders if Dick was going to ask him a different question but stopped himself. 

Isn’t that the relationship they have? Unable to communicate and ask each other what's wrong.

It’s all his fault.

If he wasn’t so scared he could have found Y/N in his life and his family would have been different.

He would have been different.

he finally finds words to answer his son, “I think...I think I'm going to stay up a little while longer.” he says while turning his profile to him.

Bruce hears him whisper a soft “okay” and walks off into his room for the night. He waits until he hears the door close, to get up off the couch and grab the CD labeled ‘Wedding’.

The mere title makes his stomach drop but he’s always been one to emotionally scar himself. He sits back down to watch the video play out. He releases a strangled sigh when he sees himself in a suit and tie.

“What does the Groom to be have to say on this lovely day” a voice Bruce recognizes as Clark says. He sees himself looking at the camera dressed to impress with a small smile on his face rolling his eyes at his friend's tone. “I'm very happy today Clark” the lucky him responds. “Oh yeah! Why might that be you think?” Your Bruce sighs, “Because I'm getting married to the love of my life Clark.” Bruce hears your Clark release an annoying ‘awwww’ that makes your bruce roll his eyes and shoo him off. He watches the video for a while and he sees the whole league there. He sees his friends as Bruce Wayne and Batman all together for you and your Bruce. He watches your friends and your Bruces friends leave sweet heartfelt messages that you both probably watched later. Alfred's message is what makes his throat constrict. “I’ve known Master Bruce since he was a little boy and I can't tell you how happy it makes me to be able to see him finally share his life with the most graceful woman on this planet. Someone who continues to amaze me with her beautiful character and who I think of as a daughter. I am unbelievably happy that my boy has met you and is going to spend the rest of his life with you. I love you both very much.” With tears building in his eyes, he sees Clark open the door to see you in a white dress with a brilliant smile. When you open your mouth to speak is when the video starts to buffer and stop. 

Bruce sits up in his seat praying that the video starts to work again when it completely pauses on your face. 

The video stopped working. 

And maybe that is the breaking point but the tears fall and he drops his head into his hands. Shoulders shaking and gasping for breath he cries. He cries because of the life he could’ve lived. The person he could have lived it with.

He cries for the mother his kids could have had and the presence that could have helped them through their lives. His kids. His wonderful kids deserved that and he hates himself for not giving that to them.

He also hates himself for not letting himself have that.

He doesn't know how but he eventually gets up off the couch and walks to the extra room by Jason’s. He passes your room on the way and just stands in front of it. This is the room you share with him. The other him. 

He wonders what it feels like to sleep in another person's arms for years. He never knew he could want something like that. 

He doesn't sleep that night. Not even a little bit.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Y/N’s POV

Waking up today felt like a dream for you. You closed your eyes relishing in the warmth you expected to be there only to feel cold.

Your eyes snap open. Oh yeah, he’s not here. 

They’re not here. And yet they are. They are all inside the manor in their rooms but they are not yours. They are not your boys or husband. They are versions of your kids and best friend.

But that doesn't mean you can be weird to them you scold yourself.

This is weird to them too. This woman they’ve never met in their lives claiming to be their mother and wife. You’d be freaked out too.

Right there in your bed, you swear to at least talk to your kids. Even though they are not your kids you could never not love any version of them. Getting ready for the day you walk downstairs to see them all inside the kitchen. 

Immediately all their eyes draw to you and you smile at them softly. “Good Morning,” you say to them all, failing to catch Bruce’s eyes. You hear soft greetings back while getting your coffee ready. 

“I’ve warmed up the car for you Miss Y/N” you hear Alfred say.

“Oh thank you! I'll be leaving in a few,” you reply back gratefully. You never wake up early enough to do it yourself. Bruce usually does it for you during the cold months.

“Where are you going?” you hear five different voices say all at once. You turn around to see them all looking expectantly at you. 

Shocked that they’ve said more than three words to you. It takes you a while to reply. 

“Oh, I um I'm going to work in early today, I'm an architect.” The silence and surprise in their eyes is kind of insulting. They must notice you take offense because Dick hurriedly tries to explain their shock.

“Not in an offensive way course. You seem very smart. It’s just being an architect in Gotham City. How do you find work?" he asks.

“Oh well, I usually deal with orphanages and hospitals in the city. And because it’s Gotham those are the most important buildings,” you say with a sad like chuckle.

“so you are not a vigilante?” Damian suddenly asks. The question receives looks from his brothers and father but a laugh just escapes you.

“Oh god no, the only vigilante work I do is cardio and that is enough in itself,” you say with a smart smile. They all give chuckles probably humoring you. Before you're hit with the reminder of leaving for your job 

“Shoot it’s seven! I- I gotta go but call if you need anything and.. and if you guys find anything out.” You look to see them all give you a nod and bid you goodbye before you are out the door.

Progress? hopefully.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Bruce’s POV

It’s been hours since you left and now he and the kids are at league headquarters trying to get back home. And bring your family home. Even though they may not want to leave. As selfish as it is he wants to stay. Even though he knows he’s not yours he would love to feel an ounce of what it's like to be loved by you. 

But because he knows you are deserving of the love back he knows he has to get your Bruce back. 

Your Barry has been going on and on about the plan he has to travel through the speed force successfully bringing this universe’s bat family back and then taking Bruce’s back to their universe. Everyone crowds around to see him do it. With his boys at his side, he watches the blinding red light zoom back and forth before eventually disappearing.

His family, the league members, and himself wait silently staring out waiting for Barry to come back. To come back with their lucky counterparts.

Bruce holds his breath when he sees Barry coming back and releases it when he sees Barry....with your family. He sees the exact version of his family all release breaths of relief and immediately look for someone.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who they are looking for.

Finally, it seems like they spot Bruce and his kids cause they all simultaneously tense up and guard their expressions. It’s staggering how alike they both look at that moment but they both know only one of them has you.

 That’s what makes them different.

They all silently watch your family embrace their friends in the league before they walk to Bruce and his children.

It’s that awkward silence again before your Bruce speaks to him.

“How is she?” Three simple words that will stick with Bruce forever.

“She’s okay. The last time we saw her she was just leaving for work.”

Your Bruce just gives him a nod and walks off. Telling his sons he’ll be waiting in the car. Bruce imagines he’s antsy to see you. He would want to speed home if he knew he had someone like you waiting for him.

He’s about to walk back to your Barry to finally go home when your Damian speaks up, “You imbeciles better not have caused any heartache to my mother. Or I will personally ask Allen to take me ba-”

“OKAY! That’s enough of you Damian. Go wait in the car with Dad.” Dick says with his hand pointed to the black car.

“But I wa-”

“Go.” This time it’s Jason and Tim telling him and Damian just rolls his eyes and walks to the car muttering insults under his breath.

Your boys turn back to face Him and his kids, and Dick tries to start up a conversation but it’s too awkward talking to another version of yourself so they bid Bruce and his family goodbye, and they watch them walk to their car. Back home to you.

And once they safely arrive back in their universe it’s weird because they know what they're missing. What they could have had.

You.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Y/N’s POV

Walking into your home your not expecting to be bombarded with hugs.

Not. At. All. 

Still expecting for the other version of your family to be home or in the cave.

But you feel multiple familiar arms wrap around your waist and shoulders and you instantly know they’re home. 

You almost cry out of relief when they all scream ‘MOM!’ and squeeze you extra tight.

“AHHH my baby birds! I missed you!” You squeal out wrapping your arms (or trying to) all around your boys, kissing them all over their faces, and smothering them in your arms. You feel them loosen up and get a good look at all their faces and the tears start building in your eyes. Gods, you missed them so much. The horrible thought of never seeing them again had you going throughout your day feeling horrible.

You caress the cheeks and kiss all their forehead until they're begging you to stop. and trying to escape. You look down to see Damian still cuddled up to your side and almost melt, you kiss him on the head once more.

You hear all your kids talking at once trying to listen when you see him behind them. You smile with tears running down your cheeks and your kids part away from you and you run toward your husband, crying into his chest and hugging him with all your might. You feel your Bruce instantly wrap his arms tight around your waist and tuck his head into your neck. 

“I- I missed you... I missed you so much. So much” you say through tears.

“I know sweetheart. Me too. Me too.” You hear him whisper into your neck and pull his face back.

You look up to see him analyzing every aspect of your face, looking at you like you’re not real. 

You instantly wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him and it finally hits you that they are home. That he’s home.

And you can finally breathe again.

BROOO I definitely got carried away lol. AHHH BUT I LOVE IT SO WHO CARES! I've had this in my drafts for months and I'm so excited to finally be posting it. I hope you all ENJOYED! LOVE YOU LOTS! Feedback is always appreciated!! <333

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: The President’s Son

From: Guardian Angel Series

Pairing: (future) Mafia! Stucky x Bodyguard! Reader

Summary: A longtime client snubs you, causing you to leave the life you know

Word Count: 3,629

Content/Warnings: swears, patriarchy, weaponized incompetence, borderline mansplaining, yelling, fighting, mentions of nose picking, misogyny, secrets, explosions, mentions of weapons, strong female characters, no Steve or Bucky yet

A/N: Okay, here’s the start of something long-anticipated by me. I hope you enjoy! Your feedback is greatly appreciated, can’t wait to hear what you guys think!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next >

You stood in the back of the banquet hall, eyes surveying the room like they did any other, as you tried to appear as nonchalant waitstaff for the function. That was your specialty: blending in to the background, and you were damn good at it. Tonight’s job was to do so as your were protecting the most important individuals entrusted to you: the First Lady and her son.

You moved with ease throughout the evening, keeping mobile with your head on a swivel, eyes never leaving your two clients for more than a couple seconds. After a cocktail hour, everyone had sat down for dinner and a round of awards and speeches, leaving you here for a relatively easy period.

You didn’t work alone, no. You were here as part of a group. Part of a company, actually, and it belonged to your father. He ran a security conglomerate which focused heavily on government contracting, ranging from secret service duties, to vehicle brigades, to protection and procurement of goods, virtual and physical, and you knew every single part of it. You loved your job, and you loved working with your dad. For as long as you could remember, you would spend all of your free time in his office with him as he went through schedules, and escape plans, and all sorts of strategies to keep his patrons and their assets safe. You were always flitting around, learning new things, earning you the nickname ‘tweety bird’ from him, which correlated to your codename Redwing.

You’d picked it all up so easily, you were a natural, which earned you your first presidential-adjacent gig much younger than anyone else around. Sure, it started as you going to school and posing as another student to protect the president’s son, even thought you were a few years out already, which wasn’t necessarily glamorous, since you were meant to fly under the radar, but it was an independent job. One that was coming to a close, though, as this was your eighth year of doing the same. Soon, the president would be out of office, and the security detail on his family would be greatly reduced, likely no longer requiring your services.

Even as you let your mind wander, blocking out the droning speeches and rich people backstories, you remained on high alert. If anything bad was going to happen, you had a feeling it would be at an event like this one. An event where everyone had their guard down because it was for a universally agreeable good cause. But for some reason, heading into it tonight, something was churning in your gut.

After not being able to ignore the way your stomach twisted and turned, you had gone to speak to your father about tonight, requesting backup in addition to your other two friends, Natasha and Daisy, who often accompanied you to guard shifts associated with larger crowds.

Usually he was on the same page as you, but lately, your requests had been met with more protest, likely due to your little brother’s input buzzing in your father’s ear.

Your brother, Dylan, had just freshly turned eighteen, and with it came more responsibility in the agency. For being so much younger than you, your father was giving him mountains of control, including this event of your two most important clients. With your request of a team came the the caveat that your brother would be leading it.

Dylan was, to put it nicely, an oaf? Incapable of performing a task without crashing and burning, which made your blood boil. Probably from the fires he created and you subsequently had to put out. You had no room to complain, though, as your father dismissed you from his office.

So Dylan ‘led’ your team this evening, packed with his twerp friends who were more capable, but just as reckless as him. They’d listen to some of your orders, but not without the confirmation of your brother, who knew better enough sometimes to listen to your input.

You let him think he was in the lead tonight, executing a plan you had essentially spoon fed to him in your meetings leading up to the event. There were several backup plans and exit strategies that had their own code names, made by you, of course. All Dylan, or ‘The Chief,’ as he liked to go as over coms, had to do was keep an eye out on the cameras for any suspicious activity around the venue, and be prepared to drive away if he called for extraction due to suspicious activity. That was it. You and your two trusty companions would take control of everything inside the banquet, while two of Dylan’s friends surveilled the outside. Should be easy, right?

Dylan had been instructed to give an update through your earpiece every three minutes, on any action seen in the camera footage. Every time he did, though, it was accompanied by music blasting in the car, and the increments kept getting further and further apart. Almost like he was forgetting about his responsibilities and the importance of this event on your shoulders, should something go wrong. You rolled your eyes and kept a watch of the room. If you had such little backup, it was on you now to do this job, without the team you had specifically requested.

Dylan’s friends seemed to go quiet, too, which you were hoping wasn’t due to capture or something worse, but when you heard conversation about a fantasy football draft in your ear, you knew they were at least alive, although not helpful at all.

You were sick of running blind, though, so you casually made it look like your were scratching your ear and turned away from the crowd.

“Chief, status report.” Nothing. You waited thirty seconds. Silence.

You turned back to the room, the gnawing feeling in your stomach growing as you looked out at the crowd. Natasha, code name Widow, was making her way around with a tray of champagne flutes. Daisy, codename Blossom, sat in a vent somewhere, watching from above and monitoring everyone’s trackers. The three of you sighed and continued on, hoping this night wouldn’t be every eventful, but that’s never how life goes, is it?

“Blossom, report on coms. Is everything working?”

You waited a second for the response.

“All is good, Redwing. It’s a human, not technology error.”

You rolled your eyes for the thousandth time that night, but were pulled out of your annoyance by a searing sound. In the next moment, just as you were about to ask for any other possible news from Daisy, a crackling took over your ear.

You fought the urge to wince and draw attention to yourself. It was probably Dylan finally getting back to you, but the voice that came through was one you’d never heard before. It was low and urgent.

“Get them out of there.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes went wide and you whisper yelled, turning into the fake plant you found yourself nearby.

“Who is this? This is a secure line! What’s going on?”

You were surprised by the warning firmness of the speaker, it was menacing, who did this person think they were? Was that a threat?

“This is Bootleg. Your clients are in danger. What’s about to happen isn’t meant for them. Find a way to get them to leave.”

You sighed and nodded, although the disembodied voice named ‘Bootleg’ wasn’t reassuring. You knew to never turn down a tip, though. You weren’t going to risk it with clients like this. So you let out a sigh and made eye contact with Nat across the room.

“Execute plan beta sixteen alpha.”

She gave you a curt nod and increased her pace in a way only someone with your type of training could pick up. She was circling to make her movements seem undetectable, but she was ultimately going towards the First Lady and her son. Nat tripped, spilling the tray of champagne on their laps, causing them to gasp and look down. You could tell they were ready to yell, but they looked to your face and you nodded, signaling them to get up, brushing away anyone with apologies or offers for help, saying they were just going to clean up. The rest of the rich party goers didn’t pay it a second thought besides whispers of clumsy waitstaff. It’s not like they would bother to remember the face of one of them, though, and were too busy watching a fumbling Nat to see your approach to take your clients out of the venue. You did your best to move slowly to the same exit as them, and as soon as your bodies were behind the closed ballroom door, you were rushing them towards the back service door to get in Dylan’s getaway vehicle.

You ducked their heads under your arms as you rushed them out, and shoved them into the back of the town car, only giving a quick, breathless word to your clients and your brother.

“Take them home, Dyl. Fast. Don’t let yourself get tracked. I’ll take the decoy car. Go, now!”

He nodded like a bobble head, shifting the car in gear and peeling out of the lot as you jogged over to the other vehicle where Daisy and Nat were already waiting in the front seat for you. They moved fast.

You hopped in, Daisy expertly backing out until she hit the street. Just as she put it in drive, you flinched at a sudden noise and looked out the back window to where an explosion happened in front of the venue and soldiers dressed in all black rushed in through the cloud of smoke. This would definitely hit the news tomorrow, but you were sure your father would commend you for the safe delivery of two of his most important packages.

Daisy and Nat had been by your side for as long a you could remember. When you were in elementary school, you remembered a brooding girl sitting at the end of the lunch table, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, with the angriest pout you’d ever seen. You walked over and plopped down with your tray.

“Hi.”

She looked up from her meal and to your smile and simply gave a blink of acknowledgment, face unchanging.

“Are you okay? Something wrong with your lunch?”

She shook her head and took a deep breath, sitting up to eat a tater tot.

“No. Something’s wrong with my shirt.”

You tilted your head to the side. “What about it? I think it’s beautiful. I love Daisies.”

She shrugged and continued to pick through her food. “Yeah, I guess they’re alright. But my mom forced me to wear this. I had a plain black shirt picked out and she gave me this. I don’t wanna wear daisies.”

You giggled and looked down at the plain black shirt on your body. “Trade?”

For the first time, you watched the corner of her lip reach a smile, your new friend who would soon earn the shirt flower as a nickname. That little grin was huge compared to the tight line her lip previously held. That was the start of a bunch of mini smirks and teamwork.

Nat had been around since you were in diapers. Her parents had worked for your father’s organization their entire lives, so when they passed as she was in her teens, your family took her in.

She was always incredibly smart, her wit challenging you and Daisy, but the two of you would hit her right back. The timeline of her moving in with you, too, was a few years before the presidential gig started, but she rose through the ranks with you, through every single job, the two of you bringing Daisy on board who caught on quickly. Your grouping was nearly unrivaled. Nearly.

Daisy and Nat physically stood by your sides as the three of you looked on to your father talking on a podium. Your best suits were pressed and tailored perfectly for the special occasion. It was his retirement party in your family’s backyard garden where he was noting the successes of the company under him, including the recent incident from which the two important clients had been saved.

The three of you lightly nudged each other’s arms in commendation for the quick act despite your lack of backup, a small smile on your face, a smirk on Nat’s, with Daisy looking as composed and stoic as ever. You father continued in his speech, noting the valiant effort that needs to be maintained in a generational business like this, one that should be rewarded and carried on for the generations to come. You stood straight, chin up with pride at your hard work and dedication finally paying off.

“I was a young pup, only in my early twenties when I took this business over from my father. He deemed me most fit for the job, so it is my pleasure to do the same, keeping this line of work led by my family. I’d like to name my replacement, someone who valiantly saved the president’s son and wife. Someone who the son has raved about for returning them home to the White House safely. My wonderful child…”

You were ready for the culmination of years being under his wing. He gestured his arm out to the side and you braced yourself for the good news, except the arm wasn’t outstretched towards you. It was directed towards the other side of the stage and everyone’s eyes followed. “Dylan.”

Dylan was jerkily shoved forward by one of his friends, having been zoned out for the entirety of your father’s speech, but at the sound of cheering and clapping, a smile grew on his face. He waved at the crowd, walking over to the podium to shake your father’s hand and give a word of his own.

Meanwhile, your face fell. It was dragged downward in defeat. You quickly pulled yourself together, though, at a squeeze to your arm. You couldn’t even tell which side it came from. Your body was going numb. Shifting to plant your feet and fighting the burn in your eyes, you looked straight forward, no longer at the podium, although you had no way to shut off your ears.

“Wow, wow. Thank you. This is such an honor. At eighteen years old, I will be the youngest to ever run this organization.”

It seemed like he’s was at least doing well and presenting a strong face. That was rare.

“Haha, I beat ya, gramps! Okay, let’s party!”

You outwardly cringed, but your legs were paralyzed as his friends let out a whooping cheer and the party erupted in confetti. It was getting caught in your hair as Nat and Daisy dragged you away and inside, up the stairs to your childhood bedroom, jostling you like a rag doll. You felt almost catatonic.

As soon as you flopped down on your bed, though, you turned over and screamed into your pillow before sitting up, realizing this act of melodrama was going to wrinkle your suit.

You sat up and sniffled, rubbing your eyes and taking a deep breath to give yourself just a moment to think. You looked between your best friends and started pointing.

“Daise, can you pack up anything you think I might need from here? Whatever I can’t live without.”

You then looked to the redhead who was peeking out the window, watching your father enter the outdoor entrance of his home office.

“Nat, can you gather some home essentials? Food, first aid, some of the hidden and spare weapons. Only the ones they won’t sense are missing, okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. We better do it quick. Your pops just came in.”

You bit your lip and your nostrils flared in anger and thought, rubbing your hands over your face. “Okay. That’s fine, I need to talk to him anyway. That should give you enough time to grab everything. Then we’re heading back to the apartment to get some essentials.”

The three of you were roommates in the city, renting out a place Daisy’s distant uncle owned, which allowed you some freedoms, as well as independence from the possible tracing of your location on government records. Even under a security conglomerate, you could sense things were going downhill, so it was a good choice to move out and detach yourself. At this point, you were barely traceable. Only one thing tethered you here on a paper trail: the company.

You stormed out of your room and down the stairs to the hall that held your father’s office. You were furious. You had no patience left for formality or kindness, this was all rage. You kicked in the strong oak door, splintering the wooden frame, and were met with the view of your father and brother clinking whiskey glasses, an old celebratory reserve poured in them.

You stomped over to the filing cabinets where your file, thick as a novel, was stored. Next to it, you pulled out two more, no less impressive. Your dad, even though he possessed several methods for tech security, still kept employee information on paper in case he accidentally hired a mole. Everything was under lock and key and 24 hour surveillance.

You dug around in the left side drawer of his desk until you found the cigar lighter, hitting the edge of the folders until they caught and throwing them into his metal trash can. It was only then that he and your brother let words come out of their dropped jaws and awestruck faces.

“Tweety Bird, what’s the issue, kiddo? Didn’t wanna celebrate with your old man and little brother?”

You scoffed as you put your hands on your hips.

“Celebrate!? Celebrate what!? Being snubbed? Overlooked for something I’ve dedicated my life towards!?”

Your father’s bushy brows furrowed in confusion, your brother’s face mirroring it in a mini version. “What do you mean? You haven’t been snubbed. Dylan and I agree you’re meant to run teams and operations. You wouldn’t want to be in charge. Plus, it’s tradition that the first son takes over.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. Smoke was filling the room, but partially getting swept out the cracked windows that pointed toward the back yard. “You didn’t think to ask me, the one keeping your business afloat, to run it!? No one knows it better than me, but it’s so ridiculous. Just because I’m an older sister like Aunt Kay, doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be in charge! She wanted to leave this life, but I don’t!”

You heard a chuckle rise behind you. “What, Dylan?”

He shrugged with a smug smile on his face. “Aunt Kay didn’t want to leave this life. She wanted the company, too. But Gramps gave it to dad. That’s why she fucked off to who knows where and started that bank vault company.”

You gasped in shock and looked to your father but he seemed unaffected. You turned to him now, disgusted with the sight of your little brother. “What!? Do you hear yourself right now!? Just because we aren’t men!? That’s insane!! I’m the one who saved the president’s family. Not Dylan, me! He was too busy sitting on his ass and picking his nose to be of any help. Maybe we would’ve seen the team coming to attack the venue sooner if he would’ve done his job!”

Your chest was heaving and your face was warm from the yelling. Your father still calmly continued. “Dylan returned the family safe and sound. You were nowhere to be seen. He deserves this step of responsibility, but I have no doubt you can guide him like an invisible hand.”

You shook your head, moving back towards the door between the leather couches of the sitting area, pacing on the Persian rug. “No, no. Absolutely not. I refuse to keep performing thankless service. You’ve made a mistake. I no longer want to work for you and I no longer want to be a part of this family. This whole thing is fucked. I’m out.”

Your father sighed, about to speak up. “Bird, we-“

He was cut off by the arm of your brother, though. “No, dad. If she wants to leave, I think she should. I don’t want anyone here questioning my leadership. The president’s son will back me on that. He’s upset the extraction ruined a designer suit and thinks that I’m the best fit, too. I can run this without her.”

Your dad gave a hmph of affirmation, which sent you over the edge. After all those years of service, both your father and the president’s son still didn’t credit your work. You couldn’t stand this anymore, especially not when Dylan was fabricating lies in his own head about the greatness you performed.

“You know what, Dyl? Yeah, let’s have it your way. You guys will never need to see me again. Good luck not running this thing into the ground.”

You turned on your heel and marched out the door. When you turned the corner, you saw both Nat and Daisy waiting for you, double fisting duffel bags. You motioned for both of them to head to Nat’s car, walking quickly, but they were more than capable of keeping up. You heard Daisy speak from over your left shoulder.

“Bird, where are we going?”

As you barged through the glass front door and put on your sunglasses, you took a breath in of the air that marked your new life, outside the stuffy patriarchy of what you thought would be your legacy.

“Somewhere far. And don’t ever call me that again.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: Bruh, could you imagine being betrayed by your own father like that? Also, we’ll be seeing more of Daisy as the reader for Jake’s storyline in the future.

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[galvanizedfriend]

Klaroline Fanfiction Masterlist

It's been a minute since I last updated my masterlist so I decided to go ahead and start a new one. Yokan // ▪ Multi-chapters

. The Wolf Series [I, II, III and Outtakes - Incomplete] When Caroline wakes up shackled, powerless and very far away from Mystic Falls, she knows she's in serious trouble. But when a woman named Sophie Deveraux reveals the reason why she's been kidnapped and taken to New Orleans, she realizes things are far worse than she could've ever imagined.

[The Originals rewriting where Caroline is a witch and gets pregnant with Klaus' child. Seasons 1, 2 and 3 complete, season 4 coming.]

. Vice and Virtue [6/6 - Complete] As the second son of a Duke, Klaus Mikaelson has the means and all the time in the world to indulge in every manner of wild activity with very little respect for the regiment of polite society. That is until his brother decides he's had enough of his vulgar ways and gives him an ultimatum. Caroline Forbes is a young debutante in search of true love and adventure. Except her aunt wishes for her to marry a somber Viscount who's already buried three wives. When their paths cross, they realize they might yet strike a deal that could satisfy their relatives and benefit them both.

[AH Regency!AU inspired by Bridgerton and a dozen other period novels I have been reading lately.]

. Pedulum [2/2 - Complete] This is what Klaus Mikaelson knows: death isn't the end for him. From the moment he is brought into the world to his final shuddering breath, Klaus' life is pretty much the same as everyone else's. The difference lies in what happens after he dies: he goes right back to the beginning, a child in London with the memory of dozens of lives lived before. Nothing ever really changes, including the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he can never save Caroline Forbes' life for too long.

[AH/soulmates!AU with a slight magical twist. Technically a one-shot, chapter 2 is just an alternate ending.]

. We'll Always Have New Orleans [3/15 - Incomplete] Caroline wakes up in a world where everything looks exactly the same, only nothing really is. For starters, she's no longer a vampire, and no one else in Mystic Falls has ever heard of witches, vampires or werewolves - no one except for Klaus, who woke up just as human and twice as angry about it. Their search for answers and a way out takes them all the way to New Orleans, and Caroline could never anticipate how much this crazy fake world was about to alter her reality forever.

[Canon-divergence!AU. Set right after TVD 4x18.]

. Speed Dating [3/4 - Incomplete] Klaus is having a bad month, so Caroline decides it's a great idea to drag him along to a round of Speed Dating. Other men in the room do not approve.

AH/AU fluff that was inspired by an episode of House (yes, it is fluff, I promise).

. Gasoline [2/2 - Complete] "He doesn't apologize, of course he doesn't. He doesn't care. He calls everyone love. It's not meant to mean anything. Except it did, once, and it makes Caroline's stomach churn away inside, as she feels Klaus crawling underneath her skin like he never left at all. I've still got you."

AH/Band!AU. Two years after Klaus walked out on his band - on her -, Caroline finds herself in her least favorite place on earth - New Orleans. She really did try to stay away from him, escaping an event just to keep off his radar. He finds her anyway.

. Like It's Christmas Again [2/2 - Complete] As Christmas approaches, Caroline Forbes, a New York-based event planner, is sent to a quaint small town in Virginia to organize their holiday festival. But her plans are momentarily hindered by the presence of Klaus Mikaelson, the Mayor's brother and a grumpy billionaire lacking in any holiday spirit, who's in town to close the sale of his family's manor - the charming estate she was hoping to use as a venue.

[AKA that time when I committed Christmas fic. AU/AH inspired by a Hallmark movie, I kid you not.]

. Spin [5/5 - Complete] Since she was seven years old, Caroline Forbes has been preparing herself to become President of the United States. But before she gets to the Oval Office, she needs to win the election for senior student president at the prestigious Saint Sebastian High - which would be in the bag if only goddamn Klaus Mikaelson hadn't decided to run against her.

[AH/AU lovers-to rivals-to-lovers The Politician!AU where everyone takes school elections way more seriously than they should.]

. How Far I'd Go [2/2 - Complete for now] Set in TVD S6/TO S2. Unable to control Caroline after she turns her humanity off, Stefan reaches out to the only person he can think of for help.

[Slices of moments of Klaus in Mystic Falls while Caroline has her humanity off.] ▪ One-shots

. The Sound of Settling Klaus hates his job at Mikaelson & Sons. He hates wearing a suit. He also hates his brothers constantly butting into his life. Everything will be better once he gets his much desired transfer to the New York branch. Caroline Forbes is the owner of Mystic Café, and when Klaus accidentally wanders into her coffee shop, his whole perspective changes. [AH/Coffee Shop!AU where Klaus is a lawyer. Fluffity Fluff. Lots of Mikaelsons and some Carenzo friendship.] . The Witch Queen Caroline always knew she was different. She was keyed into her own otherness very early on. Strange things happened around the Forbes women. Her mother never really had to spell it out to her, give it a name. Caroline could always sort of feel it, and then at some point the feeling blossomed into comprehension, and comprehension hardened into fact. And with that came an altogether different kind of certainty: this was not a secret she'd be able to keep forever. One day, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, everyone would find out. And when they did, they would come for her.

. Worst Things Have Happened Klaus Mikaelson is a prince with a very dark secret that threatens to destroy his family's legacy. Caroline Forbes is a sorceress whose job is to make sure his secret remains buried. But would it hurt him to put some clothes on? [Royal!AU, with a magical twist.] . The Unexpected Grace of Falling Apart The whole incident was bound to go down as a funny anecdote to be shared among friends, a Oh, you think you've had the worst hook-up ever? Hold my beer kind of story. Provided, of course, that she never had to see him ever and could just wipe him out of her life and memory for good. Given that they live in different time zones, it shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

That is precisely why Caroline is livid when she emerges from the arrivals area at Richmond airport to find Douchebag, in the flesh - sunglasses indoors and all, like the proper jerk that he is - holding up a sign that readsClarisse.

[AH/AU. It's Tyler's wedding weekend and Caroline is back in Mystic Falls for the first time after the most traumatic and depressing year of her life. And it's about to get even worse as she's made to share breathing space with Klaus, The Worst Guy Ever. Except they might have to join forces to save the wedding, and to the discovery that things might not be what the seem. As Caroline teeters on the edge of a breakdown she'd been trying very hard to conceal, an unexpected savior appears to help her through the haze.]

. love, the monster's got me now [Canon compliant. Set in TVD S03E09 Homecoming.]

"Don't run," he says calmly, sounding almost bored, but with a clear warning. "I'm in the mood for a chase. Little spoiler: you can't outrun me." His eyebrows twitch up when he finally turns around to face her, lips curling into an amused grin. "Tyler's girl," he states, gesturing towards the now empty yard. "You missed out on the celebrations, I’m afraid."

[Or: the missing Klaroline scene between "There's your pretty little girlfriend, Caroline" and "There's a whole world out there waiting for you." Klaus and Caroline meet after Homecoming.]

. When It's Gone Suddenly, Caroline hates how nice the bed feels. How soft the pillows are. How smooth and cool and expensive those goddamn sheets are against her skin. She hates the giddiness in her belly, like she's a stupid schoolgirl when she's not allowed to be one anymore. She hates how right the space between Klaus' arms felt, how easily she molded against him. His lips were as full and as soft as they looked, but his hands were gentler and more reverent than they had any right to be, and Caroline hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. She hates that it suits her, hates that she wants it, hates that none of it is hers to keep.

[Set after TVD S04E19 Pictures of You. Caroline hears about Klaus' impending departure after a mysterious letter and decides to have some words.] . Wishing Each Sigh Might Be the Last The first time she sees him, Caroline thinks he's an angel.

[Set in 1800s New Orleans. As Caroline lies dying, she prays for God to send help or end her torment and save her soul. She thinks an angel has come for her. But he's no angel at all.] . Feel the Madness Closing In Set in TO S3. Caroline is in New Orleans when Lucien and the Ancestors make a move against the Mikaelson family - and they know exactly who to target in order to get to Klaus. Paranoia sets in, sending him to a very dark place, and Caroline finally learns the price of being loved so profoundly by a monster. . Issues When Klaus' Hollywood career takes a down turn after a nasty divorce and a viral mug shot, his manager decides his life is not yet miserable enough, bringing in a PR company famous for its high-profile damage control cases.

[AH!AU where Klaus is a problematic movie star and Caroline is a PR agent with no time for his BS.] . Urban Legend "I hate myself for saying this, but I have to agree with Little Miss Sunshine," Caroline cuts in. "This is Whitmore. Nothing ever happens here. Least of all a possession that leads to a massacre of slasher movie proportions."

"Thank you, love," Klaus returns brightly. "Very flattering to be validated by you."

"Bite me, Klaus."

"Find me later, after my shift, and we can see to it," comes the shameless rejoinder.

[Or: Caroline tries to navigate life in college having the worst roommate ever, a douchebag who cannot take a hint and a nosy journalist whom she's definitely not attracted to. Never in a million years.]

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter fifteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): allusions to death and cannonical violence, angst

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Draco is confined to the Hospital Wing for three whole weeks.

He was in and out of restless sleep for the first week, comatose in the second and fighting off the fog of pain reducing potions in the third.

Harry has detention with Snape, polishing endlessly dirty cauldrons, until the end of the year, which you and all of Slytherin house think should've been a far harsher punishment, but at least he's not gotten away with attempted murder.

You had visited Draco diligently almost every day during your free periods, alongside Pansy and Blaise, keeping him up to date on typical Hogwarts gossip and bringing him notes for classes that he needed (and avoiding the topic of quidditch because the thought of the matches he'd missed had put him in the most foul mood). He'd asked about the other trio that made up your group when they weren't with you, but there wasn't much you or Pansy could say.

It's like you've gone back to square one with him all over again.

Ever since the duel in the second floor bathroom, Mattheo has been avoiding you like the plague and you have no idea why.

But it's not just Mattheo; Lorenzo and even Theodore have not uttered so much as a hello to you; if Draco wasn't hospitalised you were certain he'd be giving you the same treatment. And it seems that Pansy is being offered the same sentiment, too, which can't mean anything good.

The two of you had been thrust together in solitary, abandoned by your friends, who would whisper conspiratorially with eachother when you were not there, and would completely change the subject when one of them spotted you or Pansy heading their way.

It was downright infuriating.

He could see it written all over your face, but he couldn't risk either of you knowing what they were doing. Blaise was an unfortunate exception; Mattheo tried to get him to leave it be, but his best friend was relentless, and would not stop pestering all four boys until he took it upon himself to follow them when they were none the wiser all the way back in September when the task had officially commenced.

The Vanishing Cabinet was almost repaired.

They were one step closer to completing Draco's seemingly impossible task. But, of course, Mattheo's father didn't think they were doing it fast enough, and he did not care that Draco's hospitalisation took priority over a stupid wardrobe. He would force his son's hand if he had to.

So the boys had spent the better part of a week locked away in the Room of Requirement. They hardly went to lessons, and when they did, it was only to keep up appearances to cause less suspicion among the staff (especially those that they suspected were high up in the Order's chain of command) and their peers.

He knows you're angry about his avoidance, but Mattheo cannot bring himself to involve you; to put you in anymore danger. Your display of power was enough to engage his overprotective side, and he knows that if he was able to figure you out before he even considered a civil friendship with you all those months ago, that his father would have you figured out in half the time. He already suspected that the Order knew about you, if Dumbledore knew, which already put you on Voldemort's radar, even if his father didn't know the siphon's true identity. He only knew that there was one in existence.

Mattheo only hopes that his father is too focused on his vendetta against the Headmaster to figure it out.

It's becoming increasingly more difficult to lie to you. Even the Unbreakable Vow he's forced to adhere to doesn't seem powerful enough anymore. You know about Horcruxes, he knows that for certain. Which puts you in danger, no matter if you know where the objects are or not. When he saw the memory of you holding the ring without knowing just what was in your hands...

...Mattheo had to keep you far away from that burden for as long as possible and he hated that Dumbledore had knowingly given you such a cursed object without a thought or qualm of the consequences.

Now, alongside Theo and Enzo, Mattheo is staring resolutely at the deep brown wooden door of the Vanishing Cabinet on a random Friday afternoon. The spell that they'd discovered had worked thus far; there were only so many more incantations needed for it to catalyse the spellbinding properties of the complex magic that was weaved into the wood centuries ago.

The boys were putting off the inevitable for as long as possible. But as Blaise arrived, with a freshly healed Draco in tow, they knew that it was time to do the inevitable.

"Harmonia Nectere Passus." Draco repeated the spell for the nth time and allowed Enzo to let the bird, whose wings were flapping wildly in his tentative hold, into the deep abyss.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited some more until Mattheo slowly reached for the handle, brows furrowed in apprehension when he felt the palpable pull of the wardrobe's magic, and opening it with a soft creak. The bird flew out and rose towards the ceiling of the Room of Requirement, disappearing from their sight and into the rafters in the ceiling.

The five of them stood silently for some time after that, each coming to their own grim realisations.

They had done it.

Finally after months of trial and error; after months of physical and mental torture, they had fixed the unfixable.

But at what cost?

Their left arms burned in earnest as Voldemort rallied his forces to prepare for infiltration. Blaise looked at his friends in solemn understanding. Horror swept through them like a wave in the sea.

What had they just done?

~∞~

He watched you from the shadows of the viaduct for some time before he decided to approach you.

You were sat in the courtyard, accompanied by Pansy, Ginny, Hermione, Luna and Neville (an odd bunch – your little group had garnered some whispers from passers by, and sneers too but none of you cared to pay them any mind).

He admired your beauty. The way your features brightened inexplicably as you laughed with your friends; how your eyes softened as a smile stretched across your flushed face; how the sun framed you like a halo would an angel. He hated that he would be the one to burst that bubble of indescribable happiness.

As he made his way towards you from the shadows, approaching you for the first time in a week, his chest tightened as your features hardened when you noticed him. He knew he deserved it. But it didn't mean it didn't hurt any less.

"What do you want, Riddle?" the way Pansy spits his surname pains him just as much as your furrowed expression. He knows without a doubt, that the boys' actions had hurt her just as inherently as they had hurt you, if not more. But she would come to understand, eventually, that it was done for her protection.

"I need to talk to you." He says slowly. "To all of you."

This has their attention. And you watch as he brushes a hand through unruly curls, the sunlight highlighting deep, dark eyebags, as if he hadn't slept all week.

"About what?" Ginny demands, sitting up straighter from where she was lounging lazily next to Luna, whose head is tilted inquisitively. You still haven't shown him much of a reaction, and your mental walls were built up high and solid. Hermione looked skeptical, and Neville only looked confused and scared.

"You need to get in contact with the Order." he begins and he watches as you share a look of concern with Hermione.

"Why?" Hermione asks him and he casts his eyes to her chocolate ones, a grimace overtaking his face.

"Because there's going to be an attack on Hogwarts. Tonight." His statement sets off a chain of events.

Neville is a blubbering mess of nerves and fear as he rushes to stand. Luna has a contemplative look on her face; seemingly calm in the aftermath of Mattheo's words. Hermione looks terrified, but her face cools with a mask of indifference as if she herself is preparing for battle. Ginny looks up at him, a determined glint in her eyes as she rises to her feet, pulling you all up with her. Pansy looks horrified, her hands twisting together frantically as your own hands fight to calm them. And you...

Gods he wants someone to paint the look on your face onto a canvas; to cement it into existence forever.

Your brows are furrowed, creating a divet in the space between them and your lips are pulled into a frown that casts a melancholic sadness across your warm features. You're staring up at him with big, questioning eyes and all he wants to do is grab you and take you far, far away from everything; drag you to another continent so that he knows for certain that you'll be safe.

"How do you know there's going to be an attack?" you ask and he wants to desperately put off the inevitable, but he sees it in your eyes, and in your eddying thoughts (as well as Pansy's) – you already knew what he was about to admit, even if it killed him in the process.

"Draco had a task-" the Dark Mark burns angrily against the skin of his forearm and Mattheo grimaces and his heart skips a beat when you move towards him, shaking off Neville's wary hand. "-It was meant to have been completed three weeks ago-"

But he ended up having a brutal near death experience.

Is what he was trying to say, but the Mark was causing him agony, tearing at the very seams of his brain as he tried to make sense of the words appearing in his mind. But he couldn't string them together.

The feeling is gone as soon as your hands are gracing his skin, which is hot to the touch.

You watched as his face scrunched in pain and your heart physically hurts for him. You wanted his misery to end. So you used your ability and siphoned away some of the magic that was binding itself aggressively to Mattheo's very being, letting the veins of dark magic coarse through your's and settle restlessly into the conduit around your neck, casting your indigo core in dark shadows of obsidian.

It burned like hell, but watching his face return to it's relaxed state, was worth it.

"Why did you do that?" he asks you incredulously, staring down at you with wide onyx eyes.

"You were in pain." you say breathlessly. "I don't like seeing you in pain."

He brings his forehead to rest against your's. It's the first point of contact you've both had all week and you all but melt into him.

"I'm trying to explain myself to you," he mumbles. "But this damned thing has a chokehold on my very core."

He's glaring hatefully toward his left arm and you hear the way your friends take a collective inhale of breath. You grasp it gently, running sooting lines up and down his forearm with a soft caress of your fingers that has his tensed shoulders relaxing imperceptibly.

"You don't have to explain yourself, if it means you may end up killing yourself in the process, Théo." you reply, ignoring the eyes that are on you, feeling like you're the only people stood in the viaduct courtyard. "No one wants that. I don't want that."

Ginny clears her throat, knocking you from the haze of staring into his captivating eyes. She's looking at Mattheo with a little more determination than before. He shifts on his feet, hand reaching for your's, which you take without question, letting him hold you in some way, for comfort.

"Does the Order still have people guarding the outskirts of the castle grounds and the town's streets?" He asks Hermione who nods slowly, confused on how he knows this information. "There are spies everywhere, Granger don't act so surprised."

His words resonate with all of you, but you don't have time to ponder it as Mattheo continues.

"Find them and tell them, now. There's not enough time to waste." he says, voice strong and commanding. "And where's Professor Dumbledore? He needs to stay away from the Astronomy Tower."

"Why?" Ginny asks but it's not Mattheo that answers her question.

"They're going to kill him, aren't they?" Pansy's voice is no louder than a whisper, and the way Mattheo flinches is an answer in itself.

Hermione is frozen. Eyes wide in horror.

"He's not here." She says, voice low. "He took Harry to search for a- for a horcrux. They won't return until well past curfew."

Your mouth gapes in realisation.

"The only point in the castle that Dumbledore can apparate to and from is the-"

"Astronomy Tower." Mattheo says with you and you turn to eachother with identical looks of dread on your faces.

"Go to the Order. Tell them to get reinforcements."

It's the last thing he says before he drags Pansy away, probably towards the Slytherin common room where the others are, leaving you with your friends in a state of pure distress.

You run to the nearest Order member you know of immediately and Professor McGonnagall is just as shocked as you all are.

Reinforcements are called upon immediately and by eight o'clock, just before curfew, the corridors are swarming with Order members.

~∞~

The Dark Mark streaked vibrantly green across the night sky like an ominous painting. It had appeared only moments ago. When Bellatrix Lestrange and a group of more than a dozen Death Eaters had infiltrated the school's usually impenetrable defences. Calamitous and imposing with the snake moving silkily into the mouth of the giant skull, Dumbledore's Army and Order members were fighting tooth and nail to eliminate the hoards of Death Eaters that had managed to get past the wards.

Meanwhile up in the Astronomy tower, protected against Order members with their own wards, Mattheo stood shrouded in shadows, alongside Draco, Theo and Enzo as they watched the swirls of green mist form a cloud of animosity in the vast, open room. They stood in typical Death Eater masks, to conceal their faces, all but Draco who stood with his head held high, right hand clenching his wand harshly, to prevent it from trembling like a leaf.

Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter landed with uncoordinated grace only moments after Bellatrix had cast the Mark. The former looked haggard and ill – as if he could topple over with a gust of wind at any second.

This will make Draco's task easier. Theo said wordlessly as they observed the way the Headmaster clutched at his chest with his decaying hand.

Mattheo agreed without so much as moving a muscle. Body tense as he tried to imagine you safe in your dorm room, away from the chaos that was no doubt about to ensue. But he knew you better than that.

He knew you were in the fray, fighting for the right cause. Fighting for your life, and your friend's lives. He could hear the distant sound of spells clashing against eachother; walls crumbling; people screaming out for help. He only hopes one of those screams is not your own.

He locks away the thoughts. He cannot be distracted right now. Not when the deed was about to be done.

"Go and wake Severus. Tell him what has happening and bring him to me. Do noth- nothing else. Speak to nobody and do not remove your cloak. I shall wait here." Dumbledore says faintly to Potter, who slowly slips the infamous Invisibility Cloak over his head, but before he can conceal himself fully, Draco's arm begins to burn, as does Mattheo's.

It's time.

The floor creaks as Draco moves to step around the corner of the room where he sees a ripple of movement by the door, but no body. Harry had already disappeared under the cloak, seemingly unmoving, as if he was paralysed.

He errupted around the corner in seconds, shouting "Expelliarmus!" and had disarmed his Headmaster with surprising ease, though he does well not to show the emotions cross his face. The Elderwand, that was previously gripped snuggly in Dumbledore's dueling hand, flies in an arc-like shape onto the floor, rolling under a group of orreries in the far corner of the Astronomy Tower.

Professor Dumbledore was, for the first time in his over one hundred years of life, deathly weak and utterly defenceless. Despite this, he did not look panicked or distressed. He only greeted Draco with a cold smile of recognition.

"Hello Draco. Pleasant evening, isn't it?"

Draco stepped into the foreboding green light, reflecting off of the countless metal contraptions surrounding them. His eyes darted across the clearing, from where Dumbledore stood, to where Potter's now invisible body lay.

Mattheo, Theo, Enzo and Draco knew he was there. But the others did not, probably expecting him to be fighting alongside the Order. Most were fighting below, others were waiting for a signal of their own. But Bellatrix wanted to watch her nephew complete his task. She had appeared silently beside Mattheo and had spotted a veil of magic that wasn't supposed to be there.

She looks suspicious. Make it look convincing. Draco heard Mattheo's warning and so the acting began.

"Who else is here?" he demanded, face void of any telling emotion. Dumbledore only smiled knowingly.

"I might ask you the same. Or are you acting alone?"

Draco's stoney eyes fell on Dumbledore's weakened figure.

"There are Death Eaters roaming your school grounds. We let them in right under your nose and you didn't have the slightest idea." Draco sneered, lifting his wand higher in anticipation.

"Ingenious." Dumbledore replied, and Mattheo could sense a shift in his demeanor. "I wonder...where are they now? You seem quite....unsupported."

"They're a little preoccupied with your precious Order. Fighting below. They won't be long, but I have a job to do." Draco responds icily, wand hand twitching. Mattheo knew then that Draco wouldn't make the killing blow.

"Well then, might I suggest you get on and do it," Dumbledore says, his voice growing softer as he smiled. "You are not a killer Draco Malfoy. Am I to believe that your friend would try to help if she knew what you were about to do."

"I've made peace with that possibility, sir." Draco says, though regret shines in his light grey eyes. It shines in all their eyes at the thought of what you will say in the wake of their ultimate betrayal.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of. The things I've done!" Draco continues, his voice surging with growing confidence.

"I do." Dumbledore says slowly. "I know you and your friends almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley in your desperate attempts to kill me all year. I can't help but notice that they have been feeble at best. Forgive me, my boy, but I wonder whether your heart has really been in it–"

"It has been in it!" Draco retorts vehemently, as if Voldemort was listening from around a corner. "We've been working on it all year and-"

There's a loud and muffled yell somewhere in the corridors below them and Mattheo stiffens at the thought of it being you.

He'd only seen you once in passing, fighting against Dolohov with one of the Weasley offspring. You didn't recognise him while he was in his Death Eater robes, You were fighting strong and fast against the older man, who barely stood a chance against all your unleashed power.

"Somebody is putting up a good fight." Dumbledore says, voice filling the tension that permeates the air.

"You managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school which I'll admit, I thought was impossible. How did you do it?" He sounds intrigued rather than nervous or frightened. Mattheo tenses more. Ignoring Bellatrix's presence as she too observes, clearly fighting the urge to intervene and kill Albus Dumbledore herself.

Draco did not respond. His focus was on the battle happening beneath them.

"Perhaps you ought to continue with the job alone, although I am curious to know where your friends are." Dumbledore's words prompt Voldemort's right hand woman to forcefully shove Mattheo from the shadows.

He stumbles unexpectedly, but rights himself as his gaze settles on his Headmaster. He removes the mask and runs a hand through his unruly curls.

"Ah Mr Riddle." he greets with cool eyes of steel as if he wasn't a lamb sent to the wolves. "I have to say, I'm surprised it's not you stood in Mr Malfoy's position."

"My father wanted to punish his father. Thought it was fitting that Draco did his dirty work for him." Mattheo says, voice low and deep as he stares into irises of silver. Dumbledore cocks his head as Mattheo opens up his mind to the Headmaster as he speaks out loud to fill the otherwise empty silence.

I warned the Order before the Death Eaters got here. They were prepared.

Perhaps Miss Meadow was right about you after all. Dumbledore's response holds an ounce of regret that does not translate to his face. Do not let your father know of her abilities. We both know what he will do with her if he does.

With my life, Sir. He will never know that she is the one with the power to summon from the elements.

She doesn't know the full extent of her abilities does she?

We've barely scratched the surface, Sir.

With the most imperceptible of nods from his Headmaster, Mattheo comes to stand beside his best friend, face stoic, yet expressionless, resembling his father's old face as if they were identical twins.

"What if your back-up has been thwarted by my guard? The Order are efficient at what they can do."

Malfoy merely stared at him. He did not know of the passing conversation that had just occurred between the other two men.

"I see," said Dumbledore kindly, when Draco neither moved nor spoke. "You are afraid to act until you have an audience."

"I'm not afraid!" Draco snarled, though he still made no move to hurt

Dumbledore, who stood defencelessly before the two of them. "It's you who should be scared!"

Mattheo's bones were practically vibrating with anticipation. Draco needed to stop stalling.

"But why? I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe. So tell me, while we wait for the rest of your friends. How did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it."

Draco looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. He gulped and took several deep breaths, glaring at Dumbledore, his wand pointing directly at the latter's heart.

It's Mattheo who responds this time, giving Draco the time he needed to compartmentalise his emotions. "We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that hasn't been used in years. The wardrobe that Graham Montague got lost in last year."

It takes effort for all of them to hold back their snickers as they vividly remember when Montague had emerged almost two months later.

Dumbledore makes a sound of acknowledgment that was more of a painful groan than a sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"That was clever. There is a pair, I take it?"

"The other's in Borgin and Burkes," Mattheo continues, voice raspy and slow as he explains, reminding Dumbledore even more of who the boy's father is.

"They make a kind of passage between them. Montague told us that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the wardrobe was travelling between them, but he couldn't make anyone hear him. In the end he managed to Apparate out, even though he'd never actually passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone else thought it was a really good story, but we – Theo, Draco, Enzo and I figured out that there could be a way into Hogwarts through the Cabinets if we fixed the broken one. My father thought it was....ingenious."

"Very good," murmured Dumbledore. "So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you. A clever plan, a very clever plan. And, as you say, right under my nose..."

"Yeah," Draco says, quite recovered from his momentary stupor and bizarrely, seemed to draw courage and comfort from Dumbledore's praise. "Yeah, it was!"

"But there were times, weren't there?" Dumbledore went on, "When you were not sure you would succeed in mending the Cabinet? And you resorted to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me a cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands–"

Draco flinched.

"–Poisoning mead that there was only the slightest chance I might drink–"

Mattheo grimaced only slightly. He imagined that Theo and Enzo had similar flinching responses, too.

"Yeah, well, you still didn't realise who was behind that stuff, did you?" Draco sneered, as Dumbledore slid a little down the ramparts, the strength in his legs apparently fading.

"As a matter of fact, I did," He said. "I was quite certain it was you."

"Why didn't you stop me, then?" Draco demanded and Mattheo couldn't help but wonder, himself.

"I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders–"

Everyone in that room froze at his words. A pin drop could be heard for miles at the noxious silence that followed that statement.

"No that's not right. He hasn't been following your orders, he promised my mother–"

"Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but–"

"He's a double agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you just think he is!" Draco shouts over the dying man.

"We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape–"

"Well, you're losing your grip, then!" Draco sneers again, ignoring Mattheo's careful hand that rests on his friends shoulder in warning. "He's been offering me plenty of help, wanting all the glory for himself, wanting a bit of the action–"

Mattheo drowns out Draco's depressing monologue in favour of observing the way Dumbledore grew weaker with every passing second. They didn't have long. They needed to get this done.

"How long was Rosmerta under the Imperius Curse, Mr Riddle?" Dumbledore's question brings him back to the present.

"All year." He responds lowly, shamefully. Admitting it felt like being pelted by thousands of tiny shards of glass, but he knew that was the guilt.

"So poor Rosmerta was forced to lurk amongst her own bathroom stalls and pass the cursed necklace to any student who entered unaccompanied?" Dumbledore sounds intrigued, disgusted and weirdly amused as he lists off his suspicions. "And of course she poisoned the mead before she sent the bottle to Slughorn, perhaps believing it to be my Christmas present, despite it being so late into the new year. Very insidious. Of course Mr Filch would not think to check something addressed from her. Tell me how you were communicating with her. I believed we had monitored all forms of communication in and out of the school."

"Enchanted coins." Draco replied, his wand hand was trembling badly now. "I had one and she had the other-"

"Like the secret method Dumbledore's Army used to communicate last year? Did Miss Meadow give you that idea?"

"Leave her name out of your mouth." Mattheo hissed, teeth gritted together in a rage. He could practically smell Bellatrix's curiousity. He wondered how she'd managed to stay so still and quiet for all this time. He had almost forgotten that she was there, had he not felt the daunting barbed walls of her mental shield.

"I got the idea from Granger, actually. I overhear her talking about all sorts in the library." Draco says, sharing a fleeing glance with Mattheo, who once again drowned out the sound of their voices, in favour of trying to reach you.

Meadow? Nothing.

Answer me! No response. Your mind was as hard as a stonewalled fortress against his desperation.

There was a bang and a collection shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where they were stood.

Wordlessly he tells Draco, Enzo and Theo to be ready to sink into the shadows and leave at any given moment. Their silent aggreement has his tense shoulders slacking only for mere moments.

"There is little time, one way or another," said Dumbledore. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"My options!" Draco said loudly. "I'm standing here with a wand – I'm about to kill you–"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."

"I haven't got any options!" he yelled and he was suddenly as white as Dumbledore. "I have no choice! I have to kill you. Or he's going to kill me and my family."

"I appreciate the difficulty of your precarious situation." Dumbledore responded "Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realised that I suspected you."

They all winced at the sound of the name. Except Mattheo. His onyx eyes only hardened.

"I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you, but I suppose with the help of his son you would have been fine," Dumbledore continued, casting a singular look at Mattheo. "But now at last we can speak plainly to each other...no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived. I can help you, Draco."

"Where was that offer when Meadow came to you?" he snapped, wand hand raised and shaking. Mattheo's eyes shut briefly. Your name was bound to be brought up in the next meeting at this point.

Dumbledore said nothing in response to that and Mattheo practically growled his discontent. But before anyone could utter another word, a dozen sets of footsteps thundered up the spiral staircase and Bellatrix Lestrange had finally, finally stepped out from the shadows, a menacing smirk stretching across her gaunt face as Severus Snape stood ominously beside her, wand poised and ready to strike.

~∞~

hiiii!! it's been a while (like two weeks??) since i updated serendipity

this is part one of the astronomy battle scene from the book – the next part (chapter 16) should be out within the next week since i have uni work to complete 😒 but i hope you enjoyed this one xxx

also unrelated to this post, i saw niall horan last night and it felt like a fever dream?? take me back right now.

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(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

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[sad-endings-suck]

One of my favourite details from the original Red Rising trilogy, is that no one ever came close to guessing or even suspecting that Darrow wasn’t a gold.

It shows the inherent flaw in their sense of superiority. Octavia had Darrow right there in front of her, with an Oracle wrapped around his arm, and even though she suspected he was a Son of Ares, she never asked if he was anything other than gold, didn’t even come close.

Adrius and Virginia are geniuses, but still, neither of them could have possibly fathomed that Darrow was a red until they had the concrete evidence of his carving right in front of them.

To this day (in canon) the only reason anyone knows Darrow is a red carved to be gold, is because the video evidence of his carving was leaked (initially from Harmony, and later from others).

No one, no matter how intelligent, practical, paranoid, cautions, clever or skeptical, ever figured out about Darrow’s carving through their own suspicion or means of investigation. They were either in on it from the beginning (Dancer, Mickey, Quicksilver, etc) or they were shown video evidence. No one figured it out themselves or “unravelled the mystery” so to speak. Because no one even knew there was a mystery.

And before people say “it was extremely unlikely, they had no reason to suspect” Yes, Darrow’s carving was incredibly difficult and expensive, but the same procedure was performed on Titus not long after, so how rare or hard could it be? We even get a dialogue from Mustang in Golden Son in which she details that different colours go to carvers all the time to have “intrinsic” parts of themselves altered, far more often than the public realizes. So the possibility should have been on Octavia’s radar, but it wasn’t, because she simply couldn’t fathom it. It was too obscure.

How could a red be the spitting image of what gold society idealizes? How could a red be so tall, strong, and beautiful? How could a red graduate top of the Institute, become a peerless scarred, a Lancer, her own grandson’s celebrity hero? Neither her nor Nero or Lorn or even Adrius were capable of even entertaining the idea. It was not a thought that was ever going to occur to them naturally.

And I really love that, from a narrative perspective, because it says so much about how the Society operates and upholds itself. It says so much about how high on their own egos golds really are. It says so much about how the colours are not as different from one another as golds would have them believe.

Cassian Andor: What? To steal from the Empire? What do you need? A uniform, some dirty hands and an Imperial tool kit. They're so proud of themselves, they don't even care. They're so fat and satisfied, they can't imagine it.

Luthen Rael: Can't imagine what?

Cassian Andor: That someone like me would ever get inside their house, walk their floors, spit in their food, take their gear.

Andor (2022-)

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 36)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap,

A few weeks later....

For the next few weeks, Cillian stayed at your house most nights, even with his son Max and, soon enough, you found a routine that seemed to work for you both. Cillian had been asking you to move in with him but, after all that had happened in the past, you were not quite ready for that yet.

Your decision to want your own space was somewhat upsetting for Cillian who saw it as another sign that you didn't trust him fully.

You had explained to him that you loved him and that you simply needed your own space to figure things out.

He had reluctantly agreed, respecting your wishes even though he knew that living apart would not be easy for either of you.

The fact that Cillian was not living with you full-time, made him want to make the most out of every free moment that he had with you and it made him crave your presence in a way that he hadn't before.

He became even more intentional about wanting to spend every available second with you, making it a priority to be present and engaged in your lives together, whether it was cooking dinner for the both of you, taking turns rocking Mara to sleep, or simply cuddling on the couch watching a movie together.

Of course, on occasion, you were intimate too but this time, you took things slower, exploring each other's bodies in ways that were both familiar and new. There was no longer a power dynamic between you in bed and having sex with each other was almost a rare treat these days seeing that Mara was a terrible sleeper.

She seemed to sense when you and Cillian wanted to be intimate and would wake up just then, refusing to go back to sleep. 

For you, this did not matter so much as sex was not always on your radar but for Cillian the lack of intimacy seemed to be much more difficult to accept. 

Unbeknownst to you, this had a lot to do with the fact that he was much older than you and, in the back of his mind, he was constantly worried that, one day, you would want to be with someone your own age.  He feared that you would grow tired of him, as he had grown tired of his first wife, and that he would lose you just as she had lost him.

Of course, none of this was ever spoken aloud between the two of you. Cillian had never been one to vocalize his fears, and you had never been one to question his love for you. Instead, you continued on in your routine, laughing and loving one another as if everything in your relationship was perfect.

But it wasn't.

Far from it, in fact. Beneath the surface of laughter and love, there were simmering tensions and unspoken fears that threatened to boil over at any moment especially when the tabloids had yet another field day, discussing your somewhat inappropriate relationship with one another.

The press loved to speculate about the nature of your relationship and whether or not it was appropriate considering Cillian's recent separation from his wife and the fact that you were his brother's stepdaughter and, whilst you laughed it off these days, Cillian couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

At times, you couldn't help but feel that Cillian's career was at stake, and that his reputation was taking a hit because of it. And yet, Cillian did not seem to want to talk about it. He wanted to bury his head in the sand and pretend that everything was perfect, that the two of you were blissfully happy.

But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he clenched his jaw when he read a particularly vicious article. You knew that he was hurting, but you didn't know how to help him and, it wasn't until he came home from his sister's birthday, apologizing to you for something you never thought he would do, that you had your first fight since Mara was born.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and you were both in the living room, surrounded by scattered toys and baby gear. Cillian had been quiet all day, his fidgety behavior fueling your growing unease.

"What's wrong?" you finally asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the two of you.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before answering. "I messed up. I really fucking have Y/N," he told you , his voice low and filled with regret.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your heart rate increasing slightly.

Cillian took a deep breath before continuing. "At Siobhan's party last night, I ran into Amanda," he told you and, even before he continued , you could feel your heart clenching in your chest.

Amanda was Cillian's ex-girlfriend and, even though they had only dated for a short time, you had never fully trusted her. There had always been something about her that made you uneasy, something that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Cillian , what did you do?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I did, I -, " Cillian stammered, his voice heavy with guilt and regret. "I don't know what came over me. I had too much to drink and she was there and-"

"Stop," you interrupted him, your voice sharp. "Just stop. I don't want to hear it."

Cillian fell silent, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Y/N. I am sorry, I really am. It was a stupid mistake," he told you while vaguely recalling last night's events. 

***Backflash***

He had been at Siobhan' 40th birthday party, attending without you because Mara had a cold and you did not want to leave her with your mother who had offered to babysit her for you so that you could go.

Thus, Cillian went on his own after you had told him that he should go. It was his  sister's birthday after all and it was important that he showed up. 

He did not know many of his Siobhan's friends and with his brother being in therapy still, he was the only family member that was at the party that night.

The party itself had been organized by two of Siobhan's collogues, one of which was Amanda whom Cillian used to date before you gave birth to Mara. Being polite, Amanda had invited you both, and although she very much disliked you, she simply extended her invitation for Siobhan's sake. 

"I see you came alone, Cillian. Why is that?" she asked intrigued when she saw Cillian standing there, on his own, nursing his drink and, whilst their breakup had been far from amicable, Amanda had always tried to stay in contact with Cillian.

"Mara is sick, so she sends her apologies," Cillian explained dryly,  not wanting to indulge Amanda in any kind of conversation.

"And that's why I chose not to have children," Amanda chuckled before asking Cillian how he was. "How are things with you and your baby mama anyway these days? I mean, the papers are really having a good time writing about the two of you," she  went on, her voice laced with false concern.

Cillian tightened his grip on his drink, trying to keep his anger at bay. "We're doing well," he told her, not wanting to give Amanda the satisfaction of knowing that her words had stung.

But Amanda was relentless, and she continued to press him for information about his relationship with you, probing for any sign of weakness or instability.

Cillian eventually excused himself from the conversation, finding solace in the bottom of his drink.

An hour later, he was rather tipsy and Amanda tried again, this time with an apology.

"Hey, I am sorry about before. I guess I am still holding a grudge over the fact that you broke up with me so abruptly back then,"  Amanda said, her voice softening as she put her hand on Cillian's shoulder.

Cillian looked at her, surprised at her sudden change in tone. "I am sorry too," he replied, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. "I mean. for breaking up with you the way I did. I was a real dick, wasn't I?" Cillian admitted, taking a deep breath and looking at Amanda with apologetic eyes.

"It's okay. I know why you did it. Things were too complicated at the time,"  Amanda replied, her hand still on Cillian's shoulder.

Cillian nodded, feeling the weight of his mistake settle over him once again. "Yes, things were complicated," he agreed, taking another sip of his drink.

"But they're not complicated now, right?" Amanda asked, moving closer to Cillian. "I mean, you and Y/N are happy together, aren't you?"

Cillian hesitated, feeling a sense of unease creeping up his spine. "We are," he confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But that doesn't make things less complicated, Am. I am over twenty fucking years older than her,"  Cillian said, looking at Amanda with uncertainty in his eyes.

Amanda laughed, her hand still resting on Cillian's shoulder. "Yes, you are and that always amazed me to be honest," she said, her gaze fixed on Cillian's face. "I mean, how did a man like you, a successful actor, end up in this kind of situation?"  Amanda asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "She is a sweet girl, but you are who you are, nominated for a fucking Oscar even. You could have any woman you wanted. Why settle for someone so young, naive and inexperienced?" She added, trying to hide the hint of condescendence in her voice.

Cillian took a deep breath, feeling a wave of protectiveness wash over him. "I love her. That's all there is to it," he told her firmly, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

"Do you really? Or are you just telling yourself that you do because she had your child?" Amanda pressed on, her gaze never wavering from Cillian's face.

Cillian's jaw clenched involuntarily, but he didn't respond. He didn't need to. The answer was already clear in his eyes, and Amanda knew it. She sighed and took a step back, her hand falling from his shoulder.

"Fine. I get it. You love her," she said, her tone almost regretful. "But let me ask you something, Cillian. Do you think you can make this work in the long run? With the age difference and all?" Amanda asked, a trace of concern in her voice.

Cillian sighed, swirling his drink in his hand. "I don't know," he admitted while Amanda reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Am, what -," he started to say, but Amanda interrupted him.

"Ssh, just come with me. I want to show you something," Amanda whispered, her breath warm against Cillian's cheek as she led him away from the crowd and towards one of the lavatories at the very back of the venue. 

Cillian hesitated for a moment, but curiosity got the better of him in his very drunken state.

"What are we doing here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as she pulled him inside the small room and, before he could protest, Amanda had closed the door behind them, locking it with a soft click.

"Amanda, what are you-?" he started to say, but his words were cut off as she pressed her lips to his, her fingers tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss. Cillian's mind went blank for a moment, his body responding to hers even as his mind screamed at him to stop.

"I am just showing you what a real woman can give you," Amanda murmured against his lips, her fingers immediately reaching for his belt buckle. "But I am sure you remember, don't you?" Amanda whispered seductively, her lips brushing against Cillian's ear as she slowly unzipped his trousers.

Cillian's mind was in a fog of confusion and guilt. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to push Amanda away. He felt her hand wrap around his growing arousal, and he closed his eyes, letting out a low groan as she started to stroke him gently.

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[greyeyedmonster-18]

we meet again

(so @arliedraws created a slytherin!sirius universe in which james in an auror and sirius is a death eater (or is he??) and they have unfulfilled homoerotic urges for one another and i...came up with this idea, and it's been in my brain (and @impishtubist's SMS text messages for licherally months). It seemed that arlies most recent day of birth was an appropriate time to drop this. xoxo)

--

James's cheeks hurt from smiling so widely as two first-year aurors brought out a cake, lit with an abundance of candles that shot up into the air spelling out Happy Retirement Auror Potter! To complete the package, the cake was decorated as a tropical lagoon. Crystal blue waters, and yellow sprinkles on top to mimic a sunset. Sending James a final subliminal message to cash in his 30 years of unspent vacation time, aside from a few days here and there, and disappear into the tropics. Off the grid, off radar, off the cases. Officially.

Not that James was one who ever said I cannot wait to retire in passing--because he had loved every moment of his years in the aurors department. His first year in the training program, his first big raid, his promotion to Senior Auror, to Director of the Department and finally in his last year, the ultimate promotion of having the responsibility of training new aurors. He had put in the work, and he could leave the department and rest easy knowing everyone left behind would continue to do faithful and just work for the wizarding world. Including his son, Harry who, after years of telling James no I'm not coming into the department, I don't want to, I'm not following in your footsteps, shove off, Dad and trying a host of obscure occupations just to prove a point (most recently a shop clerk at Florean Flortescue) he finally confessed to James he had applied.

James tried to pretend he wasn't elated. Harry tried to pretend he wasn't equally as excited, both of them concealing smiles on Harry's first day in the department. Keeping it cool as the Potter Men were known to do.

"I can't believe you actually did it," Harry said, as cake was passed around, the retirement party in full swing. James was halfway through his slice, blue frosting magically enchanted to pool around the rim of his plate.

"Did you doubt it?"

"Yes," Harry stressed, alongside Moody and Sturgis Podmore, both chatting within earshot. Harry gave James a pointed look, as if to say see, it's not just me. "I thought you were going to delay it again just last week when you got all weepy about writing the report details for your last training class. 12 pages--"

"It's important to be thorough--"

"And that last one was damp, swear," Harry teased, and James shook his head cutting off another bite of cake.

"Oh, just you wait. You'll be crying at your desk too when the time comes," James told him, teeth tinted blue as he spoke, "and you'll look around and wonder where the time went and wish you could--"

Harry dropped his head to the side, closing his eyes and letting out a small snore, earning a loud laugh from Moody, before pretending to wake up, "Sorry? I must've fallen asleep while you were reminiscing."

"Reflecting," James corrected.

"Much more interested in our vacation--"

"Oh no, you're much too busy," James told him, letting out a low whistle, "I've seen that training curriculum and I don't think you'll have time for much of anything for the next few...years?" James shrugged, "Looks like I'll be seeing Santorini, and Turks and Caicos all by myself. Maybe I'll finally take your advice and," James paused to think for a moment, "What is it you've been telling me? Find--"

James sentence was cut off by the department doors opening, Kingsley Shacklebolt striding in, violet robes trailing behind him, jaw clenched and eyebrows close together. James couldn't help but laugh a little as Harry seemed to straighten up, putting his hands behind his back as the Minister of Magic made his way toward Moody and the other Senior Aurors in the room. James had known Kingsley for years--and by extension, Harry had known Kingsley for years, but everything seemed to shift when Kingsley went from Your Dads Friend with the Cool Tattoos and Earrings, to Minister of Magic and Effectively Your Boss. Harry cleared his throat and gave James a nod, before following the other younger aurors in looking extremely busy around the office. Suddenly papers were all too out of place, and there was much work to be done, when only moments before, they were playing a rousing game of napkin Quidditch.

"Sorry, Potter, this celebration may have to be cut short. Auror Bones just sent a patronus, and that burglary down at Diagon Alley might not be so simple after all," Shacklebolt said, dropping his voice lower, "The owner of the shop confessed to having some...untoward artifacts in the back, and you'll never guess what was taken."

"What kind of artifacts?" James asked.

"You're retired, Potter."

James looked at his watch, "I'm not retired for another two hours, now what kind of artifacts?"

"Reliquaries is how the owner described them. Heirlooms that have been passed down in his family for centuries...which means--"

"Layers of dark magic." Moody mumbled.

"That's not the important piece, I'm afraid," Kingsley continued, "The only reason the owner knew there had been a burglary was because the backdoor was left unlocked. I remember when I was a junior auror here...there was a series of home theft...shop theft...all of them with the back entry way left open and--"

"A note," James cut him off immediately, eyes wide as his heart pounded against his rib cage. He could feel a flush fall over his body, acid rising in his throat.

"Oh no," muttered Moody.

"What did the note say?" James asked again and Kingsley hesitated, sharing a glance with Moody.

"Potter, you're retiring, enjoy your--"

"What did the note say?" James asked again, this time loud enough to catch the attention of other members of the department.

"Finders keepers."

--

James's ears were ringing as he left the auror department, not even pausing after Kingsley had spoken the words on the note. Two single words, and suddenly James couldn't see straight. Couldn't think straight.

Finders keepers, finders keepers, finders keepers.

It didn't matter that James was set to retire in an hour and a half.

It didn't matter he had left a party in his honor. It also didn't matter that his lips were stained blue from cake, or that he had dinner plans with Harry after the party to celebrate, just the two of them. He threw open the door to his office, the walls now barren and the space void of any personal touches, and quickly went toward his filing cabinet.

This case, had been the only one James had be removed from. This case, had been the only one in thirty years that had just been marked closed with no real resolution. A series of home thefts over the course of three months, all seemingly connected, but they came up empty every time, eventually abandoning it. After three months, after James was removed from the case, not a single report.

Every time a burglary had been called in since, James read the file and poured over every detail, hoping for more information. For a reason to reopen the case. But none was ever found. James had the dates memorized. Pulling each report one by one, and opening them to the notes found at each scene.

Finders keepers.

He grabbed the files, shrinking them and shoving them into the pockets of his robes, wand in hand as he left his office once more, closing the door behind him. Moody, and Kingsley were already on their way down the hall, nearly chasing after James, urgency in their footsteps to stop him from doing something stupid.

"Potter!" Moody barked

"Evening, Alastor. I believe I have a party to be getting back to," James said simply, though sweat was dripping down his back, beading on the center of his forehead. He ran a hand through his greying hair, in a way he hoped was nonchalant and not in a way that looked dangerously suspicious.

"Potter, do I need to remind you, you were removed from this case and--"

"I'm retired, w-why in Merlins name would--don't be--no, I-I'm not, and there's no, it's a party! I'm having a great time, have a good night!" James gave them both a wave before resuming his brisk walk-run down the hallway, shoes squeaking on the tile floor, eager to get out of the department

He knew where to go.

He knew he shouldn't be going there.

But.

He had to.

There was a fireplace on the first floor of the Ministry of Magic for floo access. James approached the fireplace, thinking, briefly, that perhaps it was foolish to think that after all this time he might still have access--clearance-- to this location. He grasped a handful of floo powder anyway, closing his eyes as he stepped into the fireplace.

"NUMBER TWELVE GRIMMAULD PLACE!"

--

The sitting room looked exactly as James remembered it.

Sort of.

The curtains had been changed. They were a deep yellow now instead of grey like they were the last time James was here. The carpet had been removed, and James stepped out of the fireplace onto cool hardwood floors.

The pristine black leather couch, and the gaudy chandelier were the same though. So were the end tables, and the armchair in the corner with a hand-embroidered throw pillow. James had laughed at it then, because a crook shouldn't have had something so dainty and delicate so proudly on display in their home. So distracted by the decor, the once familiar smells and sounds of Number 12, he didn't notice the man in the doorway.

"I have to admit, Potter, this is quite the surprise."

James jumped, hand immediately grasping the wand on the inside of his robes, attention turning toward the man in the doorway. Dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, not quite tucked into his trousers; dark hair cut shorter than the last time James saw him. 20 years ago. He was wearing house slippers, which shouldn't have been odd, considering they were indoors and among other names James could've called him, Sirius Black was far from a barbarian, and knew better than to wear shoes around the house. But the slippers were fur lined. And James had to stop the corners of his mouth from grinning--just as they had at the pillow.

All at once, James was in his thirties again. Not his fifties.

And he was staring at Sirius Black. Tall, dark, irritating, criminal , Sirius Black. Thoughts racing, with absolutely nothing to say. Tongue swollen in his mouth.

"I could have you arrested," Sirius remarked casually, tilting his head to the side. "I believe this is what people in your line of work call trespassing, isn't it?"

"Your floo let me in," James responded, sounding much younger, and much more petulant than he intended. It was always that way around Sirius. James had thought that years as an auror would put him in a better position to deal with Sirius Black and his quick tongue. That this time he would be ready, and James would be able to respond with ease and not stare and stammer as he did in the past.

He was wrong.

"Ah, so this is just poor manners? Or did I forget the moment I invited you to my home? Did we have dinner plans?"

"Well, no but--"

"No to poor manners? Or no I didn't forget?"

James rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, "We didn't have plans, Black. I'm not here for a chat--"

"But we have so much to catch up on. It's been ages-- how's your son?"

"Cut the shit, Black. I know you were behind the burglary down in Diagon Alley."

Sirius gasped, pressing his hand to his chest, looking surprised and affronted by James's accusation, "Me? But I've been at home all day. Baking. Would you like a slice of rhubarb, Potter?" Sirius gestured with his head, turning around to walk back through the doorway and down the hall of Grimmauld Place.

James followed.

"Well, don't stand there, you can have a seat. Make yourself at home," Sirius gestured to the kitchen table. Fresh flowers in the center. James took a seat, watching as Sirius waved his wand to begin slicing a pie on the counter, all the while smirking at James with his arms folded across his chest. "Do you still take your tea with cream?"

"No!" James objected, "I mean, I do but don't offer me tea, I'm here--"

"Yes, yes, very official auror business, I remember. Just because you have poor manners and show up unannounced to people's homes--"

"I don't!"

"--doesn't mean that I do, and you're a guest in my home, so I am going to offer you tea. Do you still take it with cream?"

"Yes...thank you," James said, watching as Sirius poured two cups of tea, sending them over to the table, along with the pie before joining James.

Black still had that same damn smile. Not a grey hair in sight, though had more creases under his eyes.

"Thank you," James repeated, looking down at the pie in front of him, something clicking in his brain. "Why...why do you have this pie?"

Sirius smiled slowly. "Why not?"

"Why do you have a rhubarb pie, Black?"

"Well, since you asked. A little birdie told me you were retiring from the auror department and...I just thought I'd...prepare for the occasion. It's your favorite, isn't it?"

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

HotD seems a bit kinder to Ser Otto and Queen Alicent and now even Ser Gwayne. Granted the Hightowers we meet in the main story are only just briefly mentioned by other characters, but what do hear of them like Leyton or Lynesse aren't that great. The Lannister get a lot of (not undeserved) flack from within the fandom, but are under-the-radar terrible as Houses like the Lannisters or even the Freys or Boltons?

I wouldn't say HOTD is kinder to the Hightowers, as much as it allows them to be real people and not just historical caricatures or empty shells. (The biggest failure of F&B's history book conceit, more than any of the other problems with that book.)

For example, Gwayne in the book gets assigned to the Gold Cloaks to keep an eye on them in case some are still loyal to Daemon, and then during the Fall of King's Landing gets murked by his own men because indeed they are still loyal to Daemon. That's it, that's all there is to him, there's no there there. (Although the "You turncloaks!" "Daemon gave us these cloaks and they're gold no matter how you turn them." is a great line, and I hope it's kept even if Gwayne may not be involved.)

Gwayne in the show, however, is a prissy classist racist aristocrat, who is still brave in battle and protective of his sister and caring for his nephew; he's a knight who helps depict GRRM's knighthood themes with Criston; he's an actual person, both good and bad as a GRRM character should be. I have hopes that Gwayne takes the Ser Hobert Hightower role for the Caltrops and Second Tumbleton, that would be a great ending (especially considering his relationship with Daeron) for an excellent actor.

Re the main story Hightowers -- well, generally GRRM goes by Tolstoy's principle of "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." Or as he put it, "happy families are boring." Not everyone always gets along in real families, and even the most beloved king and queen can be real assholes to their daughters. I imagine that when we actually meet Leyton in TWOW and find out exactly how complicated his family is -- four wives and ten children, you know there's friction there -- we'll see something imperfect, but different from the Lannisters, Freys, or Boltons. Maybe more dysfunctional the way Cregan Stark's family was dysfunctional or the Tyrells are dysfunctional. (If you think they're a perfectly happy family, then you entirely missed Olenna's relationship with Mace, Mace's relationship with Willas and Loras, Mace's relationship with Margaery, Olenna's relationship with Alerie, and so on and so forth.)

I can see Leyton as a patriarch who became increasingly distant as he got more into esoteric research (he hasn't come down from the top of the Hightower in more than a decade), leaving the eldest son Baelor to manage everything practical in the absence of his father. Was Leyton already half-distant the year before he stopped leaving the Hightower, and that's why he let his youngest daughter (only 16 or 17 years old) marry a newly knighted 35-year-old poor-ass lord from the back of beyond just because he did well in a tourney? How did the rest of the family react to that? The people of Oldtown don't think much of Lynesse now, but how did they feel when their young golden lady was taken away by a bear? These kinds of complicated relationships are the sort of detail GRRM loves to sink his teeth into, and is one of the reasons I'm so looking forward to Sam's Oldtown chapters almost more than anything in TWOW.