#Drawing her in hopes of luck with pulls next banner!!

[minart-was-taken]

I can fix her probably

[pirateprincessblog]

prefects and t(h)reats

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you haven't been lurking the castle at night since the day you cost your house a lot of points and the slytherin prefect scolded you. long enough has passed, and you might want to start doing that again. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k words 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: harry potter universe, slytherin!seonghwa, hufflepuff!reader, smut, bit of angst (seonghwa being a piece of shit(basic slytherin) towards the reader and her friends) 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: spanking, hair pulling, choking, finger sucking, fingering, oral (f!receiving), voyeurism, unprotected sex, semi-public?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: idk, cursing i guess 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: something got fucked in the process of posting this so if you see any repeating paragraphs do let me know my eyes aren't working anymore :D !everyone is of age, regardless of the year they are in. also, i may or may not have a finger sucking kink or whatever you call that :) also, i so did NOT use a twd negan reference here. just ignore that.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"ugh! that snape will be the reason i get sent to azkaban, mark my words! i spent ages trying to perfect that mood colour changing sweater, and he just confiscated- wait, what?"

"what, what is it?"

"did our bloody house points get deducted again?"

just your luck, you need to pass by them to get to your next class. you wish you had perfected the disillusionment charm, it would be very helpful right now.

"you."

ignoring the voice that speaks clearly to you, you hug your books to your chest and quicken your pace, attempting to ascend the stone stairs and vanish into the divination classroom. suddenly, your elbows are seized by two familiar pairs of hands, drawing you back to stand before the house points display. indeed, the hourglass under the hufflepuff banner is noticeably less full than it was just the day before. and it may or may not be your fault. again.

"listen to me, honeydukes." wayne, your fellow housemate warns.

"don't call me that!" you still struggle to understand how you acquired that nickname, especially since you rarely visit honeydukes these days. that habit faded after your teeth nearly succumbed to decay from all the cotton candy and chocolate frogs.

"if you keep this up, you are going to be the reason i end up in azkaban. got it?" he points a finger at your face, causing you to stumble back.

"you have a week to get at least twenty points back. if you don't..." the other one, justin, also points his finger at you, "...i'll make your remaining years at hogwarts miserable. we are the lousiest house anyway, why do you have to make it worse?"

"yeah, what do you even do to make us lose house points?"

"i bet she pisses off prefects."

"or bothers professors outside the class, the know-it-all."

"i don't care if you have to duel harry potter himself, you'll get those points back."

"and when you do, you'll get double and triple that, and make sure we win this year."

"it is only fair, since you're costing us so much."

with each accusation hurled at you, you retreat, hoping to flee the verbal attack before tears betray you and worsen the situation. a high pitched noise invades your ears, drowning out their voices. so intent on avoiding their accusing fingers, you fail to notice the brink of the top stair until your foot falters and balance is lost. you gasp, eyes shut, bracing for the impact of cold stone against your skull.

"levioso!"

yet it never comes. your body is stuck in the air, right above the stairs. all the noise and fuss has left the main hall, resulting in you being too scared to open your eyes.

"accio."

but you are forced to open them, ears picking up quiet murmuring, mainly coming from girls. your eyes meet dark brown ones, stone cold with a serious expression. his black swirly wand is directed at you, levitating your body through the air until you're brought back to the top of the stairs. you finally regain control of it, hands hurriedly fixing the robe and covering yourself.

"you fools." he speaks, eyes not leaving yours.

your lip trembles, and eyes well up with tears. park seonghwa is the one person you do not wish to anger and disappoint. your admiration for him hasn't stopped growing since the day he came to this school. park seonghwa, the slytherin prince. slender frame, porcelain skin, high cheekbones, sharp jawline, plump lips, dark eyes, and an immpeccable posture. he walked the castle with such grace, his cloak following him and flowing in the air behind him. whether it was magic or not, you found yourself utterly captivated, not just by his cloak, but by his very essence. he was, in a word, beautiful.

"i'm- i'm sorry-" you stutter, the sentence not yet formed in your brain. is this really how your first encounter with him will go?

"you absolute fools." he turns around, facing the two boys.

wayne and justin are now the ones stumbling back, audibly gulping. "we're sorry, seonghwa."

"all that over house points?" seonghwa scoffs in disbelief, "well, guess what? you just cost your own house fifty points."

the entire great hall gasps, not used to seeing the prefect this enraged and stern. he avoids public confrontations, curious eyes and gossipy mouths, always opting to pull the troublemakers aside to scold them. he also mostly deducts five points, ten at most. but fifty?

"show is over. go to your classes." he orders to the crowd, and they waste no time in continuing their journey to their classrooms.

overwhelmed by the unfolding situation, you find yourself unable to move. your gaze fixes on seonghwa's polished black shoes, unsure of your next action or words. your first encounter with him wasn't supposed to unfold this way. you intended to sweep him off his feet, exuding confidence and the like. embarrassing yourself and struggling to hold back tears while avoiding his gaze was never in the plan.

"hey, honeydukes. are you alright?"

"i'm fi- honeydukes?" you look at him, brows furrowed. "you know about that nickname?"

he tilts his head, chuckling. "i gave you that nickname."

"you... you gave me that nickname?! do you have any idea how freaking annoying it is..."

"okay, calm down now."

"...to be called that all day every day? even when i've stopped visiting that bloody shop..."

"listen to me."

"...it's haunting me! how dare you?!"

your protest is silenced as he steps closer, cradling your jaw in the palm of his hand to lift your face towards his. the way his dark eyes look down on you makes you feel small and fragile, only being safe because he's holding you. you swallow hard, lips pressed tightly together, not yet trusting yourself to speak.

"i gave you that nickname when i first saw you. in hogsmeade, at honeydukes. i had never seen anyone eat cotton candy so cutely, and nobody would tell me your name until recently i heard it myself. so you became honeydukes. not my fault the rest heard it from me and decided to make their own version of it."

"still..." you are stubborn, not willing to let go so easily.

"tell you what..." he reaches into his pocket, taking out something shiny. you notice it is one of those wrapped chocolate balls, and coincidentally your favorite flavour. "accept this as an apology, and stop sneaking around the library at night. you're going to cost your house more points. and us prefects our sanity."

"a candy? you're bribing me?" you scoff.

he chuckles, then puts one end of the wrapper between his pearly white teeth, while his other hand still holds your jaw. he tugs at the opposite end of the wrapper, loosening it and making the treat more accessible. letting the wrapper drop to the ground, the shiny chocolate appears all the more enticing between his slender fingers.

"open up for me."

lips slowly peeling open, you allow his slender fingers to slip past them and place the treat on your tongue.

"that's a good girl." he purrs, eyes focused on the way your tongue swirls around the chocolate and his fingers. he takes them out, and catching you by surprise, puts them inside his mouth. "well, then. you better get to class."

you nod, gulping and hugging your books to your chest. not knowing what to say to that, or what to say at all, you turn around, ready to get to your next class. but he stops you once again, playfulness evident in his voice.

"and i mean it. stop sneaking around the castle at night. not that i hate other forms of punishment, i don't think it's something you'd enjoy. besides, you need sleep, especially with the upcoming exams."

"okay."

"what? didn't quite catch that."

"yes, sir!" you yell, annoyed and already running up the stairs, almost tripping on your cloak.

"atta girl." seonghwa smiles proudly, walking in the direction of his next class.

you used to love hogsmeade. then you hated it. now, you love it again. winter has wrapped the village in a festive mood, with christmas just around the corner. streets are dripping with decorations, lights and christmas trees. enchanted instruments are singing songs on the street, people are rushing to buy presents already, and hermione and ron are bickering as always. harry walks by your side, mesmerized by the amount of lights decorating the balconies of the villagers.

"we always go get stupid butterbeers. let's try something else for once!" the girl complains, growing sick of the habit the four of you have formed when arriving at hogsmeade.

"yes, but... it's butterbeer. what else is there to try?" the ginger says, opting for the simple routine.

"merlin, i don't know! just- ugh. what do you say, honeydukes?"

ever since you told them about the incident at the great hall, they've called you nothing but that. you don't hate it anymore. if anything, it reminds you of the slytherin prefect every time you are called. and you don't hate that either.

"i think..." just as you are about to agree with hermione, your eyes notice a group of slytherins entering the three broomsticks. thus, "...ron is right. i mean, butterbeer is butterbeer."

"so bland. fine, let's go."

upon entering, you realize that you have to fight your way to the seats. it is crowded, as though all of hogwarts has chosen the same time and place for drinks. ron is stubborn, tugging hermione, who tugs you, who tugs harry. the wizard chain somehow makes it through the singing and dancing crowd, reaching the end of the tavern and big table where you usually sit. only to find the place occupied.

"hey, that's our seats!" ron complains, pointing at the slytherin boys.

"oh, no. how dare they take our unassigned assigned seats?" the girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"go on, honeydukes. say something."

you look at the boy who remained silent until now, confused. "me? why me?"

"well, it's your little boyfriend sitting there. maybe he'll listen to you."

"harry-!" before you can protest, you are nudged in front of the table, prompting all the boys at the table to halt their conversation and turn their heads to look at you. seonghwa raises an eyebrow, amused.

"what is it, half blood?" draco snickers, glancing over at seonghwa for approval. but when seonghwa doesn't acknowledge him, he settles down, hiding behind his half full glass of butterbeer.

"uh, my friends and i... we were just wondering..." you look behind at the three of them, who stand waiting politely as if you were their mother arranging a play date. "...if you could scoot over and let us have one side of the table? since it is a sharing table... and there's only four of us... and four of you. or not. i mean, if you want to. if you don't, that's fine. i'm not ordering you, i'm just... actually, we don't need it. sorry for bothering you. we'll leave now."

you turn around, cheeks and tips of ears ablaze with embarrassment. the trio looks at you with mouths open wide, wondering just what the hell happened to you.

"what the bloody hell was that?" ron says, eyebrows furrowed.

"i-"

"honeydukes?"

your body responds to his voice immediately, turning around and eyes locking into his. he smiles at you, then waves towards the seats that are now empty.

"ah, sweet!" harry cheers, and the two boys throw their belongings on the chairs and rush to the bar to order.

hermione takes a seat first, choosing a spot as far from them as possible. this leaves you with only one option: the chair next to blaise zabini, the boy who, after Seonghwa and Draco, had the most admirers. he doesn't acknowledge you, nor does anyone else, until you start gossiping with hermione and she abruptly stops mid-sentence.

"he's looking at you."

"what? who is?" your head starts to turn itself before thinking, but hermione is quick to slap your arm. "ow!"

"don't look! that prefect, seonghwa. he's looking at you so intensely. it's scary."

"like, scary scary or hot kinda scary?"

"well, i-" she stutters, not yet used to being this open with anyone yet. "the latter."

the boys arrive, ron holding the drinks and harry holding bowls of snacks. they almost throw them on the table, and ron doesn't even wait to sit before taking a big sip of his drink. harry digs into his loaded chips, not intending on offering anyone a bite or two.

the conversation at the other end of the table ceases, causing ron to set his glass down and harry to stop trying to fit the entire bowl into his cheeks. you look at both ends, the situation looking funny, especially with hermione looking embarrassed next to you. the slytherin boys exude sophistication, taking delicate sips of their drinks, sharing a bowl of spicy chili treats, conversing in hushed tones, and maintaining an overall neat and respectful demeanor. the gryffindor boys are a complete contrast; ron with his butterbeer moustache, harry with sauce smeared on his cheek, both flushed and almost reeking of sweat already.

"wufnt sum?" harry says with his mouth full, nudging his half empty bowl towards the other group.

they all look at the prefect, as if he decides whether they can have some or not. "no, thank you, potter. you seem to be enjoying it too much for me to take it away from you. i'd feel bad."

 the groups snickers, and something twitches inside of you. seeing the prefect's cocky and arrogant smile, your interest in him falters. he's no longer looking at you, not even sparing you glances. entertaining his group and bullying the gryffindor boys seemed to be way more interesting. and you've had enough of it.

"so... nice moustache weasley."

"right, we get it." you almost yell, causing them to stop and turn their heads at you. "you're all so smart, and perfect, and purebloods, and we are just laughing stock. i don't need to listen to this, and neither do they."

"oh, feisty." draco comments, earning a glare from seonghwa.

"right, honeydukes. i apologize for my behaviour." the dark haired slytherin smiles at you, but your face stays the same.

"it's not me you should be apologizing to."

"are you dense? how dare you talk to him like that?" the young boy doesn't give up, wanting to fight you no matter what.

"malfoy, sit back." seonghwa says, putting a hand on draco's chest. "potter, weasley. i apologize for my comments."

"'s alright."

"yeah, no worries." they mumble, gazes locked on the table.

awkward silence swallows your corner of the tavern, with the people only staring at the middle of the table and only breathing. seonghwa then slides the untouched bowl of chili treats in the middle, causing the group to look at him.

"how about a game? you know, that muggle one, never have i ever? for each thing that you did, you need to eat a handful of these. you in, gryffindor?"

eager to prove themselves, they straighten their clothes and backs, and focus. hermione sits back, arms stubbornly crossed over her chest. ron nudges her with his elbow, and she rolls her eyes and joins in.

"hufflepuff?" the dark eyed boy tilts his head.

"sure, whatever."

"alright, then. game on."

it starts with innocent questions, such as cheating on exams and gossips. then, it progressively gets more serious and more...

"never have i ever made out with someone in the astronomy tower?"

sexual.

you are not shocked to see that blaise and seonghwa are taking a handful of the spicy treats, but your jaw drops when ron and hermione do the same, exchanging a single glance before blushing and shoving the handful in their mouths. harry shares his surprise with you, jaw equally hanging.

"well, well. little miss granger." seonghwa teases. "good job, ron boy."

"never have i ever... done more than dry humping in an empty owlery?" harry surprises the table with his question.

"what?! you've done that?!" hermione is almost in his face, surprised how she didn't know this about her best friend.

"i might've..." the chosen one smiles, wasting no time in burning his tongue with the treats once again.

your side of the table seems to retreat after that question, the slytherin boys asking about things you didn't ever think of. things that would have dubmbledore kick you out of the school, through the very same astronomy tower everyone seems to mention. the game eventually grows into a conversation, discussing who their favorite partner was, what their most risky situation was, and who they have an eye on recently.

"what about you, honeydukes?" blaise asks, using seonghwa's nickname for you. it just doesn't hit the same.

"what about me?"

"nothing to share? no risky business, no partners, no bad sexual experiences? i mean, have you had any experience at all?"

"of course i have. i'm not a virgin, if that's what you're implying. i've had more bad ones than good ones. having me jerk someone off under the desk while learning about amortentia wasn't exactly my cup of tea."

"oh, you poor thing." draco coos, mockingly.

they all eventually let go, and when you realize that seonghwa hasn't made a comment about you in a while, you look at him. he is already observing you, his expression unreadable. his eyes roam your face, then your hair, and finally your clothes. you feel small under his intense gaze, and you find yourself squirming on the wooden chair. when his eyes catch yours, he blinks, then looks away.

after a morning of intense studying, practicing flying, and rushing to hogsmeade for potions supplies for the exam tomorrow, you end up sleeping the entire afternoon. when you wake up, it is dark. you hate wasting days, especially because winter ones are so short. you haven't done anything fun for yourself these few weeks, only studying and avoiding the slytherin prefect.

he might've noticed, or perhaps not. you've noticed a few glances here and there, but the hogsmeade encounter made your feelings for him fade. it wasn't a major crush after all, just simple admiration. maybe liking. regardless, he doesn't get in your way. meaning, it might be safe to have one of those late night adventures through the castle. your disillusionment charm has improved, and you'll finally put it to good use.

wearing nothing but your yellow sleeping attire, you slip out of the dormitory and head to the library. the ghosts don't bother you, even if you didn't cast the charm yet. they must've found another victim, especially peeves. that bastard.

no prefect in sight either, which makes you wonder if you're really being that subtle and successful in your late night escapade. perhaps they're toying with you, letting you reach the doors of the library just to stop you and punish you.

yet, it doesn't happen. not when you reach the door, not when you slip past them, and not when you reach the restricted section.

"lumos." you chant, then put the handle of the wand between your teeth so you can see the shelves better.

how sad, you think, sneaking out at night only to come to a library.

mid book browsing, you hear footsteps. hurriedly twirling your wand around yourself, you cast the charm, and crouch.

"nox," you whisper, the wand no longer emitting light from its tip.

the footsteps get closer, with faint whistling being heard. whoever it is, they're either completely oblivious, or they're just keeping you at the edge before revealing themselves.

"little pig, little pig..." the voice sings, and you gasp.

the slytherin prince himself roams the library's forbidden section, each footstep sounding closer to you. you get on your hands and knees, crawling among the shelves in search for a way out. but from this perspective, everything looks different. after all, this isn't your usual view.

"let," step, "me," step, "in."

a hand grabs your hair from behind, pulling your head back just enough to make you yelp. the disillusionment charm wears off, and you groan, defeated.

"well, well. if it isn't the innocent little hufflepuff. no wonder i've been craving sweet since i entered the library."

"will you let go of me?"

"oh, sure thing." he softens his grip, giving you just a taste of freedom before yanking your head again, "what's the magic word? you know, that muggle one?"

"please, please!" you yelp, hands wrapping around his wrist in hopes of convincing him to let go.

he does, then steps back to give you space so you can get up. fixing your sleepwear, you fail to see his amused grin as he stares at you. when you finally look up at him, he has his usual prefect serious face on.

"now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"sorry, it won't happen again." you should tattoo that on yourself next time you're in muggle world, it comes like a good morning to you. "i'll see myself out."

"oh, no, no." the man stops you, grabbing your elbow. "you don't get away with a sorry. not anymore. remember what i said last time?"

"uh... something about different forms of punishment?" you remember.

"that's right. good girl." his voice seems to drop a few octaves, causing you to subconsciously squeeze your thighs together. "now, how many?"

"what?"

"how many?"

"how many what?"

"spanks, sweetheart."

"you're-" you choke on your spit, "you're going to spank me?"

"oh, would you rather lose points? again?" he tilts his head, fake worry painted on his features.

"well, no, but-"

"deducting points doesn't seem to work on you anyways. i'll have to try a different approach. usually works." he steps towards you, making you step back.

"usually? you uh... you spank other people?" you dare ask.

"why?" he continues his slow steps.

"just asking."

"jealous?"

"why would i be?"

"i don't know." he shrugs, then looks around checking for intruders. "a little bird told me you have a crush on me."

your back hits the shelves, and you gasp. he stops in front of you, still maintaining a small distance. you stutter, not knowing what to say. do you have a crush on him?

"i certainly don't."

"oh." he furrows his eyebrows, "you sure?"

"yes." your voice comes out raspy, and you clear your throat. "yes, absolutely."

"honeydukes?"

"yes?"

"are you trying to convince yourself, or me?"

"i don't have a crush on you, seonghwa." you try to sound as convincing as possible.

"good. then, this interaction won't have any side effects besides teaching you a lesson. now, how many?"

you want to say a small number, like two or three. but if it happens to feel good, you won't have the guts to ask for more. oh how foolish, how can spanking be good?

"tick-tock, hufflepuff. if you don't decide, i will for you. and trust me, you do not want that."

he isn't touching you, hell, he isn't even looking at you. yet he has power over you like nobody ever had before, making you stand still against the bookshelves and wait for his instructions.

"ten," you simply say.

"ten? not one, two?" seonghwa is surprised with your answer, figuring you'd choose a smaller number.

"i didn't think you'd accept one or two. or would you?"

"smart girl. no, i wouldn't. now, what was your favorite subject again? charms, herbology?"

"dark arts," you reply, catching him off guard once again. of course he didn't see it coming. you're sneaking out to go to a library, you're a hufflepuff for merlin's sake, and you stand here in front of him, looking up at him with those wide innocent eyes of yours. who would guess dark arts?

"well, then," he swirls his black wand around both of you, turning you invisible once again, "lead the way, honeydukes."

and you do, having him follow you all the way to the defence against the dark arts classroom. you'd be lying if you said nervous sweat hasn't washed you over three times by the time you reach it. when the door closes, it's like time stops. this is it.

"won't umbridge hear? what if she's still in her office?" you whisper.

"muffliato." he simply casts, sparks flying between the desks, up the staircase at the end of the classroom, and through the doors of umbridge's office. "go on."

you keep walking, all the way to her desk. seonghwa plunges on the comfy professor's chair, then motioned for you to step closer. you barely step close to him, and he pushes you over his lap, causing you to squeak unintentionally. you hold onto his thigh, the position not the most comfortable one.

"count." the slytherin prefect demands.

his big hand lands on your bottom, making you jolt. "one."

his other hand rests on the small of your back, keeping you still so you stop squirming. only three more spanks later, you're already shuffling uncomfortably.

"two, three, four," you say, voice slowly cracking.

"but i'm barely halfway there yet, my hufflepuff princess. don't break on me just yet." he coos, voice soft and comforting, a great contrast to his actions.

you sniff, hand hurriedly wiping a tear that threatened to escape. seonghwa doesn't halt, even if he saw that. instead, he spanks you harder and harder, sparing no inch of your skin of the burning sensation.

"five, six, seven." you shudder, bracing yourself for more. only three more.

"almost there, sweetheart. you're doing so good for me." his other hand caresses your hair, removing it from your face and letting it fall aside. seeing you all teared up and flushed, something new sparks inside of him. "so pretty."

he can't help himself, his hand abusing your sore bottom, exceeding the amount that you both agreed on. you keep counting, not asking him to stop. he lands a final one, deciding it is enough once you let out the first cry.

"t-twenty," you sob, hiding your face in his black slacks.

when his hand touches your bottom again, you expect it to be another hit. instead, his hand caresses it, helping to soothe the pain. it lasts mere seconds, before you feel him raise the top of your pajama, then pull on the bottom. he exposes your red bottom to the cool classroom air, and you can't help but whine at the loss of contact.

"you did so good, my love." seonghwa coos, fingers running through your hair as he waits for you to collect yourself.

once you do, you realize that the burning sensation isn't only on your butt cheeks. you also feel it between your legs, briefs soaked with arousal.

"did you learn the lesson?" his hand finds its spot under your chin, raising your head so he can look at you properly.

"yes." you say, failing to maintain eye-contact with him. maybe it's the guilt, or maybe simply the way he looks at you. either way, you opt to stare at his perfectly ironed and buttoned up prefect attire.

"want me to make it feel better?"

you shrug, not quite sure what you wanted anyway. his hand slips from under your chin to your neck, catching you off guard, his fingers squeezing the sides of it. he presses lightly into your skin, the other hand adjusting your bottom so that it is higher up and your core easily accessible. a moan escapes your lips, feeling his digits find your clit so easily.

"oh, you poor thing. you're absolutely soaked. is that why you're crying? not from the pain, but from lack of attention?"

when you don't reply, he only chuckles, pressing into your neck more.

"i'll take good care of you, honeydukes."

he moves your briefs aside, digits circling your clit softly, before slipping into your aching hole. you bite into the fabric of his pants, but he stops you, instead offering his finger to bite on. he still holds onto your neck with his thumb and the rest of the fingers, his index finger popped into your mouth to muffle any noise you have to offer him.

hearing your own hole squelch as his fingers pump in and out of you makes a new rush of arousal wash over your folds. his fingers are long, very long. he curves them, spreads them, then removes them from your hole, only to spread your slick all over your clit and abuse it.

you're a drooling mess on his lap, eyes turning back at the pure pleasure he is gracing you with. your hips hopelessly push back, looking for anything to fill you up. he notices, removing his hand from your core, before standing you up and pushing you to sit on the desk. with a single motion, he shreds your briefs to bits, stuffing them into his pocket and attaching his mouth to your aching core.

you fall back on the desk, head hanging from it and overlooking the empty classroom. your brain creates various images for you as seonghwa's hot tongue swipes across your folds, imagining the classroom full of students as seonghwa feasts on you in front of them. were you weird for that?

"not at all, princess."

"stop reading my mind, prefect." you tug on his hair, a form of punishment for intruding your thoughts.

"can't help it, not when you're dripping all over my face."

his fingers find their way into your clenching hole again, curling upwards and finding a spot nobody ever had before. a moan escapes you, echoing through the classroom, and your other hand pushes seonghwa's head further into your cunt.

he chuckles against you, his own hands holding your thighs so you don't suffocate him. you feel yourself inching closer, hips desperately grinding on his mouth and nose, eager to feel a proper orgasm. he pulls away once again, making you whine and groan.

"my, i've spoiled you." he raises an eyebrow, amused at the glares you're sending him. he stands up, working on his zipper. he doesn't take his pants off, deciding to keep his prefect uniform on. it only makes the situation hotter, your brain finally realizing just what you're doing.

you're messing with a prefect, in the middle of the night, in a classroom, right under a professor's nose.

"kiss me." you ask, voice small. red paints your cheeks; you wanted to sound more confident than that.

"you want to taste yourself on my tongue, princess?"

"yes, please."

"since you asked so nicely."

he helps you stand again, hands firm on your waist, and lips finally attached to yours. your arms wrap around his neck, hungrily bringing his body closer to yours. you indeed taste yourself on his tongue, seonghwa not wasting a second in pushing through your soft lips in search for your hot muscle. the sound of kissing echoes in the classroom, the setting hotter than your wildest dreams. seonghwa is a dreamy kisser, making you feel wanted, hot and appreciated at the same time. his lips never leave yours, not even when your fingers tangle in his hair and pull at it with ecstasy. he only moans softly into your mouth, giving you a wave of confidence.

your hand slides down his chest, to the button of his pants, and finally to the zipper. you reach into it, pulling his hard cock out, before giving it a few slow pumps. he sighs into your lips, pulling away for a few moments. his forehead rests against yours, his body falling in control of your one hand. your thumb swipes over the tip, collecting the slick and spreading it over him. his hips rock with your hand, whines and moans deliciously filling your ears. it feels powerful to have him tremble in your hands, desperate and yearning for your touch and attention. this must be what he feels on a daily basis. and it must feel fucking amazing.

"you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he teases, and you tease back by squeezing his cock. he gasps, but chuckles regardless. "you're just a little brat, waiting to be stuffed like a bad girl. i know it."

with a swift motion, seonghwa turns you around, your still clothed tits pressing against the hard wooden desk and head pushed on the side. he slides into you without warning or teasing, so easily and perfectly. he wastes no time in holding your hips still, smashing his own into you and burying his cock deep in your hole. your walls swallow each inch he offers you, having both of you moan and groan at the pleasure.

"fuck-" he curses, eyes planted on the place where the two of you connect. "fuck, honeydukes- you're going to be the death of me."

"do you- ah!" he snaps his hips into yours once again, each thrust more forceful than the other, "do you do this with others sneaking out at night?"

"i knew you were jealous. so you do have a little crush on me?" he chuckles breathlessly.

"maybe. and maybe." you groan, hands gripping the edges of the desk.

"no, baby. i don't. you're the only one whose cunt i'm going to fill up, again and again. until you've learned your lesson properly."

it is your turn to chuckle now. "if this is your form of punishment, i might start sneaking around while you're on duty more often."

"oh, my hufflepuff princess. if you want me, you can have me any time you want. all day, every day. all you have to do is ask."

the conversation stops, as do his hips, when the doors on top of the stairs open.

"who's there?"

you try looking back at seonghwa, eyes full of fear. his cock twitches in your hole, the riskiness of the situation arousing to him.

"hush, love." he whispers, hand pushing your head down against the cold wood again.

his hips start moving gently, slowly stretching your hole again. you're in shock, not believing that he'd actually continue as the professor walks down the stairs in her own sleeping attire. her eyes skim over the room, trying to find anything unusual. but the silencing spell seems to be working, just like the disillusionment one, making umbridge unaware of your presence. a very... lewd presence.

"merlin, i can't take it anymore. i'm sorry, love."

not giving you a chance to ask why he's apologizing, you soon learn as his hand pulls your hair back and his other one grips your bruised bottom. his hips snap into yours with speed and accuracy, hitting the right spots and bringing you closer to release.

"seonghwa-" you moan.

"yes, love?"

"i want-" you moan again, then beg, "i want to see you, touch you."

he pulls away, helping your limp body in a different position. the professor is ignored, even when she comes dangerously close to the desk. it sends a new wave of arousal to your core, just in time for seonghwa to slide into you again.

"look at that," he sighs, looking at your belly.

you follow his gaze, seeing the outline of his cock on it. your hands bring his head closer so you can kiss him, with equal hunger as before. he continues pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm.

"right, there better not be anyone. i'm not in the mood for any tricks!" umbridge threatens, causing both of you to chuckle into each others mouths.

"this is kind of hot," you admit.

"as much as it is, i want her to go away as soon as possible. i just can't cum when i see her face."

you laugh, glancing at the professor one more time. as if she heard, she listens, angrily stomping upstairs and slamming the door shut.

"uh, speaking of temperatures, i know this is crazy, but i am feeling a bit chilly." you admit, the winter air entering the classroom and hitting your naked skin. after all, you were only in your thin sleepwear, having heavy covers on your bed that kept you warm. seonghwa wastes no time in taking off his prefect cloak, helping you put it on and planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you look beautiful in green, my pretty hufflepuff."

blush paints your cheeks, his scent enveloping you and sending a fresh batch of butterflies to your stomach. you never noticed it before, but he smells of forest moss and after rain stone, with a hint of potions ingredients. it is intoxicating, entering your organism and threatening to never leave.

"oh, merlin," seonghwa throws his head back, lost in pure pleasure as your hole swallows him, the outline of his cock on your belly adding to it all and helping him get closer to his goal. "fuck- fuck-"

he's absolutely dashing, a thin layer of sweat shining on his face and making his dark locks stick to his forehead. his lips are plump from you biting and sucking on them, slightly parted and letting out little gasps and moans. he unbuttons the first few buttons of his uniform, not having a problem with the cold. you're a moaning mess, just like him, completely letting go of every thought you had until now, simply giving yourself to him and admiring him.

you feel full of him, and just when you thought you couldn't feel fuller, seonghwa hisses, spilling his load in you and creating more squelching sounds as he rides out his orgasm, pushing in and out of you sloppily.

it doesn't take long for you to reach your own, the knot in your stomach exploding as his tip slams mercilessly into your soft spot, making you grip his arms, shoulders, hair, anything you could reach. he works you through your high, not missing a single face or sound you make.

you're exhausted, struggling to catch your breath. the recovery lasts longer than usual, seonghwa having wrecked you inside out. his hands gently remove your hair from your face so he can take a good look at you.

"you're good, love. breathe." he coos, caressing your cheek and blowing into your face to cool you off.

"thank you," you blurt out.

"what for?" the slytherin prefect laughs at your innocence.

"i don't know. this, i guess. i've never enjoyed sex, always saw it as a chore. and i never felt desired, just objectified."

"well," the dark haired slytherin pecks your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, "you don't have to worry about that anymore. i've never desired anyone the way i desire you, and i think i just proved it to you how much. you don't have to fear those things with me anymore."

"park seonghwa, are you subtly asking me to be your girlfriend?" you shyly ask, knowing that you might be wrong and embarrass yourself in front of him. to your relief, he pecks your lips once again.

"perhaps. only if you want to. if not, then i'm not asking."

"perhaps i want to."

"perhaps that makes me happy."

"you're crazy." you laugh, and he joins.

seonghwa does one more thing no other partner has ever done for you; he helps you get cleaned, then dressed, and walks you to the doors of your common room.

"if you do decide to sneak off again, please do let me know. wouldn't want other prefects to find you and steal your heart."

you nod, and with a longer kiss, finally part ways with him. he waits until you finish your usual rhythmic tapping on the barrels, until the doors open, and finally, until you disappear into your common room and back to the dormitory.

you notice the sun already rising, and hurry to jump back in bed.

"excuse me? is that a slytherin cloak on you?"

you freeze in your tracks, the cloak ready to slide off you and hide under your pillow. the girl on the bed to your left doesn't give up, now sitting up and staring at you wide eyed.

"and a prefect one too?!" the voice on the right joins, waking up the rest of the room and bringing attention to you.

fuck.

taglist: @hongthoven @itza-meee @onedumbho3 @chngbnwf @mxnsxngie @yunhowooyo @m3chigo @trivia-134340 @sanniesaur @shiningpaint-marbleheart @hyphenen @iweirdthingsblog @moonm1st @hwxbibi @jjoongstar @dawn-iscozy @callmeagardengnome @arson1893 @n1k1mura @ishz @hwa-stars @prettyjewel93 @hongjoongsprincess @fireseo @milkandoranges @kibs-and-bits @kitten4sannie @yuujismom @dianadiaries @teawithcherrypie @morethingsfandom

[rayslittlekitten]

Days of Fine Wine and Roses

Main Masterlist “Dad Will” Masterlist

A/N: Feels like it's been ten thousand years since I started this (probably some time last year, or even the year before), but it's finally done! 😭 It all started because I wanted a dance with Will. I'll spare the excess commentary. Thank you so much to @carni-val and @lovebarefootblonde for beta reading! Banners by @spaghettificationandpretzels. Hope you enjoy and thank you all for being so patient! 🙏 😘

Rating: E (18+ ONLY PLEASE)

Word Count: 5,150

Pairings: Dad!Will "Ironhead" Miller x Wife F!Reader

Summary: With Lucy going off to college soon, a spontaneous date night gives you a snapshot of what yours and Will's life could look like with having more time for each other.

Contains: sex (PiV), oral sex (M receiving), flirting/bantering, aging, sugary sweet fluff, Will finding reader irresistible, Will still being self-conscious about getting older (I think that's it?)

When Will and Lucy made up after DisneyGate, he lessened her punishment so this weekend she's away with her friends to enjoy their time together before they go off to college, which leaves the house to just the two of you.

"Hey, you know what we haven't done in a while?" you ask Will after plopping down next to him on the couch where he's on his laptop with his reading glasses perched adoringly on his slim nose.

"Make brownies," he quickly answers without looking away from his screen.

"Yes, but no," you giggle. 

“Stop by Astrid’s,” he quickly guesses again, still focused on his laptop, clicking and typing away.

“Oh my God, you and your sweets!” You nudge your shoulder against his, your reaction pulling a small smug smirk from Will.

“We haven't gone on a date in a while.” You loop an arm through his and snuggle against him.

"You want to be wined and dined?" He asks, bringing his arm up and behind you while pushing his glasses up on top of his head with his other hand to look over at you.

“I want us to have a nice night to ourselves.” 

"You don't have a nice night with me every night?" he teases. 

"You know what I mean!" you nudge him again. His smirk widens into a smile.

"How about we try that uh… oh! I've got an idea!" A light bulb goes off in his head. "There's like, this social media trend of couples making plans by blindly making choices," Will starts to explain as he closes his laptop. "For example, I'll write on two separate pieces of paper, say two different restaurants and you pick one without knowing what I have written on either, and we go to the one you picked."

"Okay, that sounds fun, but since when have you kept up with trends on social media? You don't even have social media," you say with a raised brow.

"Lucy showed a bunch to me the other day, but the cutest one was with a puppy choosing which outfit it was going to wear."

"Hm, I think it would be fun to pick out each other's outfits," you tell him, suddenly intrigued by this idea.

"Alright, how about this? We throw a couple of restaurants in a hat and we randomly pick one. Leave that to probability," he suggests. "But we each get to personally pick out what the other person wears. How does that sound?"

"Hmm..." you pretend to ponder. "Okay!"

***

After the luck of the draw of picking a bistro you haven't been to in a while, the next step is to figure out what to wear. The two of you take a peek at each other's wardrobe options after a long, refreshing shower where Will decided to join you.

“The navy blue suit? Really?”

“You look handsome in any color but this one really brings out your eyes,” you tell him. “But most of all, I love how your butt looks in it.” You smirk and give his behind a squeeze.

"Do I have to wear a tie?" he whines.

You nod.

“Fine," he submits. "Well, I haven’t seen you in this sexy number in a while.”

Will pulls out a dress from the back of your closet and presents it to you.

“Because I never have a reason to wear it.” You look at the bold red slinky dress with an open back as you walk towards It. “I can’t even remember the last time I wore this. Might’ve been Fish’s wedding. Don’t you think this is a little over the top for where we're going?”

"I'm wearing a suit and tie. I don't think you'll be the only one overdressed."

"Okay, that's fair."

As the two of you start getting dressed in front of each other, you notice Will watching you. You slip into your dress, hoping you still fit into it. The fabric snugs over your curves and contours in all the right places. The zipper in the back is low enough for you to pull on your own but Will helps you with it anyways. When he comes up behind you, you feel the heat of his body radiating against your bare back. He gently puts his palm on your lower back for a moment before sliding it down to the bottom of the zipper, holding it down while pulling the zipper up.

You expect him to walk away to finish getting dressed but instead, you feel him pressing his lips against your shoulder and neck as his hands knead your waist.

“Babe,” you giggle. “This is why I never wear this dress. Because we’ll never leave the house.”

“If my shirt wasn’t already tucked in, I’d take you right now, just like this.” He continues kissing and nipping at your skin as his hands continue to explore your body, drawing a moan out of you.

"Now I remember why I don't like you wearing this out. I wanna show you off, but at the same time I don't want anyone looking at you the way I'm looking at you now."

His eyes rake over your body in the mirror.

“You’re like this gorgeous rose I just wanna ruin,” he growls.

"Well, know that you're the only one I'm going home with."

Turning around, you and Will steal glances at each other as you help him finish buttoning up his shirt for him and adjust his collar.

"I think that gray tie you have with the stripes will go well with the suit. It'll also compliment my dress."

"You don't think it'll also bring out my grays?" He asks, pointing to his head.

"Maybe, but trust me, it's a good thing. I've never wanted you more than I do now," you reach up and affectionately finger his graying sideburns. "And you’re probably gonna have other women wanting you to take them home with you as well," you chuckle.

"Even if I wanted to do that, I can barely handle you in bed. I don't need to add another woman in the mix," he replies.

"Uh huh," you smirk. “Sure.”

"Besides, she's just gonna be watching because all my attention would be on you," he says as he pulls you in against his body.

"Or you would be watching. How about that?" you tease.

"Nah ah. I'm too greedy.” He shakes his head. “I don't want anyone pleasuring you but me."

"Most guys would jump on that opportunity," you say, taken aback by his response.

"Well, I'm not most guys," he points out before leaning in to kiss you, but you pull back.

"We should get out of here or we'll never make it to dinner."

"Why don't we just skip to dessert first?" His nose nudges against yours as his hands slide down to your ass.

"You mean the chocolate lava cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream that I know you're gonna get?" you tease.

"You know what I mean."

"Already? Was shower sex not enough to hold you through until after dinner?"

"Seeing you in this dress got me all excited again." He tries to kiss you again but you dodge him.

"Nah ah," you shake your head.

"Not even a kiss?" His eyebrows shoot up to his graying hairline.

You stare at him for a few moments with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth until you finally press your lips against his. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses your body against his as he deepens the kiss. You can feel a bulge poking you, making you giggle. You pull back, breaking the kiss and leaving you both breathless.

"Now go put on a tie while I throw on some make up and fix my hair," you tell him.

"Yes, ma'am!"

***

You weren't expecting live music, as the many times you've dined there, there never was. It's been a while and they've updated the place, adding a dedicated space for live entertainment for evening service and a Frank Sinatra cover band is setting the mood of the room. During dinner, you find yourselves being very touchy with each other. You toe at his ankle underneath his slacks and his hand caresses yours. Flirty eyes dart back and forth as you banter in innuendos. It's like when you first started dating over two decades ago. You're both falling in love with each other all over again, except with someone different. He's no longer a potential partner; he's your husband, father of your daughter and your best friend. At the core, he's still who you first fell in love with, but he's so much more now. He’s the man you've built a life with, who has walked beside you for the last twenty years of marriage. With Lucy going away for college, this feels like a preview of what your marriage could be like having all this sudden free time, getting to re-discover each other together.

“Mm, that is good, but not as good as mine,” Will reacts after you feed him a spoonful of your tiramisu.

"What is it?" he asks after catching you glancing at him.

"Hm?" you hum.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I can't look at my handsome husband?" you ask with a mischievous smirk.

"You mean your old and graying husband?" he jokes.

"You're still handsome," you tell him. "Maybe even more so now than when we first met."

"Oh yeah? How so?" he questions, indulging you.

"You're like fine wine. As you age, the tastier you get." You bite into your lower lip.

"Is that so?" He leans in with his elbows on the table, intrigued by your analysis.

“You’re in your prime. You’re older, but wiser. You see graying hair and wrinkles, but I see experience and maturity. I mean, your charm and personality also adds to it," you reply. "Fatherhood probably has something to do with it too, but in a way that gets me all hot and bothered.”

"Your opinion is biased because you're married to me and I'm your child's father," he points out.

"Why don't we go ask the young hostess? She was totally giving you googly eyes when we walked in," you challenge.

"What? No, she wasn't! She was just being friendly and courteous. It's her job."

"Babe, you're so adorably oblivious sometimes. She totally was! She never once made eye contact with me, only addressed you the whole time with a goofy smile - the same one you gave me when we first met."

"Hi! How were your desserts?" Your waiter comes over to check on you.

"They were delicious!" Will pulls back from the table as the waiter takes the empty plates.

"Yes, they were," you agree.

"Anything else I can get for you?" the waiter asks.

“No, we are good. I think we're just going to finish our coffee. Thank you!"

"Sure, here is the check whenever you're ready. Take your time, enjoy the music!”

"Your handsome husband also can't read small letters," Will adds as he pulls out his reading glasses and then perches them on his face for a second to look at the bill.

As quickly as he had put them on, he pulls them off and places his credit card with the bill. The cover band starts playing "Fly Me To The Moon". Will suddenly stands up and offers his hand.

"Care to dance with this tall bottle of fine wine?"

"Where are we going to dance?" you ask, glancing around at the other tables surrounding you.

"We can do it right here. We're not gonna bother anyone. There's enough space for us."

You finally take his hand and he leads you to the space beside the table. With one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand up, he starts slowly swaying. Your other hand rests on his broad shoulder.

"I wined and dined you and wanna give you a dance too," he tells you, pulling you in closer to him.

"Yeah, we haven't danced in a while," you realize.

He senses your hesitance as you're dancing a bit stiff and still glancing around.

"Don't worry about those other people. Let them watch,” he whispers. “I want everyone in this restaurant to know how much I love and adore my wife.”

He leans in and rests his forehead against yours. You let out a chuckle. Feeling a bit more relaxed, you're finally enjoying this intimate moment.

"In other words...I love you," Will sings along.

When the song ends, there's a round of applause. Will nudges the tip of his nose at yours before giving you a small peck on your lips.

"Give it up for this beautiful couple!" the singer announces and the applause gets louder.

After settling the bill, as the two of you make your way to the front door, Will notices you lingering behind.

"Are you okay? Are your heels bothering you?" he asks, pausing to wait for you to catch up.

"No. I just like watching you walk away." You flash him a wide smile and a corner of his lips turn up as well.

He offers you his elbow when you finally reach him, which you take, but not before quickly grabbing a handful of his butt. When you finally reach the entrance, the hostess thanks you for coming and hopes you had a great experience.

"We sure did. My beautiful wife here thought the tiramisu was to die for, wasn't it, sweetheart?" He turns to you, giving you that goofy grin you had mentioned to him earlier.

"Yes, it was amazing," you confirm. "We will definitely come back again."

"Anything you want," he adds.

"Are you okay to drive?" you whisper, looking at him suspiciously. "You only had one drink."

"I'm drunk on you," he replies, his eyes never leaving you.

You roll your eyes at his silly antics and turn to the hostess to wish her a good night, which Will also does before you whisk him out to the restaurant.

***

When you finally arrive home, you kick off your heels and groan, feeling the relief. As you bend down to pick them up, Will stops you.

"I got them, babe," he says as he loosens his tie and finally releases himself from the constriction.

“Why, thank you!"

He bends down to grab them for you as you start walking up the stairs. His eyes follow you before his body does, enjoying the view as you ascend. Before both of your feet can touch down inside the bedroom, your husband is already all over you.

"Babe!"

You squeal as he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls your back against the front of his body, groaning while he presses his crotch against your ass. He tosses your shoes into a corner while latching his mouth onto your neck.

"Mm," you purr. "You complain about getting old and gray, but your sex drive is still that of a teenager," you giggle.

"We've talked about this. You're my Viagra," he replies and gently bites your neck.

You reach back between the two of you and palm his crotch, feeling him starting to engorge. He moans into your neck, sucking harder, in turn making you slip out a moan as well. Your other hand creeps up to the back of his neck, fingering his blondes and grays at the nape. His palm glides up from your waist to one of your breasts, giving it a healthy squeeze. Sighing, your back arches and you cup his bulge, giving it a gentle tug. He moans against your skin and sinks his teeth into you. Your bottom lip finds its way between your own teeth while also eliciting a pleasurable sound.

Wanting to take control, you find the willpower to pull away from his touch. Whipping around to face him, you grab the edges of his shirt collar and pull him closer to you, smashing your painted lips against his. His hands snake from your waist to your lower back, pressing your body against his as he deepens the kiss, almost continuing where you left off earlier. You gently guide him to the bed until the edge hits the back of his knees, causing him to fall back.

You hike your dress up so you can climb over him and straddle him. Starting on his neck, you suck and kiss on his delicate flesh, leaving light pink marks. You then start unbuttoning his shirt, taking your time with it. As each button gets undone and his chest gets revealed, you place a soft kiss on his smooth skin. You give some extra attention to his scars as you come across each of them. He's always been self conscious of them, but you always tell him you like how it reminds you how rugged he can be. There have been times you've imagined what it could have been like to have met Will while he was still in the military, thinking about your man in uniform.

The scars are also reminders of how far he's come, his life experiences marked on his body. He's told you how he earned each and every one of them. Some are from protecting the country, some are a result of being careless as both a man and boy, and then there's the most recent one still so prominent on his lower abs. It's been so long, but he's got a constant reminder of one of the things that haunt him the most. You give it a tender kiss before continuing down his body.

When you reach his belt, you tug on his shirt until it gets untucked. Will looks down at you as you continue making your way down to undress him. He takes in an audible sharp breath and his abs tighten when you brush your lips on it. You look up at him and keep eye contact as you lower yourself, following his faint blonde trail until your knees touch the floor.

"Babe, wait."

Will quickly grabs a pillow and places it on the floor in front of you.

"I don't want you to hurt your knees," he tells you.

"Always so considerate, even when it comes to getting a blowjob," you chuckle.

"I always want you to be comfortable, especially when you're giving me a blowjob."

The pad of his thumb brushes against your cheek.

You reach for his belt and slide the leather out of the buckle. You can feel his erection growing as it brushes up against your palms. Once you have his fly undone, you grab the top of his pants and boxer briefs, gently but firmly pulling them down. He tilts his hips up and his thick cock springs out. Will groans when you give attention to the creases where his leg and crotch meets, kissing and licking the delicate spots, causing his cock to twitch. When you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, you run the tip of your tongue from the bottom to the top of his shaft. His blue eyes twinkle as he watches you kiss and lick him up and down.

"God, you're so fucking sexy," he growls. “How did I get so lucky?”

He cups your cheek as you take him into your mouth, making him hiss. Satisfied with his reaction, you're encouraged to go deeper. You relax your throat and push down further until you feel your gag reflex a hair trigger away from bringing your dinner back up.

"You don't have to do that, babe," he says, sensing your hesitance. "I appreciate you trying though."

You keep eye contact as you continue to suck on him, hollowing out your cheeks when you pull back. Will takes in a sharp breath watching himself disappear deep into your warm and wet mouth again until he taps the back of your throat. He fists your hair and grunts.

“Fuck,” he whispers. "Baby, you keep this up, I'm going to cum in your mouth.”

Taking that as a sign of encouragement, you move up and down on him, sliding him in and out between your lips.

"You want that, don't you?" he teases.

You pull his cock out of your mouth with a pop and slurp up the drool that dribbles down your bottom lip and corners of your mouth.

"It has been a while, huh?” you ask while licking him like a lollipop.

“You really want me to cum in your mouth?” He asks genuinely after studying your face for a moment, thumbing the apple of your cheek.

“Hm…” You take a moment to consider it. “Nah ah, I’m not done with you yet.”

You start to pull the rest of his bottoms down until they’re down to his ankles.

“Scoot back,” you command as you slip his trousers and boxers off his feet, leaving him in his dress shirt and crew socks.

As he follows your instructions, you stand up from between his legs and hike up your dress. You then crawl over him, straddling him again along the way, and lean down to kiss him. He eagerly kisses back as his hands grip your hips and then slide back to your ass.

As you continue to make out, Will’s hands move further down, teasing the hem of your dress until he slips his hands up under. He pushes the dress up as his palms press into your skin until he finds your ass again, this time bare and giving it a big squeeze. You grind down on him as his hips thrusts up, rubbing your covered slit against his hard cock.

Will’s fingers find their way between your legs, making you twitch when he lands on your wet opening beneath the thin fabric. He teases you, rubbing slow small circles, coaxing out your arousal. You moan into his mouth when you feel his fingers putting gentle pressure, threatening to penetrate you. Your hips start rolling, wanting more, but he just proceeds to tease you.

You continue to rock against him, but break the kiss. With noses touching, you gaze into his eyes, intentionally dragging your damp panties up and down his length. A sudden gasp escapes you when Will plunges his middle finger inside you. You bite your lower lip and push back as he pumps into you.

Taking back control, you reach down and lightly run your fingernails along his hard cock.

“You’re driving me crazy, baby,” he pants. His lust-filled eyes turn darker as you wrap your fingers around him and stroke.

Will dips another finger in as he thrusts into your hand. You stifle a moan and after a few moments, finally end the torture. Hopping off of him once more, you do a quick strip tease, unzipping your dress first and then pulling down the straps off your shoulders before shimmying out of it, letting it pool at your feet. The whole time you are amused by your husband who is watching while jerking himself. Tonight you wanted to make it all about him and to boost his ego, but somehow he always manages to boost yours even in the smallest ways.

Since he’s enjoying the show, you take your time stripping off your lingerie set. You turn around to show your backside and then unhook your bra. Coyly looking over your shoulder, you pull your bra off and toss it aside. With your arms crossed over your breasts, you turn to face him again. You release your arms, letting your breasts hang freely, to finally slide your thong off your hips and letting them fall to the floor.

Returning to the position you were before, you straddle him and grab his rock hard erection, guiding it to your aching pussy. You rub the tip against your dripping opening, coating it with your lubrication.

“Babe…” Will croaks.

When you’re ready, you finally sink down onto him and he lets out a guttural moan, your own voice joining his as he fills you up. With your palms on his chest, you start moving up and down, riding him slowly at first to get adjusted. You then bear down, sitting as deep as you can. You stay still to really soak in the fullness as he stretches you out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, drawing another guttural noise from the back of Will’s throat.

“I can stay like this forever,” you groan.

After getting accustomed to his size, you start moving up and down again, but only giving him short strokes, teasing just the tip. Will’s shaky breath hitches. You watch him as you continue the torture, seeing how he reacts to every move. Feeling yourself clench from all that teasing, you sink down further again, deep down, letting him stretch you out in all directions. Will reaches for your breasts and massages them while teasing your nipples, making your hips twitch.

“Mm, you feel so good,” you tell him.

You then start rocking back and forth, feeling it out and finding the perfect position and rhythm. It doesn’t take long for you to do as you’ve done this probably literally hundreds of times. Your hips move a little quicker, but not quite enough. Drawing out the tease, you move up and down on him, only letting the head penetrate you before sinking down all the way again, repeating the movements.

Getting impatient, Will grips your hips and keeps you still after you envelope him again, and thrusts up to push himself even deeper. Bracing yourself on his chest feeling his muscles flex under your palms, you let him take over for a bit. He pounds into you from beneath, with so much force you’re practically bouncing on his lap. You help him out by rocking against him. His hands glide behind you and he squeezes your ass, pumping up inside of you.

When he bottoms out, you take the reins again, repositioning yourself so you’re squatting over him. It’s one of his favorite views, watching you spread open for him as he disappears inside you. You slip him back inside and place your hands on his chest for support. Slowly at first, you start bouncing on him. As you pick up speed, you’re quickly reminded your knees aren’t what they used to be.

“Okay, this might’ve been a bad idea,” you laugh as you shift your weight behind you to ease the pressure on your knees and balance yourself.

“I got you, baby.”

Will grips the bottom of your thighs to assist you in dismounting him, but finding yourself in this new sexy position, you start carefully bouncing on him again with your weight mostly on your hips and arms, and with Will’s help, it’s effortless. From the twinkles in his eyes, you can see how mesmerized he is by what’s in front of him.

His hand wanders between your legs and his thumb brushes over your clit, spreading your arousal all around and making your elevated hips stutter. You are getting slicker as your orgasm starts quickly building.

“Mm, look at you, my sexy little mama.”

There he goes again with the ego stroking. You start moving a little faster and Will matches your rhythm, getting his second wind and thrusting up again. In the midst of the excitement, he slips out of you and you nearly crush his cock and balls.

“Whoopsie!”

“Are you okay?” he chuckles.

You nod and attempt to reposition yourself.

“Come here.”

He offers you his hands and you take them. He pulls you up towards him so you’re properly straddling him again with your knees planted on each side of his torso as your body prefers. After pulling you against his chest and stealing a kiss from you, he flips you onto your back and then practically tears his shirt off, tossing it on the floor. He props himself with his tattooed forearms, each of them on either side of your head. His head dips down to latch onto the side of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. He then makes his way down and pulls one of your nipples between his teeth, gently tugging on it and swirling his tongue around it.

You sigh as you gyrate against him. His attention turns to the other one, but only briefly. His knees spread your legs wider as he settles in the space, reaching down to align his cock with your opening. He shoves himself deep into you and you grab onto his broad shoulders as he drives into you over and over again. Your gut gets tighter with each stroke so you wrap your legs around his waist and start moving with him.

"You know, you keep complaining you’re getting older, but you sure don't fuck like you are,” you compliment.

Feeling encouraged, he hooks his elbows behind your knees and nearly folds you in half. The new position forces you to release his shoulders and allows him to penetrate you even deeper. Your eyes roll back when he hits your g-spot.

"I still can't believe you're my wife sometimes, even after all these years,” Will tells you, then leans down to capture your lips, slowing his hips for a moment to really savor the kiss.

He picks up the pace and slams into you with purpose. You clench up and instinctively find his hands which are planted beside your head. A few of your fingers hook onto his and you hold on as you chase your release.

“Come on, baby. I know you’re getting close.”

You start to unravel as he continues to pound into you. A cry shoots out of you and one leaves Will shortly after as you both come together. He doesn’t stop moving against you until your orgasms subside, slowing down to a halt.

He collapses on top of you to catch his breath. After a minute or so, he leaves a tender kiss on your forehead before rolling off of you. You turn to him to lay on his chest and he wraps an arm around you. The two of you remain silent as you let your hearts come back down to resting rate.

“You know, there is one thing I do enjoy about growing older,” he starts as his fingers caress your spine.

“Oh yeah? What?” You ask, cuddling against his chest.

“That I’m doing it with you.”

He looks down at you to meet your rolling eyes, but your already glowing face brightens up even more.

“We should implement a date night every Friday. How does that sound?” He asks.

“That sounds wonderful,” you answer with a wide lazy grin.

“I love you so much.”

Before you can respond, Will cranes his neck and lays a passionate kiss on you while pulling you in closer to his body where you remain to have a lazy post-bliss make out session.

[mania-sama]

was recently reading a hunger games au and got sad and thought about my old hunger games x jjk draft. and because i'm feeling sad, i'm going to post a passage from the first chapter of their reaping.

The Geisha pulls out the chosen slip agonizingly slowly. It gives Yuuji enough time to worry, to look around Megumi’s head, between the Peacekeepers, at Nobara. Her chin is held high and her shoulders are set. She stares daringly at the stage as if challenging it to pick her of all people.

Megumi grasps Itadori’s hand. His fingers are cold and his grip is deathly tight. It’s the same dance every year. Her pride sears through their chests.

Please, Yuuji begs, intertwining his fingers with Megumi’s. The comfort it provides is worth more than whatever implications the boys around him will make. Please don’t let it be her.

The Geisha gently opens the slip of paper. She smiles and reads: “Kugisaki Nobara.”

Everything comes into hyperfocus. Itadori can see the mud caking the edges of the stone town square, the soot in everyone’s hair, clothes, faces, and nails that simply won’t come out no matter how hard they scrub, the colorful Capitol banners that flutter in the wind and wealth in the face of the poorest district, and the breeze that pushes against the hairs on the back of his neck. Megumi’s hand goes limp and his breath hitches into a half-gasp, half-choke. Heads turn to find the girl that was reaped. The girls around her step away, as if Nobara has contracted a plague from becoming a tribute. 

Her luck has run out.

Nobody volunteers in her place. Of course they don’t. Nobody volunteers in the coal-mining district where half the population dies from starvation alone. Surviving is hard enough — winning the Culling Games is impossible.

She steps out of her row and doesn’t look back at her friends or her watching parents as she makes her way to the steps of the Capitol stage. She pushes away the Peacekeepers who try to corral her, wary of runaway attempts or violent outbursts. Her steps are as confident as her pride. 

When she stands next to the Geisha, she does not let her fear show. The Geisha has always made tributes look small and boring next to her power and color. Nobara does not appear small nor boring; she stands with a straight back, curled fists, and a perfectly stolid face staring dead-on at the cameras embedded into the wall parallel to the stage. It’s as if she’s challenging the other twenty-three tributes already, declaring her victory before she’s stepped a foot outside of her district.

It’s exactly as he imagined it over and over again this morning. He had hoped that his anxieties would remain just that: anxiety, a worry over something that could but will never happen.

He finds that it’s hard to breathe in the soot-infested air like he’s a Capitol citizen and not a boy raised by a grandfather and neighbors who worked in the mines his entire life. His gaze tracks the previous victors sitting in the back of the stage. Gojo's previous overjoyous malice has been replaced by a calculating head tilt. Okkotsu examines her just as closely, betraying very little in his expression.

They have to bring her home. They have to.

The Geisha gives Nobara a polite nod. His friend doesn’t turn to meet the gesture, doesn’t even spare a side-eye, a blatant show of disrespect that almost makes Itadori smile. Undeterred, the Geisha continues with the ceremony. “Now for the boys.”

Between the three of them, Megumi’s name is repeated the least amount of times. Being the ward of a famous victor, not just by district but by Capitol standards, means he has plenty of money and food. Tessera does not increase his chances of being picked. Itadori is twice as likely to be reaped, and he doesn’t even have any parents or siblings to care for. In comparison to the rest of the children, they are improbable tributes.

He holds onto this notion and Megumi’s hand tightly as the Geisha draws the slip from the bowl. She smiles, and his worst fear comes true.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

He can’t lose them both.

“I volunteer as tribute!” Itadori shouts not a half second later, raising his hand high into the air to make his position known. He does it before anyone can turn their heads to the chosen boy, before he can see Gojo’s face fall into preemptive mourning, and before Megumi can step out of the row to greet his fate.

Megumi grabs Yuuji’s shoulders and jostles him. His green eyes are wide open and wild, and his lips are curled back with anger. “You can’t be doing this to me,” he says disbelievingly. “Take it back. Take it back right now.”

“Oh,” the Geisha says, surprised. “We have a volunteer.”

If he keeps holding him like that, he’s going to leave bruises. Itadori brushes him off as firmly as he can. “Please get out of my way,” he demands quietly.

It takes everything in him to not break down under Megumi’s betrayed, hurt face. His resolve to save his friends is strong; the resolve to not outwardly show it is far weaker.

for reference gojo and yuuta are both previous victors. when i tell you i have this entire au still in my head, i DO. there is so much to this and i had so much and i just can never write it because im SLOW and bad at writing anything EVER

[darkmasterofcupcakes]

Apparently Egypt Exists in Hell, Too

Chapter 2

Story Rating: M

Read on AO3: X

Loona stared down at her phone, focusing on scrolling through her Sinstagram account in order to try and ignore the eyes that she knew were focused on her. She wanted to snap at the other demons to mind their own fucking business, but that was only going to draw even more attention to her, which was the last thing she wanted to deal with right now.

So she just kept her attention on the screen, trying to ignore the comments of those around her, wondering what she was doing there alone – as the few other hellhounds in the waiting area were accompanied by other demons who they presumably worked for or were adopted by – and instead listened to the announcements that occasionally played from the overhead speakers.

A part of her couldn’t help but angrily wonder how few people went to the Sloth Ring that she’d been waiting almost forty minutes and she was pretty sure every other Ring had been announced at least twice, but she was still stuck waiting.

“Goddammit” Loona growled under her breath, gritting her teeth as she did her best to force down the wave of nausea that surged through her body. There was a restroom nearby, but considering her luck lately, if she left to use it, the elevator to Sloth would arrive when she was gone, and then she’d be stuck waiting at least another hour for the next one.

Thankfully, the feeling subsided fairly quickly, though there was still a faint sensation in her gut that warned the nausea would come back in full force with the smallest provocation; and if her sense of smell wasn’t already naturally heightened, her current situation wasn’t doing her any favors.

“How many horny fucks are there in this place?” she snapped as there was yet another announcement for a departure for Lust, after briefly becoming hopeful that she was finally going to actually leave. The longer she was waiting, the worse she felt, in every sense of the word. Every part of her was practically screaming at her to just walk away; why was she sitting here, waiting for almost an hour, to go somewhere she knew she hated?

But if she didn’t get this over with now, when her feeling that she needed to just deal with this as quickly as possible was overriding her hatred of hospitals (if just barely), she wasn’t likely to be able to do it at all.

A banner popped up at the top of her phone screen, indicating that she’d received a new text, but she didn’t open it. She already knew it was most likely from either Vortex or Bee…and Loona just couldn’t talk to them right now. And on the off-chance it was from Blitzo, responding from the text she’d sent him to cover up what she was actually doing; well, then she just didn’t want to deal with him right now. The only reason she’d even sent that message after she’d stuffed that damned test as far into the trash as possible and rushed out of the apartment building to get here was because she knew if she didn’t, Blitzo would go ballistic freaking out about her being “missing”; sometimes Loona secretly appreciated the concern, but right now, being treated like a kid was the last thing she needed.

Loona was pulled out of her thoughts when the voice overhead announced, “Sloth Ring. Now taking transfers to the Sloth Ring”.

“Fucking finally,” she exclaimed, immediately standing up (and trying not to wince at the way the sudden movement made her feel slightly lightheaded) and making her way toward the elevator.

At least now she knew it wasn’t going to be too much longer until she was actually going to be where she needed to go. Once she was actually in the Sloth Ring, she just needed to get to the damn hospital, and then she could just get this whole thing over with, and pretend it never happened.

A cramp went through her stomach, strong enough that Loona couldn’t keep herself from clutching at it, albeit briefly. Those few seconds were more than long enough for her to feel the slight, but still way to distinctly damning swelling in the area right below her navel.

The cramping itself was annoying familiar by this point; it was a combination of the fact that almost anything she smelled made her stomach turn and the frequent cramps, along with her noticing that she felt more bloated than normal in spite of her stomach’s constant rebellion that convinced her to take the test in the first place.

But the female hellhound had the feeling that these cramps were less just her body trying to make her feel even worse than she already did for being stupid enough to let her girlfriend and especially her boyfriend get near her when she was still in heat (and even worse, being unable to resist when her body screamed at her to allow Vortex and Bee to help her satisfy the overwhelming desire she’d been feeling for days, that hit its peak with the two of them in the same room).

No, this was more comparable to when Blitzo had dragged her in for her Hellbies appointment. As much as Loona hated to admit it, she was nervous about what she was about to do.

Well, of course she was fucking nervous; how could she not be, all things considered? It had been bad enough when she’d had to get jabbed with a single needle (“one little prick, you won’t feel it” Blitzo had said in the waiting room, and that was a big enough lie that she’d refused to talk to him or even acknowledge his presence for the rest of that night and good chunk of the next day), but this? This was literally going to involve having stuff ripped out from inside her, and while she had no idea how it was going to feel, she couldn’t imagine it was going to be particularly present; not to even consider the effect that her existing hatred of doctors and hospitals would have on the already unpleasant experience.

Part of her almost wondered if all the trouble (not to mention the money she needed to try and bribe the people at the hospital to even take her without an actual appointment) was even worth it…and she kept forcing that thought down, because even if it wasn’t worth it, she didn’t really have much of a choice, did she?

Yeah, she was happy with Bee and Tex, despite the fact that it took her months to fully accept they actually were both interested in her, and not just spending so much time hanging out with her, both at Bee’s parties and alone, out of some weird sense of pity. But the year that they’d officially been together were undoubtedly pretty high on the list of best years of Loona’s life; even if she was discounting the nearly eighteen years she spent in that shithole of a kennel in Sloth.

In fact, she was so happy with how her life had been going that she almost couldn’t help but just assume it was too good to really be true – there was just no way in Hell that life could just stay that great for someone like her; she just knew that something was going to happen to fuck it all up. And she was absolutely right about that.

Her first time going into heat after she’d started dating Vortex and Bee, probably the best sex she’d had in her life so far, and basically an entire paycheck thrown away for some morning after pills that were either expired or never fucking worked in the first place; and now she was dealing with possibly the biggest fuck-up of her life so far.

The three of them had never once brought up even the question of having kids. Why would they, when they’d only officially been together for just over a year now, and, in Loona’s case, still getting used to really being in a relationship like this to begin with? And, sure, maybe there was a chance her partners would be fine with what had happened, understand that Loona hadn’t meant to get herself knocked up from that night, and it’d all work out fine; but there was still the very real possibility of the exact opposite happening, and that was why the hellhound was currently walking through the streets of Sloth, ignoring everything outside of her goal.

If Vortex and Bee did get pissed and dump her for this fuck-up…well, these pups would be better off dead than having just her for a mom anyway, so this really was the best solution for everyone involved.

Loona sighed in relief as she finally stepped through the sliding doors of the hospital – just a few more minutes, then everything would be back to normal and nobody would ever have to know.

“Hey, I need to see someone,” Loona said as soon as she walked up to the receptionist’s desk, trying her best to ignore the way her fur was already starting to stand up from the tension building in her muscles.

The demon behind the desk didn’t even look up from the magazine she was lazily flipping through, so Loona growled and slammed her hand on the desktop, hard enough that she knew it couldn’t be ignored.

“Do you have an appointment?” the nurse questioned, still not looking up at the hellhound standing before her, though now her attention was on the appointment book rather than her now discarded magazine.

“No, I don’t have an appointment, but it doesn’t matter,” Loona replied, barely suppressing a growl from coming through. “I just need to get these little bastards out before it’s too late to even fucking try.”

She was already almost seven weeks into it, and one thing she knew about hellhound pregnancies was that they didn’t last that long, and even before birth, the pups could be shockingly durable; this really was her last chance to do this without having to make it even more complicated and having to worry about it not even working.

That finally seemed to get the older woman’s attention, and she actually looked up to face Loona for the first time since the hellhound had approached her desk.

“Oh, I remember you,” the nurse said, with very little emotion in either her tone or her expression. “You’re Blitzo’s hellhound.”

The nurse said her adoptive father’s name with the “O” pronounced, presumably out of an inability to care to remember the stressed reminder that it was silent, rather than true malice, considering Blitzo was nowhere near within earshot.

Loona felt her eye twitch slightly at being referred to as “Bitzo’s hellhound” – she knew how a lot of people in Hell viewed it when another demon adopted or hired a hellhound, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. But she tried to keep her cool; whatever it took to just get this damned procedure done and over with as quickly as possible.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied. “Can you just tell one of those assholes that I’m here so I can get out of here faster?”

The longer she stood in this waiting room, the more every muscle in her body was screaming at her to leave; something she was positive was apparent in her body language, although while the other demons waiting clearly noticed from their not-quite-whispered comments, the nurse-receptionist either didn’t notice or, more likely, didn’t care.

In what almost felt like an intentional attempt at making the hellhound even more on edge, the receptionist took a couple seconds longer than seemed necessary to respond to the request…and even then, only responded with a question of her own.

“Is Mr. O here with you?”

Loona had to be slightly thankful for that out of the blue question: the confusion it sparked within her made her forget how freaked she was, albeit briefly. Why would it matter if Blitzo was here with her? She voiced this question to the receptionist, who started clicking her tongue and shaking her head in response.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t allow hellhounds to get abortions without their owners giving us permission” the receptionist said, before picking her magazine back up and going back to flipping through the pages, as though Loona had never shown up in the first place.

“What the fuck?” Loona’s voice sounded way too calm for just how pissed she was after hearing that – maybe she was so angry that she just cycled all the way around or something. Either way, she let out a snarl as she reached over and dug her claws into the receptionist’s shirt, lifting the older woman up so that she was looking Loona in the eyes, which were now faintly glowing with barely contained rage.

“Blitzo isn’t my fucking owner, he’s my dad. So he doesn’t get to decide whether or not I have to go through with having these pups” Loona said coldly, her voice still in that weird “so angry it’s gone around to calm” tone, though now there was just a hint of a growl to it, showing that the rage was starting to break through again.

However, in spite of her currently being dangerously close to the teeth of an obvious pissed off hellhound, the receptionist did not seem to notice the danger she was in.

“I’m sorry, but our records have you registered as belonging to Mr. O, so there’s really nothing I can do. The hospital doesn’t want to get people asking for money to make up for what they could have gotten from the pups.”

Oh…fuck, that’s right. For as annoying as her adoptive father could be, the one thing Loona had to appreciate about Blitzo was that he always treated her like an actual person – even if she sometimes seemed to think she was about ten years younger than she actually was. But, she’d gotten so used to how Blitzo treated her that she had almost forgotten that for a lot of people in Hell, the hellhounds they adopted were basically just pets…and some weren’t even that.

She had also grown up knowing that some people literally sold hellhound pups as soon as they were born, if they seemed to be worth some money; otherwise they’d probably just be dumped in a kennel somewhere, like she had been when she was born.

Maybe it was being hit with this realization, maybe it was just the fact that she was so pissed that she’d come all this way for nothing, but Loona finally snapped and forcefully tossed the nurse across the small “office” causing her to slam hard enough into the wall behind her that there would probably be a decent-sized dent in the material (impressive, considering it seemed to be made of some kind of stone).

Whether or not someone called security after that, Loona had no idea, since she just stormed out of the hospital and started heading back to the Hellevators right after she’d done it.

She was about halfway there when the full weight of everything that had transpired in the past few minutes finally hit her.

What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

Technically, there were other hospitals she could go do – Sloth was the ring most known for medical care in Hell, but technically most of the rings had some kind of hospital or at least clinic that the denizens could go to – but she knew there’d either be the same issue of her not being “allowed” to get the abortion, or she’d be technically able to do it, but it’d cost so much that she’d probably be in debt to the damned hack of a doctor for the rest of her life. And outside of the hospitals, the only other ways to try and fix her goddamn stupid mistake were to either let herself get the shit kicked out of her (something that went fully against a lifetime of learning that if she wanted to survive, she needed to rip apart anyone who even tried to touch her if she didn’t want them to), or pretty much literally poison herself and hope it wouldn’t just end up killing her too; neither of which were even guaranteed to work, especially with how far along she already was.

She briefly considered just talking to Blitzo, since that would almost definitely solve the issue of why she couldn’t just get the abortion herself. However, not only was she still fuming over being flat out told that her father had more say in something that was going to impact her life more than she did, but if there was anyone she wanted to know she’d gotten knocked up less than her partners, it was Blitzo.

Loona hadn’t even told him that she was dating anyone, much less than she was dating Vortex and Bee. Considering how he’d literally accused Vortex of planning on giving her an STD the first time they’d even just talked, she knew from the moment the three of them started this whole relationship that she was going to try and keep Blitzo from knowing about it for as long as possible. The last thing she wanted to deal with was him bitching about how he didn’t trust her partners or whatever. And if he’d been overprotective upon just seeing Loona talk to Vortex, she knew he’d kill the male hellhound without asking a single question if he found out he’d gotten her pregnant.

So, talking to Blitzo about the whole thing was definitely not an option.

As she was thinking about all that, a small thought popped into her mind; one that had technically been there the whole time, but until this moment, was smothered by her determination to get rid of the pups she was currently carrying before her partners found out: she didn’t actually know how they’d feel about the news? She’d just kind of…assumed there was a good chance that they’d be angry and dump her over it, since they’d never talked about it…and her own history with a childhood defined by rejection just made her assume the worst.

But before she tried going through insane hoops to do something that might not even work to begin with…maybe she should find out for sure? If nothing else, if they did end up being pissed at her, she could at least see if Bee could loan her the money for it from one of the clinics that cared more about cash than “legality”; she’d rather be in some form of debt to her girlfriend than literal loan sharks that probably got their medical license from a knock-off cereal box.

“Okay…guess I’m doing this…” she muttered to herself as she started walking again.

Vortex was most likely working right now, so Loona decided to talk to Bee first. Neither discussion would have been fun, she knew, but at least with Beelzebub, it’d just be the two of them (for as much as the Ring Lord loved parties, she usually didn’t start any until the afternoon), whereas trying to talk to Vortex would likely involve an audience – including Verosika Mayday, and the young hellhound really did not want to have this conversation in front of the pop star she’d been a fan of for years.

Fortunately, the transfer from Sloth to Gluttony didn’t take anywhere near as long as the first trip, and it only took an hour of walking (she could have gotten a taxi, but she told herself she wanted to save the money – it wasn’t that she was still afraid of how Bee would react, and she was trying to put it off for even a few moments longer) to reach the hive-like palace that the Queen Bee of Gluttony called home.

Loona hesitated and took a deep breath before reaching for the door handle and opening the door; she had knocked for a while, before Bee had made it very clear that if anyone was absolutely welcome to just barge in without warning, it was either of her partners.

She had barely stepped into the main entrance when the tell-tale buzzing filled her ears, only seconds before she felt all four of Bee’s arms wrap tight around her body.

“Girl, where have you been? Me and Tex missed you,” Bee told her girlfriend, the tone playful despite the slightly accusatory words. As she spoke, she nuzzled her cheek against Loona’s, acting like it’d been months since they’d last seen each other, rather than the few days the hellhound had spent avoiding either of her partners between noticing her symptoms and finally deciding to take the test to confirm her fears.

“Yeah…sorry…I’ve just…It’s been…Stuff’s been happening, you know?” Loona responded, unsure of what to actually say. She felt her tail starting to wrap around her, almost subconsciously, a habit from when she was just a pup and still tried to hide from anything that put her on edge rather than lash out at it.

Whether it was because she noticed this, or simply due to her natural ability to read people’s emotions, Bee pulled away from the embrace to look Loona in the eye, her own face showing concern.

“Everything okay?” she asked, lowering her voice slightly and carefully reaching over to gently stroke just behind her girlfriend’s ear – a spot that over the year they’d been together, they’d both discovered could help her relax if touched in just the right way.

For a second, Loona wanted to lie – just saying she was fine and leave it at that; Bee probably wouldn’t believe her, but maybe she would and it’d be easier than actually talking about what happened.

But she steeled herself for whatever was going to happen next as she admitted, “Not really…or, maybe? I…actually have no idea if it’s okay or if I just fucked everything up royally.”

“Okay, you’re actually starting to get me worried now,” Bee said, and Loona felt a twinge of guilt cut through her. “Just…tell me what’s going on, alright? There’s no way it can be that bad, and even if it is…Nothing a little cuddle session can’t fix, especially if I call up Verosika and tell her we need Tex for a bit.”

Loona felt her face heat up slightly at the suggestion – even after a year of being with Bee, part of her could still get a little flustered at some of the things that came out of the fox-demon’s mouth, seemingly without her even thinking about it. Though, to be fair, she wouldn’t turn down the offer to just spend a bit of time in bed with Bee and Tex…even if that’s what got her into this situation to begin with.

Well, better to just get it over with, Loona told herself as she tried to force herself to relax, just a little.

“…You remember a few weeks ago, when you guys came over to see me and I was…in heat?” she asked, carefully watching Bee to see if there was any hint to what she was thinking.

Bee suddenly smirked, a small chuckle escaping from her lips as she seemed to briefly flash back to that day. “Oh, I definitely remember that – it was fucking amazing…in more ways than one,” she said, still smiling at the memory even as she shook her head slightly at the small attempt at a joke.

The smile slowly faded from her face, however, as what Loona had actually said – and more importantly, what it meant – seemed to fully sink in.

“Oh, Sweet Pup,” Bee said softly. She once again pulled Loona into an embrace, this one much gentler than the one she’d greeted her with. “You got nothing to worry about, okay?”

Loona wasn’t sure if she really believed what Bee was saying (she still had to worry about how Vortex was going to react, not to mention dreading telling Blitzo depending on where this ended up going), but she couldn’t help but feel comforted by her girlfriend’s words; allowing herself to just relax as Bee held her, gently stroking her face and hair in an admittedly successful attempt to soothe the hellhound’s nerves.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 8

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: none? Length: 2.1k Notes: I’m sorry, Cyn, I know I said there would be smut but I was just enjoying the slow burn too much. And I just feel like these two NEED this. Not me nervous to write about his p in her v, nooope. Also, I’m wine drunk and did not spell check this bitch, have fun with that. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series MASTERLIST

The day of the fair had finally arrived and you woke with more than a little excitement churning in your stomach. Multiple meetings at the community center had given you a chance to meet more of the town's population and you'd gained a deeper appreciation for them. Small towns afforded very few entertainments, which had resulted in some of the older kids, driven by boredom, getting into trouble. Minor things like graffiti and trespassing, but the community knew if they weren't careful that things could escalate. So, instead of making the kids feel judged or harshly reprimanded, the town was working towards better programs and facilities to keep them busy.

It was an unseasonably beautiful Autumn day, the kind that carried memories of Summer on the warm breeze. Knowing that cold and snow were just around the corner, these "second summers" made people act a little more recklessly and freely than they usually might. You had a feeling that the crowds tonight were going to be bigger and rowdier than anyone could have hoped for.

Jacquie had stopped by later to offer you a ride to town but you had just sent your baking with her, insisting that you wanted to enjoy the sunshine and bicycle in.

Once you'd entered the main square you were blown away by the effort from the town. Banners, balloons, streamers, and posters were everywhere. A stage for musical acts and a ticket booth had been built and donated by Hank's Hardware, food carts selling anything and everything you could deep-fry were scattered down every road. Carnival games had been set up in rows down multiple, closed-off, streets, as well as people setting up face-painting, balloon animals, and a smaller version of the Saturday Farmer's Market. The high school football field had even been converted to a tiny amusement park with a Ferris Wheel, carousel, and swing ride.

It was still early, and there was still a lot to do before the fair would be open, but the excitement was already palpable. After making sure your pies had been marked down for the auction, you beelined for the water gun race game that you and a lovely woman named Heather had been assigned to operate. 

Too preoccupied with making sure you had the water tanks filled, the pumps were working, and your ticket box was in place you didn't notice how some of the other volunteers were acting strangely, making sidelong glances and meaningful head nods. 

Nothing seemed amiss once Heather had joined you. In fact, you were getting along with her so well the two of you had already made plans to meet for coffee the next day.

Soon, the fair was in full swing. The games booths were a popular stop with families and you were having the time of your life cheering for every child who tried their hand at your game. 

Eventually, there was a natural lull in the festivities as fair-goers drifted from the games towards the food and live entertainment. You were just suggesting making a quick snack run when Heather's phone rang. 

"Sorry, one sec, it's my husband," she grimaced, holding her finger up to stop you from leaving.

In a bid to give her a modicum of privacy, you tallied up the tickets and bunched them into coils for easier counting later. Heather's normally calm voice rose in pitch and urgency, drawing your attention back to her in time to see a look of alarm and annoyance cross her face.  

"What do you mean, burned? Like, burned burned? There's smoke?! Oh, honey, what on earth..." she paused, listening to her husband's voice some more, giving you an eye roll that clearly said 'Men. They're hopeless' and interrupted whatever he had been saying. "Alright, alright. It's slowing down here so I can run home."

Putting her phone back in her purse, Heather turned to you with a huff. "He's burnt dinner, and it sounds like my skillet is toast, too. I'm sorry to do this to you but I need to run to the store and bring dinner home. I've got the only car, so they're stuck."

Assuring her you could manage on your own, you shooed her away and told her to take her time.

Walking backward to wave goodbye, Heather kept spouting numerous apologies and promising she'd make it up to you on your coffee date. Giving one last smile she spun around and immediately ran into old Mrs. Crawley who was being escorted by no other than a very bored and trapped-looking Frankie Morales.

"Oh! Mrs. Crawley! So sorry!" She began, steadying the white-haired octogenarian, "I'm being called home, ditching my post, gotta run, bye!" With that, she was gone, weaving her way through the crowd of people.

Mrs. Crawley had glanced over at you when Heather had mentioned having to leave and was currently shuffling her way towards you, Frankie in tow.

"Frankie, be a dear and help this beautiful lady out while Heather is away."

It wasn't a question but you still felt the need to speak up, giving Frankie an out if he wanted it.

"I can manage-"

"But what about your-"

You'd both spoken at the same time and stopped mid-way through to let the other go first. Mrs. Crawley broke the silence instead.

"My hip is feeling much better, and I think I'll just make my way over to the bandstand," she gave Frankie a meaningful look accompanied by a rather sharper-than-expected slap to his cheek, "alone."

You both watched her walk over to the stage, stopping to wave at Jacquie and Agnes where they were organizing the bake sale.

"What on earth is going on," you thought to yourself while staring daggers at Jacquie from across the street. This had zero effect on her, she was just sending you lewd winks and had the audacity to give Mrs. Crawley a thumbs up. That conniving little-

"Emmmm... hi."

His voice, sounding uncertain and shy, brought your attention back to Frankie. Taking a moment to soak in his presence, you noticed how worn down he looked. "Good," thought the petty part of your brain, but she was easily squashed by the rest of it appreciating the rest of him.

Tight jeans hugging his thighs, the buttons on his shirt working overtime where the material pulled across his back and chest, his hair was long and getting shaggy but when you saw the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap you had to fight the sudden urge to run your fingers through it.

Your eyes traveled up his neck, noting the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and across his face. He'd trimmed his beard, filthy thoughts of how it would feel on your skin flashed in your head.

Finally meeting his eyes with your own, you had to take a breath before replying.

"It's nice to see you, Frankie." Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, drawing his gaze "I guess we should talk-"

You were cut short by rowdy laughter and a crowd of people bustling onto the street, another wave of ticket-holders were coming to try their luck and win the huge teddy bear prize each game boasted.

For the next hour, you were kept too busy to talk more than what was necessary for running the booth. You used the time to gather your thoughts and make a list of what you wanted to say, how you wanted to say it, and how you were going to start the conversation casually.

Frankie wasn't sure how he had ended up as Mrs. Crawley's crutch. One minute he was dropping off a crate of fruit for the apple bobbing contest and the next he was walking at a snail's pace listening to the old woman reminiscing about her long-dead husband. 

She was sweet, and he didn't mind the slow meander around the square. No, it was the subject matter that had bugged him. After his divorce was finalized and his daughter was taken from him, which he could see now was the right thing to do at the time, Frankie had accepted the fact that he was alone.

Just him, his trees, and the memories of what he did to end up this way.

Then, you had come along. The first woman to catch his attention in five damn years. It wasn't just your beauty, or your easy smile, or the curves of your body. It was your goodness, your innocence, your ability to worm your way into everyone's hearts and not even know it. 

Listening to Mrs. Crawley and the love she had shared made his chest ache, knowing he'd never deserve it himself he still found himself longing for the same. The first moment he had laid eyes on you, it was like a movie about his life had played in flashes in his mind. The meet-cute at the market, romancing you with thoughtful dates like picnics and driving up to the city’s museums and theatre. Getting married, growing the business, then growing your family. It had all played out in a split second but the impression it had left was immeasurable. 

Then, he'd opened his mouth and ruined the moment. Crashed into your truck and ruined the moment. Spooked and burned you, ruining the moment. Gained your trust, broke down your walls, and then left like a coward in the morning and ruined it.

Shaken by his inward reflecting when Mrs. Crawley was jostled, Frankie froze in place once his eyes were directed to where you stood. You were glaring over his shoulder and refusing to meet his eyes, understandably, yet he still felt his chest contract with the hope you'd look at him and smile. 

The way your gaze had eventually taken him in, once he'd been abandoned by a suddenly spry-looking elder, had flared that longing back into a roaring flame. The sudden need to work the booth gave him plenty of time to plan his speech: begging for forgiveness and admitting to the way he felt. While his mind was busy planning his speech, his heart was bursting at how comfortably and effortlessly the two of you worked with each other, like you’d been doing it for years.

Heather returned, strolling over with a barely concealed smile on her face, not looking at all like she'd just come back from a domestic emergency. This whole town could win an Oscar for their performance tonight, it was mildly humiliating but you knew they were acting out of love.

She thanked Frankie profusely for standing in for her and wouldn't take no for an answer after suggesting the two of you go and enjoy yourselves for a bit. Glancing at Frankie you shrugged your shoulders and made a face that said "why not?". He smiled and nodded back, grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder before joining you on the bustling street.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, relishing just being near each other and absorbing the jubilant energy surrounding you.

Frankie bought you cotton candy and you made him belly laugh when you showed him the few bottles of cider you'd smuggled in your bag. Seeing the way his face lit up, how he exposed that delicious neck when he threw his head back, hearing the joyous rumble from deep within, sent a realization slamming into you so suddenly it made you stumble.

You loved him.

You might not be in love with him, not yet anyway, but there was a lightness and a warmth in your heart and he had put it there.

Frankie had grabbed your arm when you had stumbled and when you didn't pull away from his touch, his hand slid down your arm and his fingers wove their way through yours.

Walking like this, hand in hand, you found yourselves at the rides.

"I've never been on a Ferris Wheel," he admits to you, craning his head upwards to stare at the top carriage.

Dragging your eyes away from his neck, again, it took your brain a moment to acknowledge what he’d said. "What?!" You expressed with mock horror, already making your way toward the ride’s gate, "Then let's remedy that!"

"I'm- uh this is stupid," he was barely moving with you and adjusted his hat, a nervous tick you'd noticed, "I'm scared of heights."

This admission stopped you in your tracks.

"Frankie." You deadpanned, gripping his hand and pulling on it to emphasize your words, "You're. A. Pilot."

He groaned and you were sure you could see a blush creeping up from beneath his collar, "I know! I know. It's just that, up there?" He stops with a sigh, gazing at the stars wistfully, "I'm in control. I trust myself."

"Do you trust me?" You ask him softly gripping his hand between the both of yours.

Frankie gazed at your face for a breath, not in a way that made you think he was hesitating, it was more like he was pausing so you knew the full weight of his words.

"I trust you with everything."

PART NINE

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[morganaspendragonss]

holly's august extravaganza day 4: a friend in me

📍 anon - I don't know but I feel like Carlos and Nancy can have such an awesome best friend dynamic. Maybe something sad/scary regarding Nancy happens where she has to make a report at the precinct and Carlos doesn't tell anyone as she made him promise so he starts to just check on Nancy and they just develop this caring, supportive, beautiful, fun, full of banter friendship to the amusement of TK and the 126.

kept this separate from your original ask because i want to keep those other prompts you sent alongside this one for later 😊

ao3 | 2k | hurt/comfort, brief references to gun violence, mostly just carlos and nancy being besties

Carlos has never seen Nancy look so small.

She’s sitting hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, hands seemingly moving of their own volition to tear the empty styrofoam cup in front of her to shreds. As soon as Carlos had seen her being escorted into the precinct, shaking like a leaf and clutching her coat like a lifeline, he’d persuaded the officer with her to let him take over the case. His association with the 126 is well known so the officer had been reluctant, but Carlos had managed to wear him down, saying that he doesn’t really know Nancy that well.

And it’s—it’s not exactly a full lie. Through their hangs and TK’s stories, he’s coming to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But of her personal life, Carlos knows next to nothing; she mentioned a sister a few weeks ago, and TK delights in teasing her about her growing crush on Marjan, but that’s about it.

He needs to make more of an effort, he decides. When they’re anywhere else but a police station.

Carlos knocks lightly on the door to announce his presence before entering the room, sending her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Nancy visibly relaxes at the sight of him and she drops the remains of her cup, though Carlos doesn’t miss the continuing tremble to her hands.

“Hey Nancy,” he says, sliding into the seat opposite her. “How are you doing?”

Nancy’s lips twitch, the corners barely curving into the beginnings of a wry smile. She breathes out shakily, meeting Carlos’s eyes for the briefest second before staring back down at the table. “I’m not great,” she answers, and for her to admit to that… Well, Carlos suspects it’s not a regular occurrence.

He nods, reluctantly pulling out his notebook and pen, hesitating before flipping to the next blank page. Nancy tracks his movements, resignation clearly etched all over her features. Carlos glances at the two-way mirror—not that it does him any good—then reaches across the table to take Nancy’s hand.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he murmurs. “If you need more time, just say the word and I’ll leave. Or if you’d prefer to talk to someone you don’t know, we can do that too. Anything you need.”

The sudden tightness of Nancy’s grip is unexpected, as is the flash of panic in her eyes.

“Please, don’t go,” she whispers. “I don’t—” She cuts herself off, shutting her eyes and breathing slowly for a few seconds. Slowly, her hold on Carlos begins to loosen until her hand is slack in his, then she draws both hands into her lap and straightens in her chair. When her eyes reopen, she seems more like the Nancy Carlos knows—strong, confident, assertive—though there’s still clearly an undercurrent of fear underneath it all.

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

Carlos bites back an are you sure and settles for clicking his pen, his smile unwavering. “Can you run me through what happened, exactly?” he asks. “Take your time.”

A second or two passes, then Nancy nods, her voice steady when she speaks. “I was restocking the bus at the end of shift. I was alone; Captain Vega was in her office and TK was with the others in the showers—he did try to help but he’d had to go into a fire on our last call to help a patient and the smell of smoke was giving me a headache, so I told him to go.”

Carlos pauses in his note-taking, mentally filing that last piece of information away for follow-up as soon as he sees his boyfriend again. Judging by the amused quirk to Nancy’s eyebrow, she’s fully aware of where his mind has gone, so Carlos clears his throat and motions for her to continue, forcing his thoughts back to the present.

“Like I said, I was alone. I didn’t mind it; it was kind of relaxing, you know? Then this guy appeared from nowhere and pointed a gun at me, saying if I called out or turned on the siren or anything, he’d shoot. I thought—” She inhales sharply, her knuckles going white on the tabletop and her jaw clenching tightly. Her voice sounds different when she next speaks, more controlled, as though forcing each word out. “I thought it was happening again. I thought he was going to take me somewhere, make me his personal pet paramedic, something like that.

“Turns out, he just wanted drugs. I gave him what we had on the rig and he seemed satisfied, so I figured he’d shoot me anyway ‘cause I’d seen his face, right? He didn’t—obviously—but it looked like he was considering it.” Nancy pauses and flicks her gaze up at Carlos, biting her lip. “I think he might have done it,” she admits quietly, “but he got spooked by one of the guys making noise so he just bolted. I’m not sure how long it was between that and TK coming back and finding me. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head. “It’s okay. We can check the cameras at the station. With luck, that should get us an ID, maybe a license plate if he drove. I think that’s almost everything; just one more question, if that’s okay. Can you tell me what you gave him exactly?”

Nancy nods. “Morphine, Ativan, tramadol… I’d have to check stocks for the exact amounts.”

“We’ll do that, don’t worry about it.” Carlos taps his pen on the pages before flipping his notebook shut and leaning across the table again. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Speaking as a friend and not a cop, if there’s anything you need, anything I can help with, let me know.”

She smiles wanly. “I’m okay. I just want to go home and forget all this ever happened.”

“Fair enough. I’ll walk you out to your car.”

Carlos half-expects her to brush him off, but she just nods and allows him to escort her back through the precinct and out to her car. He dithers awkwardly, shuffling his feet as Nancy turns to him, one hand on the door handle.

“Thank you, Carlos. For real. I have the feeling it wasn't a coincidence that you were the one in that room with me.”

The tips of Carlos’s ears go pink as he finds himself caught out. “That, uh… That would not be inaccurate.”

“Well, thanks.” She pulls open the car door and Carlos takes a step back, wanting to wait until she’s safely away to go back inside. Nancy ducks as if to get in, then pauses and straightens again, biting her lip as she looks back at him.

“Hey, Carlos?” she says. “Can you do me a favour and not tell the others? Not even TK. They— They know vaguely what happened, but I’d prefer it if the details and, uh, some of the other stuff I told you could be kept between us.”

He agrees immediately, just grateful that she trusts him enough to handle this for her. “No-one will know any more than they need to,” he promises, which seems to relieve her. She thanks him again, then gets in the car and drives away, Carlos watching after her with one hand raised in farewell.

*

It grows from there.

It’s not intentional exactly, but one text to check up on her soon turns into a steady stream of messages, stories and jokes and even the occasional meme passing back and forth between them. Carlos especially appreciated Nancy's carefully curated collection of dirt on TK, which, as a concerned boyfriend, it is his duty to know. Many a conversation has been spent griping about TK's accident prone ways or sighing over his latest mishap.

Lovingly, of course.

Nancy, 15.48: you’ll never guess what happened this time

Carlos, 16.22: ?

In answer, he receives a picture of a dejected-looking TK sprawled on the floor with Buttercup’s front paws squarely resting on his chest. Buttercup’s tongue is lolling out, a wide grin on his face, and in the background stand the rest of the crew. All of them also seem to have their phones pointed towards TK—probably the reason TK looks so down, as Carlos knows his boyfriend couldn’t be upset with Buttercup to save his life.

Nancy, 16.26: he thought he’d try to teach buttercup some tricks. turns out, dog trainers exist for a reason

Carlos has to stifle a laugh—technically, he is supposed to be working—but his attempt at being subtle is thwarted when his phone repeatedly pings with similar texts and photos from Paul, Marjan, and Mateo. He screenshots the sudden influx of notifications and sends it to Nancy before saving every single photo.

Nancy responds with a laughing emoji and a promise to keep him updated.

*

Not all of their conversations are about TK, naturally.

Carlos, 19.10: I don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her

Nancy, 19.12: i do talk to her. every shift, actually

Carlos, 19.13: Nancy

Nancy, 19.13: carlos

Nancy, 19.14: i don’t even know if she’s into women, alright? it’s not like i can just march up and ask, that’s like waving a banner saying ‘hey, i’m in love with you’ in her face

Carlos, 19.16: Oh, we’re talking about love now, are we?

Nancy, 19.17: can it, reyes

Carlos, 19.20: Noted. Look, take it from someone who’s been navigating gay relationships in Texas his whole life. Sometimes you just have to go for it. Ask her for coffee, test the waters, see where it leads. You never know, it might work out. I mean, look at me

Nancy, 19.24: wow, way to rub your happiness in my face 😑

(Carlos doesn’t find out if she follows his advice, but he does notice her and Marjan showing up to their hangs together)

(Nancy does not appreciate his smugness)

*

Without even realising, they become a formidable team. This fact is highlighted one game night about three months after the incident, when Nancy and Marjan blow into his and TK’s house, a determined glint in both their eyes.

“We’re switching up the teams,” Marjan declares, much to TK’s outrage.

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Nancy continues, “we’re tired of losing to you guys. You’re like, freakishly good at board games and it’s not fair. Plus, we have to watch you both being all lovey all the time when you’re on the same team and it’s exhausting. We want to see you being competitive for once.”

TK pouts, but Carlos just shrugs when he looks to him for backup. “It’ll be fun,” he says, smiling at Nancy and Marjan. TK still looks put out, so he leans in close and half-murmurs, “C’mon babe. How about a prize for the winner?”

TK perks up considerably at the suggestion, and, going by the twin looks of despair on Nancy and Marjan’s faces, they caught both the comment and the innuendo. Marjan groans and Nancy raises her eyes skyward, as if pleading for divine intervention.

“This was a great idea, actually,” TK says, grinning. He quirks an eyebrow at Nancy. “You and me, Nance?”

That seems to shake Nancy out of her silent prayers for strength. “Uh, no. I’m with Carlos.” To emphasise the point, she strides forward and grabs Carlos’s arm, dragging him to the couch. He nudges her gently when they sit, smirking at the disgruntled way she digs into the snack bowl.

“You did say you wanted to see us being competitive.”

“Shut up.”

*

In the end, TK ends up paired with Mateo, and Marjan with Paul. It’s clear from the outset who’s going to win—Nancy and Carlos dominate the board, and not even Paul’s master strategy is enough to catch up with them.

They win by a comfortable margin, fist-bumping in celebration. There’s a general air of bemusement in the room, and when Carlos looks round at the others, he finds four pairs of eyes fixed on them.

“What?”

“Since when have you two been such a good team?” Paul asks, leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow.

Carlos shrugs, sharing a smile with Nancy. “Guess we just are.”

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Warm Fire

Pairing: Valkyrie/Brunnhilde/Fem-Reader

Word Count: 3876

Summary: Val helps you warm up after you get caught in a storm.

Warnings: Fluff, Spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame (erring on the safe side with this one), Explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex- f receiving, scissoring, fingering) SMUT, 18+

A/N: I’ve decided for my b-day week I want to bless all you sweet bitches with a brand new smutty fic each day. My holes are worn out from all the rough himbo sex I’ve been throwing at you, so today I wanted to soften things up with something for my WLW ladies. I sub for no man, but Val could spit in my mouth and turn me into a housewife!

“Well, fuck.” You sighed.

You had hoped you’d be able to outrun the storm you saw rolling in off the coast on your weekly trip to New Asgard but hadn’t even been driving for an hour when lightning started streaking across the sky and the clouds let loose a deluge that had your ancient pickup’s wipers maxed out. You couldn’t even see 20 feet in front of you and slammed on the brakes suddenly when you came upon a massive tree blocking the road. The engine stalled out and you had now been trying to turn it over for 10 minutes with no luck.

You had thankfully been able to contact Aud and Sigurd and have them bring your animals in and batten down the barn, but there was no way you were making it back tonight. You resigned yourself to sleeping in your front seat when a pile of rocks reared out of no where and tapped on your window, causing you to let out a shriek.

“Everything ok in there?”

“Jesus Christ, Korg, what are you doing out here?”

The massive Kronan straightened back up and you thought you saw his brow furrow before his face split open in a wide grin.

“Y/N, excellent! Some of us got concerned once the storm rolled in and Val sent out a group to make sure you made it off of the Fjord ok.”

“Ok, well clearly this piece of shit is not cut out for Skagerrak storms.” You told him as you stepped out into the deluge, pulling your parka around you tightly as the wind tried to whip your hood off. “I don’t suppose you drove here in any sort of vehicle?”

“As a matter of fact, Miek drove the Jeep.”

“I’m sorry, Miek drove?” The thought of the Sakaarian larval creature driving a vehicle filled you with equal parts horror and mirth. “Do you mind if I drive us back?”

“Probably for the best. I told him that knife hands are not conducive for steering but you know he doesn’t listen to me.”

You let out a laugh as Korg lumbered into the large trailer hooked to the back of the Jeep, causing it to sink into the mud a bit. Miek scooted into the passenger seat as you turned the vehicle around and started to head back to Tønsberg.

Your cautious driving extended the trip by a good 45 minutes. The thunder had stopped but it was still pouring as you parked the jeep in one of the converted stables. Korg and Miek gave you a wave as they headed back to Thor’s, Korg carrying 3 of the pallets of Aquavit you had brought with you earlier.

You headed towards the town square and saw Brunnhilde leaning against the posts in front of her small brick house, watching the storm that was still raging out at sea before she saw you and broke out in a grin.

“Y/N, I told you not to head out in this! That piece of shit truck of yours give out on you?”

“What do you think, Hilde? I just decided to walk all the back to your house for fun in this?” You shook out your hair as the two of you stepped inside, spraying her with a thin mist of rainwater.

“Ah, you bitch! Get out of those wet clothes, I got a fire started and some dry towels and blankets set out for you. Want a hot toddy?”

You winced at the thought as you started peeling yourself out of your soaked jeans. “I’d like to be able to wake up tomorrow hon. Your hot toddys are literally just a hot mug of Aquavit with a slice of lemon.” You cursed yourself silently for introducing the Asgardians to the spicy Scandinavian liquor that you now had to truck in every week. While it was extremely lucrative, they now put it in everything.

Hilde sauntered back into the main room carrying two steaming mugs as you wrapped yourself in a wool blanket and settled in front of the fire, wearing only your bra and panties.

She rolled her eyes at you and handed you a mug, which you took a wary sniff of and were pleasantly surprised to find it was just peppermint tea.

“You’re just a lightweight.” She said as she curled up in her armchair, wrapping one hand around her mug while the other picked up the worn book that was sitting on the end table.

“How do you like it so far?” You asked her, sipping your tea slowly as you waited for it to cool.

“The writing is lovely, but it’s pretty inaccurate.”

The friendship the two of you had built over the past 3 years was something truly lovely. When she and the rest of the refugees had landed, after the snap, they were all hollow shells of grief. Thor shut himself away almost immediately, and Hilde found herself thrust into a position of leadership she had never wanted. All of them wanted nothing more than to be left alone with their sorrows, doing just enough to keep themselves alive.

The first storm off the Skaggerak had almost devastated their new home though, and when she contacted Banner for help, he called you. You still kept in touch after your years together at university, and he knew you had settled somewhere in Norway and could arrive to lend a hand faster than he could.

Your arrival brought some much needed distraction to their sleepy town. You had managed to round up a group of your Norwegian neighbors, along with some fellow expats, and set about making the necessary changes to assure that New Asgard would be a thriving community. While the rest of your group set to restructuring architecture, and teaching the town’s new inhabitants the necessities of a seaside existence on the windy Fjord, you began the slow process of helping the refugees move on from their sorrow.

Your anthropology doctorate was specialized in Norse culture, after all, and you would often bring small reminders of their lost home with you whenever you came to visit. Whether it was a collection of replicated Talharpas, Skalmejens, and Lurs to give to the children to learn music or a large cache of drinking horns to stock their taverns, every time your truck came lumbering down the hills, Brunnhilde watched the faces of her citizens light up with anticipation for some new pleasant surprise. When you arrived with your first load of Aquavit and spent the night drinking with them and singing the drinking songs they knew well, you were all but confirmed as an honorary Asgardian. Your haunting rendition of Lilja actually brought tears to a few eyes.

Brunnhilde made sure to let you know how grateful she was as much as possible. She would always have some small gift for you when you arrived, but all you asked her for was to sit and talk, discussing the history of Asgard and the nine realms as you scribbled copious notes. She loved watching your face screw up in concentration as you bent over one of your notebooks, one stubborn lock of hair falling into your face.

She laughed to herself softly now as she remembered the visit a few weeks ago when she had first introduced you to her winged steed, Aragorn. Your look of awe had been replaced quickly with uncontrollable laughter when she had told you his name. You refused to tell her what was so funny, but she was determined to get it out of you at some point.

You had brought your original copy of Snorri’s Edda the next week, and she had read it through 3 times already.

She ran her hands softly over the spine of the book before tossing back the rest of her toddy and setting the book and her mug back on the end table before sinking to the floor behind you and nuzzling herself into your hair, sighing as she inhaled the scent of fresh rain.

You leaned back into her slowly, giving a soft hum of contentedness. She slipped the blanket off of your shoulders to pool around your waist as she left a trail of soft kisses down your neck, before softly raising a bruise into your collarbone with her mouth.

The moan you gave her made her grin against your skin, and she slipped one hand into the front of your bra, softly drawing her fingers across your nipple.

“Fuck, Hilde!” you pressed your chest further into her hand as her other moved behind you to unhook your bra and slip it off your shoulders, freeing your breasts. She felt your nipples harden against her fingers as she turned your head and slowly teased your mouth open with her tongue.

“Eyes open, pretty girl.” She whispered as her left hand continued to palm at your breast and roll your nipple between her fingers. You stared at her through your lashes as she brought her right hand up and put her index and middle finger in your mouth. You gave them a soft nip before sucking and swirling your tongue around them slowly.

She grinned at you wickedly as she dragged her soaked fingers down your torso at an agonizing pace, leaving a thin trail of your saliva before she tucked them under the edge of your panties and dragged them over your sopping cunt, separating the soft folds there to tease against your entrance.

“Oh, poor baby, look how much this pussy missed me?” She said as you let out a thin keen, screwing your eyes shut and dropping your head against her neck. She slapped your tit suddenly and tweaked your nipple hard, making you gasp. “You better keep those eyes open if you want me to let you come sweetheart. You want me to stretch this pretty pussy around my fingers and make you feel good?”

“Yes, god” you let out breathlessly, forcing your eyes open as she studied your face.

“Ah, ah, ask nicely.”

“Yes please.” You hissed as her fingers continued to tease at your folds, lightly brushing against your clit.

“Good girl”

She slipped one finger inside of you slowly and you immediately clenched around it as she pressed it against that soft spongy spot.

“Ooh, honey. You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna stretch you out so good.” She whispered against your lips as she kissed you softly.

Her second finger slipped in easily and she started fucking them into you slowly, pressing her palm against your clit as she did so and your arousal seeped all over her hand. Your breath was hitching in your chest as she increased her pace.

You felt yourself flutter around her and it took all of your willpower to not screw your eyes shut and drop against her shoulder. You ground yourself against her hand as she suddenly slowed down, hungry for more friction.

“You want me to add another finger, sweet girl?” She asked slyly, teasing her promise against your entrance.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak so you nodded at her, your chest heaving as she continued palming your breast and you felt a resounding shiver in your core.

“You’re lucky I’m soft on you sweetie, I should be making you beg for this.” She murmured as she shoved all three of her fingers in suddenly, causing you to let out a small cry as she started fucking them into you at a rough speed. “I’m just finishing you off so I can feel this sweet mouth of yours on my cunt. You want to taste me baby?”

“Shit, Hilde!” The thought of her taste on your tongue sent you over the edge as she drove her palm into your clit one last time and you released around her, fluttering as you soaked her hand. Her strong arms held you still as your orgasm wracked you and every muscle trembled. Once you had ridden it out, she drew her hand out of your ruined panties to suck on her fingers.

“Mmm, you taste so good honey. Don’t you think?” She placed her mouth on yours and pressed her tongue against yours and you moaned as you tasted your own release.

“Help me out of my clothes baby, I need to ride that pretty face.”

She climbed around you and settled into your lap, kissing you deeply and making happy little humming sounds. You drew her sweater up over her head and tossed it aside, and were pleasantly surprised to see she wasn’t wearing a bra. You gave her a wicked grin before lifting her up and pressing her chest to your face, latching your mouth to one of her nipples as your hands cupped her ass through her leggings. She gave a light laugh and tossed her head back as her fingers carded themselves through your hair. You brought one of your hands between the two of you, shoving it down the front of her leggings and drawing your fingers through her slick, making her gasp.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking greedy.” She laughed lightly as you peppered her chest with kisses, occasionally creating some light suction with your tongue to raise a light bruise. “Mmm, you know just what to do, but I want to come all over that beautiful face of yours.”

You smiled against her chest as you gently nuzzled yourself between her breasts before falling back abruptly and making her gasp.

“You are being such a trouble maker, today, Y/N. Fine, I’m going grind your pussy so good before I rub that smirk off your face with my cunt.”

She sat up between your legs a drew your soaked panties off before removing her own leggings. She stretched your right leg off to the side and lightly drew her fingers up the inside of your thigh, removing them right before she reached your quivering pussy and making you whine.

“Don’t be a brat baby. Look at this pretty pussy, just weeping for me.” She stared at your swollen cunt with a grin as she hooked a hand under your left knee and positioned herself so she was straddling you, her soft folds just kissing yours as she hovered there. “You want to feel my pussy on yours, baby? Want me to grind that clit so good? You better fucking beg for it.”

“Oh god, pleasepleaseplease…” you let out in a hiss as she pressed herself down and ground herself into you.

“Mmm, I feel that sweet pussy quivering for me. God, you’re like my own fucking vibrator.” She kept twisting her hips into yours, hitting you at that perfect angle each time and making you mewl and whimper unintelligibly as she edged you closer to your release. She unbent your right leg slowly, running her thumb up your calf before nipping at the pad of your big toe, making you arch into her. “No no, sweetheart, isn’t it so much better when you hold still? You know I’ll take care of you.”

She stretched your right leg out so you were wide open and pinned your thighs down with her hands as she picked up the pace. She bit her lip and gazed down at you through hooded eyes and you felt her core twitch against yours. One more drive of her hips and you came apart at the same time, your releases mixing together to coat the insides of your thighs. You let out a scream while she just gasped, still managing to hold you down as your pleasure wracked through you and you wound your hands into the blanket beside you for some kind of anchor.

“Fuck baby, this pussy is so good to me. I wanna run my tongue over this pretty cunt while I ride your face. You better be good for me.”

She twisted herself around to straddle your face. You softly nipped at her left cheek then gave her ass a slap, making her yelp, and she responded by smacking your pussy twice before grinding into your face.

“Oohh, are you going to be a bad girl?” She scolded you as you wrapped your arms around her thighs and teased her folds with your tongue. “Am I going to have to edge you all nigh… Fuck!!” Your tongue found her entrance and you moaned into her cunt, causing vibrations that made her clench against your face. “God, baby, you’re so good at that. Your miss this pussy so bad, look at the mess you’re making.” She separated your folds and softly blew against your clit before shoving three fingers into you with no preparation. “Mmm, you’re fucking ready for me sweetheart, I’m barely even stretching you now. You want me to add another finger?”

She gave your clit another soft slap and you came suddenly, legs and core trembling as you clenched and released around her fingers. You tried to come up for air, but Hilde just ground her hips into your face.

“Na-ah.” She scolded you. “You wanted to get fresh with me and now you better make me come if you want to breathe. You get to work. I’m going to wring every ounce of pleasure out of this pussy until you give me what I want, I don’t care if you pass out.”

She inserted a fourth finger into your canal and started to fuck them all into you, flicking soft kitten licks against your small bundle of nerves before she latched onto it, sucking hard.

Tears started streaming down your face as another orgasm ripped through you. You were starting to feel light-headed from a mixture of pleasure and oxygen deprivation. She drew her tongue slowly up and down your entrance while her fingers kept moving inside you, doing her best to lap up your release before her tongue went back to massaging your clit.

You barely skimmed your teeth against her clit and she let out a soft cry against you, slapping your pussy in response and making you come again. You shook your head to bury yourself deeper into her folds and fought off the urge to pass out before shoving your tongue into her pussy and bringing your fingers up to rub harsh circles into her tiny apex of pleasure.

She collapsed against you at the sudden change in sensation with a gasp before she rose up to really grind into you.

You started fucking your tongue in and out of her, making sure to press it against her g-spot each time and felt her thighs tense around your face.

“God baby, don’t fucking stop. Fuck, just like that, right there. That tongue of yours is so fucking good. You’re so fucking good. Feels so good.” You knew when she started babbling breathlessly like this she was close. She brought one of her hands up to palm her breast as her other gripped the wrist of the hand you had working her clit, making sure you didn’t move away.

Just as the edges of your vision started to close in, you felt her core vibrate and her cunt clenched around your tongue as her release gushed into your mouth. The only sound she made was a rapid breathless pant and she rolled off of you slowly, finally allowing you to suck in oxygen as stars swam behind your vision. You did your best to catch your breath as you felt her stretch languidly beside you before she sat up to stare at you.

“Fuck, baby. I don’t know why I let you take this pussy away from me. I know you just lay there by yourself every night dreaming of my fingers buried in you.” She slowly drew a hand along your slit and you groaned when she brushed against your overstimulated clit. “Just swollen and crying for me. Whose pussy is this baby?” She asked you, curling her fingers against your mound.

You knew if you didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, she would wring it out of you, and if you had any more orgasms you were going to pass out. “Yours, baby.” You murmured, staring at her through your eyelashes.

“Good girl.” She patted your cunt twice, making you twitch, before she bent down and kissed you softly.

She stood up and collected your mugs and brought them back into the kitchen, wiggling her ass at you when she felt you watching her, making you laugh.

“Can you throw some more logs on the fire, Y/N? I’ll grab us some clean blankets and pillows and we can sleep out here.”

“Yes ma’am.” You called back to her, breaking the current logs apart with the poker before adding three new ones and stoking it. You gathered your discarded clothes and the soiled blanket in a bundle and headed to the bathroom to put them in the hamper and run a damp towel against your sex to clean up, bringing another out with you as you headed back to the fire, where Hilde had piled a ridiculous amount of blankets and pillows in a massive nest for the two of you.

You sank down next to her and she drew your face to hers for a kiss. You smiled against her lips as you gently drew the soft towel you had brought with you over her cunt and along her thighs to clean her off as she gave a contented sigh.

“Stay.” She said softly, nuzzling softly into your neck as you held her against her chest and slowly sank back against the pile of cushions, giving her hair a soft kiss.

“Hilde, the road is out, I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow.”

“No, Y/N. Stay. Move here with me. I need you.” She looked up at you with genuine pleading in her eyes. You had never seen such open emotion on her face before.

You only had to think about it for a minute. The weeks between your trips were always spent planning your next visit. Thinking over what you wanted to talk to Hilde about. Your bed felt empty without her there.

“I need you too baby. I love you.” You whispered to her, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes as you gave her a gentle smile.

Her face split into a grin. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course, Hilde.”

“Oh god, Y/N, I love you too!” She drew your face down to hers and kissed you deeply, clutching you to her needily before releasing you with a grin. “I miss that pussy almost as much as it misses me.”

You laughed at that and laid back with a sigh. Hilde rested her head between your breasts and brought her hands close around your sides, pulling the thick wool blanket around the two of you tightly.

“Just make sure Miek doesn’t try to fight my sheep again.” You whispered to her, running a hand softly up and down her back.

“That was a misunderstanding.” She smiled against you as her breathing slowed and deepened, and she sunk closer to sleep.

The two of you laid there intertwined for the rest of the night, drifting off as the fire crackled and died. You had never felt so content in your life.

[theweasleysredhair]

Falling For You [J.P.]

Character: James Potter

Word Count: 1572

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: soulmate au: feeling each others’ pain

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: not much happens in this really, I just had a storyline idea I couldn’t shake (we all know I’m a sucker for soulmate aus) and this is what happened - enjoy!

+ + + + +

You knew from a young age that your soulmate was prone to injury. Scratched knees, a broken arm (multiple times!), a dislocated shoulder, shattered ribs (that hurt) - you’d had it all and more before the age of 10.

Your mother always said your soulmate must either be an athlete, extremely clumsy or always fighting. You hoped for either of the formers, however with your luck, you were expecting the latter.

It was worrying sometimes, as there was no way to reach out to make sure your soulmate was okay, however you knew that as long as the pains kept coming through, he was alive. Sometimes he’d go long periods of time without hurting himself and you’d forget how clumsy he was, until you’d suddenly get winded or suffer stabbing pains, making you curse him under your breath.

As soon as you found out who he was, he’d be getting an earful from you about the pain he’d put you through. Especially considering the worst you’d done to him was a sprained wrist or twisted ankle now and again.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. There was the time Snape “accidentally” dropped some of his potion on you, leaving your skin burning and peeling. You hadn’t done anything to warrant the action, you just happened to catch him on a bad day - something about him falling out with a friend and being hung upside down outside.

It was now your final year in Hogwarts and the Quidditch season was just beginning. Whilst you didn’t play, you did enjoy watching the games with your friends, especially when it was the final game of the season, which it was - and thus meaning the winner of the Quidditch Cup would be revealed today, based on the scores.

Gryffindor vs Slytherin, always a nasty game, lots of house rivalry and players that would do anything to get the opposing teams’ players away from the snitch.

“Who do you think is going to win?” Y/f/n asked excitedly, grabbing ahold of your arm as you followed the masses of students heading toward the Quidditch pitch, all waving their banners and yelling in support of their chosen team. “(Y/fave/team), obviously! That is, if they all play fairly... which we can’t exactly count on,” you said as you pulled your scarf around your neck - the sun may be shining but it would be windy and cold stood outside in the stands.

“That’s true... last time Gryffindor and Slytherin played, Malfoy hexed Gryffindor’s brooms. Busy day for Madam Pomfrey...” Y/f/n trailed off in thought.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad this time,” you said as you took your place in your house stand, “I mean, McGonagall checked the brooms thrice over and Dumbledore is supposed to be keeping an eye out for any cheating off either side.”

You were silenced by a loud cheering rippling through the stands as the players took their place in the middle of the pitch. You faintly heard Madam Hooch’s voice announce the beginning of the match as the brooms raised into the air and the three kinds of balls were released.

The first half of the match was pretty uneventful - a couple of goals per team, nothing extraordinary. It was only when the teams flew higher - where it was harder to spectate - that the crowds began to whisper amongst themselves. The match was clearly getting more aggressive, with bludgers being hit towards chasers on both sides at an alarming rate. At one point, the Gryffindor seeker must’ve caught sight of the snitch as there was a sudden movement on his part, before he was hit out of the way by the Slytherin seeker, who mustn’t have been able to see the snitch himself and resorted to distraction instead.

Then suddenly there was the sound of two players crashing into one another, a plethora of gasps and a few screams, as a body started to descend from the air, followed quickly by an empty broom.

You saw Dumbledore quickly stand up from his place and hear him yell out a spell to limit the momentum of the fall, however the dark haired boy still hit the floor with force.

Then you heard more screaming, louder than before and you wondered where it was coming from until you realised it was coming from you, as you collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain. “Y/n! Y/n are you okay? What just happened??” Y/f/n called out, the last thing you heard before blacking out.

***

The room was silent when you finally opened your eyes and the only light was from the end window, the others having curtains pulled across. The last thing you remembered was a Quidditch player falling off their broom and considering the pain you felt, you could only draw the conclusion that he was your soulmate - the one who had been causing you pain your entire life. It made more sense - you figured it wasn’t the first time he’d fallen during training or games, but you knew that it was never this bad.

You could still feel faint aching around your body, giving you confidence that your soulmate had in fact survived. As you swung your legs out of the bed, Madam Pomfrey bustled through, “You’re awake dear! Nice to see you’re okay. I assume you must be feeling a bit run down, so take this potion, quickly now, and you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

You gratefully took the glass and sipped it, your face contorting at the taste.

“Madam Pomfrey? Could I ask... who was it that fell from the broom?”

She gave you a knowing smile, “Ah yes, you’d be referring to Mr Potter, dear. Nasty fall, dreadful it was. It was lucky Professor Dumbledore slowed the fall - wouldn’t want to imagine the damage if not. If you want to see him dear, he’s two beds over.” Madam Pomfrey took the empty potion glass you had drank and quickly made her way back down the Hospital Wing, as you stood up and slowly moved towards the bed she had referred to.

Mr Potter.

James Potter.

James fucking Potter was your soulmate.

You pulled the curtain back that was separating him from the rest of the room and couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips as you took in the sight of him. There was a nasty cut on his forehead, a trail of bruises down his jawline and towards his chest, one arms was in a sling, the other bruised and battered, and his legs were reclined upwards - you assumed he’d been given multiple potions at some point, judging by the empty glasses and syringes next to his bed.

You took the seat beside his bed and gingerly took one of his hands in yours, your fingers slowing running over the cuts on his knuckles.

“James Potter, once you survive this, I’m going to kill you,” you whispered as you gazed at his face, his soft eyelashes fanning down onto his cheeks.

‘Why was it fair that boys got naturally nice eyelashes?,’ you wondered, frowning, side tracked by that thought just as a raspy voice spoke out, “L/n?”

“James!” You locked eyes with him and he looked confused, his gaze floating down to where your hands were joined.

“Oh! Oh um... you’re probably wondering what happened and why I’m here instead of your friends and why I’m holding your hand and oh Merlin, I’m holding your hand? And well... you fell off your broom and hit the floor with quite the momentum and I can only imagine how much it hurt - well actually, that’s not strictly true, seeing as I also felt it - very much in fact as I’ve been here in the hospital wing as well overnight - and-“

“Y/n?” James whispered, effectively cutting off your rambling. “Yes?” You winced looking down. “Are you my soulmate?” He asked softly, running his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Well... yes. Yes, I do believe I am. And if I’m correct then I have a bone to pick with you because you’ve caused me a right amount of pain over the years... but I’ll wait until you’re better to get mad about that,” you told him with a nod (and a blush at the feel of him squeezing your hand tighter).

James chuckled, pulling his hand from yours momentarily as he reached up with his bruised arm to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, before returning his hand to you, “Can’t wait for that love, I promise I’ll get better as quick as I can. For now though... what’s an injured guy gotta do to get a kiss from his soulmate?”

You returned his grin as you leant down carefully to press your lips against his soft ones. He kissed back immediately as his hand held the back of your head, pulling you towards him to close any kind of gaps and deepen the kiss as he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, nibbling gently and eliciting a gasp from you, making him grin and attempt to pull you on top of him.

It was the perfect first kiss that would be followed by many many more...

and if Madam Pomfrey found you both snogging in his hospital bed a little while later... well, it definitely wouldn’t be for the last time, that’s for sure.

[merakiui]

MERAAAAAA I have to share since I never shut up about him, but Albedo came home on my 50/50!!! I nearly cried bc I thought I was gonna get Jean (hoping to have all anemo characters one day) But it was him!!!!

I was so shocked. But now we can draw together not that he has a choice /j

He's just delightful, I'm gonna diee. Also my Scaramouche keychain is now my good luck charm bc he survived the car wreck and so far he has brought me good luck with his big ass hat!!

Also gonna share my lil ritual in hopes that it helps others: I went to his lab in Dragonspine with only Traveler and Sucrose!

🔑, simp for the Kreidenprinz

OOOO YAY!!! CONGRATS, 🔑!!!! I’m very happy that you are an Albedo haver!!! Now you can have so many fun drawing sessions with him. :D

It was funny when Jean showed up because I cheered, but then it hit me moments later that even though she’s home I lost the 50/50 and had to pull more. T-T But I’m satisfied to have both her and Albedo now!! Hopefully you can fulfill your dream of having all of the Anemo characters one day! Although I hope Jean won’t show up to disturb your pity… Hopefully it’s on the standard wish!

All hail lucky Scara keychain!!! OTL OTL It never occurred to me to wish with a lucky item in my hand! >_< I have a very lucky item and I can’t believe I didn’t have it with me while wishing. I’ll make sure to have it for the next banner I choose to wish on so that it will grant me good luck!

AHHH :o !! WISHING WITH ONLY SUCROSE AND TRAVELER IS SO SMART!!! I wished the first 30 times in his lab, but when I lost the 50/50 I moved into the red cave to welcome him home. 😂 I think I can understand why Albedo didn’t come home at first, considering he only knows one person in my current party and that’s the Traveler. ^^;;

But it’s okay because in the end we both have Mr. Chalk Prince. <3

[90spumkin]

A Case of the Supernatural

Next

Summary: Can Spencer move past your death? What happens when he starts to see your ghost?

A/N: Not me starting another series when I haven’t finished the first. This is a crossover between Criminal Minds and Supernatural. I wrote this mainly because I am denial that either show ended. This will be a slow updated series because of finals next week and it took me four days to write this because I want it to be perfect. I hope you all enjoy and please leave your thoughts in the comments. Don’t forget to like and reblog! Also thanks @criminalmindzjunkie for the banner inspiration!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Ghost! Reader

Warnings: criminal minds talk, supernatural talk, swearing, some angst... I think that’s it

Word Count: 3028

Numb. That is all Spencer felt as they lowered your casket into the ground. With every shovel of dirt tossed into the whole in the ground was like stab to his heart. He accepted every pat on the shoulder and heard every ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, but he couldn’t feel any of it.

You were never going to be a mom, you were never going to have the chance to finish all those crazy art projects that scattered your shared apartment, and you were never going to hear Spencer tell you how much he loves you ever again. Hot tears stung his eyes and began to run down his cheeks.

“Reid it’s time to go.” JJ’s voice brought him out of the spiral his mind had started to descend into. He looked around and realized everyone was gone and your final resting place was now filled with compacted earth. He nodded in agreement but could not seem to move his feet.

You were really gone, and Spencer blamed himself.

-----

The BAU team was taking the loss of a valued team member and a precious friend extremely hard so Emily gave everyone a few days off to mourn. Spencer was a different case; it had been almost three weeks since your funeral and he had yet to leave the apartment.

He looked around at all the carry out containers and laughed to himself as he imagined what you would say: Spencer you’re living like a damn cockroach. At least you’re cute.

Spencer began to clean the three weeks’ worth of mess when he saw the bag containing your items from the coroner. He had been wallowing in mourning and self-pity that he completely forgot JJ had dropped it off.

Spencer disposed of the trash and sat down at on at the bar in the kitchen. The bag laid in front of him and all he could do was stare down at it. He took a deep breath: Okay Spencer you can do this.

Spencer slowly opened the bag taking deep breaths as he did so. He pulled out your phone, your set of keys, your… Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. In his hand on a silver chain was the engagement ring he had given to you three months ago. He smiled at the memory of you explaining why you wore it on a chain to work. You simply shrugged your shoulders I don’t want to lose it while chasing down psychopaths. Plus, this way it’s closer to my heart. You kissed him on the cheek ending the discussion there.

He placed a hand on his cheek while he wished he could feel the softness of your lips one more time. Spencer took a ragged breath and clasped the chain around his nick. He smiled at the thought of having something that was once close to your heart now close to his.

The good doctor decided then that he should probably put your things away and get some rest before his first day back at the BAU. As he was going through the apartment turning out lights, that he had not realized he had even left on, Spencer could have sworn he saw someone walked into the hall.

Spencer grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and crept towards the hall. With his back pressed against the wall, he turned the corner quickly ready to take down the intruder. But what Spencer was faced with was nothing but his empty hallway. Spencer ran a hand through his hair and thought to himself: Well genius you are officially losing your mind.

He made his way into his bedroom and laid the kitchen knife on his dresser deciding he’ll just put it away in the morning. He walked to his window admiring the lights from the height of his apartment when he heard a laugh. He spun around so quickly he was sure he’d give himself whiplash.

There you were. You looked exactly the same as the last time he saw you, the moment you both decided to split up out in the field. Spencer was in absolute shock.

“I honestly doubt the knife would have worked. I am kind of already dead. It would’ve been funny to see what happened though.” Y/n joked as though this was all completely normal.

Spencer just screamed. Once he ran out of breath and gasped. There was stomping from the apartment above and very unpolite things directed towards Spencer. But he could care less, you were here. You were… a ghost?

Y/n looked bored and asked, “Are you done?” Spencer didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded. “Good because I was expected a little more class from you Mr. 187.”

Spencer tripped over his words as he tried to run every logical explanation through his mind, “How the actual hell are you here? Am I dead? I’ve lost my mind, haven’t I?” Spencer began to pace the floor, running his hands through his hair.

“I think the term is ghost and no you are still perfectly sane. For the ‘how am I here part’ I am not quite sure. I can’t remember anything past the last 5 minutes.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders at that.

Spencer’s mind seemed to stop trying to apply logic to the situation and just except it. Because he began to relax, and tears brimmed his eyes. “Y/n I’ve missed you so much. I am so sorry. I should never have left you. If I would have stayed with you then maybe you’d still be alive.” Spencer choked on a sob which caused y/n’s no longer beating heart to break.

“Oh Reid. My death was not your fault at all.” She reached out a hand to caress his face, but it was like putting your hand through water. Her whole body glitched as if she was part of a malfunctioning video game.

“What was that? What’s happening?” Spencer’s face was pinched in confusion and worry.

Y/n seemed almost frantic, “I’m not sure. I feel like I’m being pulled away.” And with a blink of an eye she was gone. It all happened so quickly Spencer could almost say it was a dream, but it had been so real. Had felt so real.

-------

To say Spencer was tired was an understatement. He could barely sleep with the hope you would appear going through his heart and mind. It was around 4 am when exhaustion won, and he fell asleep gripping the ring that lay against his chest.

He was on is fourth cup of coffee for the day and he had only been there for one hour fifteen minutes and thirty-six seconds to be precise. He was stirring his mountain of sugar into the dark liquid when he felt a heavy hand clasp his shoulder and the smell of expensive cologne filled his nose.

“Kid you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Rossi told the young doctor as he leaned against the counter. Spencer snorted at that comment and just took a sip of his coffee, accepting the burn in his throat.

Before Spencer could even attempt to continue a conversation there was a loud gasp and the clicking of heels as his favorite human rainbow rushed towards him. He was instantly pulled into a bone crushing hug and it took every ounce of the little coordination he had not to spill his coffee all over his friend.

“Hi Penelope.” He simply said with a chuckle at the woman’s urge to always show her love in the most dramatic way.

She pulled away and started on one of her fast-spoken rants, “Oh my God you’re here! I missed you! I know I just saw you a couple of days ago when I visited your apartment, but this is different. Why didn’t anyone tell me you were coming back today? I should know these things!” Penelope slapped Spencer’s arm at that last part which drew an ‘ow’ from him and a light chuckle from Rossi who was watching the whole interaction.

“I’m sorry Penelope. When I got here, I went straight to Emily’s office and then dove into the paperwork required for my return.” Spencer explained.

Penelope smiled and let out a little huff, “Oh the love of paperwork. I will let this slide boy wonder, but it will not be forgotten.” Penelope gave Spencer’s arm a squeeze before making her way to her bat cave.

Spencer turned to Rossi, “I honestly expected that to be kind of worse.”

Rossi chuckled, “Luck my friend, luck.”

Spencer was about to launch into a rant about the statistics of how much of something good happening has anything to do with luck. That was stopped short when Spencer saw you perched on his desk like you use to do every morning waiting for him to bring you a cup of coffee. He gasped which wasn’t missed by the profiler who had been keeping an eye on him since he walked through those glass doors.

“Kid you alright?” Rossi asked with his voice laced with confusion.

Spencer didn’t take his eyes off you or the spot you had been when you glitched and disappeared just like the night before. “Huh? Oh. Uhh... yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be right back.”

Spencer sat his half drunken coffee down and walked as fast as he could towards the bathroom hoping not to draw any attention towards him.

Once he was safely in the bathroom and the door was locked behind him. He stood in front of the mirror and took a deep breath.

“Well that was interesting.” Spencer jumped and whirled around to only be met with an empty bathroom. He turned to splash water on his face and when he looked up again, and saw you behind him through the mirror.

H returned to look at you and whispered, “What the actual hell y/n? Where have you been?”

“I’m not quite sure. There were times I could see you, but you couldn’t see me which was very aggravating may I add. The rest is just blank.” Y/n seemed very unphased by everything as she spoke. This made Spencer feel uneasy.

“Why couldn’t anyone else in the bullpen see you?” Spencer’s brain was still trying to put science behind it all.

“I’m not quite sure. I don’t exactly have this whole ghost thing figured out. Being a ghost is hard.” Y/n pouted, and it made Spencer’s heart twist into a what felt like a knot.

“I- “Spencer was cut off by a knock on the door. When he looked back at y/n she was once again gone, and Spencer had an overwhelming need to try and understand a part of the world his brain rejected every day. He needed to understand the supernatural.

------

Spencer had been to three different libraries and five different bookstores, all within a week. He would read any chance he got. The concerned looks he got from his team didn’t go unnoticed, and any time y/n would appear she would let her opinion be known that she believed no one could really understand the supernatural of the world.

Emily pulled up a seat next to his desk causing Spencer to glance up from his book that was only repeating what the last three books had said but in a different language. The look Emily was giving him convinced him it would be a good idea to put the book down. So, he closed the book and placed it on his desk, giving Emily his full attention.

“Spencer what has came over you? You’ve been nose deep in this folk lore and demonic looking books for days now. It’s just unlike you.” Emily’s voice was soft, and Spencer could hear the worry in her voice.

Spencer thought of a lie when he first started digging into all this for this exact reason, “I’m writing a paper on how science and physics can prove that the supernatural does not exist. I’m reading all of this so I don’t miss anything in my paper”

That simple explanation made the tension in Emily’s shoulders completely disappear. She huffed a sigh of relief before saying, “               Ahhhh I see. Well Rossi invited us all to dinner at his place. He’s going to attempt to show us all a new recipe.” This mad both Emily and Spencer giggle.

Spencer knew if he turned down the offer it would only cause suspicion to arise once again. “Yeah sure I’ll be there.”

Emily smiled and patted his shoulder as she stood, “Great I’ll see you there.”

Spencer hadn’t realized it was the end of the workday till Emily said that. He hadn’t seen y/n all day so maybe he could get through this dinner with little to no awkwardness… well more than usual.

He was the last to arrive at Rossi’s. He sat in his car and took a deep breath. He had to convince his team that nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Just when he was about to get out of his car all the lights came on and the alarm started blaring.

“What the he- “Spencer was cut off by the appearance of y/n in his passenger seat. She looked so sad and before Spencer could say anything else, he heard her say a quiet “sorry” and she was gone. The alarm and the lights stopped all at once, just in time for his team to come out to see what all the commotion was about.

Spencer got out of the car and quickly made his way to them, “Sorry about that. I really hate cars.”

This made his friends laugh and usher him inside. Once they were all in the kitchen surrounding Rossi and all his steaming pots and pans Spencer relaxed slightly.

Rossi tends to talk with his hands when he is demonstrating what to do while cooking. So, when he accidentally knocks over the saltshaker it’s not a surprise to anyone.

“Ah don’t want any bad luck.” Rossi says as he tosses some salt over his left shoulder. Spencer was about to launch into a spill of how salt was once believed to ward off evil spirits, but he didn’t get the chance. He was caught off by the appearance of y/n and her yelling, “What the actual fuck Rossi!” The salt seemed to arm y/n, but Spencer wasn’t able to dwell on that fact long due to the chorus of gasp throughout the kitchen. Luke was the first to speak, “Y/n? Is that really you?”

“In the fl-… well spirit?” Y/n laughed at her joke; she was the only one. Everyone just stood there staring until Rossi yelled “My pasta!” and rushed to save their dinner.

Everyone turned to Spencer, they all started talking over each other. He could make out a few questions and a few other statement. They all came to the same realization though: Spencer was definitely was not writing a paper.

It took Spencer ten minutes to get everyone quiet enough to even attempt to talk and then fifteen minutes to explain everything while they all stared at y/n dumb founded. Y/n just stood there smiling the whole time Spencer talked.

“So, what does this mean exactly?” JJ asked tears in her eyes and a sad smile playing on her lips. Your death hit her hard, not as hard as Spencer or Penelope but still hard. He saw you move closer to her but stop knowing that you wouldn’t be able to show her any physical comfort.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Is all Spencer was able to say.

-----

It took a few weeks for the initial shock of y/n being a ghost to ware off. Spencer would sometimes see members of his team jump at the sudden appearance of her. It was hard for them not to talk to her while in the office. Especially since she seemed to finally have gotten better at the ‘whole ghost thing’.

Spencer was nose deep in another book on folk lore when y/n appeared sitting on his desk. He looked around to make sure no one was paying him any attention.

“Hello love. Who’ve you been haunting today?” They always joked and laughed about how easy it was for her to scare Luke. Spencer was pretty sure JJ, Emily, and Tara had a bet going on about it.

Y/n didn’t laugh though instead she looked more ghost like then ever and said, “Spence, somethings wrong.” Then she was gone.

About that same time two men walked in the bull pen. He saw them ask Matt something and then made their way to Emily’s office.

Spencer watched through the window as Emily and the two men talked for a few minutes and then shook hands. She led them back out to the bull pen to introduce them to everyone.

“Everyone this is Agent Smith and Agent Jones from the New York branch. They have asked for our assistance on a case that has brought them here.” Emily explained.

The shorter gruff man spoke first, “You all can call me Dean and him Sam.” The taller one gave a tight-lipped smile and a wave that matched Spencer’s own very similarly.

“It’s an honor to work with you all.” The taller one, Sam, said.

After a few more greetings and polite conversations they all started to make their way to the round table room for debriefing. Spencer was just about to get up from his desk when words started to appear across the paper scattered on his desk: ‘They’re not FBI.”

Spencer looked up to see the two new agents whispering quietly. They noticed him staring and gave him a nod and smile. Spencer had an unsettling feeling in his stomach as he made his way towards them.

He debated between bombarding them with questions till they broke or just watching them knowing their behavior would tell eventually. He decided on the later because he knows he’ll do anything to make sure he can keep y/n around and if these two men were a threat to that then they wouldn’t be able to conceal that truth for long.

*

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Taglist: @criminalmindzjunkie​ @brooklynxnicole​ @hendersonsshadow​ 

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Alternate Endgame

Summary: Fuck Endgame. Reader has precognitive abilities and we’re gonna fix this stupid movie.

Warnings: Cursing, endgame spoilers, maybe some tears?, fluff

WC: 4816

AN: It took me for-fucking-ever, and it is CRAZY long, but here it is.

Forever love to @writingwithadinosaur​ for CONTINUING to put up with my empty promises to write.

You woke with a start; heaving deep breaths that just couldn’t seem to fill your lungs. You were coated in a sheen of cold sweat. It had been months-- no, years since you'd had a premonition that strong, and you were more than a little shaken.

Not thinking you reached over for the man sleeping beside you, but your fingers only met cool sheets. Of course they did. It had been 5 years since Sam had… disappeared, he wouldn’t simply reappear in your bed because you’d had a vision. No matter how much you wanted him to. 

Before Thanos, Sam had been there for you. You’d started as teammates, then friends, then more. Sam was everything. He was sweet, funny, and loyal. The fact that he was gorgeous certainly didn’t hurt either. He’d helped you process your visions. He’d hold you, press kisses to your temple, and let you talk through what happened if you could. If you couldn’t he was more than up to distract you. God you missed him. You missed his touch, you missed his voice, missed the tiny birds he’d draw on your mirror, or mission paperwork, or the small bird figurines he’d hide throughout your room. It hurt even more intensely, waking from a vision after so long, and finding him still gone.

As moments passed, and your breathing became less panicked, your mind began to clear, and details of your vision slowly, but clearly came back. Pain, a lot of pain, and death. There was hope, you thought for a second that you’d heard Sam’s voice… but there was so much risk involved. And the deaths you saw… you couldn’t take anymore death.

FUCK no. You wouldn’t let it happen like that. No way.

Knowing that sleeping again would be impossible, you dragged yourself out of bed, intending to make coffee, but paused at your bedroom door. Turning abruptly, you walked instead to your closet. Reaching onto the top shelf, you pulled down a large zip top bag with a few of Sam’s sweatshirts inside. You pulled one out and quickly re-sealed the bag. Bringing the fabric to your face and inhaling the lingering scent of detergent, cologne, and Sam, had fresh tears springing in your eyes. But it also brought a sense of determination, and confidence. 

Sam was with you. He wasn’t gone permanently, and he believed in you. He loved you.

Pulling the sweatshirt over your PJs, you left your room with a new sense of purpose.

…

The Aether; the reality stone. One of 6 infinity stones that had enabled Thanos’s snap. It had been given to the collector many years ago, and it was your only hope. 

Of course, that was assuming that the rest of your team figured out the whole time travel thing. 

Exhaling, you shook your head in disbelief. Time travel. 

Aliens, gods, titans, and now time travel. 

Before Carol had brought Tony and Nebula back, time travel would have been as ridiculously out of reach as it sounded. But with Tony back? You could see time travel being a distinct possibility, and a quick one.

Tony was refusing to help, which hurt, but you understood. He didn’t want to risk losing his daughter. Given how life seemed to take from Tony, his resistance made sense. Were Morgan your daughter, you wouldn’t risk her either. 

Although, caution didn’t sit well with Tony Stark. You had a feeling he would be unable to keep himself from at least trying to work out time travel now that he had an idea. He would try, and probably tweak his equation until it functioned flawlessly.

Tony would figure it out. And when he did, he would feel obligated to help; he wouldn’t be able to keep the knowledge that the team needed away from them. That meant you needed to learn as much as you could about the Aether before Tony figured out time travel. If it were anyone else, you would have had plenty of time.

Your original plan, to ask Thor, was a non-starter. The god of thunder had been through the fucking ringer. Honestly, you were shocked he was doing as well as he was. As soon as you could, you planned to sit with him awhile. Nothing invasive, but you got the feeling he wanted to talk, but didn’t know where to start.

Dr. Banner was able to fill in some blanks for you, but not enough.

Thankfully, once you were able to contact him, Wong was a veritable treasure trove of information. He was able to walk you through the process of using an infinity stone, being that he was the only one left alive who had done so in the past. Or, almost the only one.

“Rocket,” you called. The small creature had been across the room, talking to Thor, but came over as you waved him to you. “I need your help.” 

“With what?” he seemed genuinely curious, and then a little taken aback when you began to explain.

“I’m not sure you’ve been told what I can do,” you began. When Rocket shook his head, you explained your premonitions.

“And these visions are always accurate?” he asked, his furry little face serious.

“Yes. The visions are accurate, but meant as a warning. So far, when I have interfered, the future has been altered, and whatever I’d seen could be avoided.” Then, you proceeded to tell him about the future you’d seen in your most recent vision. “I can’t- I won’t lose any more of my family, Rocket. This plan I have, I- it will work, but I need your help.” Your expression was beseeching.

The raccoon didn’t ponder long though. “What’d’ya need?”

“I need you to tell me as much as you can remember about when Quill held the infinity stone, and when we have to go and retrieve the fucking things, I need you to help me get a specific one.”

Luckily, Rocket was willing to trust you. Something told you he didn’t trust easily, especially not when what you were telling him couldn’t be proven one way or another, but he’d lost a lot of people too. It seemed he was ready to take a chance.

When it came time to be split into groups to collect the stones, Rocket helped to ensure you were on the team with him and Thor, headed to Asgard.

Next step. Rock climbing practice, a lot of it.

…

“Bruce, I need a favor.” You crossed your fingers, hoping he didn’t ask too many questions regarding your request. 

Though Rocket knew a good portion of your plan, he didn’t know all of it. The fewer people who knew, the better. It wasn’t easy to convince Bruce to give you the extra pym particle. You’d stopped Scott from accidentally using one up, so there was one left, but Bruce was hesitant to give it to you. It wasn’t until your eyes began to water and your voice began to crack that Bruce caved; he couldn’t handle tears. Though you hadn’t planned to cry, it had worked in your favor. 

Actually, the hard part was getting Bruce to keep his mouth shut about you having the extra particle. Bruce had a hard time lying to anyone. You needed everyone as in the dark as possible, especially Clint and Natasha, or your plan wouldn’t work.

…

“See you in a minute,” Natasha said with a smile. You gave a smile back, hoping it didn’t appear strained and took a deep breath before “jumping” to Asgard, ten years in the past.

Thor was thoroughly distracted, with good reason, so it was a good thing you had Rocket on your side.

“I hope you know what you’re doin’,” Rocket grumbled as you took the carefully contained Aether from him.

“You and me both,” you replied quietly. 

“Good luck.”

You gave him a small smile before triggering your suit.

…

You appeared just far enough back that Nat and Clint didn’t hear you, but close enough that you could see them heading up one side of the mountain. They headed up the side that was clearly meant to be climbed, you however, went to the opposite side; a sheer rock face with a drop from an unbelievable height.

You’d received an odd look from Tony when you’d asked for a part of Peter Parker’s Spiderman suit. He’d given the gloves to you without asking the question that was clearly on the tip of his tongue, but you knew there would be many questions later as a result. The gloves’ grip wasn’t nearly as strong as it would have been for Peter, but they would be much better than nothing. Your other tools had been easy to obtain and stuff in a backpack; a combination ice axe and climbing hammer, pitons, carabiners and high strength climbing rope. Hopefully, the practice you’d managed would be enough.

Taking a deep breath you reached up and began your ascent. You needed to get as far up as you could and quickly, so that you could be in place and relatively stable when you needed to use the stone. 

You forced the pitons into the rock face and secured yourself, freeing your hands and arms to use the stone, and more importantly, catch Natasha. The two tasks had to be done simultaneously, or your plan wouldn’t work. 

Vormir’s guardian, and Clint needed to see Natasha fall, and believe she was dead in order to free the soul stone, but Natasha couldn’t die.

It felt like no fucking time had passed between when you finally anchored yourself and you could hear Nat and Clint arguing. 

“Showtime.”

Using the stone, you warped reality around yourself not a moment too soon, as Natasha was suddenly hanging just above you.

“Damn you!” Clint shouted. Natasha had clipped him to an anchor she’d shot into the cliff, saving him, and now she was dangling from his outstretched arm.

“Let me go,” she said, almost calmly. 

You knew in her mind, she was doing the right thing. Knew she was decided, resolved.

“No, please no,” Clint was crying. This would destroy him.

“It’s okay,” Natasha soothed ineffectively.

“Please-” Clint begged, but Natasha kicked off the cliff, forcing Clint to lose his grip.

For a moment, it felt like everything froze, then you blinked and reality seemed to split in front of you. You could see what you’d created for Clint and the guardian to see, but you could also see Natasha hanging safely from the second piton you’d secured just to the side of you. 

“What the-” she broke off, seeing the distorted reality of herself falling to her death. When you reached over and touched her shoulder, her head whipped around, suddenly able to see you and the reality stone.

“What the fuck-” You silenced her with a finger to your lips. You weren’t sure whether or not you could be heard by Clint or the guardian. Waiting just a few seconds until you saw Clint disappear, you released the control you had on the stone and gestured for Natasha to trigger her suit to return home.

She looked like she really wanted to argue, but she did as you asked.

Clint’s knees hit the floor and he almost dropped the soul stone when he turned and saw Natasha standing beside him. Tears were flowing down his face and all sorts of nasty curses in a multitude of languages flew from his lips. 

“Don’t you ever fucking do something like that again! Do you hear me, Tasha?! Fuck! You can’t give your life for mine. What the fuck were you- how did you-” Clint cut off and pulled Nat into a tight hug.

“I can’t promise never to do something like that again, Clint. I don’t know what happened. I thought-”. Natasha cut off too, tears in her eyes. She had been resolved to die to save Clint and the others, but she was glad she hadn’t had to.

“What exactly happened?” Bruce asked, looking from Nat and Clint to you. 

“What?” Clint asked, looking from Nat to you.

“Ask them. I sure as fuck didn’t know what was happening,” Natasha said on a long exhale.

You noticed Rocket and Tony were also looking your way. When Nat pulled far enough away from Clint to face you, they both looked at you too.

All eyes on you. Great.

“Well, I had a vision…”

You explained part of your vision. To be fair, you would have explained the whole thing, you wanted to, but there was a niggling feeling at the back of your mind telling you that you weren’t done. You couldn’t tell everyone. It sucked, but your friends-- your family would understand. When it all worked out, you would tell them, but not yet.

…

The final tweaks were made to the new gauntlet. You watched as Tony, Rocket, and Bruce hovered around the thing, clearly unsure if it was ready.

But you were only barely watching. As Tony’s attention was drawn away, you drew over to his latest Iron Man suit. You’d talked with Rocket, and had some idea the power the stones would put out, with that in mind…

“FRIDAY, could I bother you for a moment?” you asked politely.

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

…

Not a fucking moment after Bruce snapped his fingers and the compound was totaled. Most of the structure was underground, along with several of the team.

Shit. 

The worst part of having premonitions was that you couldn’t see everything. The visions  would scare the shit out of you, and give you just enough information to run on, but never the whole picture. Thus, you found yourself running with Clint and Natasha through an underground maze of destruction trying to avoid the fucked up alien hoard that was chasing you. 

ANY of that information would have been nice to know ahead of time.

It also would have been nice to know that a past version of Nebula was somehow in the present. 

Fortunately that problem was “solved” when present nebula showed up and shot her past self… God you couldn’t wrap your head around all this shit. 

A fight was underway as you cleared the tunnels, and it did not look good for your side. Although you noticed with a little shock, that Steve was holding Mjolnir. Or he was until Thanos knocked it from his hand, and cracked his shield. 

All you could see then was Steve, barely standing, alone, facing an army increasing in size. Your heart was racing. You knew Steve wouldn’t give in. You hadn’t seen him die, but that didn’t mean his life wasn’t at risk. Fuck! What were you going to do?!

Then a voice you hadn’t heard in years crackled over the comms, “Hey, Cap, you read me? Cap, it's Sam. Can you hear me?” and a glowing yellow portal appeared next to Steve. “On your left.”

Seeing Sam, in his Falcon suit, fly through the portal, you almost hit the ground.

“Sam,” you whispered, tears in your eyes, but a growing smile on your face.

“Hey babe, miss me?” You could hear the smirk on his face, and though it would have bothered you before, it made you laugh now. 

Your team had a chance. Hundreds of portals opened and thousands of people poured from them. You could vaguely hear chanting from the Wakandans, and see glowing shields being formed by the masters of the mystic arts. New hope and resolve formed in your chest.

“Every fucking day, Sam. Now let's end this so I can yell at you for disappearing on me.” He laughed, and you both ran into the hoards of Thanos’ followers.

…

Unfortunately, though the reinforcements were amazing, and desperately needed, Thanos and his army weren’t backing down.

Carol powered through ships, and struggled with Thanos, but she couldn't overpower him. When you saw her fall, and Tony began approaching the giant murder grape, you recognized your time to act.

“Carol,” you called as she rose, shaking debris from her hair. When she met your eyes, you waved her over. During the fight, you’d managed to speak to Thor, Dr. Strange and Wanda. They all knew you had a plan, though Strange seemed dubious, and they had all agreed to help. The fact that you’d managed to corral them all was a fucking miracle in and of itself, but what you were about to do, was still gonna be difficult.

Your group managed to stay out of Tony’s field of vision. What he was about to attempt, had to happen. What you needed was to reach him in time to alter the aftereffects. 

“I am– inevitable,” Thanos announces, snapping his fingers, which would have been gut wrenching, had the mad titan actually had the infinity stones in his gauntlet.

However, unbeknownst to him, Tony Stark had swiped them right out of his hands. Tony Stark, who was now pulsing with immense amounts of gamma radiation and pure power from the ancient relics.

“And I– am– Iron Man.” Tony snapped his fingers. That was your cue. You, and the most powerful teammates you had, reached out, and took Tony’s left hand. Power and pain radiated through your body. And that was all you remembered.

…

The rocky ground beneath you was not comfortable, but you were barely aware of the sharp stones digging into your back since your whole body felt like you’d been in a car accident.

“Fucking ow,” you groaned.

“Well what did you expect? Trying to divert that level of radiation; you’re lucky your crazy stunt didn’t kill you!” Dr. Strange was in full lecture mode it seemed. You could hear Thor and Carol talking just behind you, and when you cracked your eyes open, you caught a glimpse of Wanda’s magic trailing behind her. Your eyelids felt like there were hundred pound weights on them. Why couldn’t you keep them open? 

Wait! 

It took a full second and a half for your brain to re-engage; quickly recapping the past few days. You bolted into an upright sitting position, all but shrieking in pain as your gritty eyes frantically searched for one figure amidst hundreds.

“Hey kid, you gonna explain all this to me now? I don’t like being in the dark.” You looked directly behind you and burst into tears. Tony was looking at you with a slightly exasperated look on his face, belayed by the small smile on his lips.

“It worked,” you sobbed.

“I don’t know what all has been going on in this place, but I know you’re not supposed to be upset that we won,” came Sam’s voice. He walked up behind Tony, clapping him on the back as he stepped past him to crouch down beside you. “Hey, Gorgeous. I missed you.”

A wet laugh exploded from your chest, “I fucking missed you too, Sammy.” Your eyes overflowed and your smile wobbled as he rested his forehead on yours. 

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I love you,” he soothed, cupping the side of your face and rubbing across your cheekbone with his thumb. He was home. Sobs shook you, and you knew it would be a while before you were able to stand. Or it would have been if Sam hadn’t picked you up and insisted on carrying you.

He didn’t let you out of his sight for several days.

…

It was actually weeks later, after some of the rubble had been cleared from where the compound once stood, before you finally explained what had happened. 

Not everyone was able to cram into Tony’s living room, so some people; Dr. Strange, and King T’challa and his people were there via remote communication. Rocket had even rigged up some sort of communications device into the Guardian’s ship so they could hear too.

“I had a vision,” you started. You were sitting in Sam’s lap, across from most of your family. Natasha sat in an armchair, with Clint perched on the arm. They’d both gone home to see his family almost immediately after the fight, but they both insisted on hearing what had happened.

Scott and Hope shared a couch. Bruce stood just behind it. 

Steve and Bucky were standing next to each other just to the side of you and Sam. They weren’t standing beside you, they wanted an explanation just as much as the others, but the two men were close with Sam, so it seemed they wanted to show that they supported you, as his girlfriend.

Tony was in an armchair across from Natasha and Clint. Thor stood behind his chair, and Wanda sat on the floor between the couch and Tony’s armchair. Even Carol was there, she sat backwards on a kitchen chair that she’d dragged into the room.

“We figured as much,” Tony replied. He smiled as his daughter ran into the room and all but threw herself onto Tony’s lap. He picked her up and situated her comfortably before continuing. “What exactly did your vision show.”

“For the most part, I saw just what happened. I saw you figure out the time travel thing. I saw us split into teams to get the stones. That's where I intervened,” you paused. Sam gave your hip a gentle, supportive squeeze. You hadn’t told him what you’d seen yet, but he knew you. Knew you were trying to say something that had gone horribly wrong. 

“I asked Bruce for the extra Pym charge, and I asked Rocket for some information, and to help me get on the team that went to Asgard.”

You saw Thor straighten then. He’d begun to take care of himself again, though you knew he was still overwhelmingly sad and lonely, he seemed to be working his way out of the deep rut he’d been in. “I don’t recall actually getting the stone. I was too distracted by my- my mother. Rocket did not show me the stone either. I just assumed he had it.” Thor looked at you, an unidentifiable emotion on his face. “Why did you need to be on our team?”

“I needed the reality stone. Wong and Rocket helped me get an idea of how to use it. And then I needed the extra Pym charge to take me to Vormir.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed. “I was supposed to die, wasn’t I?” she asked calmly. Clint stiffened beside her.

“No, you died in my vision. You weren’t supposed to die. That’s why I fixed it,” you gave her a look that brooked no argument, and she smiled in return.

“I used the stone to make it look like Natasha had died. Clint and Vormir’s guardian had to believe that it had happened. The only way to get the stone was-” 

“To lose what you loved,” Clint finished for you. You nodded. “I had to believe it or it wouldn’t have worked.” You nodded again, though he hadn’t phrased it as a question.

“I’m really sorry you had to see that, Clint, but it was the only way I could think to make it work.” You really were sorry. You knew Clint sometimes woke from horrible nightmares, occasionally about his family disappearing again, but also about seeing Nat fall.

He shook his head, and you let the subject lie.

“No wonder you were so fucked up when we all got back,” Steve said quietly to Clint. Then he turned to you. “That’s not it, is it?”

“No.” You looked to Tony.

“The suit wouldn’t have held that much power,” Tony concluded. “I didn’t think it would, but I didn’t have the time to strengthen it. I just didn’t know-”

“I know,” you said. “I had FRIDAY make some tweaks when you weren’t looking.” If it was possible to look proud and affronted at the same time, that’s how you would have described Tony’s expression. “Then, using the info I’d gotten from Rocket, I figured out how to displace the power, instead of letting it hit you alone.” You nodded at Carol, Thor, and Wanda. “I pulled the strongest people I knew, and lined us all up behind you before grabbing your shoulder just as you used the stones. The power was distributed to all of us, and we were able to hold, and diffuse it with no ill effects. I don't think it’s something anyone could have thought to do in the moment, it only happened because I had that vision.” You looked at Nat and Tony again. “After all we’ve been through, I couldn’t live in a world without you guys. Any of you,” you added, looking at everyone.

Tony had his arm wrapped tight around Morgan. And you heard a muffled sob from just behind you, turning a little, you saw Pepper. You winced, you hadn’t intended her to hear this. She saw your expression and shook her head. “Thank you,” she mouthed before walking to Tony’s side. She gave him a kiss and held his free hand in a death grip.

Clint had a grip on Nat’s hand too. White lines formed at the corners of Thor’s mouth, and Wanda looked like she was having trouble processing all the emotions in the room, but her eyes focused on you. 

“Why didn’t you tell us all this?” Bruce asked; he’d been quiet the whole time, though he’d known you had something going on earlier than most.

“I was afraid that if I said something, it would change something. I had no clue what was safe and what wasn’t and I knew-” you cut off, shifting to grip Sam’s hand, clearing your throat. “I knew if everything happened as it should, the dusted people would come back. I couldn’t risk that getting fucked up, just like I couldn’t let what I saw happen to Tony and Nat.” You squeezed Sam’s hand. “I’m sorry I kept this from you all, but I really couldn't risk it.” You closed your eyes, tilting your face to look at the floor.

You heard someone approaching, and felt Sam shift, but you didn’t open your eyes until you felt a hand on your shoulder. Natasha stood in front of you. As you looked up at her, you heard another set of footsteps approach. Tony appeared behind her. Steadily, your whole family came close. Natasha pulled you up, and into a tight hug. You felt Sam rise from behind you, he kept a hand on your hip. Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing. Steve gripped your other shoulder. Bruce had a hand on one of your arms, which were around Natasha, and Clint gripped your hand. Looking around the room at the others, you saw pain, and gratitude in every face. 

“Don’t keep shit like that to yourself again, you hear me?” Natasha grumbled, tears in her voice keeping her tone from being very threatening.

You let out a choked laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

“Clearly your best is damn good. I’ll take that any day,” Tony said. Tears were in his eyes, and there were tracks of them on his cheeks. “You did a good job, kid.”

“We’re proud of you.” Steve gave you a smile. Clint met your gaze and though his eyes were still warry, he gave you a smile, squeezing your hand.

Sam’s hand ran up and down your lower back as Natasha and the others stepped back. “You’re amazing, baby. You did good, just like always.” He wrapped his arm around you from behind and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

Everyone settled back into their seats before Steve spoke again. “Is that all you changed? Nothing else we need to know.”

You laughed a little, drawing everyone's gazes again. “Well I did change one more thing, it wasn’t big though.”

“What was it?” Steve asked. 

“I kept Scott from accidentally using a Pym Particle when he was talking about how they worked. That was the only way I could have one to use.”

Hope rolled her eyes, “seriously, Scott?” Clearly she was well aware of Scott’s inability to be smooth.

Scott’s face was beet red, but laughter filled the room. It seemed that the group would be able to move on from the news after all.

“I wasn’t gonna use it!” Scott insisted.

“If you had to be stopped, then yes, you were going to use it,” Hope argued, rolling her eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

The room filled with laughter and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. Leaning back into Sam, you let a long sigh escape you. It was over. The world was readjusting to having its missing members back, and after 5 years, you knew it would take a while, but, looking around the room, you had hope for the future.

You had your family after all. Your family, and your Sam. Everything was as it should be.

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[villainousshakespeare]

Clippings A Loki One Shot

A year or so ago I started reading Sucker’s Luck, the brilliant story by @wrathkitty, and we were messaging about Loki pranking the Avengers with newspaper and magazine articles. I always had it in the back of my mind that I wanted to do something with it, so this is the result of that! Just some silly fun!

Loki/Reader

Rated T - Kissing, flirting, silliness, fluff, obnoxious Loki, bored Loki

Summary:  You are the head of PR for the Avengers. Normally you love your job, but a series of pranks has you scrambling to recover. At last it occurs to you who the culprit must be - a certain God of Mischief living just a few flights down.

It had started simply enough. Tony had stumbled into his office one morning in Stark Tower, hung over (naturally) and grumpy as hell (as goes without saying). He banged into the corner of his desk, cursing the piece of furniture for existing, and an avalanche of treacherously stacked mail flurried down around him.

He hadn't looked at any of it for over three weeks. He and Pepper were "on a break" and she was working exclusively from the California office. As a result, nothing was where it was supposed to be. It was unfortunate, but you had told the temp assigned to his mail that it was better that way. Should she touch or misplace the wrong thing, it would be far worse than if she simply let it lie where it came in. People knew well enough to direct the important things to his department heads, including yourself in public relations.

As he stared sourly at the pile of paper littering his floor, Tony's eyes were drawn to a copy of Time Magazine. There on the cover, in bright red and gold, was his picture in his suit, face plate open to reveal his handsome mug. The banner read "(IRON)Man of the Year!"

Or at any rate that was what it was supposed to say. You had spoken at length to the publisher to ensure that it was the banner. Unfortunately, on closer examination that made his head pound as though a certain Thunder God was using it for hammer practice, the words had been altered to read "(IDIOT)Man of the Year!" In addition to the change in text, devil horns had been inked onto his helmet, a long tail was curling out from behind him, complete with pointed end, and he held a pitchfork in his hand. For a final insult, the artist had blacked out three of his teeth.

Half an hour later, he had stormed into your office a few floors below.

"Alright," he said, slapping the offending magazine down on your desk as you quickly hung up your call and gave him your attention. "I can take a joke. So one of my subordinates wanted to be clever, did they? I suppose I might have said or done something in the past to have deserved it."

"Oh dear," you tried not to laugh as you stared at the cover. "Do you know who it was?"

"No, I don't," he growled, throwing another copy with the same alterations onto your work space, "because they are All. Like. This!"

One by one he slammed a stack of magazines in front of you, each one displaying the altered text and image of him.

"I examined it, and it seems to be the original ink, not an alteration after printing," he ground out. "I assume, of course, that this was not the copy you approved? Because if it was, I am grossly overpaying you."  

"It is not what I agreed to," you hastened to assure him. "Maybe it was a saboteur on the print floor. Someone from Hammer Tech maybe? Or, not to get all personal here, maybe an ex-girlfriend?"

"I don't know," he snapped, glaring at the desiccated image. "All I know is I want them pulled. All of them. Now!"

"Of course," you agreed at once.

It was not as easy as you might have hoped. It seemed every copy had been printed with the alteration. Worse than that, there were posters and billboards all over New York where Tony could see them, as well as in other cities, and all had somehow been created with the offensive graphic. It was a nightmare getting them pulled, and by the time you did the television media had already picked up on them.

A week later, it was Steve and Bucky's turn. You knew something was up when you entered the Avenger's Tower and saw the lobby festooned with hundreds of bouquets of flowers. Curious about the preponderance of blossoms, you had plucked a card from one and choked back your laughter as you read.

"To Steve and Bucky," it said in a loopy script, "congratulations on making it official. You are a lovely couple."

Oh dear, you thought. This could not be good.

When you reached your office, your assistant was waiting for you, a newspaper in her hand.

"Um, boss," she said with a worried tone of voice, "have your looked at the Times today?"

"No," you felt a wave of dread flow over you. "Why?"

"I put a copy on your desk," she said instead of answering directly.

Warily, you picked up the paper open to the Wedding Section of the Weekend Times. There, right in the center of the page above the fold, was a picture of Captain America and his friend The Winter Soldier. Underneath the article read:

"Steve Rogers And James (Bucky) Barnes are delighted to announce their engagement. The two have been secretly a couple since before the invention of the color television, but decided to finally go public. Says Rogers, 'I got tired of him trying to keep his options open. If he wants all this, he better put a ring on it!' A date has yet to be set, but the couple are hoping for a June wedding. In lieu of gifts, please make donations to your local AARP."

The fact that a church had been booked and a florist and caterer engaged made it even harder to unravel all of the headaches that went with that particular prank. Steve was mortified by the announcement, insisting to anyone who would listen that he was more than happy with the status of his relationship with his oldest friend. Oddly, Bucky didn't seem particularly bothered by it, but did give Steve some searching looks after word of the article made its way around the building.

You received the Thor article yourself, two weeks later. You had been lulled into a state of false security as things calmed down in Avenger's world. You should have known better. An envelope addressed to the public relations depart had of course ended up on your desk. Inside, a clipping from page 6 was stuck inside a note card. Looking at the card, you found an elegant, bold hand had written "For Thor" on the card.

The article was not good. It appeared that Dr. Jane Foster had been seen out and about in London with a wealthy, outrageously good looking scientist. The two looked quite close as they sat sipping cocktails under the stars in the picture, her hand clasped in his. A red marker had been used to draw a large heart around the image, and in the margins of the article were written such commentary as "Oh dear, is she cheating?", "Good for her!", "Looks like someone is trading up!" and, most cuttingly, "Is someone's hammer bigger than a certain God's? Inquiring minds want to know!"

"Oh, good God!" you groaned, lowering your head to the desk, dreading the thought of sharing the offensive paper with Thor. Briefly, you thought of hiding it from the blond Asgardian, but you thought better of it. Though you had no way of knowing for sure, you would bet money that, just as with the Time Magazine cover, every copy of the story was similarly compromised. Someone was bound to see it and say something to Thor. As director of the Avenger's public relations, it was best to come from you.

It just made no sense! Tony you could understand. You loved the man, but even he had to admit that he had made his share of enemies in his life. Hell, half of the Avenger's work seemed to be neutralizing people that he had offended at one time or another to the extent of turning them into super villains! Steve, Bucky, and Thor, however, were all likeable, inoffensive men. Who could possibly want to make mischief for any of them?

Mischief. Your head shot up and your eyes narrowed. It couldn't be. Could it? The more you thought about it, one name screamed itself into your brain, to the point where you couldn't understand why you hadn't thought of it before. It was so bloody obvious!

With grim determination you rose from your desk and tromped your way to the elevator, punching in one of the residential floors when it arrived. The call, it seemed, was coming from inside the house.

When you got to the door, you knocked hard and tapped your toe impatiently as you waited for a response. You knew he was there, of course. He was not allowed to go anywhere else, at least not unless escorted by his brother, and you knew for a fact that Thor was off world at the moment. Just when you were considering going to get reinforcements, a lazy, bored sounding voice called from within, inviting you to come in.

Bracing yourself for what was sure to be a confrontation, you opened the door and let yourself into the rooms of Loki, prince of Asgard and "guest" of SHIELD. If guest could be used to describe a God held against their will in an impregnable tower containing numerous enhanced individuals intent on seeing that he stayed where they could keep a constant eye on him.

The room was decorated in golds and greens, all lush and comfortable looking. Bookshelves lined the walls, and additional stacks of books littered the floor and table. Loki himself lay on a couch on the far side of the room, one arm behind his head, the other held a large volume that he seemed completely engrossed in. He did not so much as look in your direction as you stood on the door step, unsure how to begin.

"If you're looking for Thor," he said in a lazy drawl, not bothering to look up, "you might try next door."

"Thor is off world and you know it," you snapped, fighting down your agitation.

No one in your life had ever made you as anxious al Loki did on a good day. The man... the God was a public relations nightmare! He was the living definition of "loose canon", libel to say or do anything without warning. You supposed it came with his job description, but it did not make your life any easier. The fact that he was stupidly handsome and cuttingly witty just insured that any chance the press got to cover him was leaped at.

"I said you could try, I didn't say you would find him," Loki smirked, still looking at his book. He read for a few more moments before seeming to come to a stopping place, marking it with a bookmark, and finally, finally raising his eyes to you. "Ah, director! How nice of you to visit!"

"This isn't a social call, Loki," you said with very little grace.

"Well, that is a shame," he purred, sitting up and smoothing out his soft green tunic that veed to show just a teasing glimpse of his chest. "I get so few visitors, and those I do are not nearly so pleasing to converse with, or to look at for that matter."

You felt your eyes narrow as you stared at him, trying to tell if he was mocking you or not. You knew that he could lie as easily as breath, but you could not suppress the small, niggling hope that he meant it. It galled you to know end, but you could not quite rid yourself of an asinine crush on the God. Pulling yourself together, you tried to recover your initial irritation.

"The pranks, Loki," you told him in a severe voice, "they end. Now."

"What pranks?" he asked innocently, one eyebrow arching.

"You know damn well what pranks, Loki! The Time Magazine cover. The wedding announcement. And now the article with Dr. Foster."

"Ooh, what has my brother's favorite mortal done now?" he asked, seeming for all the world like he was  legitimately curious.

"So you are saying you are not responsible for altering the articles?" you demanded.

"Director, how on this blasted realm would I be responsible for anything?" he asked reasonably. "I am confined by this infernal bracelet on my ankle to this suite of rooms, only allowed out when my hulking mass of a brother chooses to take pity on me."

"You have magic," you said tentatively.

"Yes, once again confined by this device they force me to wear. I don't know why you need me to tell you this, Director. You yourself spoke most eloquently on the television about me. What was the quote now? Let me see...'We owe Prince Loki an apology. Far from being the mastermind behind the Attack on New York, he did everything in his considerable powers to prevent it. Were it not for his double agent machinations, the loss of life would be catastrophic. He is, in my eyes, a hero. None the less, the Asgardian Prince, realizing that tensions are running high in the aftermath of the incident, has graciously agreed to certain precautions, including a device to curtail his magic for the duration of his stay.'"

It was word for word the statement you had made on behalf of the Avengers and SHIELD months ago. That fact that Loki remembered it, and had altered his voice somehow to mimic your cadence and tone, rendered you momentarily speechless. As you struggled for response, a wicked grin spread across his face.

"I did so love to hear you defending me that way, my dear. Tell me, do you really consider me a hero?" his voice was smooth as honey as he rose from the couch and moved toward you, unconscious grace in his every movement.

"It is my job to put a good spin on things," you said, sounding lame to your own ears.

"So, then you don't find me gracious? Or even just a touch heroic?" he purred, now very much intruding on your personal space. "You don't think I have considerable powers?"

"Of course you have powers," you gulped, feeling your pulse race as he leaned his forearm on the wall next to your head. "It's why I am convinced that you altered those articles."

"Ah yes, the articles," he said as though he had forgotten all about them, as he grinned down at you from far too close.

"Yes. The articles. It's why I am here," you reminded both of you, wondering how to describe the smell that surrounded him other than delicious.

"If that is the case, then why ever would I stop? If I were to be the one creating them. You presence here in my rooms is the most enjoyment I've had in months."

"Why?" you blurted out, hating yourself the moment the word left your lips.

"I like you," he said simply. "You don't shy away from me when I so much as look at you. You don't moralize at me. You don't pity me."

"Pity you?" your voice squeaked upward. "You're a gorgeous, princely god with super powers! In what universe would you be pitied?"

"I am a captive, gorgeous, princely god," he corrected, eyes sparkling as he held yours. "One hated by the Midgardians, cast out by both birth and adopted parents, suffered at best by my host jailers. Many might pity me. But not you. You see me as something else."

"I see you as a pr nightmare!" you grumbled, unable to look away from him. "The amount of chaos you cause for my office with your little jokes is more than even Stark, and I didn't think that was possible."

"Oh, I am sorry," he said, sounding anything but. "You could have avoided it, you know."

"How?" you demanded, swallowing as he leaned in even more.

"By coming to visit sooner. I thought I was going to have to get Banner's friend accepted to the Bronx Zoo before you finally showed up here."

"You did this on purpose?" you gasped. "To see me?"

"I'm not saying I did do it," he hedged, eyes glittering with amusement, "but if I did, that would certainly be one of two very good reasons to do so."

"And the other?" you asked, just to have something to say while your mind processed the information.

"It was funny," he laughed, breath ghosting across your neck and making you shiver.

Against your will, you suddenly laughed as well. The picture of Tony, the announcement for Steve and Bucky, the comments on Jane and Thor, now that you weren't in the throes of putting out the fires they had caused, you could see clearly the hilarity of his silly pranks. It felt good to let down your professional demeanor and giggle like a teenager over the outrage they had caused.

"Did the jests truly make your job too difficult," he asked, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and making your mouth go dry.

"I handled it," you said, voice distressingly unstable.

"I have no doubt. You are good at your job. I watch you on the box whenever you appear before the moronic press. You make even my brother sound as though he knows what he is doing."

"Thor is sweet," you protested weakly.

"Thor is an idiot," he said, though not without a trace of affection. "You are not. I find it a rare treat."

"Thank you," your voice was little more than a whisper.

"If the pranks, as you called them, were to stop," he said, eyes lowering to look at your lips, "and you had more free time on your hands, do you think you might spend so of it with me? Say, for dinner?"

"I... I could probably manage that," you said. "If you would like."

"I would very much like," he murmured. "May I, Director?"

Not needing him to clarify, you gave a small nod of your head. As soon as that brief sign of consent had been given, Loki lowered his lips to yours in a kiss that was gentle and tentative, not at all what you had been expecting. He pulled back after a few moments, the taste of his lips lingering against yours, and you gazed up at him with glazed eyes.

"Tonight then?" you asked, not caring if you sounded desperate.

"Tonight would be fine," he smiled at you, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. "I will look forward to it greatly.

"I should get back to work then," you sighed, not wanting to leave but knowing you had a deadline. "There's an interview on now that I need to monitor."

"Very well," Loki sounded resigned, but still walked you gallantly the two feet to the door. "I shall see you later then."

You smiled goofily at him, not believing you had a date with the god of mischief, when suddenly Loki's eyes snapped up to the television in the corner.

"The interview," Loki said, improbably appearing just behind you. "It is with Director Fury?"

"Yes. Why?"

Wordlessly Loki snapped his fingers and the television began playing. On the screen, a buttoned down news anchor was doing his best not to break as Nick Fury expounded on the benefits of the Avengers Initiative. It would have been an intimidating speech were it not for the message flashing in bright green lights across his eyepatch. "I'm Nick Fury, Bitch!" was the least obscene of the bunch. Slowly you closed your eyes and shook your head.

"Perhaps we should move dinner until tomorrow," he said with evident disappointment.

"Is this all" you asked, feeling impending doom.

"I promise," his voice was warring between amusement and chastisement. "I had forgotten about this one until now. I mean, if I was responsible."

"Dinner better be damn good," you sighed.

"I promise you, pet," he said, smiling smugly, "dinner will be worth it."

"In that case," you bit your bottom lip. "I will go clean up this mess and see you tomorrow."

Loki raised your hand to his lips and kissed it, letting his tongue just ever so slightly graze against your skin. It was enough to set you tingling to your toes.

"I live in anticipation," he told you.

"Loki," you said, smiling sweetly.

"Yes, darling?"

"Remember, I control the press. You do something like this again, I will make sure that everyone knows how devoted you are to Thor, and what a soft, sentimental soul you have."

"You wouldn't!" he gasped, horrified.

"Try me Mischief," you smiled, feeling at last a bit more like yourself.

"Oh, I knew I was right about you," he smiled in admiration. "My dear, we are going to have so much fun."

Turning slowly, you sauntered to the elevator. All in all, it had been a good day.

@arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @ciaodarknessmyheart @frostbitten-written @hopelessromanticspoonie @hiddlesholic  @just-the-hiddles @kellatron55 @nonsensicalobsessions @poetic-fiasco @redfoxwritesstuff @shiningloki @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @yespolkadotkitty @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy​

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Dragon Egg (Parts 26-29)

Final parts for @secrettunnelatla

Azula is several unique and distinct layers of anxious. There is the first layer; the typical stresses that come with knowing that she is in for a make or break moment. The layer beneath that is a knowingness that a break is going to be particularly devastating for her. And below that is knowing that Blue Talon is in the room over, that she will once again be forced to listen to Chan’s botched version of her abuse story.

Under that layer is knowing that the subject of said story will be in the crowd, she has already spotted him striking up conversation with Wan Shi Tong after being snubbed by Raava and Vaatu.

And then there is the deepest layer. Hama has invited herself to the performance, after she so adamantly refused to take her advice to not perform. The old bat tried her damndest  to dissuade her. Worse still, the woman’s concerns are more than valid. After finally confessing that she had done cocaine, albeit only a little, Hama lamented that that’s more than enough to explain her baby’s low birth weight. And more than enough to put her into early labor. Early labor when her age alone already put her at risk for that. “You can go into labor any time now.” The woman had put it. She can’t say that she doesn’t feel as though it is a possibility. The contractions are becoming more regular.

She holds out her hand and their makeup and SFX artist carefully dresses her fingers with blue claw tips. The fix her up with dragon contact lenses and carefully paint shimmering scales onto her cheeks, neck, and hands.

The woman hands her a sugary blue drink, it is the one comfort she has tonight. With luck it will give her tongue the blue effect that she is looking for.

They fashion her hair into a messy bun and begin working on her undercut. She hopes that it will be another seamless blend between metal and opera aesthetics. With her locks in a pile on the floor they dress her hair with ornaments and hand her, her prop mask--the final piece to her costume.

It has been some time since she has worn something form fitting and she has to admit that she is a little nervous to do it for the first time in front of so many people. But the design team that Zhao had hired for her is masterful, they have crafted a dress that works well with her baby bump. The scales are positioned in just the right ways to shimmer over and around the bump. And they are rather comfortable, more so than she anticipated them being.

“Azula, you have a visitor.”

“Tell Seicho that I got her flowers and we can talk after the show.”

“It’s...uh...it’s Chan and I think that the other two are here as well.”

“Send them away.” Zhao calls from across the room. “We don’t have time for drama.”

“What do they want?”

The woman shrugs. “I didn’t ask.”

“You can let them in.”

Chan is anything but discreet when staring at her belly and even less so when they fall on her chest. Perhaps if she didn’t want to risk breaking her faux claws she would have given him a good slap. “What do you want?”

“To wish you luck.”

“I don’t need luck. I have skill.” She pauses. “And I didn’t leech off of someone else’s material.”

“We’re not going to be performing those songs.” Ruon replies.

“We should though.” Zirin mutters.

“I figured that it would be disrespectful.”

“You figured that out quite late, didn’t you?”

Ruon sighs. “Maybe, yeah.”

“And let me guess,” she turns to Chan, “you decided that you want to be a father.”

“Fuck no!” He replies abruptly. “I don’t want anything to do with the baby, okay.”

“Then I want nothing to do with you. See yourself out.”

“Azula.”

“I am quite busy. Zhao can lead you out if you can’t find the exit yourself.”

She watches him leave with Zirin tethered to his side. “Sorry about those two, Ruon mutters. If it makes you feel any better, we’re going to be going with our new surf rock image after this concert. I convinced them to take up a new band name and  give you the rights to Blue Talon.”

At least she can go into her performance knowing that at least one of her former friends isn’t morally bankrupt.

She gets one final visitor before she takes to the stage. Raava pulls her into a careful hug and kisses her on the cheek. “I am delighted that you were able to make it.”

“I couldn’t possibly miss this.” She replies. “Not for anything.”

Her baby shifts.

.oOo.

She is cradled in an egg, a large shimmering thing blue in color and shot with veins of gold. The hiss of a smoke machine lets her know that it is almost time. By now Zuko has emerged from a pile of simmering soot.

She hears a bang and she knows that his fiery wings have burst to life. She makes a note to incorporate pyrotechnics into her shows after giving birth. She hears the crackle as his phoenix wings flare. And in tendrils of curling smoke with the mightiest roar she can manage, she emerges from her egg.

Slipping back into her harsh vocals is like slipping back into a well worn and favorite robe, somehow it always fits just right. Somehow it is always comfortable. She is aware of her limits, well aware and they have several plans to work with them. Should breathing become too difficult, she will gesture for Zuko to fill in. She will resume with an adjusted set of clean vocals.

For the time things are going well, she is still pleasantly reeling from the explosive applause that came with her appearance. Her surprise appearance.

Her lips curl into a smirk as her initial, teaser verse echoes about.

“It’s good to see you all again!” Zuko calls.

The claps are damn near deafening.

“I’d like everyone to give my sister an extra pleasant welcome, we wouldn’t be here without her pestering and nagging.”

“You’re an ass, Zuko.” She scans the crowd for her father. She finds him, arms folded, the most hideous snarl on his face. She imagines that the two bottles on the table will be empty by the end of the night.

“Tonight, a dragon joins the Phoenixes!”

Tonight, a dragon will take flight. TyLee pounds out the first notes on her drum. The crowd is already abuzz with a frantic energy. An ecstatic energy. An energy that has been slowly building band by band. She can only imagine how frenzied they will become by the time it is The Tui Las’ turn to take the stage.

She doesn’t have the energy to move and flounce about as she usually would, so she stands upon a raised platform with glittering ashes at her feet, singing into the microphone while thin wisps of smoke furl and unfurl around her.

Mai’s guitar thrums, she can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that the woman can so liberally headbang, it is washed away by the sight of a banner unfurling from the balcony. She sees, in glittering acrylic paint, the maw of a dragon, its forked blue tongue thrashing. She can’t quite make out the words upon it, but she knows that it is for her. For her and her alone. Likely a gift from one of the fanclubs that had caught wind of her surprise enrollment. She closes her eyes as Mai’s solo wails on. And it is sound, everything is pure sound.

For a moment anxiety and trepidations give way to elation. To the highs of success and adoration. To the thrill and liberation that only music can bring. She tilts her head back and spreads her arms out. The spotlight glints off of her dress.

And while Zuko runs through his part, Azula points to the banner. She makes eye contact and sticks her tongue out, mimicking the image on the banner. The light twinkles upon her tongue piercing. And the crowd goes feral.

Zuko helps her down from the platform as she works her way back into the song. Her head spins with euphoria as the last vestiges of her misery, fear, and helplessness are shaken away by Zuko’s bass.

She makes a mental note to learn to play an instrument too. Perhaps the drums, she can’t name many lead vocalists who also play the drums. But she can do it, right now, she can do anything. The dragon is in flight and her wings are powerful.

She transitions into her operatic vocals. By now she is somewhat breathless, but it is alright. This is the sound she needs. The sound that is on her albums. The sound that has granted her so much attention. It is all her own. Indisputably so.

Zuko grins at her as she lowers the mic, a job well done. He gives her shoulder a little squeeze. And then he steps back. And Mai steps back while TyLee comes forward.

Zuko and Mai lay their instruments in the egg and TyLee sets her drumsticks at the bass of it. An offering to the dragon.   They lay themselves down in those glittery ashes and wait until it is their turn to rise once more.

The stage goes black and then the light falls on her. A single beam that paints her body in a radiant halo.

As a forest falls into a hush before a storm, the venue falls into a silence so complete. Complete until she decides to break it. Break it with a voice like wind sifting through curtains. Like a summer storm rousing bells into a frenzy. Something powerful and light all at once. Something both airy and sturdy.

The spotlight is growing uncomfortably hot, and there is a new energy in the air. She doesn’t think that she has ever been paid such close attention and from so many people at one. She slides into the next note. The baby shifts. The breath she draws is sharp, she improvises a high note to accent it. There is a murmur of amazement.

A small smile play on her lips as she transitions into the next set of notes. The theater throws her voice back at her and she throws it back at the theater. It is a deviation from what she had planned but it is easier somehow. Easier and otherworldly. It is an experiment, a risk. This whole night has been a risk, what is one more? The night is going too well for her to not garner successful results.

As her last chorus begins, her wings unfold as shadows on the back wall. The smoke machines cough out plumes until she is lost in the smoke. And with her body fully enveloped, the stage fades to black once more.

She isn’t sure what to make of the tangible silence to follow. Not until it erupts into a deafening applause.

And then come the sparks, the sparks and flames and Zuko, Mai, and TyLee spring back into action for a bombastic finale. She feels much bolder now, unstoppable. Perhaps if her solo had been even a degree less successful she would have come down enough to know that she is pushing too hard.

As things are, she is taken by the night, by the magic of sound and melody. By the connections; to Zuzu, to Mai and TyLee, to the audience… These connections, for a time, block out a different connection. A connection she should be feeling by nature.

She slips back into her harsh screaming vocals and just in time. She holds her note as the first sharp pang bursts through her core. She screams louder, harder. By all means, it is the best scream she has ever done on stage. She isn’t sure if she is dismayed or relieved that the audience thinks that it is just part of the show. Most of the audience anyhow, Hama goes rigid. She grits her teeth as Zuko sings through his part. She feels a cramp like no other. And she sees faces. There is her father his expression is something conflictingly smug and shamed, he turns his head. There is Seicho, wincing. And Raava, she hasn’t seen that brand of concern since her mother died. She can’t find Hama.  

The music cuts suddenly and with it, her dreams and aspirations.

Zuko hooks her under the arm.

“What are you doing?” She mutters, “you need to finish the show.”

“We need to get you to the hospital.” Mai replies.

“Or, at least, to Hama.” TyLee adds.

___________

Y’all are gonna have to forgive me lol, I don’t know too much about childbirth and I couldn’t find some of the answers to the questions I had about c-sections. That said, this is your warning if childbirth and surgeries make you squeamish.

She wants to cry. Cry for the pain and cry for her lost dreams. She had been so close. So, so very close.

And now she is here in a hospital bed, here in excruciating pain that anesthetics can only seem to take the edge off of. They give her commands, they tell her to push and breathe. They are vaguely reminiscent of the mock sessions that Hama has taken her though. But her head is too dizzy to truly do anything beyond hear the orders.

She picks out Hama’s face, but the woman mostly lingers back waiting to be called on for reminders and forgotten rundowns on her condition and medical history. She thinks that Seicho is there too, banished to the other end of the room so not to obstruct.

Azula screams again and they demand that she pushes. She thinks that the push she gives is more instinctual than a response to the order. There is another reminder to breath. She can’t do it. She is growing faint.

She thinks that this baby is going to rip her in two. Spirits, she could have sworn that they said it would have a low birth weight. Spirits, she can’t imagine what a standard weight baby would feel like.

Tears are running down her face but she barely registers them. And then she hears the words Caesarean section. Her face pales further and then further still when they mention that the baby’s heartbeat is unstable.

It is just as well, she doesn’t think that she can keep herself awake to deliver this baby naturally. She clutches the bed sheets as they clean her abdomen. They say something to her, something that she doesn’t catch. She thinks that they are trying to explain what they are doing.

She feels a hand holding hers. It is Seicho’s. Woefully and resentfully, she wishes that it was Ozai’s. Her father should be here. He should be holding her hand. He should protect her when she can’t do it herself. And this time she doesn’t think that she can.

“It’s alright.” One of the doctors promises. “You’re going to be fine.”

To her horror, they keep her awake. They carefully fix the IV into her arm and administer a regional anesthesia. Agni, she wishes that they would just put her out entirely.

“You did good tonight.” Seicho says.

“Mmm hmm.” Azula mannages as they begin to make the incision.

“Really good. You should see what they’re saying about the performance.”

Azula grits her teeth, “that I’m a fool for performing eight months pregnant.”

“No! Okay, well, some people are saying that…”

She must admit that Seicho has just provided her with a rather solid distraction. “They have no right to say anything about…”

Seicho laughs. “But they’re also saying that it was impressive that you could do it at all. And that your performance was amazing, they were only disappointed to see it cut short.”

“Are ‘they’, the audience or the judges?”

“Both, I think?” Seicho replies. “The competition is still going on of course, but your odds of winning still look pretty good according to the live updates.”

Azula’s grimaces at a tugging sensation that radiates up her abdomen.

“Are you in any pain?” The doctor asks.

She shakes her head, “it’s  not comfortable though.” And the discomfort seems to last hours. The doctors insist that it had been only an hour and twenty-minutes. And for that hour and twenty-minutes she doesn’t even get to hold her baby.

“She’s being transferred to the NICU.” They inform her. “It might be several days, possibly weeks until you get to hold her. We need to get her stable first.”

Azula can only nod. She is lucky that her baby is alive at all.

______________

Her baby comes with a list of risks and warnings. Obligations and an extensive list of follow up appointments. Here and there she does interviews, ones wherein she promises that she is still very much active, that new songs are in the works and that she has several music video ideas in mind. Ones wherein she announces that she plans to collaborate with From Ashes to Phoenix more  and that she plans to take up drumming while on maternity leave. That interviews will be less frequent and that her first tour isn’t slated for at least a year.

She thinks that she is driving Seicho mad with anticipation, she has only been promising her a real date for ages now. But she has things to attend to first. She is putting the finishing touches on her nursery, while profusely but silently thanking Zhao’s wife for providing her with the toys and baby care supplies that she had neglected to buy herself. What Zhao and his wife don’t provide comes in the form of gifts from Iroh, Zuzu, Mai, TyLee, Raava, and Vaatu. Chan has given her a gift as well but a boob pillow isn’t exactly the sort of thing that she wants in her baby’s crib. She supposes that it’s the thought that counts. It is a small little gesture, something that has her inclined to think that he doesn’t want to sever ties with her completely. She puts that to the side for when she has time to deal with it.

“This is so exciting!” TyLee gushes.

Azula is nearly inclined to say that TyLee is more excited to see the baby in her mother’s arms than she is.

“You must be thrilled.” Seicho notes.

Truth be told there is a shot of nervousness too. She hadn’t had enough time to consider what kind of mother she would be. And that in itself is a red flag. Surely she can be no worse than her own father.

The doctor beckons her into the room. “Are you ready to meet your baby?”

Azula nods.

“Did you pick out a name yet.” Inquires another doctor as the first leaves to retrieve her baby.

Azula nods again. “It’s Anzu.”

“That’s so pretty.” TyLee smiles.

“Thank you.”

The doctor emerges. “Here she is.” Gently the woman transfers Anzu into Azula’s arms. She is a precious little thing. Soft, squishy, and terribly small.

“Is she going to stay this small?” Azula asks.

“Most likely, yes. Even if she wasn’t a pre-term baby, you are rather small.”

Azula flushes lightly.

“That’s her polite way of saying that you’re super teeny!” Seicho ruffles her hair.

Azula holds Anzu’s head against her breast. It doesn’t remain there for long, Azula finds that the baby is a wiggly thing. She opens her eyes but they don’t seem to find focus on anything in particular. Azula holds out her finger for the girl to grasp.

“She’s quite a fussy one.” The doctor notes. “Preterm babies tend to have irregular sleeping and eating patterns, so that’s something to prepare yourself for. We’ll be keeping her for another week, just to make sure that she stays stable, but she’s just about ready to come home.”

“I’ll pass the warning onto Zhao.” Azula replies as she strokes Anzu’s hair. “Have you been playing music for her like I asked? I want her to be a musician too.”

“We have.” The woman assures her. “Mostly classical music for now. But she is fond of zither music and the pan pipes.”

Perhaps she will learn to play the zither and the drums. “You know how to play the zither, don’t you, TyLee?”

“And the harp.”

“I can play an accordion!” Seicho declares.

“You can?” Azula furrows her brows.

“Sure. I just can’t play it good.” Seicho shrugs.

Azula sighs, she isn’t sure of just what kind of upbringing Anzu is going to have. With Seicho as a fill in father. Though Zhao, his wife, and Iroh show more promise. At least she has options. Options and a solid support system.

A musical career and motherhood. She will make them both work somehow.

____________

She lets Zuko, Mai, and TyLee tag along. Zhao and his wife have kindly extended her a much needed night off and she is spending it in Seicho’s chair. “I don’t need hand holding, Zuzu.” She rolls her eyes as Seicho brings the needle to her chest. “If I can handle childbirth, I can handle another tattoo.”

“You were numb for the childbirth.” Zuko points out.

“I suppose that I was, yes.”

Seicho makes great time, at this rate they will have time to go out for dinner after the tattoo has been finished. Already, she has the outline of the dragon egg and she is working to surround it with music notes.

Azula closes her eyes and relaxes as much as the constant needle bites will allow. Her mind wanders away from the tattoo parlor and to the stage. It is strange to think that it has only been a month since Audio of Agni. A month since she was able to hang her award certificate on the wall of her recording studio.

She almost can’t distinguish the buzzing of her phone from the whir of the tattoo gun as it pumps more shimmering blue into her skin. She declines the call.

“Who was it?” Zuko asks.

“It was father.” She mutters. “He’s been calling a lot lately.” A lot since he realized that his gleaming little star is shining perfectly fine without him. Much better in fact, without the pressures that he puts on her.

“What does he want?” Mai grumbles.

“Who cares.” Zuko scowls.

Deep down, she does. Deep down she misses him. Misses his praise and his subtle and hard to acquire affections. Misses the man he was before the booze. “Do you think that rehab would help him, Zuzu?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I think that you shouldn’t make it your problem.” Seicho pulls the tattoo gun back and shrugs. “You have a baby and a career to worry about and that’s plenty. You can talk to him when he calls you to tell you that he went to rehab on his own.”

And yet her heart aches for the people that she has cut out of her life. She supposes that she has let enough people in to balance things out. She has friends now, real friends. She has a brother, an uncle, a spunky, highly agitating, girlfriend. She has that dolt Zhao and she has her baby.

She has more than she had lost.

“I don’t need him.” She finally replies.

“Good.” Zuko replies. He has made more progress of his own, perhaps more than even she. He’d built From Ashes To Phoenix from nothing. He’d kindled the flame and then doused it and then flared it up again higher than before. All that remains of his troubles are a series of faint puncture scars on his arms.

“When does your tour start, Zuzu?”

“The beginning of next month. Are you gonna see us play?”

“I’ll let you know when Anzu tells me.” She laughs.

“Well, let us know when you’re touring again, we’ll see your show.”

“I sure hope so, TyLee, you guys will be the opening act!”

“Stop moving so much!” Seicho exclaims.

“Sorry.” Azula mutters. She watches as Seicho moves the tattoo gun across the egg. Somehow she has managed to create an effect not dissimilar to that of her Audio of Agni dress. She pauses to swap out the ink colors. Her hand is so dainty and elegant as she fills in and shades. Finally she pulls it back and hands Azula a mirror. She doesn’t need it to know that Seicho’s work is as fine and painstaking as ever. That it is perfect. That it is worthy of being on her skin.

Seicho gently applies a layer of antibiotic ointment.

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to make adjustments to that tattoo while we’re here?” Seicho gestures to the dragon curling around her arm.

“I’m sure, Siecho. I need this tattoo as it is.” There are nights when it is painful to look at. Nights when it is a glaring reminder of the people she lost. The friends who betrayed her, who almost reaped her of everything she had. But it is also a reminder of what she had tamed and reclaimed.

For better or for worse, Blue Talon is a part of her. Just as much as Anzu and the music industry. And for better or for worse, Blue Talon is a mark on her skin. Just like Anzu.

Tattoos aren’t art, she decides, they are stories. Profound ones. And Seicho has a particular way with words. A particular way of helping her tell her story.

“Alright then, we’re all done here!” Seicho pecks her on the forehead.

Seicho locks and darkens the parlor. She takes Azula’s hand. TyLee takes her other one. And Mai takes TyLee’s free hand. Zuko completes the chain. She walks down the street. A dragon among phoenix.

She thinks that it is best this way.

[kingreywrites]

Oblivious

Fandom: Tangled

Words Count: 1781

New Dream Appreciation Week Day Six: We’re Having A Baby

Summary: Announcing her pregnancy to Eugene was, to Rapunzel's surprise, the hardest part of the process. Not because he was against it - it was the contrary, really, Eugene was like an excited puppy when they talked about starting a family - but because her husband, as sweet and loving as he could be, was the most oblivious man she had ever met.

Read on ao3

Note: Thank you so much @dreaming-in-seams for giving me the inspiration, I wouldn’t have been able to write this without your quote! (go see their art, it’s AMAZING)

@our-newdream

Announcing her pregnancy to Eugene was, to Rapunzel's surprise, the hardest part of the process. Not because he was against it - it was the contrary, really, Eugene was like an excited puppy when they talked about starting a family - but because her husband, as sweet and loving as he could be, was the most oblivious man she had ever met.

Her first attempt had been perfectly planned to be the most beautiful pregnancy reveal ever. She had waited until Eugene's Captain duties were low, had invited him to one of their classical boat date and, with Pascal's help, had bought the cutest little pair of baby shoes that she would give to Eugene as a gift - she thought the gesture adorable, and hoped he would like it too.

"Ah, Sunshine, for me?" Eugene grinned when she handed him the gift, his eyes shining under the moonlight. "You shouldn't have, really!"

He shook the box, trying to guess what was inside it and frowned when he didn't recognise the sound. Rapunzel winked at Pascal when Eugene wasn't looking, giddy and excited for the big reveal. Finally, her husband opened the box and froze, eyes comically wide as he took the little shoes in his hands.

Rapunzel held her breath, letting him time to process, and nearly started to cry when he beamed because finally, he-

"That is such a good idea!" he exclaimed, startling her. "Pascal come here!"

Before the poor chameleon could flee, Eugene grabbed him and struggled against his outraged squeaks to put on the shoes, while Rapunzel could only gap in consternation. She felt like she ought to intervene, to explain the situation but, first, then it wouldn't be the perfect reveal she had planned, and second, Eugene was laughing so hard at Pascal that a tear escaped him.

"That is the greatest gift ever Sunshine!" Eugene cracked up again, so oblivious to Pascal's glare that Rapunzel had to laugh too. "I mean look at him!"

Well. She had to admit Pascal was really cute with the little shoes on, and between her gushing over him and Eugene laughing hard enough for it to hurt, she might have forgotten her original reason for being here.

Her second attempt was more to the point. The shoes had been a cute idea but, obviously, Eugene needed a clear and unmistakable announcement of her pregnancy. She had consulted with Pascal again (once he stopped pouting at her for drawing him in shoes on her mural) and they decided that a banner would be the easiest way.

A huge banner. Spelling "WE'RE HAVING A BABY" in huge letters. There, no mistakes possible.

Maybe it wasn't as cute as the shoes, but Rapunzel painted each letter separately with love and care, and she still imagined Eugene's reaction to be the best. The way he would smile, and probably cry, and certainly hug her… She couldn't wait. She knew he was the sweetest husband and would - soon - be the best father ever, and she couldn't wait to live this new adventure with him.

She only needed to announce it first.

"This is… Perfect!" she nodded, giving Pascal a big thumbs up as she watched over the banner they hung in their room. Eugene would be coming here soon, because she had asked if they could have lunch alone in their room, and he would see the banner and they'll laugh and be happy and-

Someone knocked on the door.

"Rapunzel?" Lance called before she could even begin to frown. "Hope you're decent, I'm coming in!"

Rapunzel froze, sharing an horrified look with Pascal before throwing herself across the room, literally somersaulting above her bed to close the barely opened door on Lance's face.

"You can't!" she yelled, pushing against the door while Pascal was squeaking in panic behind her.

"What? But Rapunzel, this is important!" Lance whined dramatically. "Why won't you let me come in?"

The thing was, Rapunzel wanted Eugene to be the first person to learn about her pregnancy. (Pascal was, technically, the first one to know about it, but Eugene had to be the first person.) Honestly, she wouldn't have to announce it to him at all if she hadn't done the test while he was away on a two days mission with the Guard, because he would have been right there with her otherwise. There wasn't anyone as supportive of her as Eugene was, and she wanted to make this reveal special because she knew they would remember it all their lives. He deserved to be the first to know.

Which was why Lance, of all people, couldn't know now. Rapunzel loved him, really, but he wouldn't be able to keep this a secret for more than two minutes. At best.

"You can't Lance," Rapunzel blubbered, waving her hand in Pascal's direction to indicate that he needed to hide the banner as best as he could. "You can't because- because- Pascal's naked!"

Said Pascal squeaked indignantly as she whispered an apology but, at least, that shocked Lance silent for approximately five seconds - a personal record.

"I- I think I can bear the view, Princess," Lance said, pushing the door open right as Pascal finally managed to loosen the banner enough for each letters to fall to the ground in a heap.

She grinned nervously. Pascal grinned nervously. Lance cocked his head and thankfully decided he didn't want to ask. Instead, he asked her about the colour of the shirt he should wear for his next bro date with Eugene, the very important business he absolutely had to consult her about.

"Come on Rapunzel," he pleaded when she threw him out of her room, "you know his tastes, help a friend out! Oh, hi Eugene," he exclaimed, his voice muffled behind the door.

Rapunzel glanced at Pascal in horror, the banner still in a heap on the floor. The chameleon put on his game face, telling her that he would put it all back up if she could distract Eugene long enough.

Thankfully, she knew just the way to do that.

When he opened the door, a smile on his lips, she grabbed his Captain uniform and pulled him in a deep kiss. After a muffled yelp, Eugene melted into it, closing his eyes and his hands going to her hair as he opened his mouth to let her in. She deepened the kiss with a moan, losing herself in the softness of his lips and the warmth of his skin, nearly forgetting her original goal. Gosh, she loved him so much.

Sadly, they had to breathe at some point - but his eyes never left hers, the blush on his cheeks telling her just how much he enjoyed it.

"Well, that's a 'hello' alright Sunshine," he exhaled softly, his hand cupping her cheek. "What gives?"

"I've got a surprise for you," she smiled, and watched as he raised his gaze to the banner she knew was behind her.

She didn't turn around, wanting to see every emotions play up on his face up close. Like in her daydream, his eyes widened and, with the light of the sun, it seemed like they were glowing gold. That, and his still red lips from their kiss, and his mussed up hair - Rapunzel knew she was lucky to have the prettiest husband ever.

Then, he frowned. That wasn't in her daydreams. He glanced at her, then back at the banner, then back at her again, a puzzled look on his face.

"Gain brava… why bee?"

"What?" Rapunzel asked dumbly, before turning around and, sure enough, the banner was reading in brightly painted letters "GAIN BRAVA, WHY BEE".

Pascal was (smartly) trying to hide on the wall and Rapunzel feebly thought that maybe she should have thought that he didn't know how to read.

"I mean, that's a… uhm, good question?" Eugene added awkwardly, putting his hands on her shoulders to comfort her, even if he wasn't truly sure about what it all meant. "Why bees indeed!"

Instead of trying to salvage this, Rapunzel automatically started to sprout bee facts to try and hide her embarrassment. Eugene played along gracefully, and they still ate lunch so, all in all, it wasn't that bad she guessed.

Okay, so maybe when she said he was oblivious, she forgot she also had her bad luck to thank for the failed reveals.

Her third attempt ended up with Eugene eating the picture she put on a cake, and nearly choking on it. No, she did not want to expand on that. Nor on the fire incident of try five. And especially not on try six. They do not talk about the sixth attempt. Ever.

Maybe she just wasn't made for grand reveals.

"Hey, Eugene?" she said one night, right before they went to sleep.

"Yeah?" he hummed, slipping into the bed next to her, both of them sitting up and illuminated by the moonlight.

"We're having a baby."

Eugene was going to touch her face with a smile, until the words reached him and he froze. "We- what?"

"We're going to have a baby," Rapunzel repeated gently.

"Together?" 

"I'd hope so," she laughed.

"We- you're pregnant? With a baby?" His voice cracked on the word, and his eyes were shining. "You're- We're- Sunshine!" he beamed, before hugging her so hard she lost her breath - it was okay though, she felt choked up with emotion anyway.

She knew he would be happy, but it felt even better than she imagined. Her heart was fluttering from sheer joy.

Eugene broke the hug and put his hands on her shoulders, his smile so big it probably hurt.

"We're having a baby!" he repeated, delighted. "We're gonna be Moms! No wait, Dads! No wait-!"

Rapunzel interrupted his babblings with a kiss, that he was more than eager to return. His hand went to touch her stomach and she smiled in the kiss, before covering it with her own.

"Are you freaking out?" she whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

"Maybe a little?" he exhaled with a laugh. "This is just… incredible. I love you so much, Rapunzel."

"I love you too, Eugene."

"We're gonna be," he said between kisses, both of them under their sheets now, "the best parents ever."

"Hmm the best moms you mean… or was it dads?" Rapunzel smirked.

He groaned, blushing, and she took the opportunity to push him down on the bed and get above him, revelling in the slightly flustered but definitely interested look in her husband's eyes. They had a great night ahead of them.

(Thankfully, Eugene was here in person to freak out with her the day she learnt they were expecting twins. No grand reveal needed.)

[pulaasul]

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.

---------

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.

-----------

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.

---------

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.

----------

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.

----------

"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.

---------

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.

------------

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.

-----------

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.

------------

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.

-------------

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.

------------

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.

------------

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.

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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.

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"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.

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"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.

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"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."

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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.

----------

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.

-----------

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."

-----------

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.

-----------

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.

----------

"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."

----------

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.