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nyrandrea · 3 years

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Setting the Stage - Part 2

Here’s the next part, as promised! Last chapter was setting things up, now we get to the good stuff.

Summary: Gregory had always dreamed of going to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex and meeting his heroes. But he somehow ends up getting more than he bargained for, and dreams start to turn into nightmares.

Link to Part 1 here!

Also available to read on A03 here!

Enjoy!

“How much farther now?”

Gregory flinched when those red eyes bore down on him as if to dare him to ask that question one more time.

“Not much!” Came the cheery reply, despite her glare.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them as Vanny continued to lead Gregory down an ill-lit tunnel, save for the tinny footsteps that echoed as they walked along the metal walkway.

She had said that the staff used this underpass as a quicker way of getting around the mall and that they would be at the Fazer Tag arena in no time, but they had been walking for what seemed like hours now.

A faint but vile odour of damp and rot clogged Gregory’s nose as he scrunched it up in disgust; the air was thick and soupy with wet must that seemed to stick to his lungs with every breath.

He stole a quick glance up at Vanny before immediately looking back down again in fear that she might catch his eye. She had been so excitable and nice to him before, but there was a different air about her now. More... reserved.

Turning back had crossed his mind once or twice, but given how tight her grip was, it didn’t seem like an option anymore.

He was really starting to regret this.

“Here we are!”

Gregory snapped out of his thoughts as they came up to what looked like a large elevator shaft with rusted doors that slowly creaked open when Vanny pressed a button. The boy swallowed and looked up at the bunny when she gave his hand a little squeeze.

He couldn’t tell if she was really smiling at him behind that large crooked grin, but he forced a smile back regardless.

It took a few moments but when the elevator finally started moving upwards, Gregory’s heart fluttered a little as he looked through the glass down towards the arena. It was quiet and empty, which made him wonder just how much time had really passed.

There was no sign of his mom either.

A sharp, high-pitched tone suddenly rang out as they made it to the VIP room. Gregory cringed and had to cover his ears but Vanny didn’t seem bothered at all as she silently took his hand again.

Pushing all his doubts to one side, Gregory beamed as he prepared himself to finally meet Glamrock Freddy. He had gone through a bunch of speeches in his head but they all sounded dumb as hell, so he opted for a more natural approach, not that that was going to be much better.

But there was still one thing he needed.

Just as he was about to ask Vanny to get his picture back, the doors slid open.

Gregory’s look of joy twisted into one of horror as he wasn’t greeted by Glamrock Freddy, but by four knocked out boys tied up on a sofa; the biggest one mumbling in his sleep.

Rob.

Before he could even register what was going on, Gregory was shoved to the ground with his arms forced back as Vanny dragged him towards the back.

“V-Vanny?!” The little boy yelped as she started tying his wrists together. “What are you-?!”

“Shhhhh...” she gently hummed as something sharp and metal barely pricked his throat. “I promise I’ll make this quick, okay? No need for tears, now.”

He hadn’t even noticed he’d been crying before she gently wiped the tears away with a tut-tut. The tall rabbit then set aside her knife – much to Gregory’s relief – and pulled out a small box with a familiar crescent moon on the cover.

“Told ya I’d get ‘em with Moondrop’s Sleepy-Time Candy!” she said, a hint of that cheerful tone creeping back in. “Though I’m not sure why kids would want sweets that would put them to sleep...”

“I-I thought the exact same thing...” Gregory weakly replied.

“Weird, right?”

“Totally...weird.”

He wasn’t even sure why he was having a conversation with this psycho, but desperation made him think that he could maybe appeal to her better nature.

There was a moment then, in which she appeared to be wistful as she tapped her finger against the box, almost as if she were carefully considering her next move. Gregory decided to jump at this chance.

“Please... p-please let me go.”

She stopped tapping and looked directly at him. He tried to look past those bulging crimson eyes and see her for what she actually was: a fellow human being. A person. With feelings. Like him.

With another tap, a white piece of candy dropped into the palm of her hand.

“Sorry, kiddo...”

His vision suddenly went dark as she grabbed onto his face and tried to force his mouth open. The little boy kicked, thrashed and even managed to bite her at one point. He couldn’t fight back the tears streaming down his face as she quickly managed to get the upper hand; by using hers to block the airways of his nose.

“Don’t fight it...!” She hissed. “It’ll be a lot less painful that way-!”

There was a sudden shriek as something pummeled her to the floor, and Gregory gasped for breath.

His eyes widened when they locked with Rob’s, who was lying on his side, still slightly dazed. Next to him, Vanny groaned and clutched her head.

Gregory took this fleeting moment and just about managed to slide his skinny wrists out of the loosely tied ropes before diving to Rob’s side and tried to undo the knots on his ankles first. His whole body screamed at him to run but he couldn’t just leave without trying to free the others.

“Awww...” came a sickly-sweet voice that made their blood run cold. “Are you two best buds now?”

Both boys looked up to see Vanny standing over them, her body oddly crooked as she brandished her knife.

“It’s amazing what can bring us together, huh?”

“Run!”

Rob’s shout spurred on Gregory’s legs as they propelled him forward, barely managing to dodge Vanny’s knife as she swiped at him, though she did manage to nick him on the cheek. As she tripped over Rob’s body and into the couch, Gregory used this valuable time to dash into the elevator and rapidly push the button, ignoring his guilty conscience pleading for him to go back.

As the door’s finally started closing, he mouthed “I’ll come back for you.” Though one look into Rob’s terrified eyes had told him that the older boy had already accepted his fate.

Gregory yelped and fell back as Vanny made one more plunge for him, screaming and howling in anger and despair when her knife clashed with metal as the doors sealed shut.

Stunned into silence, he could only stare ahead as the elevator slowly descended, not even flinching when that sharp chime announced his destination. The doors opened to the eerily quiet Fazer Tag arena, meaning that he must have pressed the wrong button, but that didn’t matter now.

Adrenaline was the only thing that managed to get his jellified legs to work as he managed to get himself up and out of the elevator before it was recalled.

Muffled footsteps invaded the stillness that hung around the arena like a cloak as Gregory quickly crept towards the neon archway that led to the reception desk. The little glimmer of hope that he held was dashed when he saw that it was empty.

Gregory’s heart sunk even further when he wandered out into the mall as he was greeted with nothing but a hush. The noise and laughter and music that had been blaring just hours before was painfully amiss, along with the brightness and warmth of the sun that beamed through the glass ceiling; now replaced with cold moonlight beams cutting through the dark.

“Mom...?” he couldn’t help but weakly croak out.

No answer.

“Mom!”

Despite the fact that it was likely that Vanny had heard him and was probably already tracking him down, Gregory shouted and pleaded and even screamed for his mother as he ran around the mall, each call becoming more and more desperate.

Why wasn’t she here? She should be here, kneeling and embracing him with open arms. Had she just left and forgotten about him? She wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t!

Hysterical and in tears, he somehow managed to loop back to where he had been before Vanny had taken him away. All the show rooms had their curtains drawn as the animatronics had likely been retired for the night.

Slowing to a stop in front of Glamrock Freddy’s room, Gregory sniffed and sat on the floor with his knees hugged up against his chest. He tried to take slow and deep breaths as he attempted to muddle through the fog in his brain for any kind of smart idea on how to survive through the rest of tonight.

“Gregory...”

A sharp pain jabbed up from under his ribs as he quickly got to his feet, spinning around to try and locate the source of Vanny’s voice as it echoed through the mall.

“Your friends are worried about you,” she said, tone disturbingly calm and soothing. “They’re here with me. Please come out...?”

Backing up against the drapes of Glamrock Freddy’s room, Gregory slipped behind them and into the darkness of the room, peeking through the slit for any sign of movement.

“Gregory,” she tried again. “I may have lost my temper earlier...but it was just a glitch...”

He gasped slightly as her voice started to distort, how was she even...?

“It won’t happen again.”

As soft footsteps grew closer and the shadow of a pair of tall ears materialized near the statue of Roxanne, Gregory slowly stepped back and let the gloominess of the room envelop him as he tried to control his erratic breathing.

“It’s been such a difficult day for all of us.”

Gregory could just about make out a small twinkle as her knife glinted in the moonlight.

“Why don’t you come out, and we can play a game together?”

Barely registering the stinging pain as tears ran down his face and through the small gash on his right cheek, he kept backing up until he hit something hard and metal.

“It won’t happen again.”

The little boy tried to cry out when he was suddenly yanked up by the collar of his shirt and shoved into a small, dark space. He was dazed for a moment before beads of sweat started to trail down his forehead as he felt around the four enclosed walls of his prison. It had a cold and almost plastic feel to it, and there wasn’t much room for maneuvering.

His throat felt like it was being squeezed as he choked and struggled to breathe.

“...It was just a glitch...”

She sounded so close now, the distortions in her voice seemed to reverberate through the cage he was in. He had to escape. Run away from this place. Look for a way to free Rob. Phone the police. Find his mom.

He had to get out now.

With trembling legs, Gregory tried to kick the walls down. He didn’t know what way was up or down but all he could do was kick. Kick. Kick!

“Gregory.”

Flinching at the different voice – deep as thunder but gentle like a breeze – the boy slowly ceased his kicking and let out sharp, shallow breaths.

W-was this...? It couldn’t be...

“Be still.”

A beat of silence followed.

“I think she’s found us.”

Gregory held his breath when he heard the curtains swing open and a flick of the switch as the lights buzzed to life. He could hear Vanny moving about the room, pausing every so often to look behind the arcade or the sofa. There was even a brief moment where he swore she had found him when he heard heavy breathing dead ahead. He grimaced as a light tapping of metal upon metal suddenly rung out within the hollow space.

Vanny made a sound of frustration before storming out, but Gregory didn’t dare breathe before he was sure she was gone.

He was probably starting to become blue in the face before his prison suddenly opened up. Without a moment’s hesitation, he tumbled out and landed ungracefully on his face, but he didn’t really care at this point. He was just glad to be out of the void.

There was a soft “Oh!” behind him before a pair of large metal hands carefully lifted him up from under the arms and held him steady. Staring ahead at a large blue lightning bolt upon a light brown chest, Gregory’s wide eyes slowly trailed up to see Glamrock Freddy staring right back down at him.

“Are you okay?” The animatronic asked.

The boy tried to swallow but his throat had dried up.

“I apologize for acting so abruptly,” he continued, taking off his hat and sheepishly shuffled it between his hands. “I didn’t know any other way to get you to safety before she came. But I didn’t mean to be quite so rough.”

“It’s...okay...” Gregory managed to rasp out, still not quite believing he was talking to the Glamrock Freddy. He would have been ecstatic if not for the dire situation.

“Thanks for...um...s-saving my life.”

The bear seemed to brighten up a bit at that as he put his hat back on and held out a hand.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Gregory! I do wish we could have met under more...pleasant circumstances but here we are. My name is-”

“Glamrock Freddy, I know,” he interrupted, before quickly adding, “I’m...a big fan.”

Timidly, the boy took the robot’s hand, almost yelping when it was shaken rather vigorously.

“Always a pleasure to meet a fan!”

Vaguely reminded of when he met Vanny, Gregory berated himself for being so immediately trusting. But...this was Freddy. Surely the robots weren’t kidnapping kids too?

His eyes wandered up towards the chest compartment that he had been in just moments before. It was...quite an oddly specific function to have.

“How uh...how do you know my name?” Gregory asked, pulling his hand away a bit too quickly, though Freddy didn’t seem to mind.

“She was calling out for you.”

Alright. That was fair.

“Oh! And you also left this behind,” the robot said as he pulled out a piece of paper, smoothing out the creases before handing it over. “One of the stewards found it and brought it to me. It has your signature.”

Gregory took it and stared down at the colorful picture, snorting a little when he recognized it as his own. He should have known that those compliments from Vanny had been nothing but empty, honeyed words just to lure him into her trap. His own mother had warned him about such types of people.

The boy almost smiled at how downright stupid he was.

“I really like the cape,” Freddy suddenly said, making him wince. “The colors are so vibrant!”

Gregory wanted to thank him for stating the obvious but couldn’t find it in him to do so. Hours ago he would have been on cloud nine hearing such praise from his hero. Now they just seemed so...hollow and meaningless.

He frowned at the picture for a few more moments before something sharp poked him on the cheek, causing him to hiss in pain and scoot back.

Freddy also recoiled and withdrew his hand, looking guilty at having hurt the boy.

“You’re bleeding...”

Absently putting a hand to his cheek, he felt the wound that Vanny had inflicted on him earlier, and scowled when his fingers came back wet with fresh blood.

“Come with me.”

Gregory blinked in shock as the robot stood up to his full height and towered over him, realizing that he barely made it past his knee joint. He couldn’t help but feel just a tad bit intimidated.

Moving towards the back of the room, Freddy opened the metal door behind the stage curtains and made his way in. Suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect of being left alone, Gregory got up from the floor and hastily followed.

He was hit with that musty stench from the underground tunnels again, though here it wasn’t quite so strong. It was a basic room with a red carpet and brick and mortar walls with a few chairs and what seemed to be some kind of charging station – most likely for Freddy.

Gregory watched as the animatronic pulled out a red and white box from a cabinet and carried it over, opening it to reveal medical contents.

“This will sting,” Freddy stated as he knelt down and held out an antiseptic wipe. “Can you be brave?”

“I’m not five,” Gregory mumbled back, trying not to wince when the gash started to sting.

“How old are you then? If you don’t mind my asking.”

The boy narrowed his eyes slightly, still wondering if he should even be here instead of running for the hills. Though clearly that hadn’t exactly worked out the first time.

“...Eleven,” he eventually answered.

“Hm,” the bear hummed, as if mulling over something. “You’re very mature for your age.”

“T-Thanks.”

He wasn’t really sure if he was so mature as he had just been running around screaming and crying for his mother like a lost fawn while a psychopath was on the loose just ten minutes ago, but he didn’t argue.

“There, and we’re done!” Freddy said as he smoothed a band-aid over Gregory’s wound. “How does that feel?”

“Better, thanks,” the boy replied as he lightly touched it. “And thanks again for saving my life back there. If you hadn’t, she...she would have...”

His chest tightened up a little. Freddy refused to meet his eyes as he put the box away.

“Do...do you know her?” Gregory asked. “Her name’s Vanny and-”

“No,” Freddy cut in. “I have scanned her, and she does not come up on my database. She is not staff.”

It was that sentence that starkly reminded Gregory that he was really talking to a walking, talking machine. And that took a little bit of the magic away for him...

“Yet she has access to all areas of the complex,” Freddy continued, tilting his head with an almost baffled look. “It has confused myself and the others; her skulking everywhere.”

“The others?”

“Chica, Roxanne and Montgomery.”

“Monty,” Gregory corrected.

“Hm?”

“You call him Monty in the show.”

“Ah. Yes.”

Gregory frowned a little.

“But alas, we cannot do anything about her.”

“What uh...what do you mean?” Gregory asked, suddenly feeling his blood run a bit cold.

“It goes against our programming,” Freddy bluntly replied. “We cannot harm adults.”

“You can’t...ah...” was all he could say. That just pretty much blew all of his plans out of the water.

“We tried to warn the other staff members but they wouldn’t listen, and they had the gall to complain about fixing our mainframes-”

Freddy’s ramblings just turned into white noise as Gregory stared ahead; all those cool montages of him riding in the animatronic’s chest while he kicked Vanny’s ass and rescued Rob and the others was slowly becoming less and less likely.

It was only when a metal pair of fingers snapped in front of him that brought him crashing back down to reality.

“But...!” Gregory stammered as he tried to come up with a more plausible plan. “But even if you can’t hurt her, can’t you just carry me to the front door or something?”

“Gregory-”

“Or just take me to a phone so I can call the police! You know she’s kidnapped other kids, right?”

Freddy held up his hands in an attempt to calm him down. “I did not. But-”

“Rob’s the reason I even managed to get away, we have to go help him...!”

“Gregory.”

A heavy weight on his shoulders and Freddy’s tone finally got him to shut his mouth.

“I wish I could do all those things for you, but the fact of the matter is...I can’t.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Myself and the others are confined to our rooms at night.”

“I’m...I’m sorry, confined? By what? The curtains?”

“Security protocols.”

“But I saw you wander around earlier!”

“We are allowed to during the day, but at night our security protocols-”

“I don’t care about your security whatever!” Gregory blurted out as quietly as he could. “There is a psycho dressed as a freaking rabbit out there who is trying to kill me right now!”

He tried to push away the hands on his shoulders but was unable to as Freddy looked down upon with a sympathetic frown – one that was strikingly akin to his mom’s.

“And she’s taken these other kids hostage a-and now I have to rescue them or she’ll kill them and I just...I just want...”

His vision suddenly blurred, and he struggled to hold the tears back as he furiously wiped them away, angry at himself for getting so worked up.

Gregory’s breath hitched when he felt himself being gently pressed up against Freddy’s chest, with one hand on his head and the other on his back, steadying him. He had seen the other kids getting hugs from the animatronics before, and while he had been envious, he couldn’t help but imagine it feeling cold and a little uncomfortable.

But it was nothing like that; instead, it was warm and inviting, and it was enough to open the floodgates for Gregory as he clung onto the robot.

“I just...want...my mom...”

They stayed like that for a while, with Gregory quietly sobbing as Freddy tried to console him, rubbing small circles along his back in a soothing motion and gently patting his head as the boy eventually managed to get it all out of his system.

“Gregory,” Freddy started, making him look up as he wiped his nose. “While it may go against my programming...” the animatronic paused for a moment before smiling down at him. “I will do my best to override it.”

“Really? You mean you’ll help me?”

“Yes. I will assist you in evading that ‘psycho’, as you put it – and get you out. To the best of my ability.”

Gregory smiled back, before adding, “And the others too? I can’t leave without them.”

“The... others too,” the bear reluctantly agreed.

Wiping away the last of his tears, he nodded gratefully, perking up when Freddy opened up his chest apartment and offered his hand as a step.

Climbing up and settling in, what had felt like a claustrophobic prison now felt like a safe haven from the dangers that awaited him out there.

“Oh, before I forget,” Freddy mulled as he re-entered the show room, bending down to pick up Gregory’s drawing. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Grinning from ear to ear, he leaned out and took the drawing and a small pin from Freddy, the robot keeping him steady as he stuck the drawing up with the others. He could feel himself swell up with pride in a fleeting moment that made him forget about the horrors that awaited him.

“Now,” Freddy started as he closed his chest compartment and peeked through the curtains to check if the coast was clear. “We may need some help. How would you like to meet the others?”

xxx

A wash of light flooded across the polished checkered floors and shone up towards the golden statue of Freddy as a woman entered through the security barriers. Brushing back her golden hair and securing her cap on, she sighed as she pulled out a photograph of a young boy with messy brown hair and a huge toothy grin.

His mother had been hysterical when she entered the security office, claiming that it had been her fault for leaving him and thinking that he wouldn’t just wander off. They had looked through the camera feed but given how busy this place was during the day, it was a needle in a haystack situation.

But now that it was empty, her job would begin. She had six hours.

“Alright Gregory...” Vanessa said, putting the photo into her pocket. “Let’s see if we can find you.”

xxx

And that’s the end! I’ve decided to leave the ending a bit vague because of the whole Vanny/Vanessa debate. I’d love to write more at this point but I’ll probably wait until the game comes out (hopefully soon!) Hope you enjoyed and let me know if you did!

#fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #glamrock freddy #fnaf gregory #fnaf vanny #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #my writing #fanfiction

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ajbwasntwriting · 4 years

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Daughter!Reader x Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 2. Great Escape

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The previous chapter did rather well since I haven’t posted anything in years so here’s chapter 2. Shout out to my friend @theturtlesgohnnnng for reading all these chapters.

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

The sunlight stirred you, activating your hangover with it. Luckily you only had the headache to deal with. Daily drinking will give you that benefit.

Waking up you were dressed in your F/C shirt and some jeans, with one combat boot still on your foot. They were worse for wear but they carried you everywhere since the end began. You put your other boot back on, grabbed the bottle from last night, and wondered out of your room, stretching as you walked. You walked into the wives’ quarters where they all sat drinking, talking, and doing whatever it took to fill the day. Your father’s newest plaything Sherry was at the bar, talking with Amber. You placed the bottle on the counter next to her

“You need more Vodka.” You turned to exit

“We wouldn’t if you fucked off” she muttered under your breath. You stopped walking, commanding the attention of all the wives. You twirled on your heels,

“What was that Sherry?”. Her face went bright red with embarrassment and she struggled to come up with a good excuse.

“She told you to fuck off” Frankie chirped up from the couch. Sherry began to shiver. She was new and didn’t know how to handle you just yet. She looked around the room in fear but no other wife was responding

“Is this true, Sherry?”

“I-...I just” she continued to stumble until you interrupted her.

“Don’t worry about it Sherry” you said sweetly before leaving, more interested in the thumping of your head than Sherry’s feelings. You made your way to the top floor kitchen which was always stocked for the convenience of yourself and the wives and took a bottle of water. ‘Fuck off, huh?...not a bad idea.’ you went to prepare yourself a proper breakfast for the first time in forever.

You stood just at the edging of the forest, bow and arrow in hand, picking off a couple of walkers as they approached.

“Great shot, Y/N,” Fat Joey said behind you as the new guy Josh clapped. Between babysitting you and kissing your old man’s ass you wonder how they had time to come out here and watch your back.

“Hardly, it took me three shots.” You huffed as you scouted deeper. The archery wasn’t for practical purposes. You liked it when you were in the scouts and your old man figured you’d be sentimental enough to want to have a bow and arrow now. It gave you an excuse to leave...with a couple of babysitters.

“I’m done. Let’s go”. You announced heading back to the compound with your carers in tow. Once back inside the two went to follow you up to the top floor. “I can go by myself” you shot at them.

Josh began to argue “That’s against Nea-”

“Negan isn’t fucking here!” you barked back, causing Fat Joey to jump. You strolled ahead, the others not following you.

“What’s she so worked up about?” you heard them before ascending the stairs. You were usually kinder but today you had a mission and going out to shoot some arrows was just an excuse to descend from your floor without suspicion. You stopped off at a supply closet on the way up to your floor and grabbed a back-pack. It was small but it would serve your purpose.

That evening you showered for an hour, not knowing when you would get such a luxury again. You dressed in fresh pants that would be perfect for the DC spring and a button-up shirt. In your bag, you placed three bottles of water, some dried food, 30 rounds of bullets for your gun, some painkillers, a pair of wire cutters, some rope, and a knife sharpener. You had in your belt a handgun you had stolen from the supply and the engraved knife. Finally, your bow and quiver. Your plan was near perfect, it just needed to be activated. The last piece you left was a note tucked under your pillow. ‘Don’t try to find me’.

When the sky began to turn a warm orange you began running to the back stairwell and placing yourself under behind some steps. Concealed in the shadows you waited. There would be guards outside. Some might recognize you but you’d been hidden away from the world for so long it was more likely they’d think you were a code orange so you waited.

The change of the shift descended the steps, sauntering out the back door without a care in the world. You moved behind them, not earning a bit of attention as the people chatted amongst themselves. Once outside the guards went left and you went right, keeping an ear on their pace and trying to match it so they didn’t turn. You ducked behind a broken wall and was greeted with the final limit to your freedom. The damn walker fence. You pulled out the wire clippers and started working at the fence. Your heart began to beat rapidly ‘If I don’t get out while the guard is changing I’m screwed’.

To make matters worse a couple of the walkers now thought you were a snack, banging on the fence and growling in your direction. With quick hands, you peeled back an edge of the fence and crawled through. You dived out of the walkers grab, now clear of the fence and lying underneath a concrete mound which another walker was chained too, luckily on the other side so it had to lean over the concrete to reach you. Your breathing hastened and you began to crawl, narrowly missing walker after walker. Luckily their chains and spikes kept most of them upright.

You were nearly clear when you heard it. The exit door had creaked open, meaning the guard had officially changed. You had made it to a relatively safe spot but the walkers were wanting you and the guard was now paying attention.

“What’s that?” you heard one of them call. This was it you thought. She’s gonna come over here and shoot you dead. You could hear her heavy boots moving around. She’d see you soon. By some miracle, one of the mounted walkers had torn their attention from you and was now snapping at her. You held your breath as you looked for the pole it was mounted on, finding it within arms reach. You pushed your legs under you then grabbed the pole, trying urgently to loosen it. Your heart sat in your throat as she got closer till eventually, the pole slipped from its position and out of the hungry walker, who you guessed lunged at the woman. Under the cover of her screams, you jumped up and ran, sprinting for the forest edge. Your feet felt light despite the unlevel ground the air in your lungs fueled your adrenaline. And you ran.

As the sky turned light again when you began to hunt. ‘I need a walker’ you thought. You wandered into a small town. There were a few bumbling around you examining each from a distance. ‘Too old...too short…’.

You struck a few down with your new knife, noticing how their blood gave the engraved letters a rather romantic red hue. Through the slaughter, you saw her, the perfect walker. She was about your height and not too old. She even had your hair color! Now all you had to do was...catch her. You whistled at her. There were two more behind her but if your plan went perfect then they wouldn’t be a worry. You walked back to the forest, beckoning her onwards. She growled and grabbed you while two others bumbled behind her. You pulled your bow from your shoulder, aiming for one behind her and letting loose. The arrow struck it in the stomach but for once you didn’t mind. You took a few more steps back and loaded another arrow and let it fly at the other walker, hitting him square in the head. That was bad. You began to panic thinking you might kill your doppelganger. You walked them into the words, soon it would be life or death. You pulled an arrow and aimed for the final spare walker, putting him down too.

You pulled a final arrow into the bow, pulling the string taut as the doppelganger approached. She lunged at you and you kicked her, sending her back flying into a tree. Finally raising the arrow and shooting her shoulder, pinning her there. You pulled the rope from your bag and thickened it into a gag, tying it to her mouth and around the tree so she couldn’t bite you or move. She still could reach you but you’d have to deal with that. With your knife in hand, you began cutting her clothes off, the smell making you want to throw up. You then stripped yourself of your outfit and began to dress the walker, breaking one of her arms to get the shirt on her. ‘Thank god no one is around to see me in my undies’. The next touch was leaving your stuff there. The quiver and bow were dropped and your bag was thrown open. You left everything except the gun, the rounds, and a lone arrow. Finally, you carved off her face, walked around the tree, and cut her free. She moved slowly down the arrow to freedom and you sprinted, dropping the knife as you run.

After all this effort he better believe you were dead.

#twd #twd fanfiction #daughter reader x negan #twd negan #daughter x negan #the walking dead negan #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #twd y/n #twd self incert #twd x reader #twd reader insert #daughter reader #twd reader #negan the walking dead #negan twd #AJ's Negan's Daughter AU

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chandelier-s-notebook · 3 years

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Hey look it’s chap 2! They won’t all come out today I promise.

(Also the other characters tagged appear later in this chapter after the :readmore: this isn’t cross tagged for publicity purposes)

Let me know if you wanna get tagged when I post new chapters in “These Streets Are Made For Walking”. @sleepysnails.

Ao3 Link

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After school, Dream, George, and Sapnap tossed their bags into Techno’s trunk. Technically, he and Dream did have PowerPoint projects to complete, but it was a solo project and he already finished it at lunch.

Snagging the shotgun seat, Sapnap cheered, “To the mall!”

Techno grimaced. At least Sapnap was excited.

Actually, there was one good thing that came from them: friendship. Techno had met Dream at one of these mall fights while they went to different middle schools, then they ended up at the same high school and started to drag Dream’s other friends to them. Techno didn’t mind George and Sapnap, they were just more Dream’s friends than his.

Techno drove them out of the city, and they cruised down the highway for twenty minutes before pulling off to the exit towards the abandoned mall.

“I’ve never understood why this shit happens right after school,” George said.

Dream answered him, “It’s because the cops think this stuff happens at night. They don’t think to look for this stuff during the day.”

“Plus, there’s a lot more of the other stuff going on, so they’re busy.”

“Why do you know that, Sapnap?”

“Reasons.”

Techno rolled his eyes at the trio, and pulled the first aid kit and his backpack out of the trunk. “I’m gonna stay in the car today.” He handed the box to George. “Math homework due tomorrow,” he explained.

“Ah man. That’s too bad,” Dream said, stretching out his arms. “More practice for me.”

“Maybe you’ll even beat me next time,” Techno joked.

Dream wheezed, and Sapnap had to push him away towards the building.

Techno got back in his car, cranked the radio, and blasted the AC, shutting the windows tight. Throwing the bag into the seat next to him, Techno pulled out his binder, and opened it to a fresh piece of graph paper. Study time lasted all of forty minutes before the sirens rang out.

“Snitch,” he muttered to himself. He slumped down in his seat, and pulled out his phone. He debated who to text before deciding that George was least likely to be busy at any given moment.

Techno Got snitched Cops in lot

George Fuck Dream says leave Drop our stuff at Bad’s Drop Tubbo with Punz

Techno Roger

A squad of four cars descended on the parking lot. Most of the officers stormed the mall, but three stayed behind. Two began making their rounds around the parking lot, but--of course--the other was left behind to secure the entrance. It was standard procedure, so Techno wasn’t very surprised to see this happening.

Techno made the decision to continue doing his homework rather than try to get away. He tossed his phone on the passenger seat and turned the radio off.

He was calm. He was cool. He was doing his math homework. He was rolling down the window when prompted by a tap on the glass.

“Captain Craft,” the officer stated.

“Pleasure,” Techno responded.

“License and registration.”

Techno grabbed his wallet from his backpack and gave Captain Craft his license. He leaned over to the glove box to grab his car’s registration. “Afternoon Sir,” he muttered, handing over his paperwork.

“Techno Blade? Unique name.”

Techno snorted at the officer’s attempt at small talk. “Was born with it, I'm afraid.”

“That’s cool.” He handed Techno back his paperwork. “What are you doing here?”

Techno gestured to the paper in his lap. “Homework. Got a calculus test next week.”

“Smart kid.” Captain Craft was writing things down in his notebook. “Do you know why the police were called to this location?”

“No Sir.”

“What brings you here?”

“A quiet space to work, the foster home gets really loud. Normally this place is empty.”

“Normally it is,” Captain Craft agreed. “So you don’t know anything about a potential drug deal?”

The surprise on Techno’s face was genuine. Yeah this was an illegal ring, but drug deals? Really? “No Sir. I’m just doing my homework.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah,” Techno said, not playing the officer’s game.

Captain Craft leaned back to look at the backseat.

Techno had never been more thankful that Dream, Sapnap, and George liked throwing their stuff in the trunk for more leg room in the backseat.

Captain Craft patted the car. “Well. I feel comfortable letting you go free kid. Clearly you have nothing to do with this.”

“No Sir.”

“Techno Blade was it?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Do you have a number we could potentially call if need be?”

Now, Techno would have loved to give the officer his home number--giving the police a direct line of contact with his cell didn’t sound good--but that was a horrible idea. One of the other kids would pick up the phone, and they’d talk. Or the Foster Bitch would pick up, and she’d just cuss out the poor person who called. “Yeah. Let me get you my cell number.”

Captain Craft scribed the number down in his notebook. He flipped the page and ripped off the next page. “Doctor’s note to get you out of the parking lot.”

Techno snorted as he grabbed the paper. “Thanks.”

Techno shifted the car into reserve and pulled out of his parking spot. He drove towards the checkpoint and didn’t roll up the window until the officer standing guard approved his departure.

Techno arrived at Sapnap and Bad’s house. He pulled into the parking spot in the apartment’s garage that Bad paid for, so Sapnap’s friends could leave their cars when they came over. He grunted in annoyance at the weight of the three backpacks; there also wasn’t a convenient way to carry three backpacks. He rode the elevator up to the first floor and buzzed Bad’s apartments.

“Who’s there?” Bad’s voice crackles through the intercom.

“Techno, I’m here for delivery and pickup.”

Bad laughed.. “Hi Techno, they’re in the middle of something so it’ll be a little while.” The buzzer sounds and Techno steps into the room, taking the elevator to Bad’s floor, which was unreasonably high. How was Sapnap supposed to climb through the window late at night at this height?

Although Techno was required to have someone buzz him in, he conveniently had his own key for the door, and could use that. Techno couldn’t be bothered to remember which room was Sapnap’s, but he knew where the guest room was, so he tossed all their stuff in there.

“Hi Bad. Have any snacks?” Techno asked, entering the kitchen. Mario Kart sounds floated over from the living room. “It’s time to go home!” Techno called out to the kids.

“Why?” Tommy yelled back.

“Because. Also Tubbo, Dream said that I’m dropping you off with Purpled at Punz’s place.”

“Oh.” Techno could hear the way Tubbo’s face fell. “He got into something again?”

Techno took the plate of sandwiches from Bad and brought them out to the boys. He gave Tubbo a tight smile. “Apparently, but he’ll be fine.”

Once the boys finished their game--Ranboo won--they all bid Bad adieu and head back for Techno’s car. The boys and their backpacks file in. Tommy sat up front; Tubbo situated himself on the middle hump, and Purpled and Ranboo arranged their legs accordingly.

He let the boys karaoke on the way to Punz’s place. They were very loud, but it helps that he didn’t have to worry about where he was going, as he is far more familiar with these streets than he would have liked to be.

Techno pulls into the driveway. “Get out.”

“Thanks for the drive Blade!” Tubbo said, following Purpled out of the backseat.

“Good luck!” Ranboo yelled after them, stretching his legs into the newfound space he had at his disposal.

“Stay safe!” Tommy shouted, only half joking. “Let’s get out of here.”

Techno pulled out of the area once Tubbo and Purpled had made it into the house. He then drove them out of the slums to the richer areas of the city where Ranboo lived. He parked the car in Ranboo’s cul de sac.

“This is my stop,” Ranboo said lowly.

“This is your stop.” After a few minutes of silence Techno spoke again. “You gonna get out?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Ranboo opened the door. “Thanks for the ride!” He pushed it shut once outside and walked up the lawn to his manor.

Tommy waved goodbye to his friend then turned to look straight ahead. “Let’s go back now.”

“Are you still mad at me for hanging out with Dream?”

Tommy didn’t respond.

Techno pressed on the gas and brought the car back to the main road. “I’m allowed to have friends, kid. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Then stop. Stop defending yourself. You don’t need my approval.”

“When did you get older than me?”

“When you started hanging out with kids who get put in the newspaper for petty crimes!”

“I’ve been hanging out with Dream since long before you even got here.”

“And? People change. Little Dream isn't big Dream!”

“I know who my friends are,” Techno bit.

“I hope you do. Because Tubbo is having a sleepover with Purpled which means Dream isn’t home. And you were there. So what happened?”

All of Techno’s pent up energy left his body, and he fell into a steely expression. “Nothing.”

“Something happened! Why isn’t Dream home?”

Techno turned on the radio.

“Tell me bitch boy!”

“Do you want to eat tonight?” Techno shouted back at him, turning to face him directly now that they were stopped at a red light.

Tommy’s eyes were wide. He had one hand on his seat belt buckle and one on the door handle. He was as pressed away from Techno as he could get in the car. He was holding his breath and his body was tense. “Please,” he whimpered.

Techno tensed up as well. He had gone too far. He knew he had gone too far. That wasn’t cool playing on Tommy’s fears like that. “Tommy--”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. Please. I know it’s your stash. Please.”

“Tommy.” The light turned green. “We’ve been over this. My stash is your stash.”

Tommy mutely shook his head, refusing to reply.

Internally sighing, Techno tapped his finger on the side of the steering wheel, his brain working hard. He should have known not to say that with Tommy, but of course he had to mess up again.

The car behind them honked its horn loudly, jerking Techno out of his thoughts. He lifted his foot from the brake, and placed it down on the gas, accelerating forwards, and allowing the long line of traffic behind him to go.

Tommy still hadn't spoken, but was shaking slightly, and it wasn't because he was cold.

“My stash is your stash,” Techno reiterated, if only to fill the silence.

“No it’s not,” Tommy said in a small voice. “You keep saying it is, but it’s not.”

“Then steal from my stash to make your own stash. You’ve done that before.”

“Not from people I need to like me.”

Techno stopped looking at Tommy in hopes he would calm down slightly. “I do like you,” he reassured. “If I didn’t I wouldn’t be trying to convince you that we share a stash.”

Tommy fiddled with the radio stations and made a noncommittal sound of what Techno pretended was agreement.

Techno and Tommy spent the rest of the ride home in silence, Techno glancing at Tommy out of the corner of his eye the whole time.

When they arrived home, Techno put the car in park, and undid his seatbelt, but made no move to get out of the car. Twisting his neck, he looked Tommy in the eyes.

Techno knew what Tommy needed to hear, even if he hated having to need to say it. “You can eat tonight. Grab whatever you want from my stash.”

“Really?” Tommy asked more hopefully than Techno was comfortable with.

“Yeah.”

Tommy then bolted out of the car, as if to make sure he did the thing while he had permission before it was taken away abruptly.

Which Techno would never do. Techno was feeling like shit playing on Tommy’s insecurities to get him to shut up. That wasn’t cool and he knew that. Techno slowly pulled himself out of the car. He grabbed his backpack, and the one Tommy had left in his haste.

Walking slowly to the house, Techno gave Tommy some time to settle in before entering their shared space. Yes he generally wished that Tommy was quieter after 10pm, but tonight it would be for the wrong reasons.

At least Tommy didn’t seem to think Techno was about to hit him.

#Technoblade #Dreamwastaken #Sapnap #Georgenotfound #Badboyhalo #TommyInnit #Tubbo #Ranboo #Purpled #Philza #These Streets Are Made For Walking

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missmonsters2 · 4 years

Text

Fire by Feather

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader/OFC

Prompt: “Blindfolds heighten your senses, maybe that’s why you’re whimpering louder than usual.”

Note: I don’t know what to say...except don’t read this in public (not that you have a choice since we’re all in quarantine and social distancing).

Warnings: This chapter is a smutty 18+ only. Please read responsibly.

Translations: милый/milyj - Darling

Genre: smut

Count: 3076

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You're feeling a little playful tonight.

Maybe it's the shot of tequila and three glasses of wine you've had.

Whatever it is, it's got you eyeing your target like a deer teasing a lion.

It's Stark Industries' 80th annual Gala party. Everyone's in quite a festive mood. Tony's using this chance to show off his new inventions while Pepper is securing more investors.

It helps that the Avengers are here. Investors love talking to superheroes, the exclusivity it has.

Playing nice is only a favor to Pepper.

That's how you got stuck to Boring Bradley. He was prattling on about his company and how his investment in Stark Industries would be phenomenal.

You smile and laugh on the right cue, but your eyes have subtly traveled past him to a certain witch.

You could see she was caught in a big group of Boring Bradley's.

Wanda looked absolutely delicious tonight. Showing off her collarbone in her red dress that hugged her body tightly before trailing down her legs, a slit at the thighs.

She had one arm wrapped around her midsection and the other holding a glass of champagne. The rings that adorned her fingers always managed to get you riled up.

You leaned back against the bar counter with your elbow, your investor leaning in with a sly smirk of his own, unaware you weren't even paying attention to him.

"Hm," you hum as he continued to speak.

Wanda looks over to you, a hot electric tension in the air as your eyes connect.

'Don't,' she warns, sending the message to your mind, but you merely smile back.

It was just sex, you told yourself. The two of you have been sleeping together for months now. There was no confession of feelings.

But sometimes, Wanda would look at you with such a burning fire in her eyes that you nearly surrendered yourself to her.

Wanda was trying to concentrate on the conversation in front of her. She wishes Natasha was standing here with her, the spy being much better at situations like this than her, but Natasha is busy with her own group.

It's been hard to concentrate when she can feel you eyeing her like a piece of candy across the room at the bar.

Wanda sent you a warning, but you didn't look like you were in a mood to listen to her tonight.

"What do you think?"

The question draws Wanda's attention back to the conversation at hand, and she smiles at the man in front of her.

"Oh, I'm sure Pepper and Tony have wonderful things planned for this year. Each year, they always manage to outdo themselves. I'm sure you can tell by their financials each year," Wanda answers diplomatically.

Wanda honestly had zero interest in such politics and finances, and she was iffy with Tony at best, but she liked Pepper.

Her answer sets off a chain of responses from the men she's standing with.

Wanda tries to focus on what they're saying when suddenly she's bombarded with vivid images in her head.

At first, it's just flashes, hints of what's to come. Wanda sees bare skin, the arching of a back she's very familiar with. She hears moans and gasps, the sound she could never forget who it belongs to.

Then the intense images come with no mercy.

Wanda sees you in her bed, hands bound above your head with a blindfold on. You still have your clothes on from the Gala, but you're disarrayed. Hair splayed messily underneath you, and you're breathing heavily like you're out of breath.

Wanda has to bite her tongue to stop the groan that wants to come out. She sharply looks over to you, but she finds you talking to a gentleman like nothing is out of the ordinary.

Like you're not projecting naughty images to Wanda.

And you're acting so well, Wanda nearly questions if she just conjured the images up on her own.

But then she's assaulted with another vision of her fucking taking you roughly while you're on your stomach, your bound hands gripping the bed sheets tightly as you moan unabashedly. You're writhing underneath her, trembling from the pleasure she brings you.

She sees herself running her palm against your bare back as it travels up until she grabs a fistful of hair and pulls back roughly, just the way you like it.

She bites the shell of your ear, thrusting into you ruggedly. Licking where she just bit, she gruffs in your ear.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" She hears herself tease you. The wet sound of Wanda slamming against you echoes in the room, and it's a sound that Wanda absolutely loves.

Wanda nearly wants to stumble at the images.

But she has to steel herself because she's still in public, talking to potential investors for Pepper.

'Behave,' she warns you as she glares in your direction.

For a moment, she watches your eyes travel to her as she licks her lips with a smile.

'I am behaving,' you mentally reply to her, 'can't you tell in the visions?'

It's teasing.

It's naughty.

You're mocking her, Wanda's convinced.

'What's wrong, baby? Can't focus? You should be able to do better as an Avenger.'

Wanda grits her teeth. She doesn't say anything but turns back to her conversation as if nothing is happening.

You're really pushing her limits, you know that. Oh, you certainly know you're pushing her buttons.

You were really going to get it later, at least that's what you hoped.

It continues on like that for the rest of the night. Even as you travel from investor to investor for conversation.

At some point, you even stand next to Wanda and Natasha to talk to businessmen, but that doesn't stop you from filling Wanda's head with visions of her railing you.

It's never the same.

Sometimes it's in the closet where you have to be quiet as she takes you.

Sometimes it's right in the middle of this party.

Sometimes you revisit past sexcapades you've had with her.

Even when Wanda pinched you subtly as you stood next to her, that didn't stop you.

But after two hours of nonstop images, you finally gave her mercy and stopped.

You could see Wanda breathe a sigh of relief, and you gave her a playful smirk when she looked at you. Wanda merely shook her head but went back to her conversation.

The rest of the night went without a hitch. It came to an end, and eventually, the room was clearing out.

You let out a long sigh as you were the first Avenger to leave. You headed to the elevator and pressed the button, and waited patiently for the door to open.

As soon the door opened, you took a step in.

"FRIDAY, to my room, please," you spoke quietly.

"Of course," FRIDAY replied, the doors slowly closing.

But just before the door fully closed, the hand stuck in, and the door reopened.

You saw Wanda on the other side. She gracefully stepped in, and the elevator doors closed again.

"Would you like me to drop you off at your room, Miss Maximoff?" FRIDAY asked.

"No, that's fine, FRIDAY," Wanda replied, her tone even and you swallowed.

The ride up was silent. Wanda didn't speak a word to you. She merely looked straight ahead, and you were unsure what was going through her mind.

But the elevator door opened to the floor where your room was, and Wanda gestured for you to exit first.

"Thank you, FRIDAY," Wanda bid quietly as she followed along after you.

"No problem," FRIDAY closed the elevator doors, and you were left in the quiet with Wanda again.

The walk to your room was quick. You entered the passcode to your room, and as soon as it flashed green and the door opened, Wanda pushed you through the doors.

She shut the door with a resounding lock of the door as Wanda leaned against the door, eyeing you.

"You didn't think you were going to get away scot-free, did you?" Wanda cocked her brow at you, and you bit your bottom lip.

"Just a harmless prank," you played dumb.

Wanda stood straight and stalked her way to you.

"Perhaps it would've been for the first ten minutes, but two hours? I don't think so." Wanda grabbed your hand and pulled you to your bedroom.

She sits you on the edge of the bed before she turns and opens one of your drawers, pulling out one of your silk ties.

"You quite tested my limited tonight, милый." Wanda ties the silk tie around your eyes as a blindfold.

"On your back," Wanda commands and you lick your lips as you do as your told.

You moved more onto the bed before you lie down. You feel your hands being lifted above your head as they're bound together by Wanda's powers.

'Delicious,' Wanda thinks.

Just like how you made her picture.

Wanda strips herself of her dress, eager to touch the prize in front of her.

It starts slowly with her taking your shoes off. Her fingers touch your calves, trailing lightly up to your thighs.

Wanda can hear you breathe deeply, and she smirks.

Maybe sending her the visions had worked you up too.

She lifts your leg so that it's over her shoulder.

Lips brush against your thigh before kisses are pressed against your inner thigh.

Your breath hitches.

You can feel her smile.

Her other hand is massaging your other thigh.

And then suddenly, you're naked with the sound of your clothes being ripped off.

"I'm not going to lie, милый," Wanda murmurs, "I'm not going to go easy on you at all. I'm going to make this as slow as possible. Tease you until you can't take it anymore and beg me to finally fuck you."

Your eyes screw shut tighter underneath the blindfold. You feel a wave of wetness rush between your legs.

There's a wave of relief initially when you feel Wanda covers your body with her own, pressing her naked body into yours.

She embraces you, one arm under your back and the other cupping your jaw and neck.

Lips descend against yours.

It's firm but slow as Wanda kisses you.

She sighs in your mouth.

"Your kisses shouldn't be this good," she murmurs against your lips. You taste like red wine tonight, and Wanda thinks it's delicious.

Wanda goes back for another kiss before she moves to kiss against your jaw, traveling down until she's at your neck.

You're so sensitive, and Wanda has hardly done anything yet.

She's sucking and nipping at your neck.

You're barely holding in the moans until Wanda begins to grind against you, her pelvis rubbing against your clit.

It sets a low groan from your mouth.

Wanda kisses your throat, feeling the vibrations of your groan.

Wanda's feeling particularly selfish tonight. She really just wants to touch all of you, she almost doesn't know where to touch next. But she decides she'll just move her way down.

Her lips drag down until she's at your chest.

Taking a perk nipple in her mouth, her tongue rolls over the stiff nub, enjoying the way your back arches more into her mouth. Her hand stays splayed against your back while her other hand grips your ass and squeezes.

Wanda nips at your nipple lightly before she releases the nub. She blows cool air against it, smirking as your breath hitches sharply.

She does the same to the other nip, alternating until your chest is overstimulated, and your hips are thrusting upwards for more relief.

Wanda's lips continue to her mission, trailing downwards, leaving hot open mouthed kisses.

When she reaches her destination, Wanda licks her lips with a small smile.

She can feel the heat radiating from your sex. Wanda rubs her finger through the slit, pressing against your clit as she does so.

"You're soaking, милый, you must want it pretty bad," Wanda murmurs, you can feel her breath on you.

You flush, because you also do when Wanda points out how desperately clear it is you're wet for her.

It comes without warning when Wanda puts her mouth on you.

Your hips buck up as you make a sound from your throat.

Wanda holds your hips down as she eats you with reckless abandon.

Her tongue flattens against you as she licks you, flicking at your clit.

She repeats the action over and over and over, her tongue curling against you.

You can't stop the moans, the whimpers, the whining.

"Fuck," you breathe. It's high-pitched, and it makes Wanda moan against you.

The way you swore during sex always turned Wanda on. She liked the idea of her bringing you so much pleasure that you couldn't control the swears that came out of your mouth.

You're close.

Wanda can feel it in your movements. You're working up a sweat, your hips are twitching.

But Wanda makes due on her promises, and just before you can fall over the edge,

Wanda stop.

You let out the most disappointed groan.

"Wanda," you plead.

"Begging already?" Wanda teases as she gets up. "Come on, you should be able to do better as an Avenger."

The mocking words come back to bite you.

Wanda looks around the room, spotting her desired toy.

She grabs it with a tissue, cleaning the tip of it off of ink.

Wanda liked that you practiced calligraphy with such an old-fashioned feather.

But tonight, it would be your undoing.

She climbs back over you, straddling you.

Your chest is heaving, and she watches with a fascination for a moment.

The movements have halted, and you're not really sure what to expect. You feel a tickling sensation across your breast, but you're not sure if it's Wanda's finger or something else.

But then you feel it again, the sensation traveling down your midsection to your navel.

You know what it is immediately and moan. It's just a feather, but you're on the edge, feeling overstimulated, and ready to come.

Everywhere the feather drags, it feels like a fire trail across your skin. Heat pools at your center, making you wetter.

"Wanda," you whimper, "What are you doing?"

"Making good on my promise," Wanda throatily chuckles.

"I can't," You tremble. Your hips roll upwards, searching for friction but finding nothing but the feathery touches that burn your skin.

The sensation tingles around your breast, first your left, and then right. And when it moves away, you feel something hot and wet take your nipple in.

You immediately register it as Wanda's mouth. The feather stick tickles around your other breast, and when Wanda tugs at your nipple, the teeth scraping your flesh delicately, your hips lift off the bed.

"Wanda!" You keen.

You've never felt this sensitive before. You need to rip the blindfolds open to see what Wanda doing.

But Wanda doesn't answer your calls. She merely sits up, the feather traveling down again to between your legs. Wanda drags them against your thighs, and you're trembling.

You feel her blunt short nails drag where the feather as touched.

The feather circles your clit, and you whimper more.

"I'm wondering if you've learned your lesson," Wanda hums.

"I have!" You plead, and Wanda chuckles.

"You know, blindfolds heighten your senses, maybe that's why you're whimpering louder than usual," Wanda drawls as she shifts, her mouth over your sex again.

You don't have an answer to that except another whimper.

She puts her mouth on your clit, working you up again, but you pray to God that there's a relief this time.

"Please," you beg. You're not sure how much more you can take of the feather anymore as it tickles over your hip.

Everywhere it touches feels like an electric livewire over your skin.

"I love when you beg," Wanda husks against your clit, the words sending vibrations through you.

"I need you," you hopeless plead, thrusting your hip closer to Wanda's mouth, hoping it'll lead you to your sweet end.

"How badly?" Wanda smiles.

"I'm so close," you breathlessly confess. Wanda moves up, smashing her lips yours, her tongue slipping to your mouth, and you know she's promising good things to come.

Wanda nudges your legs to spread wide open. Grabbing your hips, she drags you closer to her.

Her lips leave you, but when you feel her align herself, pressing herself to you before she grinds herself roughly down your sex, you arch with a loud squeak.

The feel of Wanda's wet heat against your down sends you down a delirious path.

"I'm going to come," you tell her, your hands thrashing against their binds. The way Wanda had teased you, played your body like a violin, and left you on the edge had already brought you close to your end.

It only takes a one, two, three clumsy thrusts of Wanda's hardened clit against your own nub for you to see stars behind your eyes.

You scream her name as you arch your back closer to her, Wanda still thrusting against you as she chases her own end.

When the high slowly comes down, Wanda falls against you, pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips.

She takes the blindfold off you and unbinds your hands, and they fall down to your side, but your entire body feels too much like jelly to do anything else.

She places the feather at the edge of the bed as you try to catch your breath.

The two of you have worked up a sweat as it glistens on your bodies.

You feel Wanda rubbing her hands on your body before they travel between your legs, pressing and rubbing against your clit.

You let out a sharp yelp as you're too sensitive right now, and she's overstimulating you.

But the way she's doing it, you can tell she's warning you.

"Misbehave with me like that in public again, and I'll make sure your punishment is much longer next time."

Wanda bites your shoulder before pressing a kiss, and you smile.

You force your arms to wrap around her. Wanda said next time, so she most definitely knows you'll misbehave again.

Wanda falls asleep pretty quickly, and you're not far behind.

But you had caught the burning look in her eyes again briefly before she fell asleep.

And you think at this point, it might just be more than sex.

#mm: my fics #genre: smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x OFC #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #avengers x reader #avengers reader insert #avengers imagine #avengers au #marvel reader insert #marvel au #marvel imagine

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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

Text

All That Was Fair

Chapter 7: Under His Protection

Work Summary: Jamie Fraser is hiking near some strange stones when he comes across an unconscious lass. Determined to help her, Jamie’s life is turned completely upside down as he takes her in. The only issue... she’s not human.

Chapter 7 Summary: Claire confronts various emotions; tensions rise.

Read on AO3

Read chp 7 below the cut

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A/n: Hold onto your hats, we’re taking a dive into Claire’s POV!

Chapter 7: Under His Protection

***

Claire woke slowly, her brain struggling against the mire of unconsciousness, swimming lazily to the surface. As she cracked her eyes open and took in the darkness, confusion and anxiety gripped her like vines coiling around her ankles.

Where was she?

The material under her cheek was strange, and she certainly wasn’t on the ground with the familiar feeling of brush and grass against her cheek. Whatever she was lying on was soft and had a lot of give.

She nearly started to panic, but then she became aware of the feeling of arms wrapped around her and her body securely anchored to that of the warm one behind her.

While her brain, still clouded with sleep, struggled to identify who the arms belonged to, it was her heart that fondly sighed, “Jamie.”

And then she felt it.

Safety— warring against the uncertainty.

Awareness came back to her with that, and she remembered all the events of the previous few days. Here she was, in this strange human’s house, in his arms even, forever cut off from her home.

The grief washed over her anew. Her whole world had been tilted upside down in mere minutes, the repercussions of touching the stones still revealing themselves. But she could feel in her bones that she was lost, never to return.

The thought terrified her.

Tears pricked at her eyes and her heart leapt suddenly to her throat. She tried to swallow the lump, to force it back down, but she felt the pressure inside her building— fit to burst into another meltdown over all she’d lost.

So she turned to the one thing she could— both figuratively and literally.

She rolled over so she was facing Jamie. In sleep, his arms instinctively shifted with her so he was still holding on to her, clutching her body to himself. As he settled back in, his breathing a reassuring rhythm, he pulled her even closer with a soft hum.

He looked so peaceful that she hesitated to wake him. But tears were dripping from her eyes now, and she felt so alone that she wanted him— awake with all his gentleness and quick reassurances— desperately. In a tremulous, barely there voice, she whispered, “Jamie?”

It took only a second for his eyes to open and fix on her. They were beautiful eyes, she thought— blue like the sky on a sunny day. Those eyes held such kindness, such soft compassion. They had been one of the first things that made Claire know he was a good man.

As soon as Jamie saw her face, which must have been wet with tears by now, he let out a pained sound. His big hands let go of her and untwined from her body so that he could lift them to cup her cheeks, the thumbs swiping at the falling tears.

“What’s wrong, mo nighean donn?” he asked, his face soft with concern.

The tenderness there made Claire’s breath hitch and the silent tears fall even faster.

“I— I’m sorry—” she suddenly felt very foolish to have woken him, without even a good reason, “I just… woke up scared. And then I remembered...”

There was a mere second for her to berate herself over her behavior before understanding crossed Jamie’s face and assuaged Claire’s embarrassment. Jamie had an amazing knack for making her feel that he understood and hurt with her without making her feel pitied. This kind of empathy was something Claire had never really experienced before she met him.

It was with that empathy that he met the tide of her grief.

“Come here,” he said softly.

He pulled her closer and his hand settled on the back of her head to press her face into the crook of his neck. She went willingly. The skin of his neck felt warm and silky under her teary eyes, and she let more drops fall onto the offered canvas of his body. She wasn’t actively crying like she had the previous day when the realization hit her, just quietly addressing her loss, releasing pent up tears that seemed to have been inside her all night. The nighttime was when fears always preyed, darkness and loneliness reminding one of their greatest insecurities, but she was lucky not to be alone.

Both of his arms encircled her, but one of his hands was free enough to rub comforting circles into her back. His hands were so big, she marveled at the feeling and strength of them— so reassuring. Grounding her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her lips barely brushed the skin of his collarbone as she spoke.

“Dinna be sorry,” his deep voice was a vibration in his chest that she could feel from how she laid on him, pressed so tightly against his body, “I’m here.”

That made her feel a thousand times better. As much turmoil as she’d been through in the past couple of days, he was her light— her anchor. She somehow trusted him with everything inside her.

She’d known him to be trustworthy from the first time she touched him. Before that, when he’d knelt a short ways away from her on the moor, she’d noticed the kindness in his eyes, the truth in his words, and the deference in his posture that indicated he meant her no harm. That all made her less wary. But the first time she’d truly known was when she’d touched his face and felt that warm rush of security and gentleness, more powerful than she’d ever felt before. There was a connection between them that was completely novel to Claire but nonetheless reassuring. From that second on, Jamie had been hers, and she his.

As she wept against him now, she couldn’t help but believe his earnest words. Everything would be okay. As long as he was there to hold her, to protect her, she could survive.

Comfort.

He continued to embrace her long after her tears had dried. With infinite patience, he simply offered his body to her, wrapping himself around her as if he could block out her pain. She was loathe to move away from him and the safety he provided, but the sun was up— light was filtering through the window indicating late morning— and she needed to face the day.

She lifted her face from his shoulder and locked eyes with him.

“Thank you,” she said softly. She hoped he knew all the unspoken things those words held— thank you for saving me, for caring for me, for holding together my broken pieces, for letting me drop into your life like this and never complaining once…

He must have known, because he gave her a smile that made her knees feel like jelly and said simply but with a weight of regard, “ye’re welcome.”

They got up slowly. Claire parted from Jamie reluctantly, but sat up nonetheless, allowing him to stretch and then set off. Watching him, all the high emotions from the night before seemed to dissipate, and she was left feeling more like herself again. Jamie seemed to have a routine that he followed every morning, and Claire followed him, interested to watch what exactly he was doing.

First, he padded sleepily to the little place with the “shower”, scratching the back of his head where some of his beautiful red curls were sticking up adorably. He’d left the “door” open, but Claire wasn’t entirely sure he knew she was there as he made the water appear (she still had no idea how it did that!) and put a small stick thing under it. Then, he raised the stick and started to rub it inside his mouth. She recoiled a little in disgust, wondering if this was something like “eating”, but upon closer inspection, it seemed to be something different entirely. It lasted only another few seconds before he leaned down and washed his face under the little waterfall. When he straightened up again, his eyes met hers in the strange reflective surface, and he turned suddenly toward her.

“Claire!” he exclaimed, “I didna realize ye were there. Ehm… I hafta take a shower. Would you mind givin’ me a bit of time?” His eyebrows were raised apologetically as he thrust a thumb in the direction of the “shower.”

With a nod and a smile she hoped looked reassuring, she said, “Of course!”

She didn’t want to impose on him, and he’d been spending nearly every second with her. He was obviously reluctant to leave her on her own, but she wanted him to know that she’d be fine.

He gave her a nod, still looking a bit guilty, and then shut the bathroom door, separating them. A second later, she heard the sound of rain and figured he was beginning the shower.

Left to her own devices, she headed down. She was still a little hesitant about descending the odd hill that led down to the other level— the blocky shapes on it seemed easy to slip on— but she held tightly to the little trees that lined either side.

When she’d finally made it down, the grey “cheetie” Adso was sitting in the middle of the place Jamie called “the living room” and looking up at her with big green eyes.

“Hello my friend!” she exclaimed happily as she sat down to run her fingers through his soft fur. He rumbled beneath her hands, making her giggle a little, and she spent a few moments completely absorbed with Jamie’s companion. He must have been loyal to Jamie— she thought— to choose to spend all his time inside with him instead of out on the moors.

As she stroked his soft fur, thoughts of her future crept into her mind, unbidden. Thinking more than a few days ahead was complete madness, so she limited herself to worrying about this day and its troubles. Jamie would honor his promise and take care of her, but if she was going to be here for any amount of time, she needed to really start learning about this world. She didn’t particularly care for the feeling of helplessness that was her ever-present companion; she wanted to become competent and hopefully one day reciprocate Jamie’s care. With a hardening resolve, she decided that today she would be brave. She would learn everything Jamie would teach her and take as many steps as she could toward her new life.

It wasn’t long before Adso grew bored of her. Just as she had made up her mind, he abruptly hopped to his feet and pranced off, tail flicking in goodbye.

Claire wasn’t sure what to do next. She would have liked to go back and feel the warm wind (what was it Jamie had called it— “space heater”?), but she wasn’t sure how much heat it could possibly have trapped inside of it and thought probably best to save it. Glancing around the room in search of inspiration, her gaze fell on the window.

It was a beautiful day— the sun illuminating the terrain with its bright colors, not even a hint of the usual Scottish greys of clouds and drizzle. It was the perfect opportunity to tend to Jamie’s plants (which were sorely in need of a good touch). And if doing something she was good at helped her to feel more competent and useful in this world, all the better for it.

She headed outside right away. Kneeling down in the dirt, the slight tension inside her eased. She was in her element. Her hands instinctively reached for the plants, classifying to herself, cataloguing their needs in her brain, and simply touching in order to better sense them.

It wasn’t long before she grew lost in her endeavors. There were some invasive plants— dreadful, malicious things that didn’t even belong in Scotland, she knew— that she began to pull up and toss aside. Their roots were strong, but she could feel them choking the life from the others and pulled hard. Her hands grew dirty in her efforts but she didn’t mind; it was only evidence of her making a difference. The sun rose even higher in the sky as she worked, but she was paying no attention to anything around her. She finally felt a sense of value again as she freed the plants from the choking hold of the invaders.

Her tranquility was suddenly shattered when a loud bang came from the direction of the house. Claire jolted upright, dropping her weeds, and her head whipped toward it.

Jamie stood just outside, his fiery hair aglow in the sun but beautiful blue eyes blown wide in panic and fixed on her. Seeing his tension, she thought for an instant that something was terribly wrong. Was something after him? Come to harm them? She had no idea the dangers of the human world.

But then he was suddenly racing toward her, eyes never leaving her the whole time. He fell on his knees beside her and scooped her into an embrace. Bewildered, she didn’t resist as he clutched her to his chest, hugging so tightly it was nearly hard to breathe.

“Christ, lass!” he burst out, “I looked everywhere for ye and couldna find ye. I thought maybe ye’d run off or somethin’d happened and—” He was breathless as he spoke, and Claire could feel his chest heaving against her as he tried to calm himself down.

“I was only out here,” was all she could think to say.

Jamie pulled back a little so he could look down at her, but made no move to let her go. She didn’t particularly mind— she liked being in his arms and wished he’d hold her all the time, but she was disturbed by how upset he seemed. He studied her for a long moment, eyes sweeping over her as if ensuring she was alright.

“Ifrinn,” he muttered suddenly, face softening from an expression of frantic worry into a more gentle concern, “ye’re shakin’ like a leaf. How long have ye been out here, a nighean? And wi’ out a coat? Ye’re cold as ice.”

Claire wasn’t sure what a “coat” was, but at his words, she realized that she was freezing. He was right— her whole body trembled in that odd way it had ever since she’d touched the stones. She furrowed her brow in discomfort. The cold was the worst.

Jamie was muttering something under his breath and rubbing his hands up and down her arms. On one pass, they traveled further down and caught her hands in his, heedless of the dirt caked on them. He squeezed, and Claire was taken aback at just how warm they were.

“Come now. Inside,” he told her, his tone indicating there was no room for argument.

He all but hauled her up and tugged her toward the house. Her hand was clasped in his, so the tension that lingered in his body was apparent to her.

The moment they were inside, Jamie whirled to face her. He snagged the soft fabric (what was it called again— blankit?) from the couch and, facing her all the while, raised his arms over her head to wrap it around her shoulders. The forceful movement of him swaddling her brought her closer to him, and he pulled the edges tight together so she was wrapped completely. Her trembling hadn’t eased in the slightest, if anything it was getting worse now that she was back in the warmth of the house, so she was grateful for the comfort.

But that sense of gratitude didn’t stay long.

“Christ, lass,” Jamie was saying, voice giving way to frustration, “ye canna go wanderin’ like that.”

His hands waved wildly in a grand gesture of “wandering”, as if she had walked all the way back to her forest instead of just out back.

“I was only just outside,” Claire protested.

She took a step backward so Jamie wasn’t so close to her. She didn’t like the emotions radiating from him. He seemed red to her, like the heat of the sun— energy roaring within.

“Aye, but ye didna say a word about it tae me first. Anythin’ could have happened to ye,” Jamie shot back.

Claire felt her nerves fraying at the tone of his voice.

“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” she spat, bristling.

“Are ye, then?” His tone teetering just into the realm of mocking, “Because—”

That put her over the edge. She dropped the blanket from her shoulders and stalked back toward him, fire in her belly.

“You treat me like I’m just some foolish child! Like I’m this fragile thing about to break if I’m alone for one moment. I may not know everything about your world, but I’ve taken care of myself my whole life. I don’t need you!” The last words burst from her mouth in her fury, lashing out with a shot aimed right at his heart.

But the moment she said them, she wished she could grab them out of the air and shove them back in. Jamie seemed to instantly crumple. It was as if she’d struck him with her fists rather than her words, the “I don’t need you” a killing blow. He deflated, all the tight muscles in his shoulders uncoiling as he slumped back against the couch heavily and slid a little further down to sit on it. His big blue eyes looked up at her with the most heartbroken expression she’d seem in her life. And it tore her to pieces.

Even worse… to know it was her that had caused him such anguish.

“I ken ye can take care of yerself…” he said, very softly, all the fight completely gone out of him, “I’m sorry that I made ye feel like I didna think that. It’s jes’ that I was sae worrit when I couldna find ye, I thought I’d maybe lost ye forever and… I overreacted.”

Nearly the exact same way Jamie had gone limp after her words tore through him, his soft confession knocked all the air from her lungs. Any remaining fight in her was gone, leaving only the hollow feeling of regret.

She hesitantly knelt down in front of him. After his declaration, he’d braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. As she settled herself between his legs, she gently took both of his wrists and forced him to raise his head to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, that being the most important thing that she was dying to ensure he knew, “I overreacted too. The truth is... it scares me how much I do need you—”

His beautiful eyes peered searchingly into hers, as if desperate for a confirmation on her face that she was telling him the truth. She couldn’t help but reach a hand up and lightly cup his cheek, caressing his face softly. Her touch was fueled by a yearning to feel close to him again as much as to comfort him.

From the second she’d met him, she’d felt a connection to him down to her very soul. They were bonded, the two of them. And now she’d found herself falling for him. And in the face of that— and the desperate need for him that scared her to her core— she’d lashed out.

“I dinna ken why…” Jamie started, very slowly, “but ever since I found ye on that hill, I’ve felt this… compulsion… to keep ye safe. To care for ye and protect ye from anythin’ that might steal that bonny smile from yer face. I’m sorry that I went too far. I wish I could jes’ tuck ye into my coat like a wee cheetie and carry ye with me against my chest, but I ken that’s no’ what ye need. I’ve been selfish, Sassenach. If I coddled ye, it was only because I needed it, not you. But I wasna lookin’ to see how it hurt you. Ye’re incredibly brave, mo nighean donn, and strong. Dinna ever believe otherwise, or think that I believe otherwise…”

Tears shimmered in his eyes, and she felt a matching sheen in her own. The pressure was building inside her, a lump in her throat matching the coil in her belly.

It surprised her when the next words came tumbling out of her mouth, a hasty confession she hadn’t meant to see the light of day—

“I don’t feel very brave.”

It was the truth, of course. She’d been a mess this whole time. Unable to bear the weight of separation from her people, clinging to Jamie as her lifeline. Without him, she would have surely shattered…

She was interrupted from these thoughts by Jamie sliding down onto the floor in front of her so they knelt face-to-face. His big hands came up to cradle her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes. Then, he began to speak, somehow achieving the perfect balance of firm conviction and gentleness.

“But ye are, a nighean. Ye are here, and ye’re still goin’. That’s brave.”

His words hung in the air— short, simple, but as poignant as a stone throw.

She nodded, too choked up to give any further reply.

It was then that he hugged her. Smashed her to his chest, his arms wrapping around her middle, solid as trees, and holding her to him as if he was scared she would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Her own arms had been trapped between them during his sudden movement, but she managed to wriggle them free to bring them around his shoulders and embrace him in return.

She felt anchored suddenly— as if she’d been floating in the sky, subject to the fancies of the wind, before this strange man had suddenly reached up and pulled her back down to solid ground.

All thoughts of the home that had been lost suddenly disappeared from her mind as Jamie held her. Because it was thoughts of her new home— her home with him— and the hope that accompanied them that filled her mind instead.

“You know… I think I’d actually quite like to be a cheetie wrapped in your coat,” she tremulously joked, her voice muffled from how her mouth was pressed into the fabric at his shoulder.

Jamie let out a laugh that vibrated through him and into her— a clear, unrestrained sound like the way the loch ripples when a stone plunks into it. She wished to herself that she could hear it forever— to spare him from any pain like the kind she’d just inflicted upon him.

In that moment, she knew she loved him.

***

#the photo shoot is 1000% fae Claire which is why I’ve interrupted my regularly scheduled mood board #just wait the mood board will be revamped when we get to arc II #All That Was Fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #claire/jamie #fae!claire

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elisaphoenix13 · 3 years

Text

Never Too Old (Or Young)

It was a rare morning that Tony got up before Stephen or the girls, so he took the opportunity to get up and go downstairs to make himself a cup of coffee. He may have been awake, but he wasn't quite aware, which was something the coffee would help with. Tony yawns and pours the coffee into a mug when it finishes brewing and he walks over to one of the windows to blearily look out as he drinks his...what did Harley call it? His anti-murder juice.

Each sip he took woke him little by little until he noticed a white smudge on the window in front of him. What the hell? Tony tries to rub it away with his finger, and that's when he realizes that the smudge was on the outside. It looked nothing like bird poop, in fact, it was a solid white. It had a specific curve to it…

The engineer takes a step back when he notices another white smudge out of the corner of his eye, and he sighs heavily when he sees the smudges all over the windows. They were everywhere. It took a couple more thoughtful sips of his morning coffee for things to finally click and Tony realized they were stickers.

"These damn kids," Tony huffs as he walks into the living room.

The likely suspects were Peter and Diana. He considered Harley for a brief moment, but not only would it be hard to place so many stickers on the outside of the tower windows in the Rescue suit...but he was also passed out on the couch. Textbooks were all over the coffee table, the floor, and even a couple were on the teen himself which was a dead giveaway that he had been studying all night. Why he was in the living room instead of up in his room was beyond Tony, but he shrugged it off before carefully taking off the boy's glasses and setting them aside.

Stephen was the one to suspect Harley's far-sightedness a couple of years ago, and the boy had been so relieved that there wasn't something seriously wrong with him. The sorcerer had kept a close eye on Harley after almost a week of complaining of headaches, and the boy would squint while doing homework or reading, pull the book farther away, and even rub his eyes.

Maybe in the hopes of fixing his vision.

So Stephen took him to a specialist since he and Bruce didn't exactly specialize in optometry. The doctor confirmed Stephen's suspicion and they got Harley some prescription glasses which clearly made a difference when he started wearing them. No more furrowing brows, no more headaches, and he got his homework done faster since he wasn't using most of the time to try and see it in the first place.

Tony had a suspicion that William liked them too.

Just as Tony was about to throw a blanket on his oldest son, Levi beat him to it and draped itself across the teen. "Why didn't you do that before?"

"It can only do so much without me." Stephen says as he descends the stairs holding Lucy and with Athena trailing behind him.

"One of our kids decorated the windows." Tony tells him as he puts his coffee down on a book free surface to take their youngest. "And the tree is miraculously still standing."

"That's because Tibbs is in Peter's room. We have a whole day of prying him away from it ahead of us." Stephen rolls his eyes and heads into the kitchen to make himself some tea and a bottle for Lucy.

That was made and handed to Tony before breakfast was started. Thomas and William join a few minutes later and the younger of the twins joins Stephen in the kitchen to help as Thomas retreats into the living room. It turned into a typical morning after that. The rest of the kids woke up, some of the Avengers came up to join the family for breakfast, and sometime in the middle of that chaos, Harley woke up and cleaned up his study mess. Breakfast was eaten and Harley and William made plans to do some last-minute Christmas shopping.

It definitely wasn't a date.

Peter and Cassie had their own plans and Peter was currently showering while his girlfriend went back downstairs and got ready. It was relatively calm then...at least as calm as it could be with as many people as there were. Stephen was reading on the couch with Athena next to him with her head in his lap, and he periodically pet her head as he read. Tony had disappeared down to the lab with Lucy to undoubtedly turn her into a grease monkey, and Valerie was coloring on the floor with Diana. Thomas...was somewhere not dying or getting into trouble so that was enough for them. Harley disappeared as well which was weird since William was still in the living room with the girls.

Stephen nonchalantly turned a page in his book when Peter screeched. The wolf lifted her head at the same time Stephen, Valerie, Diana, and William looked up toward the bedrooms, and Peter soon came out of his room with only a towel around his waist with blue splotches all over his skin.

"HARLEY!" Peter shouts and Stephen sighs.

A prank. Specifically the one where a showerhead was filled with dissolvable dye capsules or Kool-aid powder. Harley was nowhere to be seen and to Stephen's surprise, William burst into hysterical laughter. Peter gave the younger teen a look that was a mix between annoyance, bewilderment, and what looked like glee. Probably because William was actually laughing about something.

"I-I'm sorry!" William sputters through bouts of laughter.

Peter huffs. "Mom, have you seen Harley?"

"Nope." Stephen says as he flips a page in his book and Athena lays her head back down.

Peter looks at William. "Tell your boyfriend it's on!" He disappears back into his room to scrub the blotches off his skin, leaving William to sputter.

Stephen chuckles and returns part of his attention to his book when William ends up blushing bright red.

"You should kiss him." Diana finally says and William's eyes widen.

"Wh-what?!"

"You should kiss Harley. You both like each other." She repeats. "You're worse than Uncle Quill and Uncle Scott."

"He doesn't-"

"He does." Stephen says and turns another page.

"Hey, Will! Come on!" Harley says from the elevator.

William turns a deeper shade of red as he gets up to join Harley, and Stephen hears the older one ask him if he's okay as the elevator doors close. Maybe his and Diana's little confession would be just the push William and Harley needed but then again…

"Boys are stupid."

"Diana." Stephen scolds lightly.

"They are." She mumbles.

"Who's responsible for the stickers?" The sorcerer asks.

"Petey. He crawled on the windows outside and put them on."

"I suppose you supplied them?"

"Nuh-uh. Valerie."

Stephen looks back up from his book and raises an eyebrow at Valerie who definitely looks a little guilty. She pouts up at him with her big blue eyes, and he sighs in defeat. One would think that with seven kids he would be immune to the puppy eyes but he fell for them every time. He was pretty sure the kids knew it too.

No. He was positive.

"Bye Mom! Be back later!" Peter calls out as he races down the stairs and through the door to the stairwell.

"Have fun." Stephen manages to say before the door shuts.

"Mama, look." Valerie holds up the paper she was coloring on and reveals endless scribbles that covered the whole of it.

"It's very beautiful. Do you want to hang it up?" He smiles when her eyes widen in excitement and she nods.

The two year old gets up and walks over to the cloak floating nearby and holds it up to Levi. The cloak happily takes it, and with a cartoonish flourish that briefly made Stephen feel like he was in one, Levi tacks it to the wall with the other drawings. When it claps the folds of its collar together, Stephen knew they were in far too deep. Even his cloak was domesticated.

"My children have turned an ancient relic into a nanny." Stephen bemoans.

"Daddy said you started it." Diana says and Stephen huffs.

"It was one time and that was when Peter was turned into a baby. The cloak was the only one that could reach Peter when he was climbing the walls and the ceiling." Stephen closes his book. "Speaking of your daddy, since he smuggled your sister into the lab, why don't we go to the store?"

"Can I come?" Thomas suddenly says from next to him.

"Get your coat."

In the meantime, Stephen takes the girls upstairs to get them dressed and once they all have their coats on, he opens a portal to the store. Thomas of course returned while the girls were getting ready, and went through the portal after picking up Diana. Stephen huffs fondly when Diana giggles loudly and picks up Valerie to follow them. It took a couple of years, but the twins were finally comfortable asking for things but it was usually still necessities. It was still kind of rare for them to ask for things they wanted.

"'tena?" Valerie asks and waves at the wolf behind Stephen. "'Tena, here!"

Athena comes through the portal and Stephen rolls his eyes as he waves his hand to get her service vest on. It would at least lessen the looks, which only left the 'is that a wolf' whispers. Yes. Yes she is.

"If you weren't so shy of strangers, I'd say you would grow up to be a politician or a world leader."

"Nah, Val?" Thomas cackles. "She's too nice."

"Also a good point. Push the cart please?"

Thomas nods and puts Diana down so he can grab a cart and they walk through the aisles of Target. Diana was happy to 'ooh' and 'aah' at every piece of clothing she saw and Valerie soon ended up in the seat of the cart when Stephen's hands began to tremble a little too much. He then had to attempt to redirect Diana's attention away from the clothes because he was pretty sure she had twenty versions of the sundress she was looking at. Cassie was the one that took her shopping for clothes anyway. It was their thing.

"Aww…" Diana pouts but goes without a fuss to the bedding aisle.

"Why don't you help me pick out some sheets for your sister?"

"There's one with stars on it." Thomas points out and grabs the set to hand to the seven year old.

Diana rolls the set around in her hands with a scrutinizing gaze and then shakes her head. "No. She needs animals."

She looks up at the selection of bedding and finally points up at a set with little brown rabbits. Thomas grabs it for her and after she scrutinizes it like the one before, she smiles and nods and holds it up for Valerie to see.

"Do you like it Valerie?" She asks and the two year old grabs it and scrunches her brows at it before smiling.

"Bunny!"

Stephen chuckles. "I'll take that as a yes." His phone then rings and he takes it out of his pocket to answer it. "Yes love?"

"Heyyyyy Honey…" Tony starts and the sorcerer instantly narrows his brows in suspicion even though his husband can't see.

"What did you do Tony?"

"What? Nothing! Everything's fine! FRIDAY just told me you were at the store and thought I'd tell you that we're low on diaper wipes." Tony answers casually.

"Lucy is covered in grease again isn't she?" Stephen asks flatly.

"It suits her."

"She is two weeks old! Give her a bath. A proper one."

"Yes Duchess." The mechanic chuckles. "We do need more wipes though."

"Noted."

Stephen hangs up and rolls his eyes as he directs the kids to the baby section. Wordlessly, he grabs at least three packs of wipes before grabbing a fourth just in case. Tony had a habit of wiping down Lucy with diaper wipes whenever she was down in the lab with him and she got dirty, but Stephen didn't even know how he managed that. Her motor skills were still nearly non-existent and he wondered if maybe his husband used her as a rag.

He wouldn't put it past Tony. He got tunnel vision whenever he got invested in a project. Stephen couldn't complain though. Lucy loved being in the lab with her father and Tibbs, and whoever else happened to be in there with them. Granted, she slept through most of the chaos, and when she didn't, she was very helpful to Tony.

Baby noises were apparently helpful.

"We better hurry and finish up so we can go save your sister." Stephen says.

"It might be too late." Thomas jokes.

They finish their shopping and Stephen opens a portal back to the penthouse where they find Tony giving Lucy her bath. Before Stephen can even open his mouth, he sees the baby tub in the sink and makes a strangled noise when he finds the water in it nearly pitch black.

"I'm afraid to ask...but what happened?" He asks through clenched teeth.

Tony looks up and actually looks a little sheepish. "Domino effect I think? Something backfired, Tibbs was startled...and I think he knocked over a box of dust."

"I wouldn't be surprised. You barely clean the lab." Stephen sighs. "I hope you found a baby underneath all that filth."

"I did. She's very cute too. Can we keep her?" Tony holds up their naked baby daughter and grins.

Stephen can't help but chuckle.

"You get to change the diapers."

"Always stuck with the dirty work." Tony grumbles.

#ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #supremefamily #mama bear stephen strange #mama bear au

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shining-red-diamond · 3 years

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Ch. 20: A Path

Cast of Characters//Ch. 1//Ch. 2//Ch. 3//Ch. 4//Ch. 5//Ch. 6//Ch. 7//Ch. 8//Ch. 9//Ch. 10//Ch. 11//Ch. 12//Ch. 13//Ch. 14//Ch. 15//Ch. 16//Ch. 17//Ch. 18//Ch. 19//Ch. 20//Ch. 21//Ch. 22//Ch. 23//Ch. 24//Ch. 25//Ch. 26//Ch. 27//Ch. 28 (coming soon)

Words: 1.6k

Pairing: ATEEZ OT8 x OCs

Genre: Adventure, Pirate AU

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of deadly traps, bug attacks, blood, and venom

A/N: Italics means they’re speaking Korean

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Phoebe asked as she rushed over to help him up.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

Grace-Anne then kneeled down to get a good look at the stone staircase. The open itself was about as wide and long as a large cardboard box with a descending stone staircase. Each step disappeared more and more into the dark underground, and the cold dampness cut through the jungle’s humidity. Pulling out her flashlight, Grace-Anne switched it on and shined it down the staircase. Nothing out of the ordinary except for a few dead snakes, but she felt uneasy about immediately taking the steps down.

A rock sat idly next to her, and it was immediately serving as a guinea pig. She tossed it down where it could still be visible by the light beams. Landing on a stone in one of the steps, it sank down halfway, and a spear shot up from the middle of the stone. The rock was split into two pieces before falling away somewhere.

“Do any of the notes say anything about this?” Grace-Anne asked as she stood.

Hongjoong was already ahead of her and reviewing the notes on both the map and the journal.

“Yes,” he nodded once he found the page. “Any of the stones with a golf-ball sized hole in the center has a deadly spear. Have your flashlights ready.”

One by one, the crew switched on their lights just before descending down the stone steps, tip-toeing over each holed stone. The air seemed to grow colder and more dense, and a soft blue glow could be seen up ahead. When they reached the bottom, a foul stench attacked their noses as they turned a corner.

“If I see one more corpse,” Dinah threatened, “I will kick a stalagmite.”

“I don’t think it’s a dead body, we’re smelling,” Grace-Anne replied as they walked a little further. “It smells more like mud after the rain.”

The sound of a river rushing could be heard overhead. Hongjoong used his flashlight to read the notes again. “The blue light tells us that’s where the next piece is.”

“What is that light anyway?” Mingi asked as they strolled closer to the light.

“Yeah, there doesn’t seem to be any electrical fixtures down here,” added Yunho.

An opening marked where the blue light was hiding, and once the crew walked in, the light turned out to be what seemed to be twinkling blue clusters sticking to the wall and reflecting off of clear quartz fragments blooming from the ground to the ceiling. With this kind of light, the crew switched off their flashlights.

“Glow worms, of course!” Dahae recognized. “Their bioluminescence gives off a sort of blue or green light.”

“But where’s the diamond piece?” Seonghwa reminded her as the crew looked around. “It could be anywhere here.”

Jongho was about to try to move a quartz piece to investigate any nook and cranny, but Dahae stopped him with a gasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“These aren’t just any of the regular glow worms you hear about,” she explained. “These quartz’s have minerals that provide this species with their nutrients, and they’re aggressive if they’re touched by any other living organism. Touch the crystals, and a few of them will attack.”

“They’re not poisonous, are they?”

“They just give you deep cuts, but the bleeding is bad no matter where the laceration is.”

“Found it,” Taeran declared as she looked up something in the ceiling.

Surrounded by clusters of the glowing blue, a shining fractal seemed trapped in another microvine structure surrounded by crystals. Beside it was a sort of lock code identical to a lock combination, but rusted into the ceiling.

“What’s the code?” Dahae asked.

Hongjoong flipped through the journals and notes a few times, scanning each page individually in case he missed it. He found something on the exact lock, but no direct answer as to free the diamond.

“There’s a riddle,” he shrugged as scratched his head. “‘Not a full circle, not an angle, not even a cute angle, only a straight path will you find the key.’”

“What path?” Dinah exasperated. “The only way out is the way we came in, and even then it’s deadly.”

“And we can’t exactly pry open the little binding it’s in without touching the surrounding crystals,” Grace-Anne added.

“Maybe it’s talking about the sun, hills, and a path on a hill,” Seonghwa guessed.

“We’re in a freaking CAVE!” Dinah retorted while motioning towards their surroundings.

Taeran stared up at it and recited the riddle. Circle, angles, path. Circle, an angle, a cute angle, path. A cute angle stuck out to her. Did it mean an acute angle?

“Wait a second,” a lightbulb went off in her head. “It’s not a regular piece of land at all. It’s geometric angles. A full circle is three-hundred and sixty degrees, a cute angle is an acute angle that’s forty-five degrees, and a right angle is ninety-degrees. What we’re looking for is the straight ‘path,’ and it’s a straight line. One-eighty degrees.”

“1-8-0 is the code?” Phoebe asked.

“It has to.”

“How are you going to reach it?” Dahae wondered. “The ceiling is taller than Yunho and Mingi.”

…

Finishing up in the bathroom, Celestia took one last look at herself in the mirror, double-checking for any fly-away strands of hair before standing back and seeing her pregnant self. Her stomach wasn’t as huge as a typical pregnant woman’s, but she still found it cute despite feeling like a bloated fish some days. Baby girl kicked, and the mother-to-be smiled.

“You’re so gorgeous,” San commented groggily as woke up.

“Hi, handsome,” his wife replied as she waddled back into the room.

The curtains were opened just slightly to allow some sunlight in, but not enough to disturb San in his sleep.

“How are you feeling?” Celestia asked as she eased herself on the bed.

“Better.”

“You look better, too. Your color is back. Are you sore?”

San shook his head. “I can move more freely, but it only stings when I move my back a certain way.”

“Dahae said it’ll be like that for a bit, but you’ll be back to exploring our next destination.”

A smile nearly bloomed on the young man’s face, but abruptly stopped. He wanted to see the new site, but Celestia couldn’t go anymore when she’s days from delivering.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” San shook his head.

“I won’t be alone,” she promised. “The girls will rotate out on who stays with me at each stop.”

“But what about when it’s time for you to give birth? We would have to flag down an ambulance or something to get you to a hospital if needed.”

San had wanted his wife to give birth in a medical facility that was safe, and she and the baby would receive proper care; but Celestia had put her foot down on having the birth on the boat since Dahae would help with delivery. However, she was becoming more open to having the aid of a medical facility if things were to go wrong.

“I’ve heard you can’t plan for how a birth is going to go,” was all Celestia could say. “But we can be prepared.”

San just smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Such a clever woman, you are.”

Celestia scoffed playfully before asking, “Are you hungry? Grace-Anne left us some breakfast.”

“Can you get up?”

“Watch me.” Immediately she scoot to her edge of the bed, sat up, and rolled to one side to stand. “Cake.”

San giggles as the love of his life waddles out of the room and towards the kitchen. Celestia found her meal of eggs and Greek yogurt covered in plastic, and San’s bacon and omelettes were in the same shape. She removed the covering and put them in the microwave for about a minute while she retrieved both of their drinks.

A fit of childlike giggles erupted from San back in the bedroom. Celestia thought his medicine was making him loopy until he started baby-talking and cooing in his mother tongue. Was he looking at the ultrasounds and somehow talking to the baby? It wasn’t until she returned with their breakfasts when she saw what had happened.

“Angel, we’ve got a little stowaway,” San smiled as he was now petting a Siamese cat sitting on his stomach. “Isn’t she cute?”

“She is,” Celestia smiled as she set the food tray on San’s nightstand. “Hi, kitty.”

She held her hand to the feline, palm open and face up; and after a couple of sniffs, the cat licked her fingers and rubbed her face against Celestia’s hand.

“Friendly, aren’t you? How did you get on here?”

“She must have wandered up the landing gear from outside,” San guessed. “I managed to sit up, because I had to pee; and when I came back from the bathroom, there was a super cute cat sitting on your side of the bed.”

Celestia gave the purring cat a few more scratches behind her ears before thinking for a moment.

“What’s the captain gonna say?” she asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.

The captain had a thing with animals on the ship. It wasn’t that he didn’t allow it, it was that everyone had a job to do and wanted everyone to always stay on task that getting a pet for one crewmate or for all to share seemed impossible. Everyone, including Dahae, had begged Hongjoong multiple times for a furry friend, but he always said no.

“Well,” San thought, “I mean we already have a baby on the way, so he might say our new friend has to go; but since you’re going to be here on each stop, maybe she can help keep you company.”

As if excited by his idea, the cat leapt off of San’s lap and tip-toed to Celestia’s bump. She began to purr as she rubbed up against it. It was as if she now knew there was something precious being nurtured and developed in a protective shell.

“I think we might have found our guardian for Baby Choi,” San jokes with a chuckle.

Tagging: @not-majestic-bluenicorn @actuallythatwaspromise @barsformars @philosopher-of-fandoms @daybreakx @lilhwahwa @hongism let me know if you’d like to be added or removed

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prairiesongserial · 3 years

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16.1

The lights on the burlesque stage went out just as Friday’s brassiere fell open - the timing of which she and Abernathy had been practicing for days. The crowd was so reactive that Friday felt the whistles and applause reverberating in the floorboards as she hustled off the stage. It was a louder reception than she was used to. She’d had fans at the Ace, but unlike the burlesque tent of the Madsen and Graves Circus, the Ace was just as much about drinking and catching up with friends over cards as it was about the girls.

Behind the curtain, in the tiny staging area, Beatrix was getting ready for her fan dance - she always did the finale, and it was always the same act. Friday had picked up the importance of crowd control since she first started hanging around the burlesque tent. With just cloth tent-flaps between yourself and a crowd that had been waiting a year for the circus to come through town, it was important they understood when the show was over.

A little girl popped through the curtain behind Friday while Friday was still trying to fix her brassiere back in place.

“Hey, baby,” Friday said, shooting her a smile. Jaelle, All-Fair’s kid, had been working the crowd. It was odd - usually Johannes did the burlesque tent himself, or at least got one of the men to do it. They blended in better. On the other hand, looking at the dozens of rings jammed on Jaelle’s fingers and the watches crawling up her arms, maybe the kid was the right choice.

“Hello, Miss Friday,” Jaelle said. She deposited her goods in the tin lock-box that Abernathy would come collect at the end of the night, turning the key with an air of great importance. “Can’t stay and chat - Johannes has me working every tent in the circus.” She heaved a sigh. “Bury me standing - I’ve been on my knees all my life.”

Friday had no idea what Jaelle was talking about, but the kid took off before she could ask. The circus would be winding down, now that the burlesque tent was putting on its last show. Friday threw slacks and a shirt on over her sequined underwear, still soaked in sweat from performing. She needed an ice cream cone before the stall packed up for the night.

When Friday left the tent, she was abruptly reminded that this was no ordinary show.

Her boots tread on grass, but there was no sky here. Despite the fact that it should have been past ten at night, dozens of lights high up on a domed ceiling gave the impression of daylight. Johannes’s amplified voice reached her from the main tent as he announced the last attraction. All at once, the lights on the ceiling shifted from yellow to orange to red, performing dusk in a matter of seconds. If not for that, the effect would have been eerily realistic.

Friday got a strawberry cone from Di and decided to wander over to the main tent. Might as well.

The last act in the main tent was fire-hooping, which was worth watching. The twin clowns had shed the baggy overalls from their tumbling routine and now wore form-fitting red and blue harlequin outfits as the flaming hula hoops arced through the air in perfect sync. Not only were the fire-hoopers impressive, but when the flames were extinguished at the end of the show, it made for a powerful symbol. Lights out, go home.

Friday felt the lightest touch against her back pocket. Most people would have written it off as the movement of displaced air as someone nearby walked past. Friday jerked her hand back and caught a slim wrist.

“Damn, I’ve been made,” Jaelle whispered.

“It’s just me,” Friday said, letting go. She beckoned Jaelle forward. “See that cluster of people three rows ahead of us, a little to the left? Heavy purses.”

Jaelle squinted in the direction Friday had indicated.

“Thanks, Miss Friday,” she said, then disappeared into the crowd again.

On stage, one of the clowns tossed her hoop up in the air, tumbled through the center of her twin’s hoop, and caught the one she’d thrown on the other side. The crowd clapped. That was the perfect moment to pick pockets. People’s hands were occupied, it was noisy, and the whole tent was filled with vibration, making little touches harder to notice. Friday felt the urge to check her own pockets again.

She did wonder at Johannes’s directive to go hard on pickpocketing this show. They were underground - had actually had to pay a toll to get into this giant bunker - and only after the steel door had been sealed behind the circus caravan had Friday learned that this was Washington, DC; home of Hemisphere Central. If Jaelle was caught picking the wrong pocket, that pocket had a pretty good chance of belonging to a powerful mobster. And the circus was trapped in here.

It was interesting how the Madsen and Graves circuit just happened to hit so many Hemisphere towns - from Everglades City to the accidental run in with the Good Guys - and now Central itself. No, interesting wasn’t the right word. At this point, it was almost boring, how obvious it was that Johannes was planning on handing her, Val, John, and Cody over to Hemisphere. Friday had finally tested her L-shaped pin against those used in the trailer hitches, and it was a perfect match. Johannes was trying to kill them, and Friday didn’t have a next move.

The fire-hooping ended with the lights shutting off just as the fires were extinguished. When they came back on, Johannes stood center stage to announce that the night of spectacle had come to a close. He’d changed backstage, and now wore a sequined suit - the left gold and the right black - and a cream cravat with a gold pin. Also cream colored was the porcelain mask that covered the top half of his face. Strange.

“Thank you all for coming to our show - that’s all the entertainment we have for you tonight. We hope you enjoyed the feats of athletics and wonder of the Madsen and Graves Circus.”

Friday spied Enis climbing down the ladder of the crow’s nest from which he controlled the lights. The crowd began to move toward the exit.

Friday wondered what Val thought about all this. She hadn’t tried to talk to him since he came back from Monocacy, but she’d pieced together from the gossip that Johannes had kissed him, it hadn’t been appreciated, and Val was pissed about it. Di, who was approaching sixty and had likely been with the circus since before Johannes was born, had called Johannes a dog and spat on the ground.

The crowd cleared the main tent surprisingly quickly - there were whispers of stopping at home to get changed. Interesting. Apparently the Madsen and Graves was the unwitting first half of a double feature.

As the last of the crowd left, circus members began to file into the main tent. Not unusual - after a show, there were sometimes special instructions for striking the sets. Friday saw Val hanging around the edges, and John and Cody front and center. She made her way over to Val.

“Catch my show?” she asked him.

Val looked at her, made an embarrassed face, then looked back to the stage.

“Would you rather I said yes?” he asked.

Friday smiled to herself, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“A girl can dream,” she said, and winked at him. Val rolled his eyes. For a second, the summer had rolled back to the start, before John, Cody, and the fire. The reminder of how things used to be made Friday forget what she wanted to say next.

“Alright people, gather round,” Johannes called out, tipping the mask up to show his face. “You all know your strike teams, but there’s a little change. Enis and Abernathy are standing in for me and Ezra. We’re gonna shmooze at the gala and see if we can’t get us some extra gigs next year.”

Ezra had joined Johannes onstage by this point. He too was dressed up, wearing a bright navy suit and polished red leather shoes. He held a red mask in one hand.

Friday was surprised when Ezra projected his voice exactly as competently as his brother had.

“Once you’re done, feel free to go into town, buy things that aren’t good for you, and give Enis a hard time.”

The crowd of circus members laughed, and a few ribbed Enis.

“Alright, get outta here,” Johannes added.

Friday stole another glance at Val. His brow was furrowed, his eyes intense on the brothers as they descended the stage.

“Gala, huh,” Friday said. “Sounds like a high class affair.”

Val gave her the look that meant I know what you’re getting at.

“I’m just saying, beer and campfires are nice, but I’ve never been to a champagne-on-little-trays kinda party.”

Friday wanted to keep an eye on Johannes - to judge if this was going to be a planned handoff, or if he’d spend the gala advertising the bounties to interested parties. Either way, Friday needed as much advance warning as she could get. And if Val came to the gala with her, maybe he’d finally see Johannes for who he was.

“It’s a Hemisphere party,” Val said.

So don’t you think it’s interesting that Johannes is looking for work there? Friday thought. Come on, Val.

“No one’s gonna be looking for us there,” she said. “It’s a fancy ball. We’ll wear big sparkly dresses and masks and introduce ourselves as the stars of a not yet released Bellamy picture that no one’s even heard of yet. No further questions.”

“I’ll come, but I’m not doing that,” Val said. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Me? Trouble? Never,” Friday said, a wide grin growing on her face. “Come on, let’s find costumes.”

epilogue 15 || 16.2

#story

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

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Whether It Works Out Or Not; Back In The Cage

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: High Honor!Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit T.

AN: Okay I promise I swear this is the last bonus chapter until I finish the game. I swear.

[Spoiler warning for the first four chapters of the game!]

Tag List: @huliabitch @cookiethewriter @pedrosbigdorkenergy @thirstworldproblemss @anonymouscosmos @culturalrebel @karmezii @teaofpeach @crookedmoonsaultpunk @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @nelba @scribblenotes76 @toxiicpop @mstgsmy @misty-possum @gallowsjoker @midnightbeauty35 @lackofhonor @renegademustelid

Part One: Strangers

Part Two: Friends

Part Three: More

Bonus One: A Brief Diversion

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For allusions to character death, mentions of previous abuse, historical inaccuracies and my poorly-remembered French. Stay safe!]

She felt a bit silly in her outfit.

Of course, she didn't need to display as such. "Tastefully understated," she had said to herself in the mirror with a firm nod. It was the fawn-brown dress (admittedly, it was the only dress she currently owned), but she had scraped together the funds for some light trimmings and alterations. A flounce of lace around the hem, a small length of lovely cream ribbon at the waist. The corset, while unwanted, would be expected, practically required in polite company, and even secondhand it was by far the most expensive piece of the puzzle. After that, everything else seemed to fall into place.

Irene Carson (née Craft) arrived at the ball astride Bluster, her hair crowned with a plethora of vanilla flowers and one single spider orchid. The buttermilk buckskin had been curried to within an inch of his life, and sported a matching cluster of vanilla flowers in his mane. He behaved remarkably well given all the hubbub, not putting up any fuss when he was taken from her to be stabled for the evening.

Irene had no elaborate hat to wear, no fantastical feathered monstrosity, so she had made do with what she could find. The flowers would be out of fashion, but they would suit her understated attire a bit better. Perhaps she could be fashionably unfashionable, ahead of the curve.

"I will not be on the list, but please tell Mayor Lemieux that it is the Widow Carson." She politely informed the man with the list at the gate, doing her best to seem calm and collected.

This was a bold move in the normally-subtle social maneuvering of Saint Denis. Attempting to integrate herself back into the gentry was a risky strategy, but a recent realization had convinced her of the necessity of such a move.

Arthur had made an excellent point. That house had sat silent for long enough. It was time for her to take what spoils she could, time for her to think of the future. Hardly fair that she should escape her dismal marriage with nothing but the clothes on her back!

Tonight would be the first step, provided she could even get past the door.

As luck would have it, the mayor himself, Henri Lemieux, came out to verify her claim. "Irene? My dear Mrs. Carson, is it really you?" He asked, all a-fluster. "Let me look at you my dear, let me just…" The man took her by the shoulders, examining her face. "It is you! Mon dieu, Irene, we all thought you had perished! Willie assured us-"

"I am certain he went to great lengths to convince you all of the legitimacy of my death." Irene interrupted him coolly. "However, it would appear that he greatly exaggerated."

"He said you...Irene, my dear, he claimed you committed suicide. He had me thoroughly convinced! But he remarried so quickly, I…" The mayor shook his head in a disapproving manner. "I know more individuals than I alone were skeptical! Oh it is so good to see you again, my dear. Please, you are more than welcome." He offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation. "How have you been, my cheré? Your hair is so short, so fashionable! I see you have been taking cues from our sister city of Paris, ne c'est pas?"

"Naturellement, my dear sir." Irene replied, offering him a soft smile. "I know I will look somewhat out of place in your party. Please forgive my impropriety, but when the news of Willie's passing reached me...I so longed to see you all again, I could not stay away."

"Nonsense, you have nothing to apologize for!" The mayor scolded her lightly, patting her arm. "You have returned from the dead, our very own Lazarus wreathed in flowers like a Belgian-crafted nymph! You are most welcome at our little fête, dear girl. I daresay, after whatever it was that you went through, you are quite justified in a night of revelry." His heavily-accented voice dipped to a conspiratorial tone, "and you must tell us all about your trials. I am certain you have a grand story indeed!"

"Thank you for your hospitality, my dear Mayor Lemieux. I pray that the road ahead of me is far kinder than the road I have traveled thus far."

…

And here Arthur had thought that them playing lawmen was as foolish as they could get.

He couldn't even believe some of the stunts Dutch was willing to pull for the sake of networking or contacts. The bunch of them looked like damn circus animals in their tuxedos and white ties, and Bill in particular seemed aggressively uncomfortable. Just getting him to bathe had been a struggle.

Arthur personally had been downright henpecked by Grimshaw and Tilly, the two of them doing their damnedest to tame his thick, unruly mane with a comb and the vestiges of some pomade. All the while Abigail alternated between telling him he would cause every woman at the ball to swoon and bemoaning his stubble. He had shaved yesterday, damn it, and he wasn't going to shave again!

Lord, they were all fools.

Hosea was the only one who seemed to be even remotely at ease, the elderly man already maneuvering his way to the balcony above the courtyard before Dutch had even managed to find Bronte so they could 'pay their respects'. Bill just followed Hosea like a lost puppy.

Arthur didn't have to understand Italian to know that Senor Bronte was insulting them right out the gate. Neither did Dutch, if the tense smile he gave Angelo while they conversed was any indication.

Arthur was slightly entertained by the panic that flitted across the waiter's face when the larger man ended up catching his arm to use the match originally lit for Dutch's cigar. Never mind that Arthur had had to cut his own cigar with his damn teeth, he was used to doing that shit. Used to falling by the wayside in the gregarious presence of Dutch Van Der Linde. But he wasn't about to let this stuffed-shirt little cocktail carrier get away with ignoring him scot-free. An uncut cigar he could excuse, but an unlit one? That was sacrilege.

The courtyard was teeming with people, illuminated by the soft glow from crisscrossing strands of fashionable Edison bulbs. There were so many ornate gowns, elaborate hats and stiff-necked suits, Arthur scarcely knew where to look. "Mingle, Arthur." Dutch ordered in an undertone, giving him a concealed shove from behind. "Steal nothing unless it's information."

Arthur sighed, straightened his white tie with the air of a man set before the gallows, and slowly descended into what reminded him of how educated folks would describe an active volcano. The courtyard was a maelstrom of activity, the dull roar punctuated by the mosquito-esque whine of a string quartet. God, what he would give to be out with Irene in the hills instead, listening to her play the fiddle for the wolves.

He shook his head at himself. Again with this nonsense, thinking about her every time he heard violin music.

He gritted his teeth and approached a group of women, seizing a bottle of champagne off one of the tables as he went. Arthur Morgan was not a smart man, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that folk were more inclined to think charitably towards you if you brought them alcohol.

"Ladies, might I offer you some champagne?" Arthur asked, knowing his speech was stilted at best as he tried to choke his drawl down. The trio of women seemed to buy it though, simpering and preening while calling him a gentleman.

That was a lie, and Lord was it a bold one. Though, looking around at the so-called polite company, Arthur felt less like the villain that he was and more like a sheep that had wandered into a wolf's den.

Maybe a nest of vipers would be more accurate.

Either way, the large man wasn't used to feeling like prey. As he made his rounds slowly across the courtyard, complimenting outlandish hats and offering his input on the most recent theatre performances (which he had absolutely no clue about), Arthur experienced the distinct sensation of the noose tightening around his neck yet again. Saint Denis was far too civilized for the likes of the Van Der Linde gang. It was only a matter of time before they were rooted out, sent scampering into the night like the vermin they were or slaughtered without quarter.

Lord, this place made him long for the open country.

He bumped into Hosea and Dutch shortly after he had rescued a rail-thin man from choking to death on some peanuts, the two elders of the gang looking like they were plotting something.

"Figure anythin' out yet?" Arthur asked softly.

"Maybe, Arthur. You see that group of folks over by the fountain? That fellow with the tall top hat is the mayor himself." Dutch pointed the man out, gesturing with his cigar.

"So?" Arthur muttered.

"So, my dear boy, ingratiating ourselves with the mayor's little band will no doubt do wonders for our credibility."

"Dutch, if the mayor is already cozy in Bronte's pocket like we are, what's even the damn point?" Arthur queried, trying not to sound as sulky as he felt.

Dutch sighed heavily and Hosea quickly interjected, "it's not necessarily the mayor that's our target, Arthur. Rather, the group of people with him. We are attempting to make as many friends as we can, if you recall."

The large man nodded. "Shoah, I guess. You want me to mosey over and...what was the word? Ingrate myself?"

"Ingratiate Arthur, dear Lord." Dutch huffed.

"Right, yeah. Usual fake name?"

"Of course, my dear boy!" Hosea replied brightly, smiling and patting him on the back. "You may have some luck with the woman he has alongside him. From what I can gather, she's stolen the show a bit. The Widow Carson, back from the dead!" He chuckled, oblivious to the way Arthur froze. "Apparently she's returned to attempt to claim her deceased husband's money. Some nasty business, for certain."

"See if you can get into her good graces, Arthur. A wealthy benefactor could do the gang wonders." Dutch instructed absently, already back to scanning the crowds.

"Her good--Dutch what the hell are you sayin'?!" Arthur hissed, his stomach knotting as a nasty sense of comprehension slowly dawned on him.

"Oh go on Arthur, just pour on the charm! I know you can do it." Hosea encouraged, misinterpreting the source of Arthur's discomfort. The older man gave him a gentle nudge and Arthur found himself sent on his way.

A wealthy benefactor. Was it Irene? Was Irene really here? More importantly, was Arthur shameless enough to accomplish what Dutch had requested of him?

A wealthy benefactor. His skin crawled and Arthur suddenly felt disgusting as he realized that, were it not for his suspicion that the Widow Carson was indeed Irene, he would not have any sort of particular qualms about being asked to do something like this.

Is it Irene? All he could see from his current position was Mayor Lemieux's top hat. He loitered beside a garish floral arrangement for a few moments, trying his best to get himself under control. He was Arthur Morgan, the enforcer of the Van Der Linde gang for fuck's sake! He had survived countless trials before this, surely he could manage speaking to a woman at a party!

Arthur growled under his breath, clenched his fists, and slowly approached the group by the fountain.

"-cheré, you must continue with your story! Ferdinand, stop interrupting, I beg of you!" The mayor was chiding one of the other men standing there, his voice luxuriantly heavy with a French accent.

The other man, whose complexion was bright red (whether from drink or passion, Arthur could not yet discern), scoffed at the mayor. "Her tale is rife with inaccuracies, Henri! We knew Willie, he would never-"

"Unless you too visited him in his bedchambers, Ferdinand, I suggest you keep your observations to yourself."

Irene. Oh Lord, Irene, flowers woven into her hair like she was a damn forest spirit out of those old Greek tragedies. It was like time had stopped for Arthur as he took in every detail. God, he was startled all over again by just how much he had missed her. She was in that dress, the one she had worn in Valentine. But wonder of all wonders, she appeared to be fully-laced this evening. Arthur swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from the shapely curve of her hips. The way her corset held and molded her body into something devastating, a weapon normally concealed from him by men's clothing…

Well, he was a red-blooded American. Unfortunately right now, he had to try his damnedest to temper that particular truth about his nature.

"It ain't complex, Lemieux, and only an idiot like you, buddy, would try to make it so!" Ferdinand continued over what Irene had been saying, sloshing the liquor in his glass dangerously close to that beautiful dress. Irene's brown eyes were fairly crackling with restrained fury, color high in her cheeks as she endured being near this loathsome character. She looked magnificent. Arthur wished he could kiss her, right then and there.

"I will not deny idiocy sir, but perhaps now is not the time." The mayor tried to settle Ferdinand down by placating him, however the outspoken man didn't seem to get the hint.

"Typical pansy!"

"You are drunk, Ferdinand." Lemieux stated disapprovingly.

"I'm not drunk, you fool...but this man! This man loves damsels-"

"Ferdinand, your behavior is becoming unseemly." Irene said through clenched teeth. Arthur had a nasty feeling that he knew exactly what Ferdinand had been about to say before Irene cut him off. "Not to mention utterly irrelevant to the topic at hand. Must you constantly inflict your heinous presence upon polite company?"

"Hey hey, you are pretty drunk." Arthur chose that moment to intervene, draping his arm nonchalantly around the belligerent man's shoulders and pinning Ferdinand's arm behind his back after a momentary adjustment. "What's say you and me cool off?" He 'suggested' cheerily, strong-arming the drunkenly-protesting Ferdinand off to the gazebo at the rear of the courtyard. Giving the man a rough shove, Arthur stated (much more rationally than he felt like being at the moment), "sit down and calm down. Count to a thousand. Then, you can rejoin the party."

...

"Thank you sir!" Henri said sincerely, shaking Arthur's hand upon his triumphant return sans one loudmouth.

"My pleasure." The tawny-haired man replied with a boyish grin. Lord, if she had thought he looked dashing before-! Irene was tempted to feign a swoon. Arthur had clearly been blessed by a trip to the tailor, of that much she was certain. The black suit coat accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist in equal measure, leaving him imposingly proportionate in a way that was incredibly tasteful. She was sorely pressed to keep her eyes from wandering, realizing vaguely that Henri was introducing himself.

"Henri Lemieux. I hope you are enjoying my party?"

"The mayor!" Arthur said with an air of surprise, as if he had not known. Irene didn't buy it for a second. Though she was grateful for his timely arrival, she had to wonder why he was here. Did Arthur Morgan have friends in high places?

"Allegedly!" Henri replied with a modest chuckle. "And you are?"

"Tacitus Killgore, at your service." Irene blinked. That was unexpected. What an elaborate fake name, but he said it so confidently! "This is quite a place you've got here." Arthur continued the conversation, his drawl a touch off. Like he was deliberately attempting to soften it.

"It's not mine, and the city is horribly in debt, but we still can put on a good show." Henri gestured after a moment to the man on his right. "Do you know Evelyn Miller, Monsieur Killgore?"

"My Lord. The writer?" Arthur appeared legitimately awed now, shaking Mr. Miller's hand. Irene could understand that awe, Miller was a revered and respected author amongst the folk in the untamed wilderness of the new States. She herself had been simply soaking up the man's educated palaver like a sponge until Henri urged her to begin sharing her trials.

"Ah, and of course! Our unexpected but most welcome guest, Madame the Widow Irene Carson." Henri introduced her with an elaborate flourish of his hand, making her laugh. "She has been regaling us with the exciting tale of her return to life! It is fascinating to hear."

"Enchanté, Mister Killgore." Irene said, smiling and offering Arthur a quick curtsy. Again, out of fashion, and a bit difficult with the added restriction of her corset, but the quaint gesture had always been preferable to a nod as far as she was concerned. If only that bath girl hadn't been so thorough in lacing her!

Arthur bowed, took her hand and touched it to his lips chastely. "The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Carson." Her murmured, blue eyes boring into her own. Irene suddenly felt incredibly warm, despite her no-doubt constricted blood flow. "A return to life, you said? Have you been travelin' abroad then, ma'am?"

"Oh no sir, I'm afraid it's been nothing quite so delightful as that." Irene demurred. "Rather trying, in all honesty."

"Truly, it is a sordid affair. Her own husband, claiming she had perished!" Henri shook his head, looking appropriately distraught. "Ghastly. Then, Willie marrying that other woman so fast, and her turning out to be a murderer...well, it is like something from a cheap novel!"

"How awful that experience must have been for you, my lady." Arthur said softly. "Might I listen to the rest of the story, or are you weary of tellin' such a tale?"

"I'm afraid there is not overmuch left to tell, Mister Killg-"

"Please, ma'am, call me Tacitus." He insisted, his eyes bright with their secret joke.

Irene couldn't help her smile in reply. "Of course, Tacitus. But as I was saying, there is not much to tell. I have spent most of my exile cowering in a cabin out in the mountains, shivering to death or roasting alive." She had tried so very hard to dumb down the tale, doing her best to make it seem like she was still the frail and fragile Mrs. Carson.

"It sounds like you have endured quite a bit of hardship, ma'am." Arthur's lips quirked upwards at the corner, his smile faint but still there. "It's a miracle you managed to survive! A delicate li'l thing like you, all alone out there in that dangerous wilderness." His voice dipped low enough to make her shiver. "Especially with such...reprehensible folk about these days."

Like me, his gaze seemed to say, the heat in that look reminding Irene of when he had kissed her at the stables.

"Exactly what I said, Monsieur Tacitus! Irene, you were so rash! I know that you believed you had no recourse, and I must apologize for my own complacency regarding Willie's abhorrent behavior, but surely there was another way!" The mayor scolded her.

"I am so very sorry, Henri. Next time I am kept prisoner in my own house, I'll be certain to send you a messenger pigeon." Irene retorted wryly, making Henri sputter as Arthur outright laughed. Ah, that laugh! She would have gladly borne her troubles in silence had she known such a delightful sound would someday grace her ears.

Irene was struck anew by the providence of her whole situation while she watched Arthur do his best to play at high society. She had not often been afforded the privilege to observe him, instead of the other way around. His blue eyes caught the amber light quite marvelously, his jaw shaded with stubborn stubble that gave him just the tiniest hint of wildness, of untamed danger. Enough to make him appealing to many of the women present. Irene wasn't sure if she should be flattered or concerned about the amount of time he was spending with the mayor and, by proxy, herself.

She was growing increasingly lightheaded from the squeeze of her corset and was just about to ask Henri if she could impose upon his hospitality for a brief reprieve to adjust herself when abruptly, the butler approached to inform Mayor Lemieux that he had another phone call from the tycoon, Leviticus Cornwall.

Henri waved the man off as fireworks began to erupt overhead. Irene, noting how Arthur watched the butler depart a touch more narrowly than one might in polite company, dared to place a hand on his arm. "Tacitus, my dear, you play your cards too openly." She whispered, her words making Arthur grimace. "May I ask you to escort me upstairs? I fear all this excitement has me feeling a bit short of breath."

…

"Tacitus-" Irene gasped his fake moniker at the top of the stairs, groping the wall for some kind of support. "I realize this is very forward of me, but I must beg for your assistance in loosening these damned--" She paused for air. "Lord, I fear I will swoon. This is so tight-"

"Okay, easy now." Arthur murmured, privately marveling at how large his hands looked on her cinched waist when he steadied her. "I gotcha', Irene. It's alright."

She didn't appear to be exaggerating for his sake. The walk up the stairs had nearly done her in, it would seem. She was incredibly pale, and trembling slightly. He had assumed that she was just playing along for whatever reason, the two of them stalking the butler for fun or profit, but it was evident now that she had no such ulterior motives.

Arthur picked a door at random, immensely thankful that the room behind it was a parlour of sorts. Irene all but collapsed on the chaise, her fingers clumsy with the tiny buttons that ran the length of the front of her dress. Arthur rushed to assist after he made certain to lock the door, feeling a little frantic at the way Irene was wheezing for air.

"You're okay, you're okay, we'll get you loosened up." He tried to calm her (and himself), working on the next button in the line. "Front or back lacing, Irene?"

"Back." Her voice had gone pitchy. "I--she laced me very well."

"I know, shh, gimme' a minute." Arthur soothed, willing himself to relax. This wasn't any sort of terrible scenario, this was mundane compared to how his life usually was! How the hell was it that his hands were shaking more over getting a woman undressed than being shot at by the law?!

The two of them managed to peel the dress down over her shoulders far enough to let Arthur maneuver his hands in between her chemise and corset to loosen her laces. Slowly, carefully, he worked his way down, gradually slacking the binds. He didn't want to just undo the whole damn thing, that would leave her to endure the remainder of the party with her bosom unfettered and as appealing as that was to him, he knew that the gentry would tear her apart for it.

"Any better?" He asked after a moment, relieved when she nodded.

Then, "I didn't think you would actually help me." She admitted softly, holding her dress closed in the front. Arthur was stunned. "I assumed you were going to follow his retainer." Irene turned to look at him after a moment. "Why are you here, Arthur?"

Lord, he felt like a sinner on Judgement Day. Pinned by the weight of an angel's stare, all he could do was try to tell her the truth. "My...associates and I are...well, we need leads, Miss Irene. Senor Bronte, in exchange for our...services, cut us a deal for invitations to this ball. And uh, I suppose that's it." He said awkwardly. "I didn't expect you to be here, I figured you'd have headed for the Grizzlies by now."

Irene shrugged. "I thought long and hard about what you said during our last meeting. Me not taking everything that wasn't nailed down, that is." She squared her shoulders stiffly, trying to straighten her dress out. "I decided it was time to take back what's rightfully mine, propriety be damned."

Arthur put his hands on her shoulders, slipping the dress back down to reveal bare, freckled skin. He breathed her name, ducking his head to drop a kiss on the nape of her neck and feeling her shiver. His next words caught in his throat. How could he do something like that to her?

A wealthy benefactor, Dutch had said, like it was an afterthought. Like she wasn't a person, but a resource. A tool.

Because that was all she would be to Dutch, Arthur realized grimly. A silly woman for them to string along, someone with deep pockets and a trusting heart. She wasn't Irene to Dutch or Hosea, she was the Widow Carson. A naive young widow, beautiful and lonely and (possibly) about to come into some significant money. The perfect target for a good old-fashioned seduction.

Lord, he had almost preferred feeling like prey earlier to this sudden cold understanding of how his companions (and even he himself, to a lesser degree) saw people like Irene.

"You look beautiful tonight, Irene." He murmured instead.

"Don't tease me, Arthur." Irene retorted sharply. "I am an utter mess. I look like a child playing dress up amongst all the immaculate gowns down there." She then sniffled, the noise almost too soft for him to hear. "I very nearly fainted dead away because I haven't worn one of these blasted things in almost a year! What kind of proper lady can't even endure the simplest of corsets?"

"The kind that doesn't need one to turn every damn head in the room." Arthur said gruffly, a hand beneath her chin tilting her head back so he could see her face. Her brown eyes shone with frustrated tears. "You're beautiful, woman. Why the hell don't you believe it?"

"A majority of my marriage was punctuated by people who felt the need to inform me that I was attractive 'for my age', Arthur. I'm old, I'm nearly thirty. No man wants a wife that old. My father was hard-pressed to marry me off when I was twenty-four, can you even imagine what folk might say to a man who would court me in my thirties?" Irene shook her head despondently. "I...I don't know what I'm doing, Arthur." She confessed suddenly. "I am terrified. If I put effort into taking whatever might be left and it turns out to all be for naught, I don't know what I'll do!" Her hands twisted in her skirts. "I'll be back to where I was before."

Arthur wasn't certain he understood what the issue was. She had seemed happy out in the wilderness. Hell, she had insisted upon her happiness. What had brought on this change, this desire for stability and financial security? He was thoroughly confused. "I don't know what to tell you, Irene." He said finally.

"I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even brought it up." Irene apologized. "It's hardly your concern, Mister Tacitus." She tried to tease, daubing at her eyes with her sleeve and then starting to button her dress back up. "Just the worries of a silly woman whose age is catching up with her, I suppose."

Arthur caught her wrist to stop her, pressing a kiss to the inside of it like he had done so many times before. Her pulse tripped and hammered beneath his lips, galloping wildly. "Irene, you are beautiful." He sighed, his fingertips grazing her exposed collarbone when he palmed her shoulders from behind. "Everyone down there knows it. I know it. You could have your pick of fellers downstairs if that's what you're so worried about."

"It's such a fleeting thing, Arthur." She whispered. "When it is gone, if I cannot reclaim any of Willie's estate...I'll have nothing and no one."

Arthur wanted to die. He wanted to grab her shoulders and embrace her and say you'll have me, God damn it! But he knew he couldn't promise her that, as much as he wanted to. Hell, getting truly involved with him would no doubt cut her life short. That fear was what kept him from speaking, no matter how badly he wished to assure her. Even after the tender moments they had spent together in the wilds, now, when it would have made a difference, he was unable to offer any sort of meaningful comfort.

Arthur closed his eyes, cursing himself roundly. "You don't mean that, Irene. The mayor seems-"

"Henri was perfectly willing to overlook my abuse when Willie was funding his campaign. All of them down there were complacent." Irene interjected, her tone one of barely-bridled fury. "Politicians and the elite are of no use to me, Arthur, for I am of no use to them."

Fair enough, Arthur mused. "So what are you gonna' do, then?"

"I'm going to try and bring my case to the attention of the courts. Willie was an only child, which is the sole reason I may still have a chance to receive something for my trouble." Irene's shoulders slumped and Arthur dug his fingers in, silently working out a few of the knots she seemed to have created in her muscles.

"I hope it goes accordin' to plan for you, then." He said finally.

"As do I." Irene took his hand, leading him around to the front of the chaise. "I have missed you, Arthur Morgan." She said simply. Sweet and honest.

He was a fool.

Arthur felt like cheap gold leaf as he greedily buried his hands in her hair, sending one of the vanilla blossoms tumbling to the floor when he did. He felt like a veneer of class spread thin on his thieving bones, he felt like a liar. This vision of a woman, this divine being who trusted him so readily...

This time would be the last. It would have to be. If Dutch found him out, if his pre-established closeness to the Widow Carson was discovered, Arthur knew that Dutch would tell him to bleed her dry.

And Arthur, the kind, loyal man that he was, would do it. Because loyalty was everything.

…

Arthur was troubled. Even through her own worries, Irene could see that. She threaded her fingers through the shaggy locks at the nape of his neck, whispering his name. "What's wrong, Arthur?"

"I...I can't keep doin' this, Irene." He confessed, those blue eyes stormy with emotion. "I can't keep draggin' you down with me. You deserve so much more than a man who you don't really know, a man who's here an' gone again. It ain't right."

"I don't much care what I deserve, Arthur Morgan." Irene said tartly. "If you want me, I am here. You have yet to cause me harm in any of our endeavors, which is more than I can say for my prior partner." She tugged at the back of his neck, bringing their foreheads together. "If you want me, Arthur, I am here."

"Irene," he grated out, cupping her face, "I'm a bad man. I've done a whole heap of turrible things. I ain't the kind of man that you should be lettin' anywhere near you."

"And despite all of that, I'm beneath you on a chaise in the mayor's upstairs drawing room." Irene replied dryly. "Honestly Arthur, I thought you knew by now that my intuition is quite dreadful."

"Irene-"

"You are remarkably poor at displaying any sort of reluctance, Mister Arthur." It felt like icy fingers were creeping their way down her spine. Had he finally decided that whatever they were, it wasn't worth his time? She could hardly blame him, of course! She was a currently-penniless widow. She had offered herself freely in the past; he owed her nothing, just as she owed him nothing.

"Because I ain't reluctant!" Arthur exclaimed. "I'm...Christ, Irene, I want this. I want you, so much that it hurts. But the life I lead ain't got a chance in it for a happy, fairytale endin' where I get to live out my days in peace. I have people I need to take care of, and you have a life of your own to finally start livin'." He stated firmly. "So for both our sakes, we can't...continue."

"At the very least," Irene begged, her thumbs stroking the familiar scar on his chin while she peppered his face with light pecks, "may we still be friends, Arthur?"

"Irene…" Arthur breathed, tilting his face to the side and kissing her until she was dizzy. "You've given me so damn much, woman. Given me hope, and beauty, and music. My friendship ain't worth spit compared to what you've done for me."

Irene shook her head, blinking back her tears. "I'm the one that ought to be saying that, Mister Arthur!" She protested. "I wish there was more I could do to repay the kindness you've shown me."

"Miss Irene, all the payment I ask for is that you go and live your life to the fullest extent. Take tenfold from that son of a bitch what he took from you." Arthur swept back some of the curls on her forehead, the gesture achingly tender. "Do that, and you'll be paid up, alright?" He murmured.

Irene took his hand and kissed his knuckles, feeling the pronounced lines of old abrasions on the skin when she did. "Don't give up, Arthur. There is someone out there who will be worth it to you." She told him, her voice trembling a bit as she struggled to get the words out. "Someone who will see you for how kind and loyal you are and instead of taking advantage of it, they'll cherish it. Guard you close to their heart like a jealous little secret." Her smile was tentative, "that's what I would do, anyway."

Arthur cursed under his breath, shoving his thigh gracelessly between her legs. "Irene." He said her name and it was an oath, a prayer. Whether for himself or for her, she couldn't say.

"Yes, Arthur?" Irene replied softly.

"If you hear about me in the future, if…" he hesitated, clearing his throat as he drew his index finger studiously down the side of her face. "If somethin' happens, don't pay it any mind, alright? Remember me just like this. All gussied up in this frippery, lookin' like the world's most uncomfortable trained bear." He tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow. "Can you do that for me? Please?"

"As long as you remember me like I was in the wilds." Irene was pleased when he smiled. "All filthy, with twigs in my hair."

"The Irene of my dreams has always been the one from the wilderness." Arthur confessed quietly. "This is lovely, don't get me wrong." He continued, giving her skirts a playful tweak. "But you out in the forests, playin' your violin for the wolves an' howlin' at the moon...that's the Irene I think about." The man cleared his throat again after a moment, looking away. "Now, let's get you put to rights. Buttoned up and all that. I figure it'll be best if I go back first. Hopefully folk won't be too suspicious. Shit, I don't even know how long we been gone for." He swore, grumbling a little as he struggled to help her with the tiny buttons on her dress.

Irene giggled, feeling a bit hysterical. "Oh heavens, what they will think of me! My husband hardly cold in the ground and now I'm enjoying an absolutely scandalous rendezvous with a handsome stranger. I'll be the talk of Saint Denis for weeks!"

"Woman, if you don't quit your funnin'..." Arthur huffed, a wry grin pulling at his mouth seemingly in spite of himself.

Irene rubbed her forehead against his own, smiling a bit wistfully. "Shall I ever see you again, Mister Arthur?"

"For your sake, I sure as hell hope not." Arthur replied bluntly. "Bad luck seems to follow the folks I hang around with."

…

He hadn't entirely lied. He did leave ahead of her. However, he didn't return to the party immediately.

Instead, Arthur ducked into the study he had seen that butler enter when he and Irene were making their way up the stairs. A few minutes of pointed rummaging and a jimmied lock on the desk drawer later, Arthur Morgan (or rather, Tacitus Killgore) was the proud owner of various interesting, incriminating documentation. Leviticus Cornwall. Arthur barely resisted the urge to spit on command when he so much as thought the man's name.

Footsteps passed by the door and he froze, pressing himself back against the bookcases until whoever it was had descended down the stairs.

Hopefully, this information would please Dutch to the point where he would forget about Widow Carson. Arthur just wished that he could forget about Widow Carson. Irene.

Maybe...maybe if she was still in the drawing room, he could explain. Maybe there was still time. It would be dangerous, of course, but she deserved the truth. She deserved to know why he couldn't promise her anything aside from a life of fear and misery. Shit, at the very least she deserved to know why he was cutting her loose!

Arthur left the study and retraced his steps to the drawing room, his heart in his throat and her name on the tip of his tongue. Irene--

But she was gone.

The chaise was vacant, lonely in the cluttered room. Through the open French doors to the balcony, the sounds of the party below filtered in like something from another world. He stalled in the doorway for a moment, uncertain of what to do. An object on the floor by the chaise caught his attention and Arthur stepped forward.

It was one of the vanilla flowers from her hair, the blossom sitting forlorn and abandoned next to the leg of the chaise. He scooped it up with all the care someone like him could muster, tenderly examining the fragile, bruised petals. Then, Arthur slipped it into the pocket of his suit coat.

Much, much later that evening (technically the next damn morning), when he was bedding down at Shady Belle, he delicately extracted the worn flower and proceeded to tuck it between two blank pages of his journal.

Irene, he wrote at the very bottom of the page, and then, in another life, if I was a better man, we could have been so happy together. Instead, I have to push you away to keep you -safe-.

What a fool I am.

The following page bore a loose, flowing sketch of her on the chaise, staring up at him while she clutched the front of her gown closed at her chest. The fierce look on her face that he had tried valiantly to capture on paper didn't hold a candle to the real thing. Irene Craft, he wrote, then scribbled out her name and instead put, -Politicians and the elite are of no use to me, Arthur, for I am of no use to them.-

Mayor Onry Lemieux's party.

Winter’s Cold: Part One

#arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 spoilers #arthur morgan x original female character #high honor arthur #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom #big yeehell hours #arthur morgan imagine

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dancinginthesliverglow · 4 years

Text

Assistant, Scholar, Son

By @art-in-the-sunlight for @alicecasch in the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Ned Leeds & Michelle Jones, Tony Stark & James Rhodes, Tony Stark & Happy Hogan

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, James Rhodes, Happy Hogan, Jim Mortia, Roger Harrington, Mr. Delmar

Summary: “Historical/Old Fashioned AU” and “Tony is Peter’s teacher.” I’d really love to see small moments where Tony realizes that he loves Peter (like that “oh. Oh” moment in fics, but make it platonic). Also, could you include a scene where they’re both looking at the stars/at a sunset/sunrise? (Just, give me pretty skies and I’ll squeal happily for hours basically). Also I love when MJ and Ned have to interact with Tony bc Peter’s being a dumbass and they’re concerned friends.

Its the 1900s. Ned gets sick, and in order to help pay the doctor fees, Peter looks for a job. He comes across James Rhodes, who believes his best friend Tony Stark is in need of an assistant. But does he really need an assistant? Or something more?

…okay so I swear I intended this to be around 2000-3000 words. I don’t know how it ended up at 5700 words with a few time gaps. I had a lot of fun planning and writing this out, and I hope you enjoy it :)

ao3 link

Peter paced worriedly outside of the orphanage boy’s bedrooms. He shared a worried glance with MJ, who was sitting with her head in her hands nearby.

“He’s never stayed this long, MJ.” Peter muttered under his breath, clearly stressed. “What- Do you think-”

“I don’t know Peter.” MJ responded. She raised her head out of her hands and looked at Peter.

“I-” Peter started, but he was interrupted by the door opening. The orphanage Director, Roger Harrington and Doctor Morita stepped out.

Doctor Morita was talking to the Director. “He’s still hanging in there, but he’s going to need doses more frequently. I recommend a spoonful daily, before breakfast.”

Director Harrington nodded solemnly. “Thanks for the help, Doctor.” He handed Doctor Morita a pouch full of coins, and then showed the Doctor out.

Peter and MJ went into the room. In the furthest bed lay their best friend, Ned Leeds. He was fast asleep, presumably from the medicine the Doctor gave him. Peter sat down next to Ned and took his hand. “Ned,” Peter said, his voice wavering slightly. “You gotta fight this. I know you can do it.”

MJ replaced the hot, damp cloth on Ned’s forehead with a cool one. “That’s right, loser. Peter would fall apart without you.”

“Hey!” Peter said indignantly.

MJ leveled Peter with a look.

Peter sighed, knowing it was true.

Director Harrington walked back into the room. “Peter, MJ, I know you guys want to stay with Ned but he needs to rest now.”

“How is he?” MJ inquired.

“Doc says he’s going to need daily doses of medicine. We’re barely able to cover the costs of medicine as it is.” The director sat down on the bed next to Ned’s.

“I can get another job?” said Peter. “Mr. Delmar only needs me in the evenings when he’s cleaning and closing up the shop. I could get the other kids, Abe and Jason to help with my chores!”

“I could help too,” interjected MJ. “Mrs. Daly’s been asking if I can stay longer, and work more days in her shop.”

Director Harrington sighed. “If you can convince Abe and Jason to cover your chores, go ahead.” He stood up. “You two need to take care of yourselves, no overworking alright? You’re no help to Ned if you get sick.” Director Harrington pulled them in for a side hug. “It’ll be alright, kiddos. Ned will recover. Have some faith, alright?”

MJ and Peter nodded, and held onto each other tightly. Ned had to get better. He would.

~ ~ ~

The next day, Peter was at the market looking for a job. He asked the local farmers, fishermen, barbers, even blacksmiths and butchers, but they all turned him away due to inexperience or because he wasn’t able to commit to a full time job. (Mr. Delmar was kind to Peter, almost like an uncle, and he let Peter take home half the shop’s tips to take care of Ned. Peter wasn’t going to give it up).

After getting rejected by the bookmaker (he had taken one look at Peter’s worn down clothing and turned away) Peter began to slowly walk out. He rarely got the opportunity to read anymore and he figured a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. Peter wandered into the science section, and quietly pulled The Scientific Revolution: Wave Theory of Light by Stark, Anthony off the shelf.

It was then he overheard two men across the book maker’s shop talking.

“And it’s not like Stark at all to send us on a wild goose chase?” Huffed the first man, clearly annoyed.

“Just keep looking. Tones said the book was here.” said the second man. He dressed in an army uniform, and had several medals hanging on his jacket.

“What was the name of the book?”

The army man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “The Revolution in Science, by Rupert A. Hall.”

Peter looked up from this book, at the shelf. The Revolution in Science, by Rupert A. Hall sat right in front of him.

Peter picked up the book and made his way over to the men. “Uh, excuse me sir? I couldn’t help overhearing that you were looking for this book?”

The army man took the book and read the spine. “The Revolution in Science, by Rupert A. Hall. Huh, thanks kiddo.” He handed the book to the second man, who went to pay for it, before studying Peter. “What’s your name, son? How well can you read?”

“I’m Peter. I can read fairly well and I can get through most books, sir”

“That’s impressive, Peter. Who taught you?”

“My parents, Ben and Mary Parker, taught me the basics, sir. They were scientists.”

“The Parkers.” The army man turned to the second man, who had just returned, book in hand. “Didn’t Tones work with them a few times?”

The second man shrugged.

“I heard they died a few years ago.” The army man said, not unkindly. He waited to see Peter nod before continuing. “I’m sorry for your loss. You must be looking for work?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come with me. My friend needs an assistant. I can’t promise anything but an opportunity. You’ll have to work hard, but if you take after your parents, you should be fine.”

“I… wow thank you sir!” Peter put his book The Scientific Revolution: Wave Theory of Light back on the shelf followed the army man to a carriage waiting outside the shop.

“It’s Colonel Rhodes.” The Colonel gestured to the second man who was prepping the horses to travel. “That’s Happy. He’s Tones’ carriage driver.”

“He doesn’t seem very happy, for someone named Happy.” Peter mused. Colonel Rhodes snorted in amusement, before climbing into the carriage with Peter.

~ ~ ~

Half an hour later, Peter was following Colonel Rhodes into the largest mansion - if it could even be called that - he had seen in his entire life. Peter struggled not to gape as they walked into the hall. The ceiling was twice as high as a normal house, and that was just the first floor. Fancy paintings and sculpture tastefully lined the walls. Peter was almost scared of touching anything, lest it break.

“Rhodeybear! You’re back!” Peter looked forward and saw a man quickly descend from the grand staircase towards them.

“Wait- did you mean Mr. Stark as in The physicist Stark? The Mr. Stark who is single handedly revolutionizing the field of physics and mathematics? That Mr. Stark?” Peter hissed worriedly under his voice.

Colonel Rhodes put a hand on Peter’s shoulder to reassure him. “Hey Tones! How have you been doing?”

Mr. Stark looked sad for a moment. “Uh, nevermind about that.” He spotted Peter. “Who is this? He isn’t mine, is he?” Tony joked, studying Peter. Peter felt as if he was under a microscope. He was all too aware of the large gap in social status. Peter Parker, the orphan, and Tony Stark, one of the richest men in the entire known world.

Colonel Rhodes clapped Peter on the back. “I hope not. This is Parkers’ kid, Peter. I was thinking, since Pepper returned to her brother’s you could use an assistant.”

“And you brought me a child? No, no, nope. Rhodey, you know I don’t do kids.” Mr. Stark turned away and headed down the hallway, to the kitchen.

Colonel Rhodes followed him, pulling Peter. “Tony, you know I leave for the army tomorrow. You’re going to need someone around.”

“I have Happy.”

“Happy’s only here on weekends, and an hour on weekdays.”

Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes stared down at each other across a table. Peter uncomfortably shifted on his feet, wishing he was anywhere else but there.

After almost a minute, Mr. Stark looked away. “Fine, only for you, Rhodeybear.”

“Thank you, Tony. I think you guys might get along. He was reading your book when I found him.”

“Oh?” Mr. Stark turned towards Peter, curious. “What did you think?”

“Um, I didn’t understand all of it - but the parts that I did I thought it was really interesting! I tried replicating some of the experiments, the one where you observe the color spectrum in the shadow of a slit of paper with my friends but we weren’t able to get the right measurements.”

“What materials were you using?”

“Um, just some paper from my Director at the orphanage? We used a knife to make the slit, and an open window for the light source.”

Mr. Stark shook his head. “You need more sophisticated tools. The slit should be less than a tenth of a millimeter, and most knives are about 3 to 6 millimeters wide.”

Peter looked thoughtful. “Would a needle work? The tip is much smaller than a knife, but I’m not sure if it’s less than a tenth of a millimeter.”

“It’s much closer, and I suppose you might be able to get the right size.” Tony mused. You’d have to consider the type of paper and thickness as well…”

Beside Peter, Colonel Rhodes gave Mr. Stark a triumphant smile. “See? I knew it would work out.” He turned to Peter. “Can you start tomorrow?”

“Yes sir. I’m available in the morning and afternoon from Mondays to Saturdays, and I’m free all day on Sunday.”

“Sounds good.” replied Mr. Stark. He stepped forward, and shook Peter’s hand. “I look forward to working with you, Peter Parker.”

“Me too, Mr. Stark.”

~ ~ ~

The next morning, Happy arrived in the carriage at the orphanage to pick up Peter. Peter quickly got in the carriage, ignoring the amazed and suspicious glances of the other orphanage kids. In reality, the ride wasn’t too long, but the lack of conversation and Peter’s nerves make the ride seem hours long. Colonel Rhodes wasn’t too clear about Peter’s job description the day before. Peter knew he’s going to help Mr. Stark out with his work, but what exactly that entails, Peter has no idea.

Eventually the carriage pulled to a stop outside Mr. Stark’s mansion. Peter climbed out, thanked Happy for the ride, before walking up to the door and knocking. On the first knock, the door swung open. Peter leaned in. “Uh, hello? Mr. Stark?”

Presumably Mr. Stark called out a reply, but it’s muffled. Peter cautiously entered, wiped his shoes and made his way over to where the voice came from. He ends up in the kitchen, and spots Tony putting away a half empty bottle of alcohol.

Hearing Peter come in, Tony glanced behind. “Hey kiddo.”

“Hello Mr. Stark.”

“Rhodey just left for the army yesterday, along with a good portion of my bourbon. I suppose I’ll have to replenish my stash.” Mr. Stark turned around, and studied Peter. “You’re in dire need of a wardrobe upgrade. Systemic, top to bottom, 100 point restoration. I’ll have Happy call someone for this Sunday.”

Mr. Stark spun on his heel and left the kitchen, waving for Peter to follow him. “When did your interest in science start?”

“When I was younger, before my parents passed, they used to show me their blueprints and sketches. Part of their research was working on steam trains and railways. They used to dream about travelling from one side of the country to the hour in a matter of hours. I know it was purely theoretical, and we’re decades or even centuries off from it actually happening but the idea of travelling at that speed is fascinating!”

Mr. Stark stopped in front of a closed door. He placed a hand on the door knob and then turned to Peter. “It may not be as far away as you think.” said Mr. Stark with a smile, before opening the door.

“Woah…” Peter slowly entered the room, completely in awe. The walls were covered in blueprints, sketches and calculations. Peter recognized the sketches on the wall on the left from Mr. Stark’s book on Wave theory of light. The far wall had various sketches of an engine, from multiple angles. In the center was the steam train sketch that his parents had shown him.

Tony walked over to the far wall, and took one of the sketches off the wall. “Several years ago, I worked on his version of the steam train with your parents.” He handed Peter the sketch.

“This-this is the same one they showed me. How-” Peter traces his parents signatures on the bottom right.

“I only worked on one steam train project with your parents. They had their hearts set on this project. It was like they could already see it, the finished product functioning. Sadly they passed away before we could start any of the actual buildings. Somehow it felt wrong to build it without them.” Mr. Stark gazed at the sketches, with an emotion Peter couldn’t quite pin down. “So I improved their systems, made them more efficient and worked on other projects.”

“Like your book?”

“Yes. Among other things.” Tony turned to face Peter. “How do you feel about following in your parents’ footsteps? I think it’s about time Mary and Richard’s dreams start coming true.”

“I…” tears threatened to fall from Peter’s eyes.

“You don’t have to decide now.”

“No! I’d love to work on the steam engine. I just never imagined in my wildest dreams I would be able too.”

“Well, it is going to be a lot of work. You’re going to need some formal education in physics, chemistry and engineering.”

Peter nodded eagerly. “I can do it!”

Mr. Stark laughed. “Alright, Underoos. Let’s turn you into a proper student. You’re in dire need of supplies. Textbooks, chalkboards, and wardrobe upgrade. Systemic, top to bottom, 100 point restoration. I’ll arrange something with Happy. For now, let’s see where you’re at…”

Mr. Stark and Peter spent the rest of the day pouring over textbooks together in the workshop. Mr. Stark quizzed Peter on the topics he was familiar with until he had a good idea of where Peter was, academically. Then Mr. Stark started filling in the gaps and teaching him the new material that Peter had missed. Peter lost track of time. It had been far too long since Peter had a mentor, someone who had the same passion for physics and someone who he could bounce theories and questions off.

Before he knew it, the sun was approaching the horizon, and it was time for Peter to leave for his second job with Mr. Delmar. Tony stood at the door to his mansion, and waved Peter off with a nostalgic, yet content look on his face.

Peter beamed at him, practically bouncing on his toes. For a strange moment, Peter felt the urge to hug Mr. Stark, the way he would hug MJ or Ned, or even his parents before leaving them. Peter shook off the feeling. Mr. Stark was just his employer… right? Somehow, after the day they had, ‘employer’ didn’t quite fit. Peter gave Mr. Stark one last wave before getting into the carriage with Happy.

~ ~ ~

When Peter arrived back at the orphanage later that night, Ned was waiting for him near his bunk bed.

“Peter! How did it go? I can’t believe you actually got to work with the Mr. Stark! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!” exclaimed Ned. He was sitting at the corner of the bed next to Peter’s. His eyes were a little red and there was a faint glimmer of sweat on his forehead, but his eyes were focused. It was the best Peter had seen him in a few days.

“It was amazing Ned!” replied Peter with equal enthusiasm. He kicked off his shoes and stood on his bed, bouncing lightly. “He showed me his workshop - you won’t believe it. He has so many projects! He’s done so much more on the Wave Theory of Light! And remember that project that I told you that my parents were working on? The steam train idea? It turns out he was working on it with my parents!”

“Dude that is so amazing! I-”

Hearing the commotion, Director Harrington walked into the room. “Hey! Kids, it’s night time! Settle down. Peter, get off your bed and go wash up. Ned, you need to get some rest.”

“But Peter just got back -”

“I wanna talk to Ned -”

Director Harrington held up his hand, and they fell silent. “I know you’re excited to see each other and talk about Peter’s job. Believe me, I know. But the youngest kids are already asleep, and the rest are getting ready for bed.”

Peter looked around, and saw the younger kids already curled up under their blankets. Reluctantly they nodded, and Director Harrington left.

Peter got down from his bed, as Ned got up. They shared a warm hug, and Peter gently rested his head on the side of Ned’s. He could feel Ned’s heartbeat faintly, and something in him, a weight that had been following him around marginally relaxed. Ned was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay? Mr. Stark’s really amazing.” Peter whispered to Ned as he pulled away.

“I can’t wait! Good night Peter.” Ned whispered back.

“Good night Ned.”

Ned walked back to his bunk, and Peter quietly grabbed his pajamas and tiptoed out of the room to clean up before sleep.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the week passed similarly. Peter wakes up before sunrise, quickly eats and does as many of his chores around the orphanage as he can before Happy arrives. Then, he goes to study with Mr. Stark and work on the steam train plans for the rest of the day. Just before supper, Peter goes to Mr. Delmar’s to help serve food and clean up. Afterward, he walks back to the orphanage in the night, manages to tell MJ and Ned a few quiet, exhausted yet ecstatic words about his time with Mr. Stark before Director Harrington sends them to bed. Every night, Peter falls asleep before his head hits the pillow.

~ ~ ~

On Sunday, Peter woke up at the crack of dawn. He quickly ate, did his morning chores, waved MJ off as usual (with the promise of telling her everything when he got back) and jumped into the carriage with Happy.

Unlike usual, when Peter reached the mansion, Mr. Stark was impatiently waiting at the door.

Peter jumped out of the carriage, excitement shining on his face. “Good morning Mr. Stark! I can’t wait to get started again!”

“Uh uh. Not in those clothes, you’re not. You got a pass these past few days, but today if you’re going to be a scholar, you need to look the part and have the right materials, Underoos.”

Peter stopped in his tracks. “Um…”

Without missing a beat, Mr. Stark draped an arm over Peter’s shoulders and directed him back into the carriage. “We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping?” echoed Peter, a little bewildered.

~ ~ ~

Half an hour later, Mr. Stark, Peter and Happy were standing in a tailor’s shop. The tailor took a few measurements, and then handed Peter a dress shirt and pants, before directing him to a room at the back of the shop “Go try these on. They should be a close fit.”

Peter looked at the clothes. It wasn’t the same quality suits that Mr. Stark normally wore, but it was far above Peter’s regular clothes.

“Mr. Stark I couldn’t-”

Mr. Stark shook his head. “Uh uh. If you think I’m going to tinker around with my inventions and current research in those, you are mistaken, Underoos. Now try them on, let’s see.”

Peter walked into the back room and gulped nervously. He could pay for half a month’s worth of medicine with the dress shirt alone. Peter carefully put the dress shirt and pants on. Just as the tailor predicted, the pants and shirt fit nearly perfectly.

Outside, Mr. Stark was arguing, or maybe bantering with Happy, but the moment the door opened they both fell silent.

Happy huffed, turned to Mr. Stark and said, “I told you, he could’ve been your twin.” Mr. Stark muttered something back to Happy, who then left.

Mr. Stark turned to Peter before nodding. “Much better.”

“Um, is this really okay?” Peter looked up at Tony hesitantly. “I mean…”

Mr. Stark waved the question away. “I told you yesterday, Underoos. 100 point restoration. We’ll make a scholar of you yet.” Mr. Stark turned to the tailor. “We’ll order 3 pairs of dress shirts and pants, in addition to these.”

“Three pairs?!” Peter’s incredulous tone echoed around the shop.

Mr. Stark turned around, heading after Happy. “Come on, kiddo. We have a couple more stops.”

Peter dutifully followed Mr. Stark out, into another shop.

~ ~ ~

By the end of the morning, Peter had gotten a pair of new clothes, a new pencil case, box of pencils, a box of chalk, a few slates and a school bag. They were about to leave, when a salesman stepped in front of Mr. Stark.

“Hello good sir! Might I interest you and your son in some fashionable hats?”

“S-son?” Peter squeaked, turning red. Distantly, he heard Mr. Stark chuckle in amusement.

The salesman picked a curved, pencil grey hat and placed it on Peter’s head. It fell down, covering his eyes.

“Hmm, perhaps something smaller.” In a flash, the salesman took the hat off Peter’s head, and grabbed a slightly smaller black hat with a ribbon around it.

Peter ducked out of the way before the salesman could put it on his head. “I-I really don’t think -” Stuttered Peter, clearly flustered by the misinterpretation.

Suddenly, Peter felt a hand on his back, nudging him forward. Peter’s head snapped to Mr. Stark. “My son and I think that’s a wonderful idea.” said Tony, grinning ear to ear.

Peter turned beet red.

“Let’s try the small black newport hat, at the back.” Suggested Mr. Stark.

“A wonderful choice sir!” The salesman handed the hat to Mr. Stark, who gently placed it on Peter’s head. The salesman held up a mirror for Peter to see.

Peter stared at himself. The newport hat complimented his dress shirt well. He looked… different, but in a good way. Smart, more sophisticated, perhaps. Peter stood up straighter, and turned his head to the side, almost mesmerized. A small bit of his curly brown hair poked out from under his hat. Peter tucked it back in, and looked at Mr. Stark. “I like it.”

Mr. Stark agreed. “It suits you.” He turned to the salesman. “We’ll get it.”

A few minutes later, Mr. Stark and Peter were walking back to the carriage where Happy was waiting with his new newport hat. Peter climbed into the carriage after Mr. Stark, took off his hat and stared at it contemplatively.

The carriage started moving. Mr. Stark nudged Peter gently with his elbow. “You’re kinda quiet, Underoos. Everything okay?”

Peter nodded.

“I hope I didn’t bother you with the ‘my son’ comment?” Mr. Stark said it jokingly, but Peter could tell it was a genuine question.

“No no, it’s - that was fine. It just surprised me.” Peter looked up at Mr. Stark and gave him a smile.

“So what’s up then? If the last day is anything to go by, normally you’d be chatting away.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s just a lot.” He held up the hat and his bag, full of school supplies. “This used to be my life, before my parents… Before the orphanage. It’s just bringing back memories, I guess.”

The carriage wheel went over a rock, and Mr. Stark grabbed Peter’s shoulder to steady him. For the longest moment, they were silent, before Mr. Stark spoke up. “I get it, you know? I lost my parents too. Granted, I was older and the situation was drastically different…” Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “My mom, she was a pianist. She had this way of playing, that was so graceful, so… warm. We were never good at communicating, except when we were playing on the piano. It was like the music would speak for us, in our special language.”

“After she passed, I couldn’t barely look at the piano. I boarded up the room, and nearly threw the key away. It wasn’t until about three years ago that Pepper, my uh, friend convinced me to open the room. I thought it was a bad idea. I thought all that hurt would come flooding back. And some of it did, but along with it…”

Peter nodded in understanding. “Yea. It’s like you got a small piece of them back.”

“Yea, something like that.”

The carriage came to a stop abruptly, ending the moment. Peter stuck his head out the side, and realized that they’re already back at the mansion. Mr. Stark and Peter climbed out and headed inside.

“How about some lunch?” suggested Mr. Stark. Peter agrees, and then turns red when his stomach growls audibly. Mr. Stark laughed not unkindly, ruffled Peter’s hair and then went to the kitchen. Peter followed him, still red, but smiling.

Mr. Stark and Peter resumed working in the workshop. It’s equally as studious as the day before, except there’s an air of familiarity that wasn’t there before. Just like yesterday, Peter’s attention was consumed by his excitement to learn, and he doesn’t notice the time fly by, until it’s approaching sunset. Mr. Stark asked Peter if he had to leave, but it’s Peter’s day off from Mr. Delmar, so he says no. Mr. Stark turns on a few oil lamps and they continue working into the night.

~ ~ ~

Eventually Mr. Stark straightens up and stretches. There’s a few quiet cracks, at which Peter snorted, before looking outside, noticing that it’s already dark and the stars are out.”

“I should probably get back soon.”

(Tony follows Peter’s line of sight until he’s looking outside at the night sky with Peter. Tony looks back at Peter. His face is peaceful, slightly sleepy, and in the dim lighting Tony can see part of the night sky reflected in Peter’s eyes. He feels a surge of protectiveness, and affection..? Tony shakes the feeling off, and an idea suddenly comes to him.)

Peter followed Mr. Stark upstairs, and watched curiously as he pulled a large cloth off… a telescope. “Woah… can I, Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark arranged the telescope, and fiddled with the knobs for a moment before stepping away and looking at Peter. “Go ahead, kid.”

Peter steps closer to the telescope and peered inside. “Woah…” Peter turned to Mr. Stark. “This is amazing Mr. Stark!” Peter peered back into the telescope, still in awe of the beautiful sight. He felt Mr. Stark lay his arm across Peter’s shoulders. The warmth of his arm was nice in the cold night.

(Peter stared up at him with complete awe and eagerness. That feeling from earlier comes back, ten fold. It tells him to protect Peter, to keep him safe, warm and happy. It compels Tony to step closer and lay his arm over Peter’s shoulders. He feels Peter lean slightly into the half side hug and -

oh.

Oh.

It’s love.

He loves Peter.

Tony loves Peter, as if he were his own son. The revelation rocks his world. When did this happen? Why now? What is he supposed to do?)

Unknown to Mr. Stark’s world shattering revelation, Peter shivered and sniffed in the cold air, before straightening up and fully leaning into Mr. Stark’s side. “‘ts cold.”

“Yea.” Mr. Stark exhaled. “Let’s get you home, Underoos.”

Peter nodded, and allowed Mr. Stark to lead him back inside and wrap one of his coats around Peter. He called for Happy, who came with the carriage. This time, before Peter gets in the carriage, Mr. Stark wraps him a hug, before entering the carriage with Peter. Sleepy and cold, Peter pulls Mr. Stark’s coat around himself tightly. The last thing he remembers was resting his head on Mr. Stark’s shoulder, the sensation of an arm wrapping around him keeping him warm and falling asleep.

~ ~ ~

When Peter woke up the next day, he felt awful. His head throbbed, this throat felt like sandpaper and he felt like he was freezing. Peter cracked an eye open, and painful bright light sears through his brain. Peter cries out in pain and shuts his eyes.

Hearing Peter, Director Harrington walked over. “Hey Peter, it’s time to get up.” When Peter didn’t move, Director Harrington frowned. (It was uncharacteristic of Peter not to be awake by now). He laid a hand over Peter’s head, and sweared under his breath when he felt Peter’s boiling forehead.

“What’s wrong with him?” MJ worriedly inquires from behind the Director. He quickly turned around and saw her and Ned.

“He’s sick. I think it’s just because he’s been pushing himself so hard this past week. Honestly, I was expecting this to happen days ago.” Director Harrington stood up. “He’ll be alright. He just needs rest. I’ll send a message to Mr. Stark telling him Peter won’t be able to attend for a few days.”

MJ nods. She knows what she has to do.

~ ~ ~

After MJ’s shift finished, she made her way to Mr. Stark’s mansion. Steeling her nerves, she firmly knocked on the door and waited. One minute, two minutes… just when MJ thought was wouldn’t get an answer, Mr. Stark opened the door.

He frowned. “Do I know you?”

“I’m here about Peter.”

“Come in.” Mr. Stark stepped out of the way, welcoming MJ inside. “Is he okay?”

MJ looked around the mansion. Part of her admires it; everything looked so elegant. Part of her critiqued it, wondering how it was built, and how the Stark family inherited their fortune.

“Peter’s sick. He’s been overworking himself, with everything he needs to do at the orphanage, with you and Mr. Delmar.” MJ explains. “He’s been going to sleep really late, and forcing himself to wake up before sunrise, and he’s on his feet pretty much the entire day.”

In a single moment, it looked as if Mr. Stark aged years. The wrinkles in his face stood out, and he looked worried. Extremely worried. MJ knew that Peter was attached to Mr. Stark (what science nerd wouldn’t be), but she didn’t expect that Mr. Stark would reciprocate the sentiment equally.

Mr. Stark took a moment, but eventually he composed himself. “Thank you for telling me. Are you headed back to the orphanage?”

“Yea.”

“I’ll give you a ride back.” Mr. Stark left to call Happy, completely missing MJ’s surprised expression.

Mr. Stark comes back a few minutes later, with his coat. “I’ll head back with you. It seems like I need to have a few words with Peter, about responsibility.”

MJ would’ve been worried, if Mr. Stark hadn’t sounded so… parental. Not for the first time, MJ wondered what exactly had they done, for Peter and Mr. Stark to feel so strongly for the other in such a short time. Instead, she just nodded.

“Why is he overworking himself?”

MJ’s mouth went dry, and she looked away at her feet. So Peter hadn’t told Mr. Stark then. “Our friend, Ned - he’s sick. Like really sick.” She quickly glanced at Mr. Stark. He looked contemplative. “Director Harrington is doing what he can, but the doctor visits and the medicine - it’s really expensive. Peter and I are paying for most of it.”

Although Mr. Stark didn’t say anything, MJ can practically hear him understanding. Peter always puts the needs of his loved ones above himself, and they both know it.

Happy arrived with the carriage in front. They climbed in and headed for the orphanage.

~ ~ ~

Peter’s awareness came back, and he felt the bed sink down on his left. At the edge of unconsciousness and in pain, Peter whimpers unintelligibly and tries to stick his head under the blanket.

Suddenly, there was a hand softly brushing through his hair and rubbing at his scalp. His headache began to ease up for the first time, and Peter cracked his eyes open. There was a blurry figure that looked awfully familiar sitting on his bed.

“Hey Underoos. How are you feeling?” Mr. Stark asked softly.

Peter closed his eyes, and tilted his head towards Mr. Stark’s hand, silently asking for him to continue.

Above him, Peter heard Mr. Stark chuckled. “Peter, it’s dinner time. You need to eat.”

With a groan Peter opened his eyes again, this time fully. It takes a moment, but his vision focuses. Mr. Stark helped Peter sit up, and then held out a bowl of soup with a spoon. Peter held his palms flat against the bowl, and let the steam rise against his face, trying to absorb the heat.

“Kiddo, you’re supposed to eat it.”

Peter grumbled, but picked up the spoon and began slowly eating.

Mr. Stark waited for Peter to finish half of his soup before speaking up, his tone gentle. “Peter, you were seriously overworking yourself.”

Peter swallowed his soup, and then responded, “Ned needs the money. He’s-”

“- sick, I know. MJ told me.” The surprise must’ve shown on his face because Mr. Stark elaborated. “She came to see me earlier today, to tell me that you were working yourself sick trying to pay for Ned’s medicine.”

Peter opened his mouth to defend his actions, but Mr. Stark interrupted him. “Underoos, why didn’t you tell me?” He chided, gently. “I would’ve helped you.”

“I - really?” Peter looked at Mr. Stark in hope.

Tony nodded. “Anything, Peter.”

Peter put the soup aside, leaned over and hugged Mr. Stark tightly. “Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. You have no idea - it means so much to me.”

“Anything, Peter. Although you have to concentrate on getting better, and taking care of yourself. I don’t want to hear that you’re sick and refined to bed for days, geez. I nearly got a heart attack when I received the message this morning.”

Peter laughs weakly. Mr. Stark handed him back the soup, and sat with Peter as he finished it. When Peter’s done, Mr. Stark takes the bowl, and helps Peter crawl back under the covers. Peter rolled onto his side, facing Mr. Stark, and silently asking.

Above him, Peter heard Mr. Stark huff, in amusement. A moment later he felt Mr. Stark’s hand softly brushes through his hair and rubs at his scalp. Peter falls asleep to the sensation.

(When he’s sure Peter’s asleep, Tony leans over Peter, presses a kiss to his forehead and whispers “I love you.”)

The End.

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imjeralee · 4 years

Text

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 17 - Leon with Flowers, Part 2

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell - here is chapter 17

Leon with Flowers

(Part 2)

…

["I don't know how to describe the places I was in today, the searing pain and torment of thousands and thousands of beings, myself with them, tortured to their breaking point and then beyond. I did not want to believe that regions of such unspeakable horror existed. I moved through layer after layer of anguish, descending into more and more primitive levels until eventually I reached a level I can only liken to hell itself. Excruciating pain. The suffering tears you apart until you've died a thousand times and can't die any more. Then you find a way to die some more."

- A Perinatal Interpretation of Frightening Near-Death Experiences: A Dialogue with Kenneth Ring, by Christopher M. Bache, Ph.D.]

…

It’s time for dinner and you are starving but unfortunately for you, Graves cannot cook even if his life depended on it and so he takes you to Bob’s Your Uncle in Circhester for a swanky three dollar fifty burger meal.

You stand beside Graves with your Rotom who continues struggling to get a signal; he isn't doing so well for some reason and you're beginning to think maybe he could be ill and a trip to the Pokemon centre might be needed.

Beside you, a father and daughter duo are ordering food at the counter adjacent to yours. The dad bears a striking resemblance to Rose and is extraordinarily loud as he orders from the menu whilst his daughter cringes and glances around, hoping no-one is staring at them.

Graves is unaffected.

“Yeah, she’ll have the, uh, Bob’s cheeseburger meal with the Bob shake-shake fries and a Bob soda. I’ll have a Bob’s triple cheeseburger with extra Bob special sauce, Bob large fries, a portion of Bob nuggets and the Bob spicy wings,” he says as he leans on the counter and stares up at the menu board that hangs off the ceiling; the lightbulb is about to give way and it crackles and fizzes weakly.

Is there anything here that isn’t ‘Bob’? you wonder to yourself as the cashier reiterates the order.

Even the toilet signs are labelled ‘Bobs’ and ‘Bobettes’.

The cashier punches the order in and Graves pays, then he grabs two Bob straws and some Bob napkins and Bob-BQ sauce. He tells you to search for a seat whilst he waits for the food.

You haven’t eaten at Bob’s Your Uncle since Sonia took you a year ago or so, and the food is yummy but greasy and mostly geared towards families and kids; you find a quiet seat away from a large family of six where the exhausted-looking parents deal with their screaming children who are playing with plastic Centiskorch figurines.

And Graves arrives in a few minutes with a large tray of food.

“Here we are,” he says, placing the tray down and rubbing his hands together as you glance at the two wrapped burgers, the fries, the nuggets and wings; he begins stripping the paper covers of the Bob straws and hands one to you, “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

He holds up two Centiskorch figurines wrapped in plastic. “They gave me these for free. One for you and one for me.”

Although it's been a while, Graves still treats you like a baby.

You want to decline but Graves hands you one and pockets his own, then picks up his large Bob burger, inspects it briefly before taking a large bite.

“How's your arm?” he grunts out.

"I'm fine. How was your talk with Rose?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, this is for you," Graves fumbles in his pockets before he pulls out an envelope for your taking, "I know you told me to look for the painting but we swept the entire area and found no painting made of human skin, hair and blood."

"Damn it. Rose hasn't contacted me for any follow-up nor has he mentioned anything regarding my payment."

"I covered it. You don't need to do a thing. I spoke to him about your contract and terms and conditions, also told him you're my goddaughter so we came to a mutual agreement. I managed to persuade Rose that he was being a bit too quick to penalise and you're still kids so you're bound to mess up and he agrees he's being harsh, so he says he understands your hard efforts and he says thank you for everything you've done, so he's forking out a bit more than what was on your contract. But I don't want you speaking to Rose anymore and he don't wanna talk to you either."

"I didn't mess up," you bark as you lift the flap and pull out a little piece of paper lodged inside. It's a cheque and the figure is huge. In fact, the sum is bigger than any case you've taken. Your eyes widen in their sockets at the extortionate amount and you gape at Graves.

"You did well," he says.

"This is hush money," you hiss, waving the cheque in the air.

"Just be glad you got some kind of compensation."

"What about Tanner and Cole?"

"They got paid too. The amount was less than yours, of course."

"Are you serious?! They got paid off too???" you exclaim. Graves merely blinks numbly and you growl in response, your fist curling tightly around the cheque, "I don't want it."

He narrows his eyes, puts down his burger and you know he's serious when the food is no longer his priority. Looking at you squarely in the eye, Graves jabs a finger at your direction and says, "Here's some advice: take the damn money."

"You don't understand-"

"No, I do understand. You're bitter and angry and you look like you're in the wrong. He used you and he's managed to shift it in his favour. He got away with it and I get how you're feeling, with the injustice of it all. But this is Chairman Rose of Macro Cosmos we're talking about and we have no proof of whatever shady business he was up to which you and I both know, and this is the best I could do. And I'm very sorry, but you need to accept it, okay?"

"But-"

"This is a life lesson. Learn from this."

".............Fine," you begrudgingly grunt under your breath after a prolonged and insufferable, tense bout of hesitation, and you angrily stuff the cheque into a random pocket of your bag and concentrate on devouring the rest of your meal.

The atmosphere has turned horrendous and as usual, it's because you and Graves are at odds some way or the other and an uneasy silence spawns between you and your godfather. Frustrated, you discover you may no longer have any appetite if you look at him any longer therefore you avert your gaze to the window where various passerbys with their Snoms and Bergmites brush past and Graves focuses ahead at the wall behind your head. Occasionally, he will clear his throat and grunt.

"I got a question," he suddenly says.

“What?”

“Are you dating Leon?”

You almost choke on a fry. “No.”

His expression scrunches with mild disbelief whilst you avert your glimpse to your lap and Graves raises a brow.

"I know that look. I know what that means," he says, but your lips remain sealed. "Alright, you don’t wanna tell me. That’s fine. It’s none of my business anyway. As long as you’re not doing drugs or smoking or whatever, I’m not going to pry.”

You suppose you can tell him, Graves being your godfather and all.

“Leon and I met in the Wild Area a while ago; this was before the Giant's Seat incident. He helped me with a case, and afterwards I warned him not to go near the Giant’s Seat due to the missing people. He somehow went there anyway and I saved him. He wanted to thank me so I had dinner at his house. I guess you can say it’s strictly business.”

“Business….?”

You nod. “Then I took Rose’s case and Leon came and-“

Graves waits for you to finish but you have frozen in your seat so he says, "And?”

“He came to save me,” you murmur, “That’s the first thing he did. He raced over to save me.”

He observes as a smile blooms on your face and you sigh. As you think about Leon, your smile widens.

"I know that look as well," Graves utters, brows raising a further time as he grabs a napkin and dabs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, it's about time you got yourself a boyfriend. And I'm damn relieved it's not that pal of yours, Jace. It's great that it's the Champion, I don't need to vet him."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a right to know and meet the boy you're dating. Your dad will be so worried-"

You and Graves blink at each other, before he sighs.

"You know, when you were unconscious, they said you called out for your parents a lot," he mutters, "I have a photo of them. I think you should have it.”

Placing his burger down, Graves wipes his greasy hands clean with a wet wipe before he pulls out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and brings out a glossy print.

You take it off him after you settle your own burger down and wipe your hands. It’s a small photo of your mother and father sitting on a picnic mat with a baby bouncing on their laps. It’s you, and beside them are their pokemon: Ghastly and Sableye. You also spot a young Graves with a blonde-haired young woman to their left.

“Is that Ellen?” you ask, “your girlfriend?”

Graves raises a brow, surprised. “How’d you know?”

“I remember her.”

“I’m surprised you do.”

“I remember mum and dad mentioning her a few times. What happened to her?”

“She passed away."

“…I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“Car crash. It was a while ago, I've dealt with it.”

You wonder if this is Graves’ attempt to bond with you and your table grows quiet as Graves chews silently before he swallows down the rest of his burger.

“I don’t like to think about it,” he says when he’s finished, “…If she went to heaven or hell or not. I like to just think that she’s…well…that’s it. It’s over. You’re gone. There’s nothing. It’s…a simulation or something. I don’t like to think about what’s on the other side. I don’t want to think about returning to this earth. This is hell, I believe. This is punishment.”

Aware that you’re discussing with Graves about mortality and this is the most he’s spoken to you about the great beyond, you sit up properly in your seat for a change.

“There are accounts from those who experience NDE’s-“

“What’s that?”

“'Near Death Experience'.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, these accounts insinuate the existence of a heaven and hell. There are some who saw a light or experienced overwhelming peace, and then there are those who describe descending into an unending darkness and hearing the most inhumane noises known to man. And lastly, some saw nothing but darkness and a hoofed creature.”

“Good grief,” Graves chokes out, and he looks uncomfortable so you decide to stop.

“Try not to see it that way,” you add in an attempt to lighten the gloomy atmosphere, “life is too short. Make the most of it while you can.”

Graves wipes at his forehead with a clean napkin before he nods briefly. “Listen, kid, I’m sorry if you ever felt like I wasn’t there for you or if I didn’t do enough. I think about that night and I...I miss your father a lot. I miss your family. And I know you’re still mourning for them,” he says, “I know.”

"I-"

Rotom flies from your pocket and zooms into the air, grinning widely. "I'm baaaaaack! ZZzzzignal!!! Bzz bzz bzz! Zrttt! Oh my dayzzz, you've received five mezzagezzz and three mizzzzed callzzzz from Le-Le-Le-Leon!"

"Uh...Is your phone okay?"

"Yeah, he's just excited."

You grab Rotom and he allows you to check what Leon has sent you: he tells you he dropped by the hospital but you had left. He's been trying to reach you and he called Sonia but she doesn't know where you are either. You quickly type a reply, apologising for not being able to reply on time and that Graves had picked you up.

"Graves, can we go?" you ask, when you finish replying and Rotom moves to hover near your shoulder with a huge grin on his face.

Your godfather grunts under his breath. "Fine, let me finish the fries first..."

After dinner, it’s getting late and although you're desperate to go home, Graves asks if you want to stay over. Graves has a house in Wyndon and he does have a room for you should you ever decide to stay with him but you decline because you’re used to staying with Magnolia and Sonia. Regardless, he tells you the room is available for you should you ever need it.

He drives you to Wedgehurst, navigating his car over the bumpy road of Route 2 and he drops you off at the doorstep of the quaint house, parking the car beside the lawn; the front door subsequently opens upon your arrival and Magnolia comes hobbling out followed by Sonia, Poltea and Cutie.

You all share an embrace as Graves exits the car to open the boot to grab your possessions.

“Thank you, Inspector Graves,” Magnolia says as Graves waddles up with your bag slung over his shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” he says; he’s so tall he towers over your entire group.

“Would you like to stay for tea?”

“We already ate,” Graves says with a guffaw.

Everyone heads inside; Magnolia and Graves bring their conversation to the conservatory whilst Sonia helps you with your bag and you head upstairs together.

“You seem to be getting along better,” she comments as you climb the steps with the pokemon clinging to your shoulders.

“He’s trying his best,” you reply as Cutiefly nuzzles your cheek affectionately.

“Leon popped by earlier,” Sonia says, “He said he wasn't able to reach you and was dying to know if you were back home or not. When I said you weren’t, he left with Charizard. He looked really sad.”

"Yeah, I've had terrible signal problems all day," you reply, and Sonia raises a brow.

“I knew there was something going on between you,” she replies, before she flashes you a wide grin. “Don’t leave him hanging.”

“I already messaged him, Sonnie, don’t worry.”

Once you’re in your shared bedroom, Sonia plops down on her bed with a sigh and your shadow contorts in bizarre fashion; this can only mean one thing, and Gengar promptly emerges. He seems happier to be back home than in the hospital.

“Hey Gengar,” you say, whilst he swims around in the air, carefree. You rummage through your bag to find Mimikyu and Runerigus’ capsule and proceed to let them out.

Runerigus is the newest addition to your team and although you’re a little anxious to release him, Tanner has informed you he is a ‘chill guy’, which is a little odd to describe a pokemon but you take Tanner’s words to heart as the stone pokemon emerges before you.

You were under the impression that he would be quite a large and intimidating pokemon but he is in fact, shorter than Gengar who looms over it. From what you know about Runerigus, they're solitary pokemon who can live for many years and their bodies consist of the grey slabs pieced together by cursed shadow matter. Your team is growing bigger but nevertheless your pokemon gather round and Sonia leaps from the bed to stand behind you, peering over your shoulders.

“Oh, a Runerigus…Where’d you get him from?” she asks as Runerigus looks around his surroundings cautiously.

“From a painting made out of human skin, hair and blood,” you reply, and she shudders violently, “I heard he’s nice.”

“Okay….”

You focus on the pokemon and say, “Welcome,” as Runerigus exchanges glances between all of you, “I hope you like it here.”

Looking right and left with its single purple eye, it clasps its large hands together and nods. It appears to be trying to communicate as it continues shifting its gaze up and down until it spots Leon’s poster on your wall and appears stunned, glancing at his image. It shuffles over, its rocky body dragging against the floorboards and emitting sounds identical to a fork scraping on a plate; Sonia clamps her hands over her ears from the deafening noise.

It stops in front of Leon’s poster and turns to you, pointing at it eagerly.

“Ohh, I get it. You need something to haunt,” you say, and it nods fiercely. “Go ahead.”

It flaps its arms up and down energetically before it inspects Leon’s print from head to toe, then it proceeds to spring up and off the ground and dives for the poster; you and Sonia stare with widened eyes; instead of crashing into the wall, it dissolves inside and the poster ripples.

Leon’s eye, which was once a beautiful golden hue, converts to a brutal shade of violet.

“Are you sure about this?” Sonia asks, cocking her head and crossing her arms with her finger under her chin.

You nod as Runerigus looks around before his eye creases with content. “Yep. He looks right at home. I'm fine with that.”

“As long as he doesn’t peep on us whilst we’re changing, I’m fine too.” Sonia adds.

Runerigus rolls his single eye.

As the evening progresses, Runerigus returns to his capsule after hanging around in Leon's poster for a while, Graves bids farewell after he's chatted with the professor and returns home, Magnolia goes to sleep and Sonia asks if you want to go with her to attend some exclusive makeup event with Nessa that’s taking place in Hotel Ionia. You politely decline because you want to spend some time with your Pokemon.

Therefore, you are alone and left to your own devices and you haven't received any response from Leon yet and you don't know where he is or what he's up to. However, instead of waiting around like a lovesick Lillipup, you opt to be productive and since you’re no longer going to take on any cases for the time being, you make some edits to your homepage, outlining that you will go on a much needed hiatus.

You also begin packing away some of your tools, namely the Khira dagger and your talismans which you tuck away into a safety box that you keep under the bed.

With Graves’ photo, you place it inside the box where it joins a small stash of old, salvaged photographs.

One photograph depicts your parents on their wedding day and the other is the last photo you took together as a family: a trip to Dendemille Town with a rented RV. You rub your thumb gently over their smiling faces.

Another photograph contains yourself and Jace. Not only did you have a questionable hairstyle and fashion sense but you appear jaded with a timid smile whilst Jace is grinning and shaking your hand, marking the beginning of a long-lasting friendship. Considering how long you have been friends, it’s then you realise Jace isn’t exactly the best candidate to take over should anything happen to you and you will need to find someone else….but that’s a thought for another day, you suppose.

Next, you grab your old journal where you had detailed Ezra’s teachings and all the symbols and exorcism prayers he taught you. You flip through the notes you made on pronunciation, translations and all your trials and errors and your mistakes.

As you continue packing, you pull out your radio and dad's journal from your bag which you will continue to keep with you for now.

Although you're not going to take on any cases, you head to the Pokemon research lab with the pokemon to conduct some research on Mimikyu and her speech capabilities.

The walk doesn’t take long and recalling that people actively call you the Witch of Wedgehurst behind your back, it is uncomfortable to make eye contact with anyone along the way and you pull the hood over your head, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your garment and keep your head down.

Once you arrive, you unlock the door, head inside and meander to your work space.

As usual, your desk is rather dusty and your whiteboard is still in the same place where you had left it a while ago; the pictures of the missing gym challengers and the map of the Wild Area are still fastened over the surface.

Although you hesitate for a split second as you scrutinise their smiling faces, you quietly remove them and tidy the photos away in one of your drawers before you grab an eraser and scrub away your notes, bullet points and other various scribbles. Once the board is cleared, you use a black marker pen and on the newly cleaned space, write some letters of the alphabet on the whiteboard as large as you can and set up three chairs for the pokemon for your experiment.

Releasing them, Gengar and Mimikyu sit down whilst Runerigus hops up on the seat and his head almost hits one of the low-hanging lights which makes you grimace. Nevertheless, he clamps his hands together patiently and since he’s been under your care, he has been a rather docile pokemon despite living in a human skin slash hair portrait.

You glance at your pokemon one by one and smile. “Hi everyone, thanks for joining me today. We're not going to work on any cases for the time being so now that I have some downtime, I’d like to test your ability to speak. I’m aware Mimi can say a lot already, but I’d appreciate if everyone can join in.”

Everyone nods and you grab one of Magnolia’s wooden canes from the side, using it to tap the first letter which represents A.

“This is the letter ‘A’,” you pronounce it loud and clearly for them, “Mimi, I’d like you to go first. Repeat after me.”

“A,” says Mimi, with virtually no problem whatsoever.

“Good job,” you reply and Mimikyu giggles, wiggling two tendrils happily in the air.

Now it’s Gengar’s turn.

He struggles, clenching his teeth viciously before he grunts out, “Geng-ah.”

“Not bad. but try saying ‘ah’ first.”

”Ah-geng,” says Gengar, and Mimikyu lets out a snort of laughter.

“Runerigus?”

Everyone turns to the grudge pokemon next and Runerigus has been silent the entire time; however, you're amazed when he emits a rather high-pitched, grating shriek from somewhere.

“Screeeee……!!!”

You, Gengar and Mimikyu uncontrollably wince until he stops.

"Scree?"

“Interesting," you murmur under your breath, "And this is the letter ‘B’…Runerigus, do you want to have a go?"

“Screeeee……screeeee-eee-ee!!!” Runerigus shrieks wildly as he flaps his hands up and down. As though aware he is unable to properly pronounce, Runerigus blinks for a fraction for a second and tries again, “SCREEEEE!!!”

“Mi mi!!! Mi mi mi mimikyuu!” Mimikyu jumps up and down in her seat and rants heavily in response to Runerigus’ screeching, pointing her claws at him accusingly.

“Calm down, it’s not his fault,” you say, as tensions run high.

Poor thing, beads of sweat begin dotting the stone slab and so unfortunately, you agree he should stop.

It’s Gengar’s turn now, and he says, “Beng-ar.”

You take down notes in your journal, scribbling down how Runerigus has zero speech capabilities and Gengar can only say his species name with mild alterations despite possessing human teeth and a human tongue.

Mimikyu on the other hand, can pronounce the letters perfectly and proceeds to recite much of the alphabet with very little trouble. She tells you she learned some words when she watched TV whilst pretending to be some kid's toy. She smugly dances and happily twirls in her seat whilst Runerigus and Gengar are totally defeated and throws their limp gazes to the floor.

“Guys, it’s okay,” you try to cheer them up but they look at you sadly.

The pokemon are dejected despite your reassurance and a twang of guilt hits you in the gut until a gentle knock on the door captures your attention. Looking away from your unhappy pokemon, the door to the research lab squeaks open and a purple-haired young man enters the establishment with Charizard trailing after him.

You freeze on the spot and the atmosphere in the lab becomes intense in nanoseconds. Your heart jumps in your throat upon his arrival and he glances at his surroundings before his gaze lands on you as you stand limply by the whiteboard and once his golden eyes meets yours, you struggle with your breath as your cheeks grow warm, your gut clinching uncomfortably.

It's Leon.

He's here.

He's finally here.

You swallow down the growing lump in your throat as he carefully strides over with his hands behind his back.

He's in a new shirt. The muscles in his arms seem to bulge more than ever. His hair looks longer, more tame. Did he always smile at you like that? Did he always look at you like that? You are noticing these little things about him all of a sudden though you're unsure why.

“H-hi Leon,” you stutter out whilst you tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear that falls in front of your eyes, “What are you doing here?”

It’s happening. It’s happening all over again. The blushing, the stammering, the racing heart, the butterfrees dancing in the stomach. It shouldn't be happening, but it is.

And then you remember the almost-kiss.

As you fret on the spot, Leon says, “I-I came by the house but no-one came to the door so I...I thought I’d find you here.”

He's stammering too, his voice laced with nervousness.

It's not just you.

Leon anxiously steps closer, his light footsteps echoing audibly over the lab's pristine floor; he stops a short distance from you and shoots a quick glance at your pokemon in their little chairs in front of the whiteboard with all letters of the alphabet and chuckles, “What’s this? Pokemon School?”

“Um…Sort of. Mimi can speak human language so I wanted to test the others too...”

“That sounds interesting, how’s it going so far?”

“…S’okay,” is your timid reply as you clutch the cane to your chest with both hands and shift your gaze to the side.

He smiles warmly at you and as you dare to look up, your eyes meet for a second and simultaneously, you both look away. Whilst you hastily cast your glance to one of the bookshelves on the second floor, Leon throws his glimpse to a random potted plant in the corner.

Clearing his throat loudly, he stands with his hands gingerly placed behind his back. In fact, he’s been holding his hands behind his back the entire time. He appears to be puffing his chest out a little.

“I went to the hospital; I wanted to visit you but you weren’t there."

You nod. Your gazes meet but this time, you do your best not to look away and neither does he. “Yeah…I got discharged and Rotom couldn't get any signal until just there. Sorry.”

His expression lights up when he realises you do not look away and you witness him falter slightly on the spot under your piercing stare and he lets out a nervous-sounding laugh. "Ah, it's okay, there's no need to apologise. I took too long and couldn't find the time to go and see you. I should be the one apologising."

You shake your head.

There is another quiet moment between you two albeit not an uncomfortable one as you stand near one another, staring; Leon’s voice seems to have gone into hiding as you smile at him and his smile widens too before he murmurs, “I, uh…I wanted to give these to you."

He reveals his hands, slowly lifting them out and presenting a large bouquet of beautiful, multi-coloured flowers from behind his back.

Your eyes widen thoroughly; you were not expecting this at all.

Gengar gawks whilst Mimikyu blinks. Charizard wheezes and chortles and Runerigus flings glances between you and the Champion.

“Um, I….I hope you like them," he stutters, coughing into his fist briefly.

Leon has brought you flowers.

Choosing to lurk behind the plethora of florets, he does not see you gently reaching for the bouquet, and your fingers brush together accidentally; he stiffens all over as you wrap your hands firmly around the light pink cellophane wrapper before you gently lift it out of Leon’s grasp. He watches as your eyes sparkle with delight, the corner of your lips curling into a fond smile as you carefully run a finger over the petal of a delicate looking lilac flower.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur softly, “Thank you, Leon.”

His confidence fully restored by your words, Leon grins widely and he takes a small step forwards; however, he's also quick to change his mind, clearing his throat once more and returning to his previous spot. With freed hands, he removes his cap and cradles it gingerly in front of his chest, his messy hair sticking in all sorts of directions.

“I’m sorry, I would do this better if I knew how.”

"Do what?”

“Courting you."

You blink wide-eyed as your gazes lock together once again before you decide to bring the bouquet closer to you, covering as much of your face as you can behind the flowers.

“I didn’t know what you liked so I asked the florist for help,” he admits as he hides his lower face behind his cap, cheeks growing red.

You’re both hiding behind whatever you can get your hands on.

And he’s blushing again, which you think is cute but so are you; your face is also heating up uncontrollably.

“T-thank you, that’s very thoughtful,” you reply with a shaky but excited lilt embedded into your voice, “do you want to stay? I can make some tea….”

Leon’s expression dampens at once.

“………I can’t,” he almost groans aloud, “I have a busy night ahead.”

“Oh, well…maybe another time then.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“S-sure.”

“No problem.”

"Perhaps...you'd like to go camping with me again?"

"I'd love to."

"Great!"

"Just let me know when you're free."

"O-of course."

Once again, a sea of silence blankets the two of you until Charizard taps Leon on the shoulder and snorts loudly, his snout emitting short puffs of air. He jerks his head towards the door, growling.

“Right, I’d best be off now…I’ll see you,” Leon mutters, and you nod.

“Bye, Leon.”

“Goodbye.”

Leon returns his cap over his head, adjusting it properly; he stares intently at you and an immense bloom of joy swells within your chest as you clutch the flowers to yourself. Swept up by the longing depth of his gaze, you hide your face behind the flowers once again. Your cheeks are so hot, even the petals feel warm. He’s only forced to stop looking at you when Charizard taps him on his shoulder once more, indicating that they need to return to their duties.

"Goodnight," he says, with a widening grin.

"Goodnight."

Reluctantly, Leon turns away. As he makes his way to the exit, he will occasionally turn round and smile at you and Charizard will wave and you wave back; the flame pokemon waddles after his trainer and you watch as they both leave the lab, but not before Leon subjects you to one last look over his shoulder.

You’re finally able to breathe normally when the door closes behind them and Gengar and Mimikyu titter loudly in their seats whilst Runerigus slams his rocky tail against the floor with glee.

“Class dismissed,” you utter, and the pokemon are free to do as they please as you glance down at the bouquet in your hands.

Smiling, you lean down and take a quick whiff.

They smell heavenly.

...

#leon #dande #reader #reader insert #fanfic #fic #archive of our own #pkmn #pokemon #pokemon sword #pokemon shield #pokemon sword and shield #jeralee

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tsuki-chibi · 4 years

Text

Blueberry Peach (Adrien AUGreste) Part 30: Beach

Or read it on AO3: Blueberry Peach

Also find the other parts of the series AO3: Fruitful verse

-------

The next morning, Adrien awoke to rain. The sound of it against his windows was actually what woke him; he rubbed his eyes as he crawled out of bed and fumbled his way over to the window. Cracking the curtains a bit revealed that Paris was swamped in dark clouds. Even as he watched, a particularly harsh gust of wind rattled the glass and he flinched back.

It was certainly no day for the beach. Not even a day for anyone to be out and about. He immediately started to worry about Marinette and her parents - they were supposed to be at the mansion in less than an hour. His concern woke Marinette, who gave a sleepy mumble. It only took her a moment to figure out where it was coming from, and then she sighed.

'Ah, Chaton, relax. We're not made of pastry. We won't melt,' she thought, stretching.

'I know. I just hate to see you get wet because of me,' Adrien thought.

'I won't get wet. This cute guy I know gave me an umbrella once, and I still have it,' Marinette thought.

Adrien smiled in spite of himself, remembering that day. It had been just after their first fight as Ladybug and Chat Noir, before Tikki and Plagg even knew that they were soulmates. That was the first time he'd told Marinette that he liked her as more than just a friend or soulmate, and she had reciprocated his feelings. It seemed so long ago, even though in reality it had been just a couple of months ago. They'd gone through so much since then.

'And we'll get through this too,' Marinette thought, pushing love and tender affection through the bond. 'So stop worrying, okay?'

'I'll try,' Adrien thought. He closed the curtains and got up, deciding that he should shower and get dressed before Marinette and her parents arrived. He grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

"Good luck, kid," Plagg said as Adrien emerged from the bathroom several minutes later.

"Thanks Plagg," Adrien said, fishing half a package of Camembert out of the fridge. He gave it to his kwami and smiled again as Plagg pounced on it.

'We're here,' Marinette thought.

'Okay, we're coming down,' Adrien thought, picking up his now sleepy kwami. He tucked Plagg into his pocket and left his room, reaching the stairs just as Amélie was opening the door.

"Good morning," Amélie said. "You must be Marinette. Adrien's mentioned you."

"Hi," Marinette said with a shy smile. She looked beautiful in a blue sundress that perfectly matched her eyes and, sure enough, she was holding the umbrella Adrien had given her back then. Their eyes met, and Marinette winked at him.

"And you are?" Amélie looked curiously at Tom and Sabine.

"We're Marinette's parents. I'm Tom Dupain and this is my wife, Sabine Cheng," Tom said. "Adrien asked us if we could drop by."

"Oh." Amélie seemed a bit confused, but she readily stepped back to allow the Dupain-Chengs in. That in itself was a vast difference to Gabriel, who wouldn't have even allowed the family across the threshold.

"I needed to tell you something and I wanted Marinette and her parents to be here," Adrien explained as he came down the stairs.

Amélie raised an eyebrow. "Okay... Why don't we go sit at the kitchen table? I think the chef was just setting breakfast out."

Félix was already in there, sitting at his place. He too raised an eyebrow when he saw them, which made him look uncannily like his mother. Adrien ignored him as he escorted Marinette to a seat and then sat beside her. Amélie took a seat beside her son, and then Tom and Sabine sat to Marinette's and Adrien's left. There was an abundance of food on the table - Adrien may or may not have mentioned to the chef last night that they would have guests for breakfast this morning - and one of the maids quickly scurried in with three more place settings. When she was gone, a heavy silence descended.

'Go ahead,' Marinette thought, looking at Adrien.

Adrien took a deep breath. "Aunt Amélie, I don't want to move to London. I want to stay here with Marinette. She's my soulmate."

Amélie's eyes widened. "Your... what? Your father didn't mention that," she said, looking between them incredulously.

"I didn't tell him," Adrien confessed. "I wasn't sure how he would react."

Félix snorted. "I think we all know how he would've reacted," he muttered.

"Félix," Amélie said, never looking away from Marinette and Adrien. "Please."

"I know this comes as a surprise," Sabine said to Amélie. "Marinette only told us last night, and we were shocked too."

"It's not what I expected," Amélie admitted. "I - this does complicate things a little. I knew you would find it a bit of a struggle to move to London, Adrien, but... I hope you can understand that I can't move here. My whole life is in London... my job, Félix's school, everything."

"I know," Adrien said, shoulders slumping. It wasn't fair for him to want his cousin and aunt to move to Paris. He knew that. And yet...

He exchanged miserable looks with Marinette.

"And Madame Sancoeur has made it clear her time with your family is limited," Amélie continued. "She's willing to continue working for your father's company, should it survive, but she wants to step away in a personal capacity. So I'm just not sure..." She trailed off, frowning.

"If I may," Tom said, glancing at his wife. Sabine nodded at him, and Tom continued. "Adrien is a wonderful young man. Sabine and I would be happy to have him live with us."

"What?" Adrien said, shocked.

"What?!" Marinette gasped. "Oh, Papa! Maman!"

Amélie looked very surprised by the offer. "I couldn't ask you to do that. Adrien is my responsibility now."

"You're not asking, we're offering," Sabine told her with a smile. "We live just down the road from the children's school, and we have an empty guest room."

"It wouldn't be a big deal at all," Tom added. "I could even teach him how to make bread." He grinned over at Adrien, who was too filled with painful hope to respond even though he loved the idea of learning to bake.

Amélie didn't say anything for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then she said, "Adrien, is that something you would like?"

"Yes!" Adrien exclaimed.

"We'd have to work out the financial aspect," Amélie said to Tom and Sabine. "I couldn't allow you two to pay for him. A child is expensive, especially a growing boy." She shot Félix a small smile. Félix rolled his eyes and shoved a piece of buttered toast in his mouth.

"We can talk about that later," Tom said with a wave of his hand. "We just wanted to put this on the table for now."

"Well, I'll have to think about it. But I appreciate your offer, and I'm sure Adrien does too," Amélie said. "I just don't know if I'd feel comfortable with Adrien being here all the time..." She laced her fingers together.

"Adrien could travel!" Marinette piped up. "It's less than three hours to London by train."

Adrien nodded quickly. "I could! I totally could!"

"You'd have to come every second weekend," Amélie said. "One weekend a month, Marinette could come with you if she wanted to."

Marinette looked delighted by that. "Really?"

Amélie smiled. "Of course. I'd like to get to know my future niece-in-law," she said. "And for holidays, I'd like it if you spent the majority of them with us... but I wouldn't be opposed to the occasional holiday here. Plus you'd have to come stay with Félix and me for at least half of your summer vacation."

"Sure," Adrien said. He was willing to agree to anything if she would only give her permission.

Under the table, Marinette's hand slipped into his and he gripped her hand tightly.

"Of course, those terms would have to be okay with you too," Amélie went on, turning to Sabine and Tom.

"We'd have to talk about it, but I'm sure that would be fine," Sabine said.

"Then I'm okay with it," Amélie said.

Adrien stared at her. "You mean... I can stay?"

Amélie looked at him, and her eyes suddenly got a bit teary. "Oh, Adrien. You're the only thing I have left of my sister. I would love it if you wanted to live with me and Félix all the time; I've hated the time that your father kept us from seeing you. But I also understand that you have your own life, and that you wouldn't be happy if I made you move. I don't want that. You're my only nephew; I want you to be happy." She started to reach out, then paused - hand hovering in the air uncertainly, like she wasn't sure if Adrien would be okay with it.

Marinette gave him a gentle, mental nudge. When he glanced at Tom and Sabine, they were both smiling at him. Even Félix was giving him an expectant look. And through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel Plagg pointedly poking him in the chest.

So slowly, Adrien reached out and took his aunt’s hand. It was a strange feeling, especially when she tightened her fingers around his hand and gave him a tearful smile.

Was this what it was like to have a family member who actually cared about you and your happiness?

“Thank you,” he said quietly, not knowing what else to say. “This plan… that would make me happy.”

“Then okay,” Amélie said, wrapping her free arm around Félix’s shoulders, still holding tightly to Adrien’s hand. “That’s what we’ll do.”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #amelie graham de vanily #adrienaugreste #felix graham de vanily #tom dupain #sabine cheng #blueberry peach

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pulaasul · 3 years

Text

Ode of the Future

During the Champion selection ceremony, lightning struck the Goblet of Fire and released a fifth piece of parchment. On the parchment was a note saying that everyone listed should gather and warn everyone.

Once everyone listed was gathered, a scroll was ejected from the magical object, and it contained an ode.

An ode for the people who died during the Wizarding Wars against Voldemort.

[FFN] [Ao3]

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A/N: In honor of the battle of Hogwarts, which happened on this day in the year 1992, here's a reaction fic where' the character react to specific odes dedicated to the characters who died during the Wizarding War against Voldemort.

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The Hogwarts student body was in chaos. Murmurs, complaints, and protests erupted as soon as the fourth piece of parchment containing the name of the fourth contestant for the Triwizard Tournament was ejected from the Goblet of Fire.

The fourth piece of parchment contained Harry Potter's name, to the surprise of many in the room.

Harry felt that had anyone else's name came out as the fourth contestant, the complaints and protests wouldn't be this prominent. He had half the mind to protest his inclusion and stand in his place rooted.

But he trusted Headmaster Dumbledore so he opted to follow the old headmaster's order and went to the room where the other champions were sent.

"What a prat." Ron bitterly stated.

"Ronald!"

"He told me that he wasn't going to enter!" Ron justified his words. "Then what do you know, Harry actually entered the tournament with all of us ignorant."

"Honestly Ronald, Harry couldn't have gotten past the age line!" Hermoine huffed. "Even your brothers couldn't get past that."

"He's Harry bloody Potter, of course, he can get past some bloody age line." Ron scoffed.

"You know, I think Hermoine has a point." Seamus offered.

"How so?" Dean questioned. "I mean considering Harry's luck, I won't be surprised."

"Tell me, how is Harry in charms? Only Hermoine can get a spell on the first try," Seamus shrugged. "There's no way Harry can pull something off in a span of a month, even if he did found a way to get past an age line."

"Harry didn't put his name, right Colin?" Dennis whispered to his brother.

"I'm sure Harry could probably pull it off." Colin nodded. "But I don't think he did it, I think he was just as shocked as we are."

Before the arguments and conversations could continue, lightning struck the Goblet of Fire, shocking everyone in the room.

Suddenly, lightning struck the Goblet of fire followed soon after by the roaring of thunder which prompted the screams of terror from the people present. The teachers present were hard at work in assuring and calming the students down. Some of the teachers even readied their wands and cast shield charms over the tables to protect the children.

Dumbledore raised his right hand and silenced the room.

"I assure everyone that the lightning strike we just witnessed won't harm anyone present."

The student body relatively quieted down with the Headmaster's assurance. The teachers and staff were still quite tense, as lightning had never struck the Great Hall from the enchanted ceiling before.

The other Headmasters on the other hand were on guard, their faces showed displeasure at the recent turn of events.

Dumbledore was about to speak when the fire from the goblet turned white and ejected another long piece of parchment.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, if I timed this right, I was able to send this letter back in time through the Goblet of Fire." Hogwarts's Headmaster read. "If your intentions really are for the greater good, I implore you to gather everyone present and send them to the seventh floor and go inside the come and go room."

"Headmaster Dumbly-dor what is the meaning of this?!" Headmistress Maxime seethed. "Has Hogwarts's gotten so low as to cheat not once but twice?"

"I must agree Dumbledore." Headmaster Karkaroff growled. "Are you so desperate to win this tournament that you would blatantly cheat right from the start?"

"Had I read their characters correctly, Headmistress Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff are yelling about how Hogwarts's cheated the Triwizard tournament, with Potter's name getting ejected out of the Goblet of Fire moments earlier." Dumbledore ignored his fellow school heads and continued reading the parchment he was holding.

The continuation of the spiel stopped Durmstrang's and Beaubaxton's school heads from their rants. They did not expect for their names to be called out from the Parchment at all.

Karkaroff huffed and grabbed the parchment out of Dumbledore's hands and saw for himself the words that were written. He was in utter disbelief.

Maxime gently grabbed the letter out from Karkaroff's hands and she too mirrored Durmstrang's Headmaster's reaction. She was flabbergasted as she read through the letter.

Headmistress Maxime couldn't hold unto the piece of parchment and immediately gave it to someone near her, Professor Mcgonagall.

"In a few minutes, a piece or two of parchment will be ejected from the Goblet of Fire before it extinguishes itself. Please gather everyone present and the people I've listed below to the Seventh floor of Hogwarts's castle.

Ask the House Elves regarding the Come and Go room." Professor Mcgonagall read the last paragraph.

"Who's it from?" Professor Sprout questioned.

"No one." The Deputy Headmistress answered. "The signature is simply a drawing of a lightning bolt."

"Weasleys!" Professor Snape growled. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"We didn't have anything to do with that!" Fred and George denied the accusation in unison.

"Likely story." Professor Snape scoffed. "100 points from Gryffindor!"

"Oh c'mon!" All the Gryffindor students groaned at the declaration.

"I believe a retraction is in order Professor Snape." Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't think this is a prank, we've all witnessed how they failed to get past my age line."

"Headmaster, surely Potter has found a way to circumvent that and put the Weasleys up for this to distract everyone else from his blatant disrespect of the rules."

Hogwarts's headmaster shook his head. "I award 100 points back to Gryffindor." He declared. "Professors Sprout and Flitwick, please guide everyone to the seventh floor, Professor Mcgonagall please collect the people listed on the parchment by House-elf."

"Are you sure Albus?" Professor Mcgonagall questioned.

The Headmaster merely nodded in response.

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Everyone stared at the door in awe as it appeared before their very eyes. They were amazed that the castle itself has shown a level of sentience to provide everyone a room that fit their needs.

The come and go room, as the letter has dubbed it, showed everyone a replica of the Great Hall with banners from the ceiling that reflect all four houses and the two guest schools.

"I've never read of this room in Hogwarts; a history." Hermione remarked.

The room has even provided a small partition of the room to be used as a loo for everyone to use.

As if on cue, once everyone was seated, the fire from the goblet turned white and ejected a scroll before it died out, darkening the surroundings.

A moment later, lit candles appeared up on the ceiling, lighting the room.

Dumbledore retrieved the scroll and opened it.

"Voldemort will return." Dumbledore read.

The room descended to chaos as soon as the headmaster uttered the words from the scroll. Some panicked, some were even shouting.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Karkaroff growled. "Is this your idea of a joke Dumbledore?!"

"You-know-who is dead! Potter killed him!" Shouted one Ravenclaw student.

"Silence!" Professor Mcgonagall called out.

Everyone fell silent at the shout.

"At the end of the Triwizard Tournament, the Dark Lord will return. The Dark Mark that appeared during the Quidditch World Cup was a precursor for his return.

With Voldemort's return comes the Second Wizarding War in Britain and with war come casualties, young and old, man or woman, pureblood, half-blood, muggle-born or muggle.

Below is an ode to some of the people we have lost since Voldemort's return, or in your case, will die. I have sent these letters back in time using the remaining time turners the Department of Mysteries had and putting them inside the Goblet of Fire.

I hope you never experience the losses we incurred."

Murmurs erupted from the crowd, no one knew what to expect. The night has been one surprise after another, first with Potter's inclusion in the tournament through deceitful means, next was the fifth parchment flying out of the goblet and now the scroll the was ejected out of the goblet.

Some of the adults and students even looked at Harry as the boy himself tried to duck from the stares he was receiving.

"Before I begin, yes the new arrivals were specially listed on the letter earlier, make yourselves at home, this was once your school after all." Dumbledore declared. "Everyone is free to sit wherever they like, even alongside our new guests."

With that announcement, everyone sat wherever they liked. Hermoine and Harry went with Ron who sat with the Weasleys. Percy was with Bagman and Crouch, refusing to sit with his family, thinking that this was part of his duty.

Remus and a dog sat next to Harry.

Cedric went ahead and sat with his parents while Susan sat with her aunt.

As soon as everyone was settled, Dumbledore opened the scroll once more. He almost reacted as soon as he saw the first two names mentioned in the ode. He looked at the students specified with regret, two innocent lives would be lost in the coming war.

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Ode to the Departed.

Colin Creevey was a young wizard, Who trained at Hogwarts. He was an excited fellow, Exuberance you cannot mellow. Magic brought him joy, Even more than a toy. When his home away from home was attacked, He left the comforts of his family and came back. He took the risks that returning entailed, It didn't matter if he failed. As long as his training was repaid. Even if he became pale. His debt to his hero was paid.

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Everyone gasped and looked at Colin as soon as they heard his name. Someone so young would die during the war. No one could fathom the unfairness of the world.

Colin himself paled as soon as he heard his name. He couldn't understand why his name was on the scroll. He didn't know what to do with the situation presented before him. He only came back to reality when he noticed his younger brother's grip on him, so tight as if not wanting to let go.

The elder Creevey offered Dennis a reassuring smile.

"I won't go anywhere Dennis, I promise."

"B-but."

"It hasn't happened yet," Colin offered. "We can still change things right?"

Colin's words to his brother were things he'd like to believe himself as earlier in the school year, the Divination's Professor had also predicted his death. He had simply shoved that particular prediction when Professor Sprout assured them of Professor Trelawney's propensity for predicting student deaths which were always wrong.

Which wasn't so wrong after all.

Harry gulped, guilt gnawed his very being as he listened to Dumbledore's words. He knew Colin, and his brother idolized him for being the 'boy-who-lived'. He had dismissed the Creeveys for being no more than fanboys.

He didn't realize that their affection was more than about their fascination with his supposed tales but rather in fascination about everything about him.

He could distinctly remember that Colin was only one of the few who believed that he wasn't the heir of Slytherin. He also remembered that Colin almost died when he tried to visit him in the hospital wing after the Basilisk was roaming the school.

Molly's grip on her youngest children seemed to tighten as soon as she figured out who Colin Creevey was. She remembered from her daughter's letters that he was in her year, which could mean that Ginny's name could be among the names dedicated by the ode.

One of her cubs, Professor Mcgonagall resisted the urge to gather the Creeveys in her protective embrace. She bemoaned the unfairness of it all, why one of her cubs, why one so young.

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Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff, The glory he sought was rough. It wasn't for self-satisfaction, Rather, it was for his faction. To dispel the nasty names that took root, As loyalty was his boot. The glory he sought was in his hands, But a traitorous rat had other plans. To Dumbledore's army that didn't matter He was an inspiration for others, His path may have strayed to the Dark Lord's But as a Hufflepuff, he never left Harry alone.

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"Not my boy!" Amos yelled gripping Cedric's arm as soon as his son's name was called.

Amos's yell interrupted Dumbledore from reading the ode.

The Headmaster completely understood why Amos shouted. It wasn't as if something replaceable was lost, his son would die young in the future and from how the ode was worded, it would seem that the young Diggory's life would end as soon as the Triwizard Tournament would be concluded.

Everyone gasped as soon as Dumbledore finished the ode dedicated to Cedric. There were many implications but nothing was as horrifying as the implication that the young Diggory's death would come at the end of the current school year.

Cedric's mother certainly mirrored her husband's reaction earlier and embraced her son as tight as she could once Dumbledore finished reading. She couldn't bear the thought of outliving her son, let alone him dying at the end of the school year.

Cedric himself paled at the implications. He knew it was too late to back out of the tournament. He isn't about to stop competing in the tournament even if he knew that he was going to win, or even die as soon as he won, that'd only prove the stereotype against his house true.

Instead, he would work twice, no, four-time as hard as before in training for the tournament. He needed to hone his senses. The ode implied that the way he was killed wasn't in any official dueling capacity, which means it was either an unexpected attack or he was just naïve enough to start talking before defending.

Before that, Cedric looked at his grief-stricken parents and he knew just what to do.

"Mum, Dad," Cedric whispered. "I know it's scary but it's not set in stone right?" He whispered.

"Y-you're my boy." Amos stuttered. "I don't think I'd know what to do if… if we…"

"You're father's right Ceddie." Cedric's mother nodded. "No parent should bury their children." She dabbed her eyes.

"I promise to be careful." Cedric offered.

"No my boy, promise to live." Amos whimpered. "Please."

Cedric flinched at the correction his father made. He knew he can't make a promise like that considering what the ode stated, there was a high probability of his demise whether anyone would interfere or not. It happened once in another time, it could still happen again despite the interventions.

He wasn't naïve to think otherwise.

"Please Cedric." Cedric's mother begged.

"I…" Cedric trailed off. "I don't think I can promise that mum." He hugged his mother.

Harry's guilt increased as soon as he heard his name uttered. It would seem that he would be present when Cedric died. Scenarios flashed through his mind thinking of how Cedric could have possibly died with him present, none were pleasant than the other.

The Weasleys looked at the Diggorys in sympathy. The Diggorys were their neighbors and they couldn't imagine what sort of pain they were going through especially with the implications.

Arthur and Molly certainly understood what the Diggory parents were feeling. The fear of outliving your own child.

The dog with Remus growled as soon once the words 'traitorous rat' was uttered while Remus narrowed his eyes.

Remus knew who was being referred to as the rat, and knowing that the traitor he knew would also be responsible in snuffing out a life so young, He wished that he and Sirius hadn't just followed Harry's nobility and committed murder then and there.

If only so Cedric's death could have been prevented.

The Hufflepuffs were in disbelief of what they were just told. Cedric dies?

Hufflepuff's golden boy dies?

There must be some kind of mistake.

Cedric was the best among the Hufflepuff students, even amongst the Seventh years, a dueling prodigy and great at transfigurations.

How could he die?

Some of Cedric's friends approached the boy and sat near him as if forming a protective circle around him. Most of the Hufflepuff students had this urge to be near their Golden Boy and protect him.

"Come now you blokes." Cedric offered a strained smile. "It's not set in stone right?"

"Right you are." Tonks agreed. "Wotcher Ced." She smiled at the boy before sitting beside the boy.

Tonks wore a grim expression as Cedric's name was called. She had known the boy since he was first sorted into Hufflepuff house, and even moreso when he joined the Circle of Khanna. She hoped that she was wrong but she feared that Cedric would follow in Rowan Khanna's footsteps, considering how the Diggory boy's death was used as an inspiration to form a group akin to how the circle was formed, using Khanna's death as motivation.

"Hello, Tonks." Cedric greeted.

"If you want, I could arrange some training for you to prevent this from ever happening." Tonks offered. "Can't have Golden Boy himself ducking out of life so early right?" She offered a hollow chuckle.

"Sure." Cedric nodded.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Tonks and Moody yelled at the same time.

Everyone was startled when Tonks and Moody shouted, caught off guard with the action done.

"Seriously Moody?" Andromeda hissed. "You have made my daughter as paranoid as you?"

"You should be thankful for that Black." Moody countered. "Constant Vigilance is probably the only thing that's keeping me alive."

"I go by Tonks now, thank you very much." Andromeda huffed. "They disowned me remember?"

"Ignoring the old people." Tonks chuckled. "That's lesson number one, exercise constant vigilance, it will save you in the long run."

Professor Sprout adorned a sad smile as she observed how her badgers were reacting. They were surrounding their own as if protecting him from anyone who would dare harm, Cedric. There was also how Tonks reacted, she may have been a bit of a rebel and an epitome of misbehavior, she couldn't deny that she grew up someone to be proud of, a true Hufflepuff to the core.

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Prankster, Jokester, Charming are some things to describe, This particular bloke, those who knew him subscribe. Fred Weasley was one of a kind, Even if he did things with his twin by his side. His last action however wasn't with his twin, But with his estranged brother, they took a win, The price of victory however Would take root forever A set of twins was subtracted by one But his smiles were always fond. Even the last one that graced his face.

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As Dumbledore resumed reading, people were already dreading whose name was next on the list. Some looked at the Weasley twins as soon as the qualities were enumerated. Both of them had been known by those qualities.

War was really an ugly thing, it doesn't discriminate who to take.

It just takes.

As soon as Fred's name was mentioned the entire Weasley family paled.

Fred couldn't die, he was the life of the family alongside his twin.

"No." Molly whispered. "Not my Freddie."

Arthur snuck a glance at the Diggorys. He had to admit that he only had an inkling on what they were feeling earlier, with their son slated to die at the end of the term.

But with Fred's name on the list, He can hazard a guess to what the Diggorys were feeling. It was an ugly feeling, knowing that he was going to outlive and bury one of his sons.

George gulped as Dumbledore continued. The one time that the both of them were separated his twin would die. He couldn't let this happen, he can't lose his other half.

"Like Pretty Boy Diggory said, it's not set in stone, right?" Fred tried to convince his family. "It's not like I'm dying at the next second right?" He offered a strained laugh.

"No." Percy declared. "I will do everything in my power to stop that from ever happening."

"Even sacrificing your own post at the ministry?" George challenged despite what he was feeling at the moment.

"Even if I have to sacrifice myself." Percy declared. "It's clear that I was with Fred during his last moments, I would sooner take the spell intended for him rather than let it pass by me."

"N-no." The Weasley twins were speechless at their older brother's declaration.

The challenge was meant to be a joke, some way to reduce the tension in the room. There were already three Hogwarts students slated to die within the next year starting with Cedric if the implications were to be believed.

"No!" Molly yelled. "No one is dying!" She declared as she gripped the twins' wrists tightly. "I won't have anyone dying under my watch."

"Your mother's right boys." Arthur stood next to Molly. "No parent should have to bury their child."

"We will make sure that won't happen." Bill promised.

"Too true." Charlie nodded.

"Why don't you sit with your family Percy?" Dumbledore offered. "You were summoned here not as a Ministry worker but as a member of the family."

"Go on Weatherby." Crouch nodded. "Dumbledore's right."

"If you would excuse me Headmaster, Mr. Bagman, Mr. Crouch."

Percy made his way to his family where he situated himself behind the twins as if making sure that his younger brothers weren't disappearing on his watch.

Ginny on the other hand, clenched her fists, unable to say anything. She was as shocked as her family when Fred's name was mentioned.

As much grief Ginny's twin brothers gave her, she loved them dearly, she loved all of her brothers dearly. She couldn't bear the thought of losing any of them.

Ron bore some resentment towards his twin brothers, as much as they harp against bullying, his brothers were bullying gits. If they weren't busy playing pranks on Percy, they were playing pranks on him.

Despite that, Ron didn't want any of them dead. He couldn't even imagine the burrow without any of the twins inside.

"No." Ron whispered his denial.

"Aww, ickle Ronniekins is worried for me." Fred ruffled his younger brother's hair.

"Don't worry Ronniekins, you won't get rid of us that easily." George patted Ron's shoulders.

The guilt Harry was feeling increased tenfold when Fred's name was mentioned. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't thick as everyone thought, he knew that this war has everyone dying for him from Colin to Cedric and now Fred. He didn't want this.

If only having everyone gift wrap him and be delivered to Voldemort on a silver platter would end the war. It'd be pretty naïve of him to think that way, he knew of Voldemort's agenda, of the Dark Lord's philosophies.

"It's not your fault." Remus whispered unto Harry's ear.

"I know that," Harry whimpered. "It's hard not to think it's not my fault when everyone's dying for me."

"It may seem that way Harry, but what Voldemort has done – will do – is exclusively his fault." Remus offered. "Your parents dying was not your fault, anyone dying in the war is not your fault."

"Are only students dying in this war?" Professor Mcgonagall voiced out.

Two of Mcgonagall's cubs were dying in the war, one as young as Colin Creevey and another as jovial as Fred Weasley.

Why was the world so unfair? They're just children.

"No." Dumbledore shook his head.

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Spite and Bitterness were the things that pushed him to join the Dark Lord, One declaration later, he had to cut the cord. Severus Snape was Dumbledore's spy, In a wizarding world that's full of lies. To protect he had to sneer, While doing his side job without fear, It did help that the one he protected, Was the son of a man he hated. Even if he was also the son of the woman he loved. In the end it didn't matter, For the boy would soon after, Win the war with his sacrifice, And survive the curse twice.

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Professor Dumbledore now feared for his spy's life. The explicit mention of Professor Snape's actual role in the war against Voldemort would put the potions master's life in jeopardy. It wouldn't have mattered had there been no children of known death eaters who managed to escape prosecution, but alas there were many in Slytherin house.

Dumbledore shook his head at his thoughts, for the greater good, Professor Snape must remain working under the Dark Lord.

People stared at the potions master, they didn't expect his name to be next on the list, let alone be on the list in the first place.

Most of the first order members worked out the fact that Professor Snape was the spy, it helped that they already knew of that information. They still do wonder the circumstances of his death, was he discovered or was a member of the order forced to kill him to preserve his cover.

Or worse, someone who thought that he was totally on Voldemort's side managed to kill him.

The Slytherins were also in turmoil. It does make some sense for their head of house to be working for the Headmaster, but what could he be spying from on Dumbledore's orders?

Some had thought that he was spying on the Death Eaters under Dumbledore's behest, it's the only thing that would make sense adding in the statement of the Dark Lord's return earlier.

They didn't have any proof to prove this claim and this made every Slytherin uncomfortable.

Draco himself frowned at the notion. Professor Snape was his godfather and he was doubting the man's loyalties to the Malfoys.

Was everything about Draco's godfather a lie then?

Draco has decided that his father will hear about this.

Remus frowned at the ode dedicated to his old classmate. He knew that Professor Snape was antagonistic towards his best friend's son. He knew it came from the Slytherin head's old resentment of James Potter that he took revenge on an innocent child, he didn't think it was to such an extent that it could potentially blow the potion master's cover.

Working with the Slytherin head, Remus knew of the resentment the Snape carried from their school days. He was justifiably angry from all the bullying he received from the Marauders.

The dog that was accompanying Remus simply growled the whole time Professor Snape's ode was read.

Harry frowned as he listened to the dedication. It wasn't hard to conclude that he was the boy who would survive the curse twice. The boy that Professor Snape has been protecting all this time.

But why be antagonistic towards him?

Harry can't figure out why Snape was acting like his Aunt Petunia whenever he was around his potion's teacher.

Couldn't the potions master have acted indifferently towards him rather than hate him?

If it was about what his father has done, isn't that a bit unfair? Why blame him for what his father has done?

Professor Severus Snape was the perfect picture stoicism. He didn't even bat an eye as soon as his name was uttered by the Headmaster. He had already mastered the art of Occlumency and because of that, he was perfectly able to mask his emotions.

As soon as Dumbledore got to the end for the ode dedicated to him, the potions master stared at Potter for a longer period of time. He didn't think the boy had it in him to sacrifice his life for strangers he hadn't even met. He was James Potter's son, he's bound to be self-aggrandizing and narcissistic. His recent actions were a testament to that.

There was no doubt that Potter would lord over the fact that he can survive the killing curse twice in a row over everyone else he found inferior to him.

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Remus Lupin was afraid of many things. The full moon, family, and friends. He feared that all his relationships would end. If people knew of his affliction, He knew they would leave without condition. Some of his fears were unfounded, As he found himself supported, By friends dearly beloved, And a wife that loved him dearly. He left behind a son, A son who would understand That they fought to protect his future And time would be his suture. Lupin's fears stem From Things out of his control He soon found that they were unfounded And found himself beloved.

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Harry had gone still as soon as the Headmaster resumed reading the ode. One of the few people who genuinely liked him would die because of him.

What could have happened for his father's best friend to die?

"Pr-professor Lupin?"

"It's not your fault Harry." Remus was quick to assure the boy. "I fought in the first war against Voldemort and that alone has painted a target on my back."

"B-but."

"But nothing." Sirius returned to his human form and engulfed his godson in a hug. "Remember what Remus said earlier, what Voldemort does is exclusively his fault."

"Sirius Black!" Most of the adults shouted, interrupting Dumbledore's reading of the ode midway through.

"Get away from Potter Black!" Professor Mcgonagall pointed her wand at the escaped convict.

"I have to agree with Minerva, Black." Amelia Bones cautiously approached the group. "If you know what's best for you you're going to leave the boy and surrender yourself."

"He is innocent!" Hermoine stood in front of her best friend's godfather. "Peter Pettigrew was the one who sold Harry's parents out."

"Hermoine!"

"Granger!"

"Looks like it was Black himself who put a confundus charm on the Goblet of Fire and apparently he also succeeded in putting the girl under the confundus charm as well." Moody snarled. "Likely to finish what the Dark Lord has started.

Moody fired off a red orb from his wand at Sirius, which Remus was quick to block.

"Professor Moody!" Mcgonagall exclaimed. "We do not attack unprovoked."

"Looks like Lupin is helping a fugitive," Moody growled, ignoring Mcgonagall's reaction.

"Do not get the wrong idea, Moody." Remus narrowed his eyes as he stood in front of the Granger. "You initiated an unprovoked attack when a student was in front of Sirius."

"Hermoine's right." Ron stood up. "Sirius Black is innocent."

"Ronald!" Molly gasped. "You sit down right now!" She demanded.

"It was Scabbers mum." Ron answered. "He turned out to be Peter Pettigrew." He admitted.

"The reason Sirius escaped Azkaban was to kill Pettigrew because he recognized him on one of the photographs you have had in Egypt Mrs. Weasley." Hermoine informed.

"That can't be." Crouch gasped. "Sirius Black killed Pettigrew alongside 12 muggles. The pieces of evidence were overwhelming."

"Are you gambling with Diggory's life right now?" Hermoine exclaimed. "Honestly, remember what the ode to Diggory said, a traitorous rat had other plans." She gestured towards Cedric. "Are you telling me that you'll take chances with Diggory's life just to deny the probability of Pettigrew's survival?"

"Hermoine calm down." Harry pulled on his best friend's robes.

"No I won't Harry." Hermoine shook his head. "I've seen your face when Diggory's ode was read Harry, I can't just sit by and let you wallow in grief and guilt."

"You know she's right mate." Ron nodded. "I was also able to hear what you and Professor Lupin were talking about earlier."

"I appreciate what you're doing Hermoine, Ron but this is my fight." Sirius placed a hand on their shoulder. "I can't have school children defending me." He smiled at the fourth year Gryffindor. "Why don't you two sit down now?"

Both Hermoine and Ron nodded and followed the request.

"We will have words later Ronald." Molly hissed.

"Headmaster Karkaroff?" Dumbledore prompted.

"There were a lot of Blacks with the Dark Lord." Durmstrang's headmaster stated. "I believe one of the youngest was named Regulus Black."

"My younger brother." Sirius growled.

"I believe I haven't heard of a Sirius Black." Igor Karkaroff shook his head. "Regulus Black was killed sometime before the Dark Lord fell."

"What about a Peter Pettigrew?" Remus questioned.

"His name rings familiar, I heard a few Death Eaters were displeased with someone named Peter." Karkaroff admitted.

"When you submitted those names, why haven't you stated a Pettigrew?" Crouch challenged.

"Because I was not sure, the Dark Lord had many allies unknown to me." Karkaroff answered.

"Tell me, Mr. Crouch, is it true that Black here hasn't received any trial?" Amelia put everyone's attention on Crouch.

"The evidence against him was overwhelming." Crouch defended himself. "What was left of Pettigrew was a finger and his bloodied clothes alongside the bodies of all twelve muggles."

"Merlin's Beard that is rubbish!" Amelia growled. "You sent a man to rot in Azkaban without any trial. Even your son received a fair trial after they were caught in the act of using the Cruciatus curse on Alice and Frank Longbottom! Even Headmaster Karkaroff was given a fair trial and you even agreed to his release after he provided a list of potential Death Eaters."

Neville flinched at the mention of his parents.

"The evidence was there! Black wasn't responding to any questioning and he continued to laugh like a madman."

"Excuses!" Amelia growled. "Auror Moody we will have words later for your unprovoked attack which could've harmed the students. Everyone else, stand down."

"But."

"I said stand down!" Amelia repeated.

The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement looked at the escaped convict and looked him in the eye.

"And you Sirius Black, you will surrender yourself for questioning and trial."

"As long as I don't return to Azkaban."

After everyone was settled down, Dumbledore resumed reading the ode dedicated to Lupin.

The tension in the room was very thick. Some students were still processing what happened.

Cedric didn't think that his name would come up in the confrontation earlier, it seems his supposed death is connected to Potter in some way, shape or form. He gulped as his tried to calm himself from all the anxious feeling was getting.

It just didn't sound right to be discussing his inevitable death without his input but he knew he was largely ignorant to everything that has happened last year with Black's escape. It didn't feel right to insert himself into the conversation, despite his fate being discussed.

In response to the confrontation that happened, the Hufflepuffs scooted closer to Cedric as if feeling that the circle they were forming around their golden boy wasn't enough protection for him. Some had even taken to looking around and on the ground, considering Granger's words of a rat being the one to do Cedric in.

Harry gulped as he listened to the rest of the ode to Remus. Not only would Remus die, but he would also orphan a son.

"Harry."

"I can't help it," Harry responded to Sirius's call. "Stupid Voldemort and his stupid war."

"Life's always like that." Remus offered. "We make the most of it."

-----------

A loyal companion to the very end, Who's job was to deliver mail Hedwig went beyond the call of duty And protected her owner, truly She was born to soar and deliver And died as a protector.

--------------

"Who's Hedwig?" Came the question of one Ravenclaw student.

Harry merely clenched his fist at the unfairness of it all.

Why Hedwig?

Everyone close to him was being taken away one by one.

How was that fair?

Hermoine's and Ron's response to the ode was to give physical contact to their best friend. With Hermoine holding on to Harry's clenched fist while Ron hung his arms over Harry's shoulders.

Remus and Sirius scooted closer to Harry, letting him know that his father's best friends will be there for him.

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Wisdom in spades Intentions in shades. Greater good was his mantra It was one of his centra. Albus Dumbledore was a Headmaster Also the Elder Wand's master He acted as a mentor and confidant, This gained him a lot of covenants. He founded the Order of the Phoenix, To combat the ever-changing helix. The Dark Lord has introduced, Philosophies he induced, That lead to a war that reduced. In the end, Dumbledore's intentions were pure, That, all of us are sure Questionable, his actions maybe, It couldn't be denied that he wanted this war to cease and for everyone to live in peace.

------------

Everyone was silent as Dumbledore himself read the ode dedicated to him. No one could fathom that the most powerful wizard in their time would die.

Some adults despaired that the war against Voldemort would be twice as hard without Dumbledore leading the charge against the Dark Lord.

No one can deny the disadvantage they'll be at once Hogwarts's Headmaster is out of the picture.

Harry on the other hand had gone paler than he already was. As far as he knew, Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time and none other than he can repel Voldemort. If he's out of the picture, who's going to make Hogwarts safe? Who's going to protect everyone from the Death Eaters and Voldemort?

Dumbledore took a few moments to process what he just read.

Hogwarts's headmaster surveyed everyone's reaction to his future demise. He understood everyone's reservation with regards to the war Voldemort would wage the second time without him there to lead the charge. He could see everyone flinching and wincing at the idea of his demise.

It had been said that Hogwarts was the safest place in Britain as Dumbledore stayed in the school, which Voldemort wouldn't dare.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am neither immortal nor infallible," Dumbledore declared. "As such, like everyone else, I also bow to death." He shook his dead. "But to a well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"Sir…"

"I am only a man Harry. I am no god." Dumbledore shook his head. "Like everyone else, I too would join everyone else who's died."

"But sir, what about Voldemort?" Harry questioned.

Almost everyone flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, in fact, they've done so ever since the Headmaster started reading the ode dedicated to the fallen.

"I believe everyone here is capable of defeating Voldemort, Harry," Dumbledore assured. "I believe the Ministry and everyone present will bring about the peace that we all desire."

There was a few moments of silence as everyone processed everything that has happened so far from Harry's name getting ejected from the Goblet of Fire to the reading of the ode. It truly was an eventful Halloween night, even more eventful than the last three years.

------------

Cheery, clumsy, snarky and a bit zany That's what Nymphadora Tonks was to many Sweet, Loving and Caring, She was to Remus Lupin after marrying. She hated her given name with a passion, She'd hex even in the middle of action, If you're caught referring to her name You'd best apologize before you go in flames. She left behind a son, Who, no doubt, she'd love, She fought for his future, So he may prosper, Without a Dark Lord looming over. Tonks fought for love and peace, Something the Dark Lord doesn't have a piece, It didn't matter that she and Lupin left him, Because she knew others will love him for them.

------------

"Not my daughter." Both parental Tonks gasped as they listened to the ode dedicated to her daughter.

They seemingly tuned out everything after their daughter's name was mentioned as the both of them comforted each other.

Nymphadora Tonks on the other hand looked at her supposed husband and she couldn't deny the probable reasons why her future self was partially attracted to him, to the point of getting married.

As the both of them had yet to interact with each other, Tonks will have to see where everything would go. She maybe clumsy but she didn't get Os in her OWLs and NEWTs for being a fool and naïve.

For now, Remus and Tonks gave acknowledging nods at each other.

Sirius kept on elbowing his best friend.

"Will you stop that Padfoot?!" Remus hissed at his best friend. "Could you read the room for once in your life?!"

"Where's the fun in that Moony?" Sirius grinned. "I'm just happy that you were able to find love despite years of denying that."

"I don't know what my future self was thinking Sirius, but I assure you I will think things thoroughly so that there won't be any implications, I am not risking anyone else from my affliction."

"You do that." Sirius gave a toothy smile.

"Starting with knowing whether my children would inherit my sickness."

Harry, for his part, was busy wallowing in guilt. He caused a kid to be orphaned, not just any kid but his father's best friend's son would be orphaned because of him.

"Harry." Hermoine gripped on her best friend's hand tighter. "Remember what Professor Lupin said."

"She's right mate." Ron nodded as he squeezed his best friend's shoulder. "What Voldemort and his followers do, is entirely their fault and not yours. You've gotta remember that."

"Easy for you to say!" Harry growled. "You're not the living with everyone's blood on your hands."

"Harry!" Hermoine exclaimed.

"Tell me, Harry." Remus immediately took charge. "Did you kill any of the people mentioned in the ode?"

"No." Harry sagged.

"Have you wished for them to die?"

"No." Harry shook his head." Only wished that they'd stop hounding me and leave me alone most of the time." He admitted.

"Now who killed them?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know, Voldemort, Death Eaters?"

"Did you ask them to kill the people on the list?"

"No."

"Then why do you think every death listed in the scroll is your fault?" Remus questioned.

"Because everyone is dying for me to live," Harry screamed. "I never asked for this, I didn't want this."

"Oh, you sweet boy." Molly engulfed her son's best friend in a hug. "You are in no way to blame for all the deaths." She assured Harry. "Now remember what I'm going to say alright Harry? You are in no way at fault for anything that Voldemort and his death eaters do."

"What about Fred?" Harry looked at the Weasley matriarch.

"What about-"

"-Gred Harry?"

The Weasley twins finished each other's sentences.

"You died because of me." Harry looked at the floor, still in Mrs. Weasley's embrace. "Because Voldemort wanted me."

The twins looked at each other, as if trying to assure the young boy and to diffuse the tension in the room.

"If you-know-who and his band of baboons can do us in," George stated.

"Then I reckon that's on them and not you." Fred finished.

"I reckon you-know-who's a big fan of yours Harry, don't you think so Gred?" George grinned.

"Right you are Forge, I reckon he could give Ginny here a run for her galleons." Fred nodded.

"She hasn't even started chasing after Harry like a niffler chasing after anything shiny." George chuckled.

"Hey!" Ginny indignantly replied. "I wasn't that bad."

"Right you are sister dear!" Fred gave a hearty laugh.

"That's why you-know-who has you beat." George and Fred finished while grinning from ear to ear.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as his lips curled upwards at the Weasley twins' jokes. He could see that everyone was drowning in grief for the supposed fates of some of the people in the room due to Voldemort's return. He could even see some teachers smile at the jokes the twins made.

You could even see both Sirius and Remus, master pranksters during their time in Hogwarts, chuckling at the jokes the twins made.

Some of the students couldn't help but chuckle at the jokes the twins made, it made for a good breaking point from the gloomy atmosphere the room was taking.

A few students adorned sad smiles. They had realized how big of a loss it would be for the wizarding world to lose the Weasley twins.

Some of the older Hufflepuff students, who had known Tonks before she graduated also realized what a loss it would be for the wizarding world to lose her. She was one of the more cheery people in Hogwarts and losing her would mean that the wizarding world would be a dimmer place than it already was.

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Sirius Black was always Sirius. As a Marauder, he was always not serious. Easy going, and a joker. That's what he and the marauders were after. Everything changed when his best friends were killed, A treacherous rat forced him a cell to fill. A simple explosion seemed to fit the bill. Transfiguring himself to escape, The dementor-filled hellscape. Once escaped however He took a vow forever, Be there for his godson Like how his best friend's parents treated him as a son. He once had other plans, To fillet the rat in a pan If not for his godson's nobility He'd have truly been a murderer in reality.

-----------

"Sirius." Harry whimpered.

"It's alright Harry, it's not your fault."

"How is any of this fair?!" Harry sobbed.

"Oh sod off Potter." One Draco Malfoy scoffed. "Not everything revolves around you."

"Easy for you to say Malfoy." Harry glared at the Slytherin. "It's not like you're the one who Voldemort chose to kill that Halloween night." He scoffed.

"I bet you can't even face a Death Eater head-on." Ron joked.

"And no Slytherin was in the ode." Hermoine pointed out. "Except for Professor Snape."

"Children, let's not engage in these childish displays." Professor Mcgonagall called everyone to order.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco sneered.

"You will find at times that life is unfair Harry." Remus knelt in front of his former student. "We just learn how to cope with the unfairness of it all."

"Did it hurt? Losing mum and dad?" Harry questioned his father's best friend.

"It definitely hurt," Sirius replied. "Especially considering how I was indirectly responsible for their deaths." The Black heir sighed. "If I hadn't suggested to make myself a decoy and have Pettigrew be the actual secret keeper for James and Lilly, you wouldn't have to live with your muggle relatives."

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

"No Harry." Remus shook his head. "The hurt we feel after losing your parents will always be with us."

"We just learn how to cope with it." Sirius supplied. "Remember what I told you that night?"

"The ones that love us never really leave us." Harry quoted as he clutched his chest.

"Always remember that Harry."

Ron and Hermoine looked at their best friend with worry, as far as they knew, Harry always takes the blame for everything, even the things out of his control.

That's not even considering how much of a hero-complex Harry's got.

"Just know mate that you are never at fault to the deaths listed there." Ron patted his best friend's shoulders. "Altho, if you ever kill Malfoy, I wouldn't blame you either."

"Ronald!" Came the immediate response from Mrs. Weasley and Hermoine.

"I have to say, killing the rat would probably prevent some of the deaths mentioned in the ode." Sirius stated out loud.

"I have to agree." Remus nodded. "But Harry is a much better person than we are."

"I just don't want my parents' best friends to become murderers." Harry tried to justify his actions. "If I had known that would lead to someone getting killed in the process…"

"We are not saying it's a bad thing." Sirius shook his head. "We are saying that you are a better man for it."

"But Diggory, he…."

"You're a good bloke Harry." Cedric exclaimed. "But I don't think it's fair to blame yourself for the things you-know-who, or his followers, has done or will do."

"The boy himself has spoken Harry." Remus consoled. "Let go of the guilt for something that has yet to happen." He rubbed the boy's back. "As Diggory once declared, nothing is set in stone, we can still change things."

-----------

Ted Tonks was Eden's apple, To a family of pure-blooded people. He was a good father and husband, Even when his wife's family acted like a baboon band. And agreed with the unfortunate name of his daughter. As he was on the run, Due to the propaganda, Introduced by Voldemort. He protected a child, From the Dark Lord. A muggle-born he may be, A decent man is all you can see. Loving as a family man Hero to everyone.

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"Dad?" The young Tonks looked at her father in alarm.

"With you-know-who returning, I'm surprised I wasn't killed off immediately." Ted Tonks shrugged. "He has painted a target on every muggle-born's back."

"Edward!" Came Andromeda's immediate response.

"It's inevitable 'Meda." Ted cupped his wife's face. "You know what he's like, his hatred for muggles and muggle-borns alike."

"Doesn't mean I would like for you to die on me!" Andromeda growled while putting her husband's hands away from her face.

"I don't like the thought of leaving you either," Ted admitted. "But the thought of your death hinges on me being near you scares me."

"Edward Tonks, are you implying that I can't defend myself?" Andromeda hissed.

"Even the most powerful wizards fall to death no matter how proficient they are 'Meda." Ted countered. "I don't want the cause of your death to be me."

"Am I just going to let you die in some dark place then?" Andromeda rebutted. "I know I am safe for I am a pureblood but that's what I'm here for you, to protect you from that madman."

"Mum! Dad!" Tonks yelled. "You can continue your argument later, children are watching."

Both parental Tonks looked at their daughter before looking at their audience. They had the decency to blush at their argumentative display.

"I love you Edward Tonks and I can't bear to live knowing that you'd be dying without me there to fight for your life."

"I love you 'Meda but our daughter's right we should continue this outside of children's ears and eyes."

"Eden's apple?" Came the question of some of the purebloods in the room.

"In the muggle world, different theories surround the creation of our world," Hermoine spoke up. "One of which is the creation mentioned in one of the muggle religions wherein a being of higher power created the world as a garden and the first man and woman to step on Earth were tempted to eat an apple from a forbidden tree."

"Was the woman's name Eden then?" Arthur asked curiously.

"No, it was the name of the garden." Hermoine shook her head.

"You're talking about the creation of the world in the book of Genesis aren't you?" Ted questioned.

"Yes." Hermoine nodded.

"Thought so." Ted smiled. "If I'm the apple, then who's Adam, Eve, and the snake?"

"I don't know," Hermoine shook her head. "It has been awhile since I read the Angelican bible myself. If I were to hazard a guess, Eve would be your wife and you yourself could double as Adam."

"Double? There's two of him?"

"No Ron, it's a figure of speech between muggles," Hermoine shook her head. "It just means that Mr. Tonks represents the apple and Adam from the story of creation at the same time."

"We're going to read that story of creation after this is over Ted." Andromeda declared. "I'm rather curious as to how we relate to the characters and symbols in that story."

"You've got a fiery mother-in-law Moony." Sirius chuckled as he elbowed his best friend. "Be careful with Andromeda, she's got one hell of a temper even rivalling that of my mother's."

"She's not about to yell at everything that displeases her like your mother. Would she?" Remus questioned.

"While she could rival dear old mummy's temper, she's mellow in her approach." Sirius hummed.

"You know, if you would marry her daughter, you and I would really be family mate." Sirius smiled."

"That remains to be seen Sirius." Remus shook his head. "I need to know if my affliction could be passed on to my children or even infect my spouse." He admitted. "Until then, I need to stay away from relationships."

"Who did he try to protect?" Came Harry's inquiry.

"I don't think you were involved in Mr. Tonks's death," Hermoine answered Harry's question. "The previous odes specifically, or at least implicitly, stated you when they died, including Professor Snape's and Sirius's." She continued. "Mr. Tonks was probably protecting a muggle-born student, also on the run, from Voldemort."

"You?" Ron questioned.

"I don't think it's me." Hermoine shook her head. "If it was me, then it would probably go the way Colin's ode went, referring to Harry implicitly."

"But what if your names are going to be next?"

"I'm always going to be a target of Voldemort's Harry." Hermoine offered. "Being a muggle-born."

"Besides remember what mum told you, you are not in any way responsible if Hermoine and I were to die." Ron reiterated his mother's words.

"Oi! What about us?!" The Weasley twins called out.

-----------

A boy strayed by family of prejudice, Following the family's tradition of malice. Regulus Black served dutifully as the Dark Lord's vassal, Until something happened that he cancelled. Discovered how atrocious the Dark Lord at the crux, The making of the darkest artifact – a Horcrux. He recovered the artifact, replaced it as a matter of fact, Rebelling against the Voldemort He didn't even end up in a morgue. Killed for his defiance, But gave everyone a chance.

----------

"Wait, what?" Sirius questioned loudly upon hearing his younger brother's name. "Why's a death eater in that list?" He growled.

"Sirius! That's your brother!" Andromeda hissed.

"Yeah, well a brother who willingly joined Voldemort."

"Let Professor Dumbledore finish the ode Sirius." Remus suggested. "I'm sure we'll know the reason why your brother, who we know was a death eater, is in this."

Dumbledore simply raised an eyebrow at the reaction but he was also curious why a known death eater was part of the ode. Severus was a death eater that spied on the Dark Lord, the ode had explicitly stated.

He had to wonder, what was the case for Regulus Black?

Sirius's eyes widened as he listened to the ode dedicated to his younger brother. He let the old headmaster finish it before he reacted accordingly.

"He defected?" Sirius exclaimed in disbelief. "He died because he defected and stole from the Dark Lord?"

"Apparently so." Remus nodded.

"Was my mother aware of this?"

Sirius looked at his cousin, Andromeda, as if asking if she knew about this particular fact. At the shake of her head, he confirmed that no one was aware of his younger brother's treachery on the Dark Lord's side.

"Kreacher would probably be aware Sirius." Andromeda offered. "You know how kind Regulus was to that nasty house-elf."

"I'd suggest asking the house-elf until after the reading." Remus immediately interjected. "It won't do good if muggle-borns and half-bloods were to be subjected to Kreacher's views.

Sirius had the decency to wince at the remark of his family's house-elf.

"Galloping Gargoyles! A Horcrux!" Crouch exclaimed. "He made a Horcrux!"

"What's a Horcrux?" Came Harry's query.

A few of the adults in the room flinched at the inquiry, none of them were comfortable explaining a dark artifact such as a Horcrux while the others, the students included, looked to them with curiosity not knowing how vile a Horcrux really was.

"A Horcrux is an object where a witch or wizard has hidden a fragment of their soul, tethering them to life, essentially making them immortal," Bill answered. "I guess the making of the Horcrux proves that you-know-who can still return."

"William Arthur Weasley!" Molly exclaimed.

"They need to know mum," Bill argued. "If people are ignorant of that simple fact, then people will not believe that you-know-who could ever return."

"The only way to kill someone who has a Horcrux is to destroy the Horcrux themselves before the main body." Madam Bones interjected. "If you-know-who has hidden his Horcrux, killing him permanently, would be difficult."

"I fear Voldemort has made multiple Horcruxes." Dumbledore admitted. "I am not sure as to how many has he made so far I'm only aware of two."

"M-multiple?!" Bagman exclaimed. "Merlin's beard! Has he gone mad?!"

"You-know-who can stomach killing children and toddlers, he can stomach making Horcruxes." Professor Snape sneered.

"I believe this discussion can wait," Molly interjected. "There are children here."

"Before we move on," Amelia spoke up. "Professor Dumbledore, you said you were aware of two, could you tell me of those and were they destroyed before this day?"

"One was destroyed," Dumbledore admitted. "As for the second one, it's rather complicated."

"How so?" Hermoine inquired.

"No." Charlie gasped.

"That only meant that you-know-who has made a Horcrux out of a living being." Bill's eyes widened.

"A slimy snake to the core," Sirius growled in disgust. "He knew that we wouldn't kill an innocent just to end his reign."

The students looked at each other, unsure how to process the info that was dumped on them.

"Every ministry official present shall discuss this with you Professor Dumbledore once this even is concluded." Amelia declared. "I would like to prevent the innocent casualties of this war and end it as soon as we can."

------------

A house-elf who only wanted to protect Harry Potter from a threat that was erected Dobby offered protection in the most roundabout way, Aiming to steal, injure and maim just to get his way. While the life-threatening situations were unwarranted, The intention of those actions was appreciated. It got him freed from his master, Making him a free house-elf, offering help faster. As his own master, he aided his friend, Which ultimately got him to his end To escape captivity From Voldemort's activity.

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"D-dobby?" Harry whimpered.

"Bloody Hell!" Ron cussed.

"Oh, Harry."

Hermoine and Ron hugged their best friend.

The both of them knew how important Dobby was to Harry despite the house-elf's actions towards him during their second year.

The three of them knew that Dobby died to save them, or at the very least to save Harry from Voldemort's clutches.

"It's alright mate." Ron comforted his best friend. "We're here for you."

Harry simply nodded as he sagged himself under his best friend's embrace.

Draco was a bit stunned that his family's former house-elf was listed in the ode. He was confused as to why Dobby was freed from their services and his father didn't elaborate enough to decipher the actual reason for the house-elf's freedom.

"That explains things." Draco hissed. "Potter freed our family's house-elf."

"Does your father know about this?" Parkinson questioned.

"Most likely, he was in a foul mood when he delivered that news to us." Draco nodded.

"What can you expect from him? He's friends with a mudblood." Parkinson hissed.

Remus and Sirius looked at their best friend's son with worry. Most of the people listed in the ode were people close to him or were involved in some way, shape, or form. They think that any more of this would break him.

"Is it wise to continue Remus?" Sirius asked. "Just look at Harry."

"I don't know Sirius, seeing Harry like this breaks my heart," Remus admitted. "Most of the people listed in that ode Dumbledore's reading are people close to Harry, or he was involved during their demise.

"Professor, how many names are left to be read?" Remus asked out loud.

"Four more Remus." Dumbledore replied.

"Can this continue tomorrow?" Sirius asked. "I think everyone needs a bit of time to process everything that we've heard tonight."

"Don't be too soft on Potter, Lupin." Professor Snape scoffed. "Besides, four odes are left on the scroll, its imperative that we let everyone process everything in one go rather than divide it making another day dreadful for the people."

"Professor Snape has a point." Professor Sprout nodded. "It'd be beneficial for them, in the long run, to hear everything now rather than create more dreadful days for the students, that way they'll have time to process and heal." She stated. "Although I won't use such heartless language on a student."

"Heartless?" Professor Snape challenged.

"Calm down Professor Snape." Professor Sprout admonished. "Every teacher and staff know of your disdain for the boy." She rolled her eyes. "So yes heartless, if you had been properly observing Potter you'd have seen the clear distress he's showing."

"I-it's fine, let's continue." Harry managed to find his voice.

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Fair, Just and Uncompromising This Department head was promising Law Enforcement was her game Bribery and Trickery was her bane. Amelia Bones was an amazing Department Head. She's what Dark Witches and Wizards dread. One of the many reasons why she was among the first, To be killed in the Dark Lord's Immortality thirst. Murdered, she may be, Among the first casualties we see, But she was among who the Dark Lord feared. The threat she posed would put a stop to all his dreams, he supposed. Hence she was opposed and killed in her home.

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"Auntie?" Susan looked at her aunt in distress.

Amelia immediately engulfed her niece in a hug and comforted her in a way

"I am such a threat huh." Amelia couldn't help but smirk at the circumstance of her death.

"You seem calm Amelia." Arthur asked.

"I'm the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Amelia shrugged. "It's not like I want to die, but rather it's an expected move by the opposition."

"Does that mean?" Susan managed to whimper out.

"Yes, Susan." Amelia nodded.

"But I don't want to lose you, I already lost mum and dad."

"I promise to be careful."

Amelia rubbed her niece's back in an attempt to comfort and console the young girl.

One thing was for certain, while she knew that her time in this world would be limited but if every adult present would work together to stop the Dark Lord from ever returning then not only will her life be saved but also the lives of the innocents who died so young and all the people listed in the ode.

"I must state the urgency of the meeting we will have right after this." Amelia declared.

Every adult in the area nodded their heads.

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Excitement and Joy You'd think he received a toy. His first bout of adventure Was meeting a deep water creature That was even before he was sorted To brave Gryffindors where his brother was first posted. Dennis Creevey was a lot like his brother Excited with magic all over Not all is what it seems however As magic also dimmed his life forever He sneaked into the battle Despite the teachers' prattle He fought alongside his brother Protected some others When he saw his brother's corpse lay Was when the floor gave way Fallen to pits unknown His body, nowhere known.

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Everyone's eyes widened at the mention of the other Creevey. Not only will Colin die, so would his younger brother.

Colin immediately held unto his younger brother as tight as he could. He refused to let go of his hold on his Dennis only loosening it enough not to hurt the younger Creevey.

Not to mention Colin's younger brother got the short end of the stick, falling to somewhere unknown, his body never found.

That's not even mentioning how the younger Creevey died right after seeing his older brother's dead body.

Dennis on the other hand gulped. Both he and his brother were going to die, as students of the school. Was magic really so fascinating as he and his brother thought if their lives would end before they could even experience the world of magic to its fullest?

"Colin? Are we going to die?" Dennis asked his older brother. "Are we leaving mum and dad?"

Dennis knew that it was a bit unfair to ask his older brother that question. He just can't properly process that he and his brother were going to die to so young, so soon.

Colin looked at Dennis and contemplated how to respond to his younger brother's question.

The elder Creevey found it hard to process that his younger brother would share his fate.

Suddenly the Creevey brothers found themselves engulfed in an embrace, courtesy of one Molly Weasley.

Both Creevey brothers tensed up, they thought Diggory was the first one to die, but what if this is how it would go?

The Creevey brothers held unto each other tightly, refusing to let go of each other.

No amount of optimism could save them from this.

"You boys don't worry about all that." Molly comforted the boys. "Let the adults handle everything, all you should be worrying about are your exams, OWLs and NEWTs."

"Mum! They're only third and first years, don't you think so Fred?" George called out.

"Right you are George, a bit early for them to be thinking of the OWLS." Fred snickered.

"The both of you hush!" Percy admonished. "Can't you see our mother is trying to comfort the children?"

Harry, Hermoine, Ted, and some muggle-borns and muggle-raised children winced at Molly's maternal nature. They knew she meant well for the children but the rise of child abductions and murders meant that the kids thought that they were going to die right here and now.

Ted immediately stood up and approached Molly while Hermoine approached the Creevey brothers.

"Mrs. Weasley, please don't take this the wrong way, but could you remove yourself from the boys?" Ted requested.

"Can't you see that these boys are distressed?" Molly glared at Ted. "Most of the children listed in that ode have someone to comfort the child, apart from these boys."

"I know." Ted nodded. "There's just this muggle concept about strangers," He sighed. "I know you came from a place of maternal comfort but these boys also have muggle teachings ingrained into them, particularly regarding strangers."

"What does that mean?"

"Any adult, who children barely know and approached them with any sliver of kindness especially when that level of kindness is unwarranted, would no doubt abduct the children," Ted gestured towards the Creeveys. "Just look at the boys, some might think that the way they were tensing up as soon as you hugged them was a result of the ode that listed their names, yes its one of the things why they were tensing up, but considering the muggle teachings the two of them are probably thinking that this would be the moment where they die." He bluntly finished.

"I'm hardly a stranger to these children!" Molly indignantly replied. "Ginny is in Colin's year."

"Has Colin ever seen you as you picked Ginny every end of term?" Ted questioned.

"What about Harry?" Arthur questioned.

"Actually Mr. Weasley, I was the one who approached Mrs. Weasley." Harry admitted. "I asked her how to get to Platform nine and three quarters."

"It also depends on the child, these kids clearly show signs of distress, and someone they barely know tries to comfort them." Hermoine helpfully supplied.

"Merlin's beard!" Molly immediately let go of the boys. "Didn't know that the muggles are having those kinds of problems."

"It's not surprising that no one in the wizarding world, especially purebloods, don't know about stranger-danger," Ted shrugged. "Almost everyone here is related to each other, everyone's hardly a stranger."

"Stranger danger?" Andromeda asked.

"Muggle children are being abducted and/or killed since the year 1980," Ted answered his wife. "Every muggle child were taught these kinds of things as soon as they're old enough to attend muggle schools."

"You still keep up with muggle happenings?" Amelia asked.

"The Wizarding World may be separate but we are still obligated to function in the muggle world, such as not using magic when in their presence." Ted shrugged.

"Hello, Colin." Hermoine patted the elder Creevey's back.

The Creevey brothers were unresponsive too caught up with their supposed demise to pay attention to their surroundings.

"Colin? Dennis?" Hermoine tried to gain the brothers' attention again.

Colin and Dennis managed to look at Hermoine despite their dazed state. They were still unable to form any coherent verbal responses, too caught up with their thoughts.

"Colin, Dennis please do me a favor," Hermoine decided what the first course of action was. "Name five things you can see."

Colin and Dennis decided to look around the room and began enumerating what they saw at the same time.

"Colin first." Hermoine prompted.

"Chairs, Harry, students, robes, and the walls." Colin enumerated.

"Harry, Goblet of fire, chairs, tables, and robes." Dennis did what was asked.

"Name four things you can feel, this time Dennis goes first."

"Robes, wood, floor, hair." Dennis listed.

"Hair, pants, socks, table." Colin did as instructed.

"Colin, Dennis I had you name those things so that you can confirm for yourselves that you're in Hogwarts, that you're safe here in Hogwarts." Hermoine patted the Creevey brothers' shoulder. "No one is going to kill the two of you."

"How do you know that?"

"Would the teachers and staff, especially Professor Dumbledore, let anything happen to you?" Hermoine questioned.

Dennis and Colin knew the answer immediately. They knew that Hogwarts's teachers won't let anything bad happen to anyone, most especially to them.

Colin knew that because of what he experienced during his first year, Professor Dumbledore himself alongside Professor Mcgonagall placed him in the school's hospital wing to be treated. He might've been petrified but he was conscious from time to time.

Dennis knew his brother won't lie to him, especially when he expressed that particular fear to his brother when he first boarded on the Hogwarts express.

"But the ode…"

"Nothing is set in stone." Cedric sat beside the younger Creevey. "Things have yet to happen," He smiled at the Creevey brothers. "And we're making sure nothing we've heard here would come to pass."

"Pretty boy Diggory is right." The Weasley twins sat beside Colin.

"The ode was sent back in time to warn us." George seconded his twin's statement.

"And hopefully prepare us in the coming days." Fred finished.

Professor Mcgonagall was flabbergasted that she almost dropped the books she got on the floor.

Three of the Gryffindor cubs were surely going to perish in the coming days if things weren't rectified immediately and she won't stand for it.

Hopefully Moody is up to the task at preparing the students for the war that was sure to come, even his motto of constant vigilance would help.

Dumbledore simply shook his head at the loss of life so young. The younger Creevey is probably the youngest casualty in the coming war and that was a sobering thought.

It was already bad enough that the first name listed was one as young as the elder Creevey but to know that his younger brother would share Colin's fate it was just too much to bear.

The Headmaster was confident that his close friend and auror, Alastor Moody, would be up to the task to prepare Hogwarts. He had trained many successful aurors during his tenure as an auror on active duty.

As he let some of the conversations continue among the peanut gallery, Professor Dumbledore read ahead and prepare himself for the next name.

It was saddening to see his close friend's name next but as he continued reading silently, Professor Dumbledore's face warped: a frown was etched on the headmaster's ancient face, eyes were narrowed and a thin line formed on his mouth.

"Amelia, Minerva, Severus, Flitwick please secure Alastor Moody." Dumbledore cut everyone from their conversations.

"Dumbledore! What is the meaning of this?!"

"If you would?" Dumbledore ignored his friend's protest.

"Petrificus Totalus"

"Incarcerous"

Moody blocked the spells coming his way and grabbed a random student from his side, which turned out to be one Marietta Edgecombe, judging from the gasps from the student body.

"Everyone drop your wands." Moody roared. "Or she gets it."

"Enough!" Dumbledore bellowed.

Hogwarts's headmaster wasn't at all deterred from the threat and immediately sent a disarming charm wordlessly at the sudden hostile teacher and freed his hostage from his grasp.

Both Professors Flitwick and Snape sent wordless full body bind curse at Moody to prevent him from harming anyone in the student body.

Professor Mcgonagall wordlessly conjured two pieces of rope from the tip of her wand and restrained Moody's upper and lower limbs.

Professor Dumbledore sent another spell right at his supposed friend and revealed that this Moody was actually someone under the guise of a polyjuice potion.

"Severus, confiscate the flask."

Professor Snape obliged with the order. As soon as he retrieved the flask and took a whiff of its smell. "Polyjuice Potion."

Once the effects of the potion faded out, it revealed one supposedly dead Death Eater.

Bartemius Crouch Jr.

"Galloping Gargoyles!"

"Mr. Crouch?" Amelia glared at the ministry department head. "Why is your supposedly dead son here posing as Auror Moody?"

"Amelia we will continue this after the reading." Professor Dumbledore admonished. "I know there are some questions why I seemed to have ordered to restrain Professor Moody unprovoked, the next ode should shed some light regarding that."

"Well then," Amelia nodded. "Mr. Percy Weasley, could you please retrieve Mr. Crouch's wand for me." She ordered. "It would put me and every adult here at ease if Mr. Crouch does not have access to his wand."

Conflicted to where his loyalties lie, Percy was reluctant to retrieve his boss's wand, but his adherence to the rules won out and obliged the order, to which Mr. Crouch willingly gave to him. He immediately handed the wand to Madam Bones.

"Please continue Professor Dumbledore."

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Stared at the darkness more than once or twice Paranoia has become his vice. "Constant Vigilance" was his motto, It saved his life and others thereto. He died during the battle of the seven Potters, Escorting someone polyjuiced as Harry Potter, Despite the boy's utter disapproval of the plan. Mad-Eye, he was known to everyone who knew him Without him, the world would have been a lot more dim. There was a time his motto worked to his detriment When the Dark Lord ordered one to impersonate him His imposter copied him to great effect Even jumpstarted the Dark Lord's return, unchecked. By making sure Harry Potter's name was ejected, From the Goblet of Fire – An ancient object.

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Everyone looked at Harry as soon as the statement 'battle of the seven Potters' was uttered. It didn't take a genius to know that seven people were polyjuiced as the boy-who-lived and acted as bait while Harry was safely escorted.

That was all forgotten when the person responsible for putting Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire was the man who impersonated Professor Moody.

Everyone gasped as they realized that Harry didn't put his name into the ancient artifact. Most of Hogwarts's student body immediately assumed that Harry has the means to place a confundus charm on a magical object and hog the spotlight.

That belief was cemented when other Gryffindors basically confirmed that statement either through showing their elation that a Gryffindor made it in or in contempt because Harry got in.

It was fortunate for them that not a day has passed since the champion selection averting what could've been them making an arse out of themselves by blaming the Potter for something he has never done.

Ron especially gulped at the reveal, he may have made a prat of himself had he focused more on that fact rather than the ode that was being read to them.

Professor Snape merely sneered at the reveal.

Harry was completely focused on the fact that he probably caused more deaths during the battle of the seven Potters, Professor Moody being one of them.

A lot of people probably died there, maybe that's when Fred died, when Colin died.

"Mate." Ron snapped Harry back to reality. "What did we tell you about blaming yourself?"

"This is different!" Harry exclaimed, guilt gnawing his very being. "Colin and Dennis could've died during that time! Fred could've died during that time! All because they wore my stupid face!"

"Does it help to know that this kind of plan was concocted by Moody himself?" Sirius asked. "Because that Seven Potters plan has Moody's scent all over it."

"I feel you, Freddie." George patted his twin's shoulder, chuckling.

"I'll look like a scrawny specky git forever." Fred exaggeratedly shuddered as he laughed with his twin.

"Be serious you two!" Molly admonished her sons.

"I believe none of your schoolmates would've died there." Remus ignored the jokes. "For this plan to be enacted, the people who'd wear your face would have to be of age so that they can also defend themselves against all attacks."

"A Slytherin-like plan if I do say so myself." Sirius nodded.

"But people still died!" Harry exclaimed.

"They knew the consequences, no one in the order coerces people to do things they don't want to." Remus shook his head. "They knew the risks when they enacted this plan."

"Still…"

"They knew they could die, Harry." Sirius shook his head. "That's the very nature of war, no matter the reason, it just takes the people that we love away from us."

"The people who probably died during that plan would still die even if the seven Potters plan hadn't been concocted," Remus assured. "They died as heroes Harry, they died protecting you."

"That's just it, I don't want anyone dying for me." Harry exclaimed.

Sirius and Remus looked at their best friend's son. They knew that Harry was part of a prophecy that was why James and Lily had to hide in the first place. They knew many people would die for Harry because of that very reason.

As much as they want to tell the boy of that reason, they couldn't, in good conscience, do it. The boy would probably take it badly.

"Just remember, Harry the people listed in the ode, including my younger brother who joined Voldemort, are the Wizarding World's heroes." Sirius rubbed his godson's back.

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Casualties were many during the wars Many of whom were innocent by far. No idea of the war they were involved in Ignorant of the ideals against them. Some died as heroes who protected, The people who were neglected. Muggles who gained the Dark Lord's ire Ignited the heroes' protective fire. Fighting what they think was right In protection of others, with might. Others who had a greater sense of self-preservation, Something that Gryffindors need to be taught with vocation Died on the run, hoping to outrun the Death Eaters Even if the circumstances were worse than any eaters. Others died after defecting Hoping to escape the inevitable ejecting. Alas they failed But their sacrifices has derailed The Dark Lord's plan from fruition Even if they were without recognition. And others may view it as dying in cowardice Worse than dying with avarice. I will say this in explicit No one really wins in wars Both sides lose so far Both sides suffer casualties Both sides suffer injuries This is for the Departed For all factions that interacted Voldemort's, Grindelwald's, Dumbledore's Hoping that future generations learn From mistakes we earned. For the departed May your lessons that have imparted, Would bring us to a bright and hopeful future And in time heal our wounds and would-be sutures.

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Everyone, Slytherin students included, couldn't help but agree with the sentiment that there really was no winner in wars and some of them agreed with the sentiment that Gryffindors needed to be taught a sense of self-preservation.

Even erHerHermoine wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment, even if she was also guilty for that particular trait herself.

The concluding ode implied that there were more casualties apart from the ones listed previously. Casualties on both Voldemort's and Dumbledore's sides, even from people who were largely ignorant of the conflict because they were unaware about magic or otherwise.

"That's the last of the odes." Dumbledore announced.

"I believe we should dismiss the students, let them process what they just heard." Madam Pomfrey suggested.

"That's a fine idea," Amelia agreed. "While the adults in the room are to meet at the Headmaster's office."

"If I may," Professor Snape spoke up. "Where do we deposit the impostor and his father?"

"I'd like for them to be in the Headmaster's office as well, I would like to interrogate them myself." Amelia voiced out.

"Heads of houses and prefects please escort the students back in their common rooms," Dumbledore instructed. "Once done, the prefects are to perform their duties as usual, earlier than normal while the heads of houses will reconvene with us in my office."

With that instruction delivered, the prefects and heads of houses escorted the other students back in their room, some were silently trying to process anything and everything that happened recently.

"Remember Harry, nothing is your fault." Sirius assured the Potter.

"Everything is Voldemort's fault, alright." Remus doubled down on that assurance.

"Rest assured, we will make that clear to your git of a Potion's teacher." Sirius grinned.

"He's a Professor Sirius, give him the respect he deserves."

"He may be a Professor but he's still Snivellus." Sirius scoffed.

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"What did you mean of that second Horcrux Headmaster?" Amelia questioned the headmaster.

"Harry Potter is Voldemort's unintended Horcrux." Dumbledore revealed.

"Are you certain Albus?" Professor Mcgonagall gasped.

"The reveal that Harry Potter was a parsel mouth cemented that fact, as we know, Parselmouths only exists in the families of Parselmouths."

"Like the metamorphmagi's ability to transform at will." Andromeda nodded.

"Lily was a muggle-born, and no Potter has been a Parselmouth before." Sirius nodded.

"Merlin's beard." Molly gasped.

"I take it that this means that Potter needs to die," Professor Snape inquired. "A swine raised for the slaughter."

"Voldemort cannot harm Harry, however." Dumbledore shook his head.

"The only way to destroy the Horcrux that's inside young Harry is to kill him." Professor Snape remarked.

"Either by ourselves or through the hands of the Death Eaters." Percy remarked.

Everyone looked at the unconscious Crouches.

"Percy!" Molly gasped.

"I think we should look for other ways," Bill interjected. "I'll try asking the Goblins."

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Due to the nature of the champion selection for the Triwizard Tournament, and the subsequent foreboding ode that came soon after, Headmaster Dumbledore and Department Head bones agreed that some aurors should be stationed at the school.

With the reveal of Harry's status as a Horcrux, Bill was charged with researching about Horcruxes, and how to destroy one without killing the host, with one step in mind, asking the goblins.

Professors Mcgonagall and Sprout in turn proposed that Remus Lupin should return to Hogwarts as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, which also gained the blessing of Department Head Bones.

Professor Flitwick proposed the reinstatement of the mandatory attendance of the Dueling club by the students, with him and Lupin as teachers, to further improve everyone's dueling skills and add more spells to their arsenal.

The Triwizard Tournament went as planned, with four champions, they were also given special instruction by the freed and recently declared innocent, Sirius Black.

Without Bartemius Crouch jr. making the Triwizard Cup a portkey near the Riddle estate, both Cedric and Viktor were able to reach the cup first, but the standoff between boys were interrupted when they saw Harry appear within their line of vision.

With them focused on Harry, Fleur was able to run past the boys and claim victory for herself, making her the Triwizard Tournament winner.

Amelia soon found out why Harry was handpicked to enter the Triwizard Tournament. It's to use Harry as an ingredient for a dark potion to give Voldemort his body back.

This revelation has delayed Voldemort's return, Madame Bones immediately commissioned the services of every Auror to storm the Riddle estate in an attempt to arrest or even kill the Dark Lord.

Voldemort still managed to return but he returned to Wizarding Britain that is ready to face the threat he posed.

#cedric diggory #colin creevey #Dennis Creevey #fred weasley #harry potter #story #there is a lot of characters lol #like wow #caannot tag them all #ode of the future

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