#mostly ghostly went HARD i will hear nothing of it

[vanweezer]

what was the best halloween dcom and why was it mostly ghostly

[insomniasymphony]

Pariston Hill x Female Reader [His self-made present]

Notice before: If you wonderful people like my stuff, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi ~♥

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Constellation: Pariston Hill x Female Reader Words I got: Christmas, Present, Underwear Rating: Mature Requested by: @Arisu 

          ►►Look how pretty he is           Getting his own present ready           To drop on its knees when necessary.◄◄

[Picture is from a card collecting game]

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The time moves steadily forward while the mountains of paper in front of you don't seem to diminish in the slightest – even though you've been working on them for hours. In a few minutes, it will strike midnight and your first day off in months will begin in your office. Christmas will start, the streets will rest quietly between the concrete walls of this city and maybe you'll treat yourself to something good to eat.

It is hard to keep concentrating on the letters and lines of the documents. Your head is already in the mood for closing time. Everything in you wants to relax, enjoy your holiday and do nothing at all for a fortnight – except maybe think a little about Pariston Hill.

He went home hours ago because his work is basically melting off his desk like ice cream. His cheerful mood has somehow kept the office alive. But staying behind alone quickly stifles joy and the ghostly mood wears on your nerves.

Again and again your gaze slides to the clock hands. They drag out every second and yet they are getting closer and closer to the full hour. You can count the moments on your fingers and when the hand finally moves past midnight, you drop everything and sit back.

“Merry Christmas to me.” You stretch your arms above your head and hear the crack in your shoulder. The rigidity at your desk has forced you into an uncomfortable position for far too long. Then you close your eyes, enjoying the silence in which no letters crash down on you and try to swallow you up. It's pleasant, peaceful, and for the first time in a while, you don't think anyone can spoil your end of the day with more work.

Pariston himself has always made it clear you will be on holiday for the next two weeks. And this despite you thought he found pleasure in flirting with you a little now and then to keep his day lively.

Perhaps you are just imagining his smiles for and his behaviour towards you. He is, after all, a desirable man and the women in his office are, mostly, much more beautiful than you are.

The atmosphere in your bureau lulls you to sleep. The tension finally falls away and your desk chair comfortably cushions you in leather. You keep your eyes closed, enjoy the blackness behind your eyelids and let yourself be carried away by unsteady thoughts. For half an eternity, until you hear the click of a lock and laboriously open your eyelids.

Fatigue has taken over your entire body, making it difficult to sit halfway upright in the chair and receive your guest. You realise too late that Pariston Hill has sneaked into your office.

“Mister Hill!” His presence, the mere sight of him, sends a lightning bolt through your body, making you jump up all at once. “How can I help you? What are you doing in the office so late? Haven't you already gone home?”

“I did.” The joyful smile on his lips makes you swallow. Of course, he was home. His suit isn't the same one he wore all noon. The yellow fabric on his body was missing. Instead, he had changed into a white suit, the hem of the collar and sleeves shimmering in dark green.

His gallant steps to your desk hold you captive. It is only when he sits down amusedly on the work surface and his red shirt gleams clearly in your eyes that the situation seems to take shape. Out of nowhere, he pulls a small red packet from the inside pocket of his jacket to set it down in front of you. Then he adjusts his white tie, which partially disappears under his green waistcoat.

“I thought I'd bring you a present before you go on holiday.” There is a serene joy in his voice that you would like to share with him, but the day has been too long for that. Instead, you accept the package with raised brows.

“Thank you. I wasn't expecting to get anything from you.” Slowly, you push yourself to your feet. It's time to go, so you don't actually fall asleep in the room and be overwhelmed by extra work the next day, despite being on holiday.

But Pariston raises his index finger as if you don't meet his requirements and it actually makes you hesitate for a moment.

“You should definitely open it.” His suggestion is the closest thing to an order. “And try it out. I won't look either.”

Once again, he gives you a bright smile that settles some of the amusement glistening in his eyes. Then he looks away, but remains seated at your desk. You have no idea what he is thinking or planning. The only thing anyone knows is that Pariston sometimes likes to joke with others to drive them up the wall. He is the most popular man in the Hunter Association and yet he is probably the most hated guy on the top floor.

Still, there's a tingle in your fingers. Opening the parcel has a strange charm, and you can't help but open it according to his wish. What your fingers pull out, however, isn't anything you take as a serious gift. What clings to your hands is soft fabric, Christmas red and forbiddingly skimpy. It is underwear with the Christmas smell of gingerbread clinging to it. Everyone knows they're not sold that way. It also means Pariston must have washed them.

“I ... don't know what to say to that.” The words escape you, but Pariston doesn't respond. He doesn't care if you say anything more. He wants you to try it out – put it on. And you know you won't get away with it. He won't let you go if you don't comply with his demand.

Once again, your eyes wander to the underwear he has brought you. Whatever he hopes to gain from it, it is nothing more than a game. And it's only lingerie, nothing to be afraid of.

So you take off your clothes.

Your eyes remain glued to Pariston's back the whole time. Your hands creep over your body, push aside the underwear and put on the present. The red brassiere tickles slightly at the neckline because white fur adorns the edges. The same goes for the top edge of the panties; the stockings that wrap smoothly around your legs and attach to the briefs with a suspender.

There are no matching shoes, so this sight is all you can offer Pariston, but if that's what it takes to get him to let you go, then it shall suffice.

“Done,” you announce to him. “But what's the point?”

Momentarily, Pariston turns to you before pushing himself off the desk and turning to face you fully. His eyes linger on you, scrutinising you from top to bottom, and when he gestures with a slight wave to come closer, you cannot resist. You obey, put up with it and endure his attention.

“Aren't you a lovely Christmas present?” The bubbling of his enthusiasm clings barely perceptibly to your perception. Only then do you comprehend his words.

“Christmas present? Who should I be a Christmas present for?”

“For me!” Elated, he steps closer to place a warm hand on your back. His closeness nestles almost innocently against your body, if it weren't for nimble fingers that settle on your bottom and systematically make you squeeze your legs a little closer together.

His face comes so close to yours that you are sure his scent is getting to you. So you hold your breath. For eternal seconds, his free hand slips between your legs and the other moves to your face so he can breathe a kiss on your lips. So gentle and unassuming you don't know how to react.

The heat of your body clings to his fingers, overcoming any obstacle to caress your skin. Simultaneously, there are those airy kisses, oddities that cloud your senses and from which you can't break away.

Pariston occupies your senses, gently caresses them and lovingly snuggles against your body while you feel the movements of his fingers inside you and no longer know how to push away the suffocating atmosphere between you. He isn't a man you can rely on, and yet he seems to desire you in his very own way.

His movements send electrifying currents through your body, enveloping you in soft sounds that glide across his lips as his tongue traces a thin line across your neck. All you can see is his shoulder, his suit, a bit of stray hair.

Your fingers claw at his back without restraint, tugging at him as the sigh on your tongue grows heavier and you let yourself fall in his arms for a moment. Heat washes over you. Your perception falters. Your fingers tremble and don't calm even as Pariston's hand dwindles between your legs and he takes two steps back.

It's no big deal to him as he wipes your lust from his fingers with a red cloth. “Looks like you enjoyed your second gift as well.”

The amused yet insidious smile on his part makes you falter as you wrap an arm around your body.

“I assume you have more gifts planned?” Your lips pucker as the warmth on your face refuses to go away. “What are you planning next?”

“A meal.” Instructively, Pariston raises a finger. “After all, it's Christmas and I don't want us to go to bed hungry.” With a shooing wave of his hand, he turns away. “You've got five minutes or I'll have to take you like this.”

You have no bloody idea what's going on in his head, but Pariston Hill wants to spend Christmas with you. The man who can't be caught is taking you out.

And on this night, it shall be enough. It shall be good enough to make Christmas a little more pleasant, even if it is only for one night.

[darks-ink]

Spark

Prompt: How does being constantly exposed to high amounts of ectoplasm affect the citizens of Amity Park? Prompt by: @robotbeowulf Word count: 2,487

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

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Danny shrugged, shifting his backpack to lie a little more comfortably on his shoulders, and pretended very hard to be a regular student. It wasn’t easy, but it hadn’t been easy for the last two years. The constant secret-keeping from everyone was wearing on him.

Not to mention the constant ghost attacks, of course. He was pretty sure all of Amity Park was covered in a thick film of ectoplasm by now, considering how much of it he and the other ghosts spilled and fired during the almost-constant battles. Sure, his parents said that the stuff evaporated and then returned to the Ghost Zone, but his parents also said that humans couldn’t have ghost powers, and Danny was the (mostly) living proof that that wasn’t true, either.

He was jerked from his thoughts—literally—by a fist, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him against the lockers he had been walking by.

“Hi, Dash,” Danny muttered, trying to hide away his weariness with apathy. “Good morning to you too.”

“Fentonia,” Dash growled back, leaning in close to Danny’s face. A little too close, thank you, ever heard of personal space? “Finally.”

Danny bit back the automatic reply—aw, were you waiting for me?—and settled for grimacing at Dash.

Not that that went over well, of course, because Dash’s other hand found its way to Danny’s shirt as well. With Danny well in his grasp, Dash lifted him, slamming him against the lockers again, this time with his feet off of the ground—no easy way of getting out. Not without using his powers, at least.

“What’s wrong, Fenturd?” Dash asked, pressing Danny against the lockers even harder. “Ghost got your tongue?”

Ha ha, how creative. How funny. Danny was sure he’d come up with funnier jokes in his sleep. “Fuck off,” he grunted at Dash as his back was slammed against the hard metal behind him again.

“Ooh, he’s got bite today.” Dash leaned back a bit, a vicious grin on his face, then crowded Danny against the lockers again. “Oh, no, never mind. Looks like he’s all bark.”

Danny snarled back at Dash before he’d really thought about it—before he could stop himself, really. It wasn’t even words, really, just an animalistic snarl and the pulse of his core that meant his eyes were glowing.

Oh, fuck. And Dash was way too close to miss that.

“Hey, there you go!” Dash… cheered? The fists clenched in Danny’s shirt released, and his feet thumped down on the ground before he’d really caught on to what was happening. Dash was already turning away from him, nudging Kwan. “See, I told you Fenton could do it too!”

That… was not the reaction he’d expected to get to ghostly glowing eyes. What the fuck?

Kwan laughed audibly, and Danny wrenched his eyes away from Dash and towards the other boy. The… the laughing, visibly cheery boy.

Seriously. What was going on?

“So, uh… No bullying anymore today?” Danny asked, and then felt like he could kick himself. Absolute moron. Who asks that sort of thing?

Dash snorted, apparently amused (amused???) by Danny’s idiotic question, and waved a dismissive hand. “What’s the point? I got what I was after.”

Okay? Good? That explained absolutely nothing. If anything, Danny felt even more confused. Had Dash seriously been bullying him trying to get him to glow eyes his? To snarl at him?

What???

Apparently he vocalized that last thought, because Kwan’s eyes turned back to him, a hesitant grin on his face.

And then Kwan’s eyes flashed a bright, glowing, cyan.

Danny, still leaning against the lockers he’d been pressed to, froze up automatically. He knew what that meant. Had spent enough time combing through his parents’ research—and with his own experience—to know that briefly glowing eyes couldn’t be caused by ordinary ghostly causes. An overshadowing ghost altered the eye-color of their host, but that was constant.

And, if there had been a ghost, Danny would’ve felt them. He’d grown more than strong enough to sense ghosts even if they were hidden in a host.

“He’s had them for a while.” Dash spoke casually, like this wasn’t a big fucking deal. “We couldn’t find anybody else with that brand of ecto-contamination, y’know, so Kwan was feeling super down about that.”

“Dash,” Kwan groaned, sounding put-upon. As carefully as Danny listened, the only thing he could hear was the undercurrent of care Kwan held for Dash. For his friend.

“Shut up, man.” Dash nudged his friend, then picked up his explanation that didn’t explain anything. “See, but I knew I had seen you do them too. The glowy eyes, I mean.” Dash underlined the latter with a vague gesture at his own eyes. “So I just had to push you into doing them while Kwan could see, to prove that he wasn’t the only one.”

“Uh.” Danny blinked at them, feeling like he missed everything Dash had said after the words “ecto-contamination”. What?

No, seriously, he knew he’d uttered that word a lot these past five minutes—even if only in his head—but what?

“You had to get him angry, though,” Kwan muttered, bumping shoulders with Dash. “You know that’s not the only way to make them glow.”

“Yeah, but it was the easiest to push him into,” Dash easily admitted.

And then, while Danny was still reeling, feeling like he’d missed at least seven steps in this conversation, Kwan stepped in closer and shot him a bright smile. “Thanks, Fenton. I feel a ton better.”

“Uh, yeah.” Danny blinked, watching the two of them wander off like nothing happened. “You’re welcome?”

“Man, what was all of that?” he muttered to himself, staring at the empty hallway for a moment before pushing himself away from the lockers. He desperately needed to talk to Sam and Tucker, see if they had any idea what all of that was about.

Somewhere, he kind of wished that Jazz was still in Amity. She would definitely know what the hell all of that was all about.

Seriously. Dash had just casually muttered the words ecto-contamination, and then suggested that it was common enough for there to be accepted variants of it.

How had Danny missed all of that?

!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

“There’s Val,” Sam whispered, leaning in closer. Danny followed her gaze and, indeed, there was the girl they’d been looking for all morning.

Well, it figured that they wouldn’t manage to pin her down until lunch, but it was frustrating nonetheless. Sam and Tucker hadn’t known what the stuff with Dash and Kwan had been about, either, so they had decided to ask the only person they could reasonably ask: Valerie Gray.

But that, in turn, meant that they had to just sit on the knowledge until lunch.

At least she had picked a distant enough seat that they could talk in private. Small blessings.

“Let’s hope she actually knows what’s going on,” Tucker muttered, before nudging Danny forward. “You go first, dude.”

So quick to sacrifice him to the ghost huntress. Danny shook his head but walked over, slipping into the seat opposite of Valerie. “Hey, Val.”

“Danny,” she greeted him back, raising an eyebrow at Sam and Tucker, who sat down on either side of him. “Well, this feels like an interrogation all of a sudden.”

He shot Sam a meaningful glance, but she just grinned back, pushing herself to sit more squarely on the seat. Rude.

“Danny had a weird interaction with Dash and Kwan this morning,” Tucker started explaining, breaking the tension before it could really go anywhere. “We were hoping you could offer… I dunno, some clarification, since you know them better than we do.”

She snorted, leaning back slightly. “They’re Dash and Kwan. Every interaction with them is weird.”

“Well, yeah, but they were…” Danny paused, briefly hesitant to mention it—what would Valerie think of ghost-powered humans?—before powering through. “They were talking about ecto-contamination, and known variants of it.”

The look they got in response was flat. Flat, and clearly confused.

After a long and exceedingly awkward moment of silence, Valerie cleared her throat and asked, clearly hesitant, “None of you noticed?”

“Noticed what?” Tucker frowned, glancing between the three of them and Valerie.

“That pretty much everyone in Amity Park has ghost-like traits?” She raised a questioning eyebrow at them. “Everyone, but especially the kids here at Casper High, has ecto-contamination so bad that we’re all, well. Becoming a little ghost-like.” She paused, shook her head, then asked. “None of you seriously noticed?”

Danny drew back, considering his words, but before he could really think about it, Sam had already flapped a dismissive hand. “The three of us spend so much time in and around Fentonworks that we’re already contaminated to hell and back,” she dryly explained. “And honestly, Valerie, how much time do we really spend with anyone outside our direct circle?”

“Fair enough,” Valerie allowed with a shrug. “Right, so, it mostly seems to be caused by the Portal and the constant ghost attacks. I mean, obviously, right?”

“Right,” Danny agreed, ignoring the way his stomach was turning. He’d tried so hard to keep everyone safe, but had the presence of ghosts been endangering them all along? Had the spilled ectoplasm really affected people, and so badly too?

“Now, what we started noticing pretty early on is that people generally only display a single ghost power, once they become contaminated enough to actually have a discernible ghost power. Some people consider them distinct variants: people with invisibility, with intangibility, flight, etcetera.”

Sam and Tucker both hummed, thoughtfully. Valerie raised her other eyebrow at that, then shook her head and continued on.

“Generally people don’t get contaminated enough to display more than those basic powers, but exceptions exist, I guess. And your contamination is probably way worse than anyone else’s, except maybe actual ghost hunters like the Fentons.” She made a face. “And that’s assuming their jumpsuits don’t protect them, which I doubt.”

“I’m pretty sure they do,” Danny mumbled, trying to inconspicuously watch both of his best friends from the corner of his eyes. The more Valerie explained about the ecto-contamination that apparently haunted all of Amity Park, the more their expressions twisted into something they usually called “suddenly understanding weird shit that had been happening”.

It was, unfortunately, a somewhat common expression these days. What with ghosts becoming a common thing, and all that.

“I… Some of the plants in my greenhouse grow unusually well whenever I’m near. Some even seem to react to my presence…” Sam admitted, her voice quiet, uncharacteristically reluctant. After a moment of hesitation, she tacked on, “And sometimes, when I really really don’t want to deal with my parents, they just… overlook me, like I’m not there at all.”

Like she was invisible, they all heard, despite the fact that Sam didn’t say the words.

Seemingly encouraged by Sam’s admission, Tucker added on, “I rarely, if ever, charge my tech. Their batteries just don’t seem to empty as long as I have them on me. And sometimes when I’m digging into code, it feels like… like I can alter it directly, like I’m tapping into some inner world that doesn’t—shouldn’t—exist.” Just like Sam, Tucker also paused for a moment. “When I’m running from a ghost or whatever, sometimes I run into an alley that I know has a dead end and never hit the wall.”

Like he was just phasing through it, going intangible before he hit it.

Danny swallowed through the clog he suddenly found in his throat, watching Valerie turn a meaningful look to him. She wanted him to tell her about his— his ghost powers. But he couldn’t just pretend all of his powers came from the contamination of living at Fentonworks, could he?

And he definitely couldn’t pick certain powers as acceptable and others as not.

“I… I guess weird shit has happened to me too, yeah,” he finally admitted, cautiously, hoping she guessed the source of his reluctance wrong. “But I never really thought about it, to be honest. Anything I could blame the ecto-contamination for could just as easily be caused by actual ghosts.” And in a way it was, of course. Anything caused by his ecto-contamination was caused by an actual ghost: Phantom.

“But,” he tacked on, knowing Valerie wouldn’t just let that lie. She was far too stubborn not to investigate. “Dash and Kwan apparently saw me with glowing eyes?”

Valerie hummed, then nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. I know Kwan has the glowing eyes variant as well, so that would explain why they’ve been targeting you.”

“It’s been around that long?” Sam asked, leaning forward, clearly curious despite herself. “I figured it would’ve taken longer than that to show up.”

“Oh, no, that was long after I got kicked out of the group,” Valerie said dismissively. “But Kwan saw me with a ghost scanner one day, and he begged me to scan him. I guess he was seriously worried that he had been overshadowed, even if overshadowing doesn’t work like that.”

“I don’t think he got rid of that fear, to be honest.” Danny shrugged, uneasy. “At least, he seemed pretty cheered-up when I, uh, glowed my eyes at him and Dash.”

Tucker snorted, and Danny could see Sam crack a grin as well, probably at his word choice. Well, fuck them. What did you call it, if not “glowing your eyes at them”?

“Anyway, I can’t help but notice that we all told you, but you haven’t said a word about what you can do,” Sam prodded, nudging Valerie. “Come on, Val.”

“Yeah, that does seem a little unfair.” Tucker leaned forward as well, an expression of genuine curiosity on his face.

And, honestly? Danny kind of wanted to know as well. Her ghost hunting suit probably hadn’t protected her, and her new suit definitely didn’t. If anything, the Technus-made suit probably had just worsened it.

“I…” Valerie visibly hesitated, then gave in. “I can fly, a little. It’s not really all that great, but at least I won’t break anything if I ever fall out of a tree or something.”

She said it with a light tone, like it was just a casual joke. All Danny could think of, however, was all the times he’d seen Valerie fall off of her hoverboard, especially at the start.

He carefully does not wince.

“That’s pretty neat,” he forced himself to say instead. “Less lame than glowing eyes, at least.”

Valerie grinned back at him, but before she could say anything the bell rung.

“Guess we’d better head to class,” Sam said with a grunt, pushing herself off of the bench.

“Yeah.” Tucker got up as well, then nodded at Valerie. “Thanks for the explanation, Valerie.”

Danny followed suit, shooting her a smile. “Same. Thanks, Val.”

She had given him a lot to think about.

[kkusuka]

Our little corner of the garden. 

based on a request miss Puppy submitted that i was so in love with, i changed it a bit but its mostly of the request lol 

the request:  Imagine y/n is being forced into an arranged married to better her fathers company but obviously she hates the idea but she loves her dad so she agrees. Oikawa on the other hand refuses to let the love of his life go so with the help of Iwa Oikawa got a suit and crash y/n’s wedding. It was right before the bride had to walk. Y/N standing in her bridal suite wearing her beautiful and expensive wedding dress trying not to pass out when Oikawa walked in “wow, don’t you look gorgeous” “Tooru!? What are you doing here!?” Oikawa explains how much he loves her and he can take care of her and she can live her life free of unfair responsibilities. Oikawa asks y/n to run away with him to Argentina to marry him. Y/n ends up agreeing and they run out of the chapel giggling hand in hand while a cheering Iwa is in the drivers seat of the love birds getaway car and yes please I thought that would be so cute 🥺🥺🥺-✨Puppy🤩

relationship: Oikawa Tooru x reader, slight Atsumu x reader, and iwaizumi hajime is mentioned <3

genre: angst with a happy ending 

synopsis: the moment he had lead you into the small corner of the garden your heart was his. 

words: 2.4k 

notes:i turned it into a royal AU because it adds more flare.  i shed more than a few tears while writing this and it has to be my favorite thing I’ve ever published. and that's saying a lot. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do <3

also may or may not be influenced by speak now by taylor swift

Since you could remember there have been two constants in your life.

The first was a bubbly bright-eyed boy Oikawa Tooru.

You had both met on the eve of your seventh birthday, a day you dreaded. Your mother used any and all family events to invite every prominent family in the kingdom for a night of celebration. A night you couldn't participate in due to your age; an answer to a question that you hated to hear.

In your six-year-old mind, the best way to handle your anger was to run to the garden and hide for as long as you could humanly manage. You flung the most desolate corner and squatted right down, head between your knees.

You sat there for what felt like hours until a small pat on your back had you reeling your head to look at who dared to interrupt your pity-party. No one should know where you went and if they did they should know better than to touch you.

But turning and seeing the warmest brown eyes in the world was not what you had expected. The setting sun behind his tufts of chocolate brown hair made him look like he had a halo. Maybe your nights of prayer had worked, god had sent you an angel.

“Now Missy princess, I ain’t a professional but sittin’ like that can't be nice. ‘Cmon up missy girl!”

You aren't sure if you believed his words or if you were so mesmerized by him that you locked hands and let him pull you up revealing the two-inch difference in your height. A difference that he didn't let go of for the rest of the night.

He brought you to a small crevice in the high-leaved walls of your family's garden, settling you down he told you his name: Oikawa Tooru and that he lived in the servants quarters with his mother.

Along with that, you learned of his interest in catching a real-life alien, by the time the sun had fully settled you could hear your name called from the pathway Oikawa had led you down hours before, they had found you, it was time to go.

Oikawa led you back down the track making you promise to come back the next day to form a plan that no alien could avoid. And so every afternoon into the evening at dinner was spent telling stories and making contraptions that you were sure no alien could averse to.

You couldn't count how many times your childhood rebellion had got you in trouble with your more than disappointed parents. Not even their cliche speeches about being of a high standard and not meddling with peasants were able to deter you from seeing him.

One thing was for certain: Oikawa Tooru became your first friend.

The second constant was the fact you would never be able to have your own future.

You learned this at five years old when your mother began to groom you into the perfect bride she expected you to be. Managing to convince you to finally start taking lessons at age 15 by mentioning how late everything already was.

You liked to pretend the etiquette lessons are just because your mother wanted you to act like a lady. But the back of your mind always reminded you it was because she wanted you to be a great wife. She didn't care if you could hold a teacup properly, she cared if anyone else noticed.

You used your speech classes to strengthen your voice for when Oikawa asked you to sing for him when he wanted to sleep. Not because you needed to make speeches when you are crowned queen. It didn't matter that you were a complimented orator, you cared that in his daily letter to you he complimented how soft your voice was as it lulled him to sleep.  

Your favorite was the dance lessons, the same ones where you would run to see Tooru in your secluded corner of the garden and teach him everything you learned. You'd spend hours telling him the ‘proper’ way to place his foot as he laughs at you about how up-tight you sound. Of course, he always listens, continuing to twirl you around with the utmost pristine.

These dances made you think about the ever-growing difference in height the two of you shared, no longer were you two inches taller than the brown-haired boy. Now the small boy you once knew towered over you, and he constantly reminded you of it.

“Aw! y/n you look so tiny from here!” he laughed as he held you from the waist and led you in a waltz that he was making up as the music went on. Emphasizing his point by placing a palm on your head ruffling your hair and once again laughing as your cheeks puffed out.

His voice was no longer high-pitched and no longer cracked when he whined about how annoying your mother was being. His deep voice lingered in your mind as you laid away in your bed after he dropped you off hours before, like a whisper in the night.

Nothing else had changed about him, his eyes were still the warmest and lightest you've ever seen and his hair was still just as soft as it looked. He still smiled like the world was at his feet and he still conspired with you about the aliens that WERE coming.

He was still your Tooru. Your Toru had grown so he could tilt your chin to look him in the eye. Your Tooruthat teased you by whispering improper things during gatherings, the same whispers that send chills down your spine. Your Tooru, whose hands grab your waist and leave ghostly touches on you for weeks, the same hands that envelop you and drag you to the gardens.

Your Tooru that you’ve been in love with since you met in the evening in your garden. The same love you would never indulge.

A love that you have been preparing to lose yet at the same time you would never release.  

At 17 you had received the news you had blocked out of your life: your parents had found you a suitable husband. You were sure he was wonderful, but the idea repulsed you.

And it seemed to repulse Tooru even more. He had gone silent the second you came to him teary-eyed, spouting about how you would never be free again. For hours he held your shaking form telling you he would make sure you were happy no matter what.

Beginning the next day Oikawa tried to spend every waking moment by your side, running through the halls, late-night cooking when neither of you could sleep, and even taking your parent's crowns and pretending you were dancing at both of your coronations.

Weeks upon weeks you spent basking in each other's company doing everything to ignore the impending doom you rapidly approached. And finally, your sphere of bliss with Tooru was broken when your first meeting with your future husband was announced.

Atsumu Miya was wonderful. He was handsome and funny, knew how to converse, and your parents seemed to thoroughly enjoy his presence. And he was extremely nice to you, making you feel as if you’d known him your whole life.

But one thing had you entirely consumed the whole visit: Atsumu Miya was not Oikawa Tooru. Not in the slightest.

How was it possible they had the same brown eyes but Tooru’s were so much brighter and they looked at you like you were the entire world. How is it that Atsumu looked at you like everyone else? he didn't make you feel special.

Atsumu’s hair was not the soft brown you were accustomed to, his hair was colored an ugly yellow that you couldn't tell if your opinion was biased or you were beginning to hate the color.

Atsumu’s smile was not the warm, sweet tilt of Tooru’s lips, instead, it was a tight, flirty smirk that unsettled you to the core. Atsumu didn't have the cute tilt of Tooru’s eyes when he smiled.

He was simply not Tooru. And that would simply not do.

Somewhere in your mind, you knew that no one could replace Tooru. You were all his no matter who you were set to marry.

And that fact didn't help when he volunteered to help choose flowers. It was hard to swallow when he chose napkins and helped with the centerpieces. You wanted to scream when he asked if he could cake taste with you. You wanted to run and never come back when he sat and watched you try on the hand-tailored dress for your big day.  

You held on to the delusion that you and Tooru were planning your own wedding, not you and another man who would never hold a place in your heart. That you and he were baking a cake that you and he would cut the next day, then go to a beautiful island and live in domestic bliss for the rest of your natural lives, maybe to meet in the next.

The hardest to swallow was the visit to the corner of the garden the night before you give up your freedom. How he pulled you into his embrace asking if the two of you could practice your first dance with Atsumu, “just to practice” he reminds.

“I can't believe you're getting married” he mused while rearranging his hands to the middle of your waist. Rocking you back and forth as you hugged your arms around his back. “Do you remember the first time we came to this spot? You were pouting about your birthday, and me, the amazing Oikawa Tooru, was the only one who could help you.”

He kept you tucked into his chest as he continued to list all of the most important memories the two of you shared in your corner of the garden.

“This really is our corner Tooru.”

“Yeah…. It really is, do you mind if I add another memory to our corner?”

He kissed you right there, holding on to whatever he could of your love.

Oikawa Tooru was not a prince.

That fact haunted him since that eve of your seventh birthday. He was the son of a barmaid who gained work doing labor in the castle for food and a place to stay. Not someone whom the crowned princess should associate with.

And the head knight in training thought exactly that, Iwaizumi Hajime was his closest confidant since coming to the country of Aoba, his best friend. And also the grounder of all of Tooru’s ridiculous rambling about spending the rest of his life catching aliens with you.

Oikawa has to give it to him, Iwaizumi did a good job making sure he didn’t do anything too stupid. Unfortunately, he couldn't talk him out of meeting you one last time before he’d probably never see you again.

He held you in his arms one last time, telling you all of his favorite memories he held so dearly, back when you had all the time in the world. Back when the two of you were invincible.

Back to when he wished he just grabbed you and told you everything you made him feel, all the times he just wanted to scream how much he loved you.

He wasn't a prince in the eyes of everyone else, but he didn't need to be when he had you.

Oikawa Tooru was not a prince, but when had that mattered to him anyway?

Before you could fully wake, you were being pulled in a thousand different directions for last-minute dress fittings and checking the venue a final time before being whisked away for someone to do your hair.

You didn't even realize what was happening until you were being once more uprooted and told to wait in a small fitting room. For what felt like hours you waited, thinking about what your new, presumably miserable, life would be like.

The two women helping you in your dress were far more excited than you were, a lump had formed in your throat and if they didn't leave you alone and stop talking about your soon-to-be husband, you were going to be sick.

You looked beautiful, whoever did your hair and makeup did wonderfully. You looked like a bride. Maybe you could get through this if you closed your eyes and pretend it was Tooru and not the blonde who was getting ready across the hall somewhere.

You were given your bouquet and a long veil was placed on your head, it was finally time. No more dancing in the garden or making traps for the pesky aliens. No more Oikawa Tooru.

Somewhere in your thoughts, you missed when the door opened and a hand was placed on your back.

Turning over your shoulder to see the same brown eyes that you have for the past eleven years and the same soft brown hair you've braided and run your hands through. It wasn't the sun but the light in the room as you looked up at him made it look like he had a halo. God really had sent you an angel.

“Now missy, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be happy on your wedding day.”

You couldn't think of anything but the way he was smiling at you, the same smile he had while leading you down the path all those years ago. The same one who was leading you out of the room to a side exit door,

“And I've been doing some thinking, I can't just let the woman I love go and marry someone else just like that. Especially not to come half-ass wanna be casanova!”

He was lifting the veil off your face, wiping away the flood of tears coming down your cheeks as you brought your hand up to help him with his.

“So, princess y/n l/n, would you follow me to make some more memories?”

“Oh, I'd follow you to the ends of the earth Prince Oikawa Tooru.”

[thedeathdeelers]

Juke fluff, right this way (based on this post)

you’re music to me (now on AO3)

“So, how come you guys are always here?”

Julie was staring down at her latest doodle, contemplating adding some more purple to bring out the details, when the question popped into her head. She had been wondering for a while now why the boys weren’t using more of their supernatural ghostly powers to their advantage, and figured that now was as good a time as any to ask.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and both Reggie and Alex had disappeared off to wherever they liked to spend their free time. Whenever they weren’t practicing, the boys usually found ways to entertain themselves, mostly at the expense of the other members of the Molina family.

Luke on the other hand, could usually be found either in the studio cooped up writing new lyrics, or hanging out with Julie in her bedroom (although even then, he would still have his notebook on him, jotting down words and melodies as inspiration struck), as was the current case.

Julie and Luke were sitting cross legged across each other on Julie’s bed; Julie doodling on a school notebook, and Luke working on a particularly difficult bridge for a new song they were hoping to premiere at their next gig in a few weeks.

So when Julie had asked Luke her question and she wasn’t directly met with an answer, she had just figured that he was busy writing down new ideas in his song book. But when the silence stretched longer than was usual for Luke, Julie finally looked up and noticed him staring at her with an odd expression on his face.

“What? Did I say something? What’s wrong?”

“Do you- do you want m- us to leave? I- I mean we thought you were fine with us living here, what with the band picking up and- But of course, if you want us to leave, that’s completely fine. The boys’ll understand and-“

“No! No that’s not what I meant at all!” Julie’s eyes got incredibly large, as she realised how her words must have been perceived. She frantically shook her head, her ponytail whipping at her cheeks with the movement, as her hands, covered in smudges of colourful ink reached out to rest on his knees.

“No, Luke. Of course I don’t mind you guys staying here - I really do like- love having you guys around. I just meant- I mean you guys can literally teleport anywhere, do anything, and not have to worry about getting caught. But as far as I can tell, you guys just hang around here all the time, or meet up with Willie every now and then at some random celebrity’s house.” Julie pulled her hands back in her lap, shrugging. “I don’t know, I guess I was just wondering why?”

She could see him visibly deflating, the odd expression on his face having morphed into a more composed look. He let out a breath, tapping his pen loudly against the pages in front of him with one hand, while the other rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we- I mean we just haven’t felt the need to do anything else, I guess? When we first got here, we explored all of our old haunts,” insert smirk here, “checked out some of the new music that’s been taking over the scene - we even went to a few concerts.” He shrugged, his hand coming back down to rest on his knee. “But nothing’s really pulled at us enough to seriously want to leave for any extended period of time.”

She found that quite strange. Here she was talking to the boy who told her that their instruments were attached to their souls, and he was simply shrugging at the idea of being able to go to any concert anywhere, for free, without any consequences.

“You’re telling me you’re not even interested in checking out some of the older bands you guys were really into? Attend some of the concerts you always wanted to go to but couldn’t because they were on the other side of the country? Of the world?” She could hear how dubious she was starting to sound, but she couldn’t help it. None of this made sense.

Luke tilted his head to the side as he looked at Julie with a look that made it seem she was missing the obvious.

“But you wouldn’t be able to come with us? Where would the fun be in that?” He smiled at her, a small glint in his eyes. She rolled hers at him in return.

“Ha ha, very funny. Seriously, Luke, aren’t you, for lack of a better word, dying to go see certain people, certain bands, live? For free?”

He shrugged again, seeming unbothered by her line of questioning.

“Not really. I haven’t really felt any pull to check out new music in a while. I’ve been more excited about the stuff we’ve been making anyway.” He paused, playfully tapping her knee. “Plus I’m not sure I’d be able to properly enjoy a concert if I knew you couldn’t be there. Not as fun.”

She stared at him, wondering if his sanity had been touched.

“Not as fun? Really? I hope you realise you’re not making any sense. You know damn well that having Reggie with you alone would be enough. He’s the life of every party, dead or alive.”

She heard him snort, his head bending back down as he prepared to refocus his attention on the song book in his lap.

“I don’t know, Julie. It’s hard to explain. I just-“ He stopped himself mid-sentence, suddenly seeming to be too engrossed by the words on the pages in front of him. Only she knew better.

She put her notebook aside, and crawled across the tiny space between them, coming to rest on her folded knees right in front of him. She put her hands on his, stilling the tapping of the pen, and covering the words on the pages. She patiently waited for him to finally look up, focusing his attention back on her.

“Luke, you know I’d never hold it against any of you guys if you were to go and have fun without me. You guys deserve it - all you do is hang around here, unless we’re playing a gig somewhere. You should be enjoying your afterlife, not spending it constantly practicing or writing new songs or worrying about our next gig. Live a little!” He was frowning throughout her speech, but she could see the corners of his lips twitching a little at her choice of words.

He stayed quiet though, just staring at her, his eyes searching for something on her face. What it was he was looking for, she couldn’t tell you.

But after a few minutes of silence, he took a deep breath, tilting his head backwards as he closed his eyes, his hands twisting around, threading his fingers through hers.

“It’s not that I- that we would feel guilty, Jules. We’re happy with the way things are here. And to tell you the truth, I haven’t really felt the need to look for new music for a while now - what we create, you and me and the boys, it keeps changing and shifting and surprising me everyday.” He sighs, bringing his face back down, his eyes opening as they centred back on hers. In a softer tone, he continued. “Why would I go looking for something else, when everything I need is right here?”

She had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about music anymore.

“Why would I want to go searching for something else Jules, when I’ve already found the best? Something that I have right here, right under my fingertips?” He let go of her hands as he reached for her face, hers falling limply into his lap. His fingers brushed her cheeks lightly, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, before they settled under her jaw, cradling her face in his palms. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to.

“I have no desire whatsoever to go to concerts or look for new music, new talent, when you literally live under the same roof as I do.” His thumbs caressed her cheeks, his face moving closer to hers.

“You are music to me, Julie. As long as you’re in my life, my afterlife, whatever you want to call it, I see no reason in looking for anything, or anyone, else.”

He closed the distance between them, his forehead coming to rest against hers. She could do nothing but stare up at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, her mind furiously trying to process Luke’s words.

You are music to me, Julie.

Her heart was beating so quickly, so loudly, it felt like it was about to burst out of her chest and take flight. She tried to focus on her breathing, taking deep breaths to center herself, before she gave up and threw herself into the stunned ghost’s lap. She wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. With the shock of the impact, Luke lost his balance, sending both teenagers tumbling backwards onto the bed. But even then, all Julie did was press herself closer against Luke, hoping he wouldn’t try to pull away.

To her delight all he did was readjust their position, tucking her head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tighter against him.

“What did I do to deserve such enthusiasm?” He chuckled, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Julie just shook her head, her lips moving against his neck. She felt him shiver beneath her, causing her lips to tilt upwards.

They remained in this position for a while, Luke rubbing her back, as Julie continued to breathe in his scent, enjoying this quiet intimate moment with him for as long as possible.

But then she felt Luke shift as he turned to his side, her head softly hitting the mattress beneath her. With their legs still tangled, and her arms still securely wrapped around him, she looked up at him, his face hovering a few inches above hers.

“I just want to try something,” was all he said.

And with that he moved down until his head cane to rest against her chest. His arms snaked around her waist, as he pressed his ear closer to where her heart was currently beating a mile a minute.

With a loud sigh, Luke stilled, remaining in that position. Julie tried to stay quiet, tried to keep her curiosity at bay, but she simply couldn’t.

“Luke, what are you doing? I mean, not that I mind but, is there a reason you moved?” She tugged lightly at his hair, her fingers finding refuge in his soft brown locks.

She could feel him shake his head under her fingers, as he quietly started to hum a melody she couldn’t recognise. His fingers then joined in, tapping along to an unknown beat on her waist. She shifted her head to the side, craning her neck trying to get a glimpse of Luke’s expression.

She could see a smile making an appearance on his face, and could swear she could feel his touch getting warmer, see light emanating from his every pore.

“Luke?”

A beat of silence. He opened his eyes, as he looked at her with a tender look and the softest smile gracing his lips.

“I’m just listening to my favourite song.”

“Oh? What favourite song? I heard you humming it, but I’m not sure I recognised it?”

“No, no. I wasn’t humming the song, I was just adding a little melody as an accompanying piece.”

Julie was thoroughly confused. “I don’t get it. Accompanying piece to what?”

“To my favourite song silly, I already told you. It’s more of a beat, really, but when I’m listening to it I swear I can hear the sweetest sounds in my head.”

When Julie still didn’t understand what in the world he was talking about, that frustrated look refusing to leave her face, Luke took pity on her as he started tapping out the beat on her waist again, demonstrating to her what he meant.

It took her a little while, but once she focused, she realised he was tapping along to her heartbeat. It stuttered at her realisation, and Luke’s fingers followed, not missing a beat.

Oh. Oh.

Her hands tightened their hold on his head as she tugged harder, guiding him back up towards her. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, refused to hold it in anymore. Once he was at her eye level, close enough she could feel his breath on her lips, she whispered-

“I love you.”

The brightest smile she had ever seen took over Luke’s face, his eyes shining as they competed against the brightness of his smile. His hands reached up, cradling her face again as he whispered back against her lips:

“You are music to me now, you are music to me forever.”

Forever. She liked the sound of that. If she could somehow manage to keep him for that long, it might just be enough.

FIN

[ginwhitlock]

summary: JASPER/ BELLA. set in eclipse (but is so far from canon honestly all you need to know is that victoria is after bella). When Jasper snatches Bella away to Texas to escape a vampire’s hunt for the girl who killed her lover, Bella comes clean about her hearts unfaithfulness on an unsettling summer morning, in front of God and everybody.

fic type: oneshot, no explicit scenes

warnings: religious guilt, Bella’s weird brand of horny, cheating on Edward, oh and Alice just doesn’t exist— don’t think about it too hard

There was this openness in the air, something stirring from the west, saturating the cotton fields. A yellow eyed barn cat stood still in the morning light, it’s black coat shifting with the bite of ghostly mice. Whiskers twitching. 

It was watching her, she was sure of it, like the pecan trees and the paddock mud and the mosquitoes. All beady-eyed and searching the brown haired girl, the one with crooked ankles and misaligned bangs that just barely kissed her cheeks in the late summer sun. She looked home grown. Wheat wild. A child of desert planes. And most importantly, she looked lost. 

“I thought you’d still be sleeping by now.” A hushed baritone slipped from the screen door, it’s owner donned in dark royal denim and loose leather. 

If it had been just months before, Bella would’ve rolled her eyes. 

But she was different now. As different as Washington was to Texas. As different as evergreens were to red oak. She swore even the sweat didn’t smell right. 

“Wanted to catch the sunrise.” There was a softness to her front teeth, the round of her molars quiet against one another. To whose ears she was catering to she didn’t know. And to be honest, she didn’t quite care anymore. 

Bella made out a lazy nod from her peripheral, the shaggy haired man seemingly relaxed out here on the front porch of her judgement day, all tan and tall and scented like rolled tobacco. 

Shut up, stupid girl. 

Jasper murmured out a response, something about humans needing sleep and southern sunrises being worthy enough to diminish the former from its place on his immortal pedestal. There was a creak and a groan from the haint green floorboards underneath her before she found herself shoulder to shoulder with the two hundred year old soldier; a stray wind had blown through the shaved baby blond hair lining his chin in the slightest of ways. There was a caution light screaming out from his stature and the brunette girl had the painful urge to swallow it under her teeth and tongue. Soak it in holy water and hide it in her skin for him to find. Or rather, Him, if this stay was going to end like she thought it ought to. 

He couldn’t feel that… could he? Stupid, stupid—

“The marigolds should be blooming about now, just west of the barn. They’re quite a bit prettier than Peter’s fields.” There was something off in the lit of his tongue, the way it flipped and rolled off his teeth. It came out… wrong. Forced. Like he was trying to be overtly kind. The way you talk to a frightened rabbit you clipped with the lawn mower. 

Bella frowned something deep and turned nose at Jasper. “Why did you bring me here, Hale?” 

With the question came a wince to his brow, a noticeable blow to his stature. He seemed to fold ever so slightly towards the young girl. 

“Don’t— don’t call me that.” 

Silence filled the unwalled prison of the porch like nothing else, the birds and wind seemingly gone to rest whenever the two entered into each other's space. Like worldly magnets, chess pieces that threw blows instead of diagonals. The quiet held them both. It held them together. 

Bella Swan blinked slowly in an unknown apology before settling back on the blond with the stone facade. She waited for him to continue. 

He sighed. “It’s safer here. Victoria wouldn’t come this far south without encountering things far worse than the likes of Emmett or Rose.” 

“But this wasn’t Edward’s plan, was it?” Bella’s lashes were like rodeo announcers with their back and forth turns to the outlook of western Texas. 

Jasper looked every bit of his one hundred fifty years as he laid a freezing hand on hers, their knuckles slotting together with unpracticed ease. “No. But it’s mine. And you’re gonna have to accept that.” 

She refused to nod at the man with the thigh clenching, hard work mending, touch, for more than a second. She was far from the type of girl that would lay down and let the boys run out their wildest stupidities on her seemingly catastrophic life, but she felt almost resigned in Jasper's hands. There was a calmness between them she couldn’t place as artificial or not, the soft wool of contentedness slowly covering the surveyor-ship she felt stepping outside this morning. The stares of the flora and fauna turned internal. Fire burned in the pit of her stomach, on the nape of her neck, across the fragile skin of her cheeks where freckles started to show, and mostly, on the warming flesh of her hand where their hands met gently. 

Maybe it was Edward looking onto them from a frozen forest hundreds of miles from here as he hunted a scarlet monster, discovering the hidden plumpness swirling around in his lover's chest for the brother he always worried about, but for all the wrong reasons. 

Or maybe… 

“Jasper, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes were like serpents, glowing yellow under the copper wind chimes above them. 

“Whatever you wish, Isabella.” 

Swallow. Breathe. “When you were human… did you believe in God?” 

A pause sliced the air in two. The cotton plants seemed to stop swaying. The feline vanished. A golden eyebrow fell to his browbone. 

“Yes, Isabella. Yes I did.” His face was drawn, distant, like an old time movie screen was playing out on his stone eyelids. 

Bella’s lips pulled at themselves with her front teeth. “Do you think He’s vengeful?” 

Their eye contact sealed itself, his hand moving on its own accord up her hand to her wrist, cradling the small, delicate bones that allowed her to touch him— but not now. Not ever again. 

“When I was a boy, my mama took me to church every Sunday at seven A.M sharp, and sent me to Sunday school after the service. I was the oldest, even then, and I had more responsibilities than just listening to the preacher ramble on about divinity and charity and sacrifice.”

Jasper's face was taught with memory. 

“I had two baby sisters by the time I turned seven and they were the number one priority, you have to understand, Isabella. Ada and Caroline couldn’t have been older than three when the Leroy boy died sitting in the pew behind us… poor child got heatstroke in his wool britches and after that I started dressing the girls in the lightest things I could find and never waited long after the sermon to get back.” 

Bella turned stormy under the weight of the seemingly young man's words, her eyes dropping from his own to study the way his fingers wrapped around her skin like a life jacket, one part caregiver and one part destroyer. Jasper's own hands seemed to start to tremor just slightly under her stare, or maybe it was from the wash of his own words. 

He took a breath he didn’t need. “But. I started listening when my mother got sick, before the girls finished schooling. Started praying. A part of me was guilty that I hadn’t started before I needed something, that the reason I spoke to Him was for a favor, and a big one at that. I was making up for lost time, I thought. I was begging on my knees for anything. And I didn’t get it.

“They buried an empty coffin with my name on it under a white wooden cross after the army said I went missing. Caroline would plant violets around it in the spring, weed out the planters and start again in the fall. She’d leave me communion wafers in our family pew and have Ada try to talk with me through the minister.” 

“I’m so sorry.” A true sadness settled in her bones, her seemingly selfish desire to have the question answered sat like a heavy stone in the out of her stomach. Her heart held out a warm woolen space for him and she silently begged he would sit in it, for his own sake. 

He waved her off and took on a slight smile, something she had never seen from Jasper. Not in any capacity before that very moment. 

She decided she would try to see it every chance she got for as long as he’d let her. 

“I wasn’t a man of religious structure, Isabella, but. I was a man of faith. The small times I was allowed to watch over my sisters only reminded me of that, no matter how far down to hell I had reached, I still had faith in redemption.” 

His teeth clicked together not unpleasantly. “But I haven’t answered your question have I?” There was a knowing-ness in his voice box and Bella wanted to drink it down like communion wine. She smiled back slightly. 

He was beautiful when he sighed. 

“I’ve done horrible things. Killed innocent people. Slaughtered children and mothers and lambs of God. I have worn blood on my hands like a second skin and not once during any of it did I feel remorse. But darlin,” his lashes fluttered like leaves, “not once did I think God wanted me to hate myself for what I had done. I think… He forgave me a long time ago, before I ever forgave myself. So no. I don’t believe in my brother’s vengeful punisher. Not today. Not in this lifetime.“ She’d never hear the ‘not with you’ fragment he had stuck in his mind.  

She had to step back from him then, the vampire who had become all consuming to her chest and her heart and her fingers. The air was warmer in the space behind him but it almost didn’t matter, the warmth layering her skin was enough to burn through an air conditioning unit anyway. Bella’s hands found clumsy solace in her back pockets as she stared ahead at the rows of painful cotton buds waiting to be harvested. The blood almost pulled to her fingertips. 

Teeth and lips found each other. “I don’t think I’m not going to get punished for this.”

Her words were concrete. Cement. Blacktop on a Kansas back road. They could’ve cut glass if she wanted them to. They almost did as he looked at her. 

“For what, Isabella?” 

Knowing bastard. Always. Knowing. 

No trembling allowed now. 

“For wanting you when Edwards away. When he’s in the same room as us. When he’s hunting the woman who's trying to kill me and you’re just standing there telling me not to be afraid of my own horrible heart… for betraying everything I’ve begged for since me and your brother met. I deserve to get punished for this, don’t I? Don’t you think?” 

She was sweating now, cold droplets running down her back to her the soft slope of her ass. Her knuckles were popping against each other like fireworks and she thought she might faint right then and there, MONSTER written across her forehead in a bruise from the impact. 

A scarred hand felt itself into its place under Bella’s chin and forced her rocking skull to finally glimpse the face she had been thinking of every moment she pulled her eyes away. Jasper Hal— Whitlock? And his clear midnight pupils branding her soul in a sinner’s blush. His lips formed a wonderful crook as he slowly pushed her flat against the ancient siding of the old farmhouse belonging to his long standing brother who looked like everything Jasper was except for his spirit. 

She could die this way and she would face God with a smile. 

“What I feel for you deserves no punishment darlin, but if you insist, I think I’d rather do the punishing than any divine power.” 

His lips were light rosy steel against Bella’s own as the clouds started to stretch out infinitely behind his back, unnoticed by the interlocked couple in their wake. A soft moan escaped as felt the soft chill of a crucifix digging into her neck. 

Maybe God would forgive her for this. Just once.

[raistorm]

“Love’s Seeping From the Guns”

——————————————————————

All Yang could hear was ringing, a deafening ringing in her ears.

The world blurred in and out, spinning and spinning, and she grasped at the singed earth, trying to make the horizon level once more.

She could barely make out the writhing forms of Juane, Ren, and Oscar beside her, similarly afflicted by the aftermath of the explosion. Winter and the Ace Ops indeed dropped the payload just as they managed to rescue Oscar. They were approaching the opening of the whale’s mouth when it hit, and Oscar’s (rather, Ozpin’s) semblance activated, causing time to slow down.

They’d managed to run far enough from the beast to save their lives before Oscar’s aura depleted completely. But they were still caught in a devastating blast.

Yang, on her hands and knees, only registered warm liquid pouring down the side of her face when she saw the blood pooled on the ground in front of her. She fell to her elbows. If the ground would just stop moving she could get up. Get up, the voice inside her yelled. Back and white forms roiled around her as the Grimm and Atlesian army battled on, forcing her to retain a sense of urgency, to stay conscious.

She pushed up from an elbow, willing her muscles to cooperate, but they felt like jelly. Exhaustion settled over her body, tempting her eyes closed, to rest, to let go. It would be easy. To just sleep. She was equal parts weightless and heavy.

But sounds began to come back.

Growling, snarling, guns blasting, shouting, scuffling.

A voice, familiar, started far off but came closer and closer as she kept trying to push her body up, using arms that just wouldn’t listen to her.

“Yang!”

It was Blake.

A solid pair of arms wrapped around her. The metallic click of weapons unfurling, the sickening crunch of bones, and more familiar voices told her Ruby and Weiss had begun to fend off the Grimm around them.

Relief overcame her and she sunk into the embrace. Blake was crying, begging her to stay awake, to “stay with me, Yang, stay with me… open your eyes, we have to get out of here!”

Yang drifted deeper into trance, partly comforted by Blake’s presence and partly helpless to the sweet temptation of unconsciousness by now. She’d been fighting for so long…

Blake shook her shoulders and said loudly and firmly, “Yang. Wake up.”

Light seared through her half-lidded eyes as Blake’s golden, tear-filled gaze blinked into view. Is time still moving in slow motion? She thought. I really wish Blake would stop crying.

From the corner of her dimming periphery, she could see her own metal hand reaching up to cup Blake’s cheek before she could even remember commanding it to do so, so she allowed her fingers to brush Blake’s tears away.

She wanted to say she was trying; she wanted to tell her that it was all going to be okay, that…

Lips pressed against her own.

Blake was kissing her.

Yang’s eyes flew open as a new rush of adrenaline roared through her veins. She pulled in a sharp breath, energy surging through her like lightning. Suddenly, she had command of her body again, and she grasped Blake’s face like a lifeline, returning the searing kiss.

Blake pulled away to release a ragged sobbing breath. “You idiot,” she said, before surging forward to recapture Yang’s lips.

Yang half-laughed, half-sobbed, and pulled Blake in by her shoulders, wrapping her arms all the way around her torso. Fire ignited under her skin as they shuddered between kisses, the sobs gently subsiding as they both rediscovered solid ground in each other.

Still dizzy and reeling from almost passing out and being suddenly reinvigorated, Yang pulled away to refocus on the golden eyes of her partner. Blake’s watery smile became her anchor to reality.

“You scared the hell out of me, Yang,” she said, voice cracking, a bit of Yang’s blood smudged on the corner of her lip. Yang wiped it away with the pad of her thumb.

“Baby…”

Weiss’s voice cut through their little world, “As happy as we all are for you two, we have to go! I don’t care if we have to carry you, but we can’t keep holding off the Grimm!”

Blake whispered soft assurances in Yang’s ear as she helped the blonde stand up on wobbling legs. The gravity of their situation finally registered to Yang as the hordes of Grimm seemed to converge slowly around them. Behind her, Ruby and May struggled to support a deeply wounded Ren and an unconscious Oscar. Juane was standing, but was ghostly pale, blood and bruises covering his face.

How were they going to get off the battlefield? Half of them could barely walk, much less run. How was time still moving so slow, but so fast?

As if on cue, an airship whirred to a stop in front of them. The doors opened to reveal Qrow and Robyn, their disheveled and ragged forms echoed the appearances of the younger huntsman and huntresses. None of them got out unscathed these past forty-eight hours.

“Kids, come on. There’s nothing else we can do here,” Qrow rasped, wind whipping his matted hair. His eyes were more gaunt than usual.

“We have to go back to Weiss’s place to get everyone else,” Ruby said as she and May gingerly lifted Oscar onto the platform.

“Roger,” said Qrow, hopping down to lift Ren onto the ship.

With great effort and the help of Blake’s steady hands, Yang hoisted herself up and collapsed near the back wall, breathing heavily, blood still pouring from the gash on her forehead. She began to wonder if her disorientation was a side effect of Oscar’s time dilation. Events were moving quickly in retrospection but so slowly in the moment.

Suddenly Blake was by her side, fussing over the wound and searching for more. Yang watched her worry her lip as her hands passed over every inch of Yang’s form, gently, but frantic. Yang grabbed her hands and Blake’s eyes shot up to meet hers.

“I’ll be okay. I’m mostly tired and… rattled.”

“That’s a lot of blood, Yang,” she said, insistent.

Years of a rough and tumble lifestyle taught Yang that shallow gashes on the head were often more bark than bite, and bled a lot even if they weren’t life threatening. She relayed this to her partner, who nodded, though with a small look of disbelief on her face, and shifted to dress her head wound rather than keep looking for other wounds.

Soft murmurs around her indicated that the others were being looked after as well, and Yang began to slowly let herself relax, to feel safe for a moment, to be okay with the idea that while her friends may be hurt, they were alive, protected. When Blake was handed the first aid kit, Yang watched her expression tense in concentration as she wiped the blood from her face. Yang couldn’t help it, she gazed adoringly at her partner.

“I can feel you staring,” Blake said, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a smirk as she began the process of wrapping gauze around her forehead.

“I dunno, it feels like this is allowed now,” Yang rasped, the exhaustion in her voice even startling herself.

Blake’s eyes softened as she reached up to touch Yang’s jaw. The warmth of Blakes touch anchored Yang to something stable in a sea of disorientation and shock.

“It is,” she smiled mischievously, “but I seem to recall you staring at me like that a few times before… just… usually when you thought I wasn’t paying attention.”

Despite herself, Yang blushed, but was too tired to keep up the banter. “…Guilty.”

Concern flooded Blake’s expression again, but before she could speak, the airship landed.

“Stay here, I’m going to help carry the others back to the ship,” Blake said, and hesitated before leaning in and kissing her softly. It was just a quick brush of lips, but it was unexpected and sent Yang’s heart aflutter. Admiration and love filled Yang as she watched Blake hop off the ship. She couldn’t believe this was happening, briefly wondering if this was all a dream. Everything felt surreal. She looked at her hands and flexed her fingers, finding herself dying to touch Blake again already.

A forced cough made her look up to the raised eyebrow of her uncle and the shocked expression of Juane. Yang huffed in embarrassment and looked away, but didn’t have the energy to retort.

“Oh,” Juane said, mostly to himself, “that’s what she meant back at the cabin…”

Qrow chuckled and turned to look out at the night sky. “Good for you, kiddo.”

Yang let her head fall back against the cool metal wall of the ship before lolling it back over to Qrow. “Ha… yeah it’s… it just…” she began before a different thought crossed her mind. “Wait, where are we going? What happened… with everything?” It was still hard to form full sentences.

Qrow sighed and ran a hand through his hair before glancing at Robyn, who was sitting in the pilot’s seat.

“The whale isn’t dead, but Ironwood almost killed you anyway,” he said, malice seeping from his voice like icicles. “It’s just… out of commission for a while. Salem will have it nipping at the heels of every major city in Remnant before the week’s up.”

Robyn turned around. “We’re going to find a place to lay low for a few days to recover. Half of you kids are in bad shape.”

Yang sighed but couldn’t argue, “Ruby won’t be happy about that.”

“Yeah, but there isn’t much of a choice at the moment,” Qrow said, coming over to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Speaking of, you get some rest, Yang. You’ve done more than enough. I’m… I’m so proud of you. And I’m glad you’re okay. We all.. feared the worst for a moment.”

Tears welled up in Yang’s eyes before she said thank you, and allowed herself to shift into a somewhat comfortable position as Qrow went to open the door of the ship. Sounds began to drift back out of her consciousness, but she could hear the soft rustling of clothes as the others were lifted onto the ship, hushed whispers only lulled her closer to the edge of sleep.

She barely registered Blake’s warm body settle in next to hers as the engine of the airship whirred back to life, but she forced her eyes open once more.

“Yang…” Blake said, “It’s okay, you can go to slee—”

“—I love you,” Yang said, unable to hold it inside any longer. “Blake, I love you.”

Blake couldn’t hide a small gasp. There was a beat of silence.

Then Yang felt cool hands gingerly turn her face to meet warm golden eyes. Yang didn’t realize she was crying until Blake was wiping her tears way.

“I could’ve died today,” Yang whimpered, the reality hitting her like bricks. It made her blood run cold. “I would’ve never told you. I need to tell you now. I have to—“

Blake cut her off with a kiss, pulling her in deeply. When she pulled away she whispered, “Yang, I love you, too.” Blake kissed her again and Yang could only focus on her lips. “I love you.”

Tears streamed down both of their faces as they savored being alive and together and in love. There was so much more to say, so much more to talk about, but the preciousness of the moment transcended everything else. The truth was more glaring than ever, that tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, they only had now. They had each other right now.

They fell asleep in each others’ arms, preparing to face an uncertain tomorrow.

Together.

[phantoms-lair]

Uncommon Ancestry 6b

Part 6a

Iida took a step back as he recalculated things quickly. He had seen the least of Midoriya's ghostly grandparents in 1A, having been running to get help from the faculty when the villains invaded, but he'd heard stories of what they'd done. There was no question they were powerful as was this one, who'd kidnapped him without Iida even noticing. And without his hatred of Stain to guide him, Iida felt a sensation he hadn't felt since the sports festival creep up on him. 

Fear. 

"What is it you're proposing?" He asked, trying to to keep his voice strong. 

The purple specter composed himself. He looked Iida in the eye and the class president of 1A felt himself lock in place. "Revenge is something I know better than most. Especially how it blinds you to certain things. Those things are what we're going to be discussing. I am going to make you understand the price of your revenge, and if you still deem it worth the cost, I will help you." 

"Of course it's worth the cost!" Iida snapped, the burning hatred driving him once more now that Stain had come back up. 

"What cost?" The ghost asked. 

That left Iida unsteady. "You just said-" 

"That there was a cost. Tell me, how are you willing to pay it if you don't even know what it is?" 

"It doesn't matter! No cost is too great!" Iida yelled back.

"That is the single stupidest, most shortsighted thing I've ever heard.” The ghost huffed. “Tell me, would you sacrifice your brother for your revenge?" 

Iida had bristled under being called stupid (not something he was used to hearing) only to be shocked by what the ghost suggested. "Of course not. I'm doing this for him!" 

"Liar." There was no accusation in the ghost's voice, merely a statement of fact. "Your brother would never want this, so it's not for him. It is to try to act out your own hatred. Say you succeed, what happens next?"

 "What do you mean next? It's done!" Iida snapped.

"What happens to your family after you go to jail for vigiliante murder?" The ghost pressed. "What will happen when your brother wakes in the hospital one day to find his precious little brother has thrown away his life, his future, dragged his family name through the mud. And all for his sake. Do you think he will be happy?" 

Why did the ghost have to put it that way? There was no way IIda could answer yes to that. 

"And then there's your parents. Your family has been in the Hero business since the beginning. This would see that generations long business crumble as the public would lose all faith in it. After all, how could someone be true heroes when they raised a murderer? And your friends will blame themselves as well, for not knowing how to stop you, for not trying hard enough to reach you, for not being enough to help. Tell me Iida Tenya, how many of them are you willing to sacrifice?" 

"None I...it's not about them!" Iida said with some desperation.

 "It's not." The ghosts agreed. "But it will destroy them just the same." 

"Then what do I do?!" Iida wailed, falling to his knees. "What do I do with all this hatred burning through my veins?" He'd been told so often to let it go, but he couldn't. It was like telling him to let go of his own blood. He didn’t want this hatred, but it had somehow become an inexorable part of him.

"You freeze it." The ghost answered, surprising Iida. "An out of control forest fire burns all indiscriminately. A cold rage can be aimed much more precisely." 

Iida felt something in his chest loosen. "What do you mean?" 

The ghost looked at him as though studying him. "Do you think Stain's life means very much to him? After all, he targets heroes with no backup. He had to know he could die during any of these attacks." 

"No," Iida was forced to concede. Self preservation wasn't on this particular villains priority list. 

"Then what does?" The ghost prodded. "What is more important to Stain than his life?"

Iida focused. He's studied Stain after all, learned everything he could about his target. "His philosophy. The idea that so-called false-heroes must be culled violently." 

"Then that's what you need to destroy." 

Iida's head shot up "What?" 

The ghost crossed his arms. "Tell me, was Ingenium a 'False Hero'?" 

"Of course not!" Iida snapped. "My brother may not have had the sheer power of All Might, but he was a pinnacle of heroes nonetheless. He always looked out for those training under him and never let them face a villain they couldn't handle. Conversely he'd put himself at great risk to protect everyone around him." 

"Then that makes Stain a giant hypocrite, doesn't it. Right now Stain has a message that can resonate with people. There are false heroes. I know of one personally myself." The ghost scowled angrily. "But Stain is a man who has literally cut off his nose to spite his face. He's not doing anything constructive, he's just throwing a massive temper tantrum and calling it 'just'." 

"To destroy him you have to destroy his message. Be the pinnacle of a hero and expose those who use the title to do evil, all the while showing how pointless Stain's own methods are. Show his for the two-bit villain he is, make any one who would hear his words sneer in disgust. Cut him down in a way that will tarnish his very memory, and cement you and your brother in people's minds as a true force of good." 

Iida laughed. It wasn’t his normal laugh. Not a nice one by any definition. It was an insane sound he wouldn't have thought himself capable of exploding from his lungs. The ghost’s plan was diabolical, a revenge far more thorough than the quick death he had planned. It would destroy not only Stain’s body, but his twisted little soul. And at the same time it broke no laws and brought no shame on his name or his loved ones. 

It was strange. Since he's gotten the news about the attack on Tensei he'd felt as though there was a tremendous weight crushing him. Now he felt almost giddy with anticipation.

"A dish best served cold, indeed." He never understood that phrase until this moment. He stood and bowed. "I thank you for your council." 

"You're quite welcome." the ghost chuckled. "By the by, if you know someone who collects pre-quirk era movies, see if you can find one called Big Hero 6. It might be worth it to view. An old series called Leverage might also be to your taste more now than it was before." 

Interesting advice. Midoriya had talked a bit about his pre-quirk era collection, mostly focusing on a quirkless hero called Batman (for obvious reasons). He may have one or both titles in said collection. 

Iida bowed again only to find himself on the streets of Hosu once more. The mansion had gone, with nothing to speak of it having ever been, save for a few fading purple-pink sparks. 

A chill went down his spine at how powerful the being who'd taken him was, and how easily that could have gone badly. Still, he had plans to make and adjust. He needed to focus on his new revenge plan and that meant excelling in this internship. He’d text Midoriya about the movies on the train ride home. It would probably bring his friend some comfort. Midoriya had been worried for him. Uraraka too. 

Iida's stomach twisted a bit uncomfortably. Now that his head was clearer he realized just how much he had been hurting those around him before he'd even done anything. He'd already be late as it was. He might as well stop by a shrine to offer a prayer of thanks to the spirit who had guided him tonight.

~

Lewis all but collapsed in relief. He wasn't sure if this was going to work. But if there was one thing a wraith could recognize it was another wraith, and that's exactly what Izuku's friend had become, wrapped in flesh though he still was. And wraiths couldn't let go of their hatred - telling them to do so would achieve nothing but fanning the flames even hotter. 

It hadn't been easy to shift himself into becoming something more akin to a protective spirit. And even then he still knew he was a wraith at his core. He could only hope it was easier on Tenya, who had been still new to his hatred. At least Tenya would never have to live with the guilt and regret that haunted Lewis every single day. And always would.

[only-lonely-stars]

The Future is Bright, Chapter 1

[Chapter 1 (Beginning) - you are here!] // [Chapter 2] // [Chapter 10 (End)] (FFN)

Credit for the inspiration of this newest story goes to @hot-anime-plundar! I finally got around to writing it in full (10 chapters). :) Thank you for allowing me the use of your idea! Updates will be on Sundays.

Summary: What would happen if Cole had indeed had a reflection in the tomb of the First Spinjitzu Master? How would that have changed his life later? What would it have been? This story follows what might have happened if he had seen something, and what it was; who he would have become. What if his future was already decided?... (Rated T for safety. Alternate title: the Cosmic Spoilers AU.)

Chapter 1: The Tomb and the City

The arrival of ghosts was not something any of the Ninja expected, and certainly not something Cole had thought would happen to them. No, he hadn't expected anything like what had happened; what’s more, he really didn't like being stuck as a ghost.

Of course, it wasn’t as if he could change the fact that he was a ghost. It was… irreversible.

Days, weeks later– how long had it been?– he was stuck in an underwater ship, going to Lloyd's grandfather's tomb. It was a wild goose chase, but they were there to hunt down a magic crystal and hope that Morro hadn’t killed the youngest of his brothers. It was a dire thought, but there was at least a little levity; the irony of it all made it at least a little bearable.

The seawater crashed against R.E.X.’s walls as they descended, and Cole tried to ignore it by cataloguing the events since Morro’s return. As he thought back to the beginning of this mess, it was a bit of a blur in his memory. One moment they’d been trying to advertise the tea shop, the next they were fighting for their lives and Lloyd’s freedom; it was all just too fast to keep straight.

He was too tired to remember.

No, he couldn’t say that anymore. Of course. Cole couldn’t blame tiredness, or hunger, or thirst, or anything he felt, for how messy the whole deal was. Now that he was a First-Master-forsaken ghost, he couldn’t feel anything but cold and emptiness… how fitting.

It was almost a relief when conversation resumed and they were attacked by a giant squid. Then they were at the tomb, with R.E.X. gone… and everyone else felt just as cold as he did.

-----

When they reached the ice maze, they knew Morrow was ahead of them, but it was hard to ignore the grandeur of the place despite him. Around them, great walls of ice reached up, dwarfing the Ninja as they regained their breath from the slides that went down to it from the chamber with the golden staff. Ice coated every surface but the rocky floor, making for traction but not the same amount of reflection. There was a source of light somewhere unknown, filtering through the ice in its watery way, and it made the area almost feel sleepy.

As he took in the surroundings, Cole couldn’t help but look up, up, up at the walls and wonder what the caves were for. Were they always there? Did the First Master make them? It was a curious thought– had the creator of the realm made something without the Golden Weapons, too?

The four didn’t take very long to stop and marvel, resolving to continue in and follow Morro. After all, they had to beat him to the Realm Crystal. However, they stopped again when they reacted the first of the ice walls.

When they reached it, Zane approached the wall alone, curiosity written on his mechanical features. “My reflection… is that me?” He paused, examining it and turning his head this way and that. “I look older, but my attire is… different. This is not what I look like right now at all.”

“Really?” Kai followed him. Then he stared at himself, taking a moment to redo the spikes in his hair a little. “Well… mine looks like me, but older. There’s a bunch of magic junk in this tomb; makes sense that the ice walls are magic too.” He grinned. “By the way, I aged super well.”

“Wait, really?” Jay ran up to his own with a beaming grin. “Let’s see!” He looked himself over in glee. “Woah ho ho! I get an awesome eyepatch!” he yelled, voice echoing through the caverns.

“Shh!” Kai hissed. “Jay! Morro’s in here!”

“I know, I know, give me a break!” Jay laughed. “Magic ice is telling me I’m gonna be a pirate, and he knows already.” He touched the ice. “There’s just a thing next to me– a blur. What is that…” Jay stopped talking and watched as the blur shifted, and then sighed, sounding completely smitten. Now he whispered. “...I end up with Nya.”

Cole tried to hear what Jay said, but for once, he was too quiet. Cole only shrugged to himself– it was probably nothing. No, he walked up to the ice wall as well, taking a moment to look at the others before his reflection. “I wonder what mine is.”

“Well, look at it!” Kai called. “We don’t have forever!”

“Fine.” After a moment of trepidation, Cole looked to the ice.

As soon as Cole caught sight of his reflection, Cole couldn’t help but stare. Looking back at him in the ice was himself. He didn’t smile or move if Cole didn’t, but it was no vision of his current self… it really was the future.

In the ice, Future Cole’s hair was longer. He wore white and blue, not black– a sort of robe that tied at the waist, with a belt that had his dragon symbol for the clasp. However, two things were most surprising: a yin-yang pin on his chest, and an orange scar on his very much not ghostly temple, reaching halfway down his face. He was everything that Cole was not right now.

As Cole took in the image, he couldn’t help but grin. Future Cole grinned too, and laughter lines appeared by his eyes. He stared, taking in the sight of himself, until he heard the sound of Kai’s impatient footsteps behind him. “Well? What do you see? You got all quiet.”

Cole turned to him, still grinning wildly, and couldn’t help a little laugh. “I’m human again!”

“What? That’s impossible!” Kai cried. “I mean, it’s good, but it’s still impossible!”

“Apparently not!”

“Kai, you forget that we believed ghosts were impossible before recently,” Zane interrupted, coming over to look as well. “Cole, what do you see?”

“I… well, I’m human.” He examined it again in awe. “There’s… there’s a weird scar on my temple, but otherwise it’s like nothing ever happened.”

Jay laughed. “That’s awesome! You don’t stay a ghost!” He tore his eyes away from his reflection and came up to Cole’s, looking at it curiously. “That’s weird... You’re dressed differently than I am.”

Cole tore his eyes away and looked at Jay. “Really? What do you mean?”

Jay shrugged. “I’m wearing something like, I don’t know, a sensei’s robe. You’re wearing a dress!”

“It’s not a dress! Those are formal robes!” He looked back at it, frowning. “Though… white and blue isn’t like the Ninjagian royal family, so that can’t be it. Plus, a yang pin…”

Kai gaped. “You’ve got a yang?!” The sound of his shout echoed through the ice maze, shrill and bouncing off the ice.

“Quiet!” Zane hissed, covering Kai’s mouth with one freezing cold hand. “Remember, Morro is here. We must stay focused!”

Cole grimaced as Kai recoiled from Zane’s touch. “Crud– okay, yeah. Having a yang is not so great, but let’s talk later!” He glanced back at the ice one last time. “We’d better find Morro.” Still, that was his future self...

He frowned again. Was his reflection glowing green, like a ghost? Why would it glow like that if he was human?

Realization crashed down with even more ghostly coldness as the glow darkened and grew. It wasn’t his reflection, or anything like it.

The words ripped from his throat before he could think. “Morro’s here! LOOK OUT!”

-----

For years, the memory of the First Spinjitzu Master’s tomb was one that stuck with Cole more closely than he would admit to anyone.

Long after Morro and the Preeminent had been defeated, he still found himself sometimes thinking about what he’d seen. Some days he’d ignore it, knowing he’d recognize his path when he saw it. Other days it would weigh on him, much more than it ever did on the others. After all, he had a different fate than them, and apparently a yang to go with it. What did that leave for him to decide?

Nevertheless, and despite Cole’s worries, it didn’t seem to come. Years passed with no sign of any of his brothers’ futures coming to pass– the only exception was Jay, whose relationship with Nya was rebuilt stronger than ever. Even so, the rest (including the eyepatch) didn’t seem to happen, and Cole wondered if it ever would. Maybe it was a trick, or a test from the First Master. What if it wasn’t real at all?

Whatever the truth was, the vision slowly faded from his mind, and he eventually conceded to let it come to pass when it would. There was too much to do and think about, anyway; a biker gang, being stranded in another realm (or three), and evil emperors were just a few of them. There was never a rest, never a break, until after they’d liberated the prisoners of Prime Empire. It was only then that he remembered the vision… and promptly tried to ignore it again.

Despite Cole’s desire to avoid his memories, another adventure came too quickly for his liking. It was an invitation to a place he’d only heard stories of, mostly from his mother as a child. It was to the mythical city of Shintaro, deep in the mountains in central Ninjago. On the surface, it looked like a vacation, but Cole knew better; it was bound to become yet another mess to clean up.

When they at last arrived, the Ninja looked in awe upon the ivory city. There were spires and minarets on every building, and especially the palace. The city’s flagstone streets were perfectly clean, the roofs were gilt, the people were the fairest-skinned people Cole had ever seen– all in all, it was a true wonder to see.

The city’s force of winged guards escorted them to the palace as honored guests, having saved them from horrid direbats as they entered. As they went into the palace, their eyes caught on the vaulted and painted ceilings, buttresses, and columns everywhere. Every wall seemed to be inlaid with gold and carvings, or painted beautifully enough that they would stop looking where they were going. That was what happened when Kai walked into Lloyd, who had stopped to stare– they’d hit their heads, and rubbed them ruefully as Nya rolled her eyes.

Despite their distraction and awe, the Ninja eventually reached the throne room, and without injury. When they reached it, two Shintaran guards opened the doors. The captain of the guard–a man named Hailmar, if Cole had heard him correctly– led them in, gesturing to them and bowing to the throne.

“It is with great honor, King Vangelis,” he cried, “that I present the famed Ninja of Ninjago!”

At his announcement, the king stood from where he’d been sitting on his throne to greet them. He wore white and blue robes that struck Cole as being very familiar, but he struggled to place the familiarity. The king didn’t seem to notice his confusion, as he smiled at them and spread his hands.

“Welcome, welcome! I’m most pleased that you were able to accept our invitation.” The king bowed in greeting. “It is an honor.”

“The honor is ours,” Sensei Wu responded with a matching bow. “Shintaro is beyond anything we imagined.”

The king smiled benevolently. “I’m only a figurehead. The citizens of our proud city are the heart of Shintaro.”

“Oh!” A cheerful voice came from the side of the throne room. “They’re here!”

Cole looked over to its source. The voice belonged to a lovely young woman, dressed in white and blue robes to match the king’s. She was grinning excitedly, and bowed in greeting hastily. Cole’s eyes caught on her– she was beautiful, in a young sort of way, and he immediately knew she was the princess. The colors were still so strangely familiar...

The king beamed at his daughter as she entered. “Ah! Please, meet my heart– her royal Princess Vania.”

Vania happily approached them, coming to stand in front of the Ninja with barely-contained excitement. “I am such a fan of yours. I’ve read all about your adventures! It was my idea to invite you to my birthday.”

Cole couldn’t help but smile at her. Her enthusiasm was infectious! He hadn’t realized it, but she was at least half a head shorter than him– not that her small stature contained her enthusiasm. “Well, it’s an honor to be here, Princess.”

She smiled back, cheerful and bright, and looked among them. “So, is it true that you’ve been to Hiroshi’s Labyrinth?”

“Affirmative,” Zane noted cheerfully.

“Competed in the Tournament of Elements?”

“Oh, do we have stories for you,” Kai added with a grin.

She gasped. “I need to hear them all!”

“Where shall we begin?” Cole was about to tell her a story, but he stopped, for Hailmar had descended between them. He was frowning, clearly protective and watching Cole distrustfully. However, he stepped aside for the king, who set a hand on Cole’s shoulder.

“You can begin by following me!” the king interjected with a smile. “Tomorrow will be a very busy day for all of us; I will show you to your rooms here.” He led them to hallway, and the whole group began walking together.

“Cole, the Earth elemental,” Vania began, coming up alongside him with no sign of losing her excited smile. “What is it like to command the very earth? Is it as fun as it sounds?”

He grinned back at her– it wasn’t hard. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s what I thought. Personally, it sounds amazing! Imagine what you could do with the mountains!”

“Oh yeah, just about anything you can think of! It’s pretty cool.”

King Vangelis hummed in interest. “Are you quite strong, Cole?”

Cole looked to him, then shrugged sheepishly. “Well, uh, I guess. Not the strongest person– that’s probably Karloff– but I can move a lot.”

Vania flushed a light pink. “Come on, Father! He’s the Master of Earth. I’m sure he’s very strong.”

“But of course,” the king said indulgently, though not with the same enthusiasm. “I’m sure the Master of Earth is more than a match for our mountains.”

Cole grinned self-consciously. “That’s really nice of you to say, your Majesty.”

“Think nothing of it,” the king dismissed. “I simply hope you find Shintaro as lovely as we do during your visit. I have personally seen to it that you will want for nothing while in our borders.”

Cole smiled properly at the king. “That’s really nice of you, your Majesty. Thank you.”

“Consider it thanks for all you’ve done for us.” Vangelis smiled flatteringly. “After all, Ninjago’s business is our business. We’re at your service.”

“Yes, we are!” Vania repeated. “I’d be happy to show you around the palace, actually.”

“Well, we’d love a tour,” Cole responded hesitantly. “All of us are super excited to see Shintaro.”

“Of course.” A little wind seemed to be taken out of her sails, but she quickly bounced back. “I’d love to show you all around! I think there’s a spot in the garden you’ll love…”

From there, conversation flowed easily. Cole was completely engrossed in it, even as the king fell behind to talk to the others more, mostly with Master Wu. Behind the group, Jay stopped to whisper with Lloyd and Nya, watching Cole from behind.

“The princess seems to like Cole!” he remarked. “I mean, he’s my best friend and all, but… Cole?”

Lloyd glared at Vania’s back. “Yeah… weird.”

Nya elbowed Lloyd harshly. “Not every princess is like Harumi! Plus, Jay... you’re not subtle.”

“Nya, my darling, my yang, love of my life–”

“Jay.”

“–all I’m saying is that she has a thing for him! When has that happened?”

Nya was about to retort back, but paused, considering what he said. “...You know what? It’s been a while for him.” She pointed at Jay. “That’s really cool, but don’t tease him!”

Jay frowned, muttering. “I have to, he’s my best friend.”

Nya reached over and smacked him.

“Ow!”

“We’re in the presence of royalty!” she hissed.

“Fine,” he whined. “I won’t tease him in the presence of royalty.”

Lloyd gave him a curious look. “Is that code for ‘I’m going to bug him later?’”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

Lloyd snickered. “Do it.”

[how-masterful]

In Sickness And In Health

Dhawan!master x reader

Summary: when faced with the possibility of your death, the Master reflects on how much you've changed him, and just how unready he is to be alone.

Notes: here's some good old hurt/comfort for you all. There's some angst, but mostly just fluffy confessions of love and flirting. Lots of fluff and flirting ❤ feedback is always appreciated!

Warnings: mentions of blood and bodily harm

You'd learnt early on the Master despised seeing you hurt. The moment he saw you injured or upset, planets would be burnt, lives would be taken, and you'd wind up in his arms deep within the TARDIS walls, his lips trailing over your skin as an unspoken promise to never see you hurt again.

Which made the current situation you'd found yourself in really, really inconvenient.

You'd been ambushed by creatures aboard shuttle Alpha 9, viscious creatures who'd unluckily caught you just before before you could make your quick escape. They'd clawed at your arm, leaving a nasty gash on your bicep that burnt like hot acid. You'd howled in pain, pinned to the floor as the leader strangled you against the metal platform, weight kneeling on your hip and making you shriek- the strangled sound ripping against your throat.

You'd managed to get the upper hand, breathlessly shooting the creatures with one of the Masters weapons, scrambling to your feet as you raced through the corridors to find quadrant 35, as per his instructions. He'd set the whole place to blow in 4 minutes, and you'd sprinted towards the entrance, the sound of oncoming footsteps making your heart race.

"Master!"

"Darling, right on time!"

His eyes were alit with murderous frenzy, a laugh perched on his lips. You practically threw yourself against him, stealing a desperate kiss as the distant roar of the creatures pulled you from your mania. "Missed you too, dear" he grinned, before gripping your gashed bicep in a flurry and dragging you towards the TARDIS. You yelped in agony, noise lost over the thunderous screech of the creatures, the Master snapping his fingers as the TARDIS doors flew open in a flourish.

He let go of your arm as he twirled around the central console, the TARDIS raring to life as you closed the front doors behind you. You leant against the wood panneling, desperate for breath- your whole body ached, arm pulsating as blood soaked your jacket sleeve. You groaned lowly. The wound was deep, your throat and hip tender to touch. You felt truly battered, and had to fight back the pain as you lowered yourself down against the wall.

The Master was flipping levers and flicking switches, manic laugh encompassing the console room as he moved in a blur of tartan purple.

"Where next, love? Ooh, how about we crash an alien auction and find you some lovely new jewels, hmm?" He grinned dangerously, his back to you as he typed something onto a pannel.

"So many dynasties out there to overthrow! Planets to burn, chaos to cause!"

You bit your lip as you pulled off your jacket, holding back a whine as you inspected your arm. Your blouse was gashed, exposing your skin and the copius amounts of blood that stained the material. Your breath was thin as your throat ached raw.

The Master laughed giddily as he fiddled with a dial, eyes wide with malice, gaze focused on the controls. "That plan's really got me going Y/N, theres so much more we can do! Now I dont know about you, but on days like this theres nothing better after blowing up a colony than hearing a good scream and shedding a little-" the Master reached towards the scanner, and suddenly stopped.

He tilted his head and inspected his palm, merriment falling from his expression as his eyes rapidly looked down to follow the sticky red trail he'd unknowingly left over the TARDIS controls.

"Blood..."

The timelords hand was wet with warm blood, the controls smeared with leftover crimson. His eyebrows furrowed as he brought the hand closer to his face, inspecting it curiously. He furiously thought back to where it could've come from, mind racing at warp speed. He hadnt killed anyone earlier, unless with the TCE- and it certainly wasn't his blood, he hadn't been hurt. He hummed in confusion, until it suddenly hit him.

The inhabitants of Alpha 9 bled a frozen green.

The only creature aboard that ship that bled hot red was you.

"Y/N?" The Master span around to face you. Your body was slumped against the doors of the TARDIS, chest heaving as the blood pooled down your arm onto the floor. Your eyes fluttered in half consciousness as your coat lay strewn at your side. His gaze shot wide. "Oh no, no no no!" He sprinted across the TARDIS floor and crouched at your side, hearts racing in his chest as he scrabbled for your face. "Its ok, you're gonna be ok love, hold on."

The Master didn't often openly panic. Even when his life was threatened in the most dangerous of ways, he'd face death with a smile and a giddy wave of whimsy. Fear was for weak, petty little humans, not for powerful beings like himself. He shut off his emotions like a tap, only showing the world his glorious joy or furious anger: The basics the universe needed to fear him. But per usual, you'd come along and shook up his routine- and as you bled out on the TARDIS floor, his hearts raced beyond comprehension.

"Stay awake for me, hey, c'mon don't fall asleep." His grasp had left a bloody handprint on your cheek, your head limp in his hold as he desperately scooped you up into his arms. "C'mon Y/N, stay with me." The TARDIS hummed in distress as he carried you through the corridors. She seemed as upset as he did, having taken a strong liking to you the moment you stepped through her doors.

"Master..." You croaked out, struggling to meet his gaze. He weakly smiled down at you.

"Good girl, i'm here, everythings going to be fine" you returned a pained grin, lips parted as your eyes fluttered shut. "M' Masters good girl" you hummed, exhaustion taking over as you fully went limp.

The Master clutched you tighter to his chest, a desperate snarl ripping from his throat. Even in near death you still devoted yourself to him, a sick irony in truth- it was because of your devotion to him you were hurt in the first place. The TARDIS hummed again, pulling the Master from his thoughts, the hallway lights indicating the way to the distressed timelord.

She moved the medical bay closer to the the console room, the Master racing through the doors and tenderly laying you down on the bed, silently thanking her.

"You're not dying on me little madam, don't you dare try dying on me today." His trembling hands fought to unbutton your bloodsoaked blouse, your bare skin exposing the extent of your injury. Under normal circumstance, you being shirtless would stimulate something inherently primal in the timelord, your body drowned in lustful kisses. But now, it was a race against time to halt your excessive bleeding: and the Master was never known for his patience.

Shaking hands pressed hard on your wound, bandaging tight around the bleed as a drip was firmly placed into the crook of your arm. Coat tossed aside, the Master rolled the dark sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, a sight he knew you'd be drooling over were you not close to death. Your face was ghostly pale, a stark comparison to the dripping crimson. The master gently tilted your head, eyes fixating on the dark blotches blooming on your throat- if he wasnt so fearful for your life, he'd be furious. But now, the timelord decided, wasn't the time for theatrics.

Tender fingers smoothed a balm over your bruise covered hip and throat, a healing concoction he'd stolen from the Sisters of Plenitude after a thrilling turn on New Earth. It was sure to deal with the bruises quickly. He smirked weakly, a laugh lost in his throat. You normally loved the bruises he gave you, wearing them with pride under your clothes, a mark of the Master owning every part of you- much to your delight. His bruises told a story on your skin, littered over your collarbone and thighs like a devotion of love- But these bruises were angry, mocking the timelord with vengeance. He supposed this was the creatures' revenge for the destruction of Alpha 9. The thought of it made him sick.

Your stillness was agonising, the mystery of the unknown rivalling the maddening pound of the incessant drumming in his head.

He grabbed hold of an intricately shaped tool, scanning over your body with shallow breath. Your vitals soon appeared on the dark wall, graphs and statistics plastered across the space. With a huff, the Master turned to you, hand caressing over your cheek. He placed a tender kiss to your forehead, lips soft against your damp skin, before sitting down at your side.

You lay there for what seemed like centuries for the timelord. The wait was pure agony.

A warm washcloth had been taken to your skin, all traces of the blood disappearing from your skin. The Master furiously scrubbed at his hands and forearms, the red staining his skin like a vicious reminder of your injury. The TARDIS luckily cleared the pool of blood in the console room, the Master gently patting the wall in thanks and recieving a warm hum in return. His hands were red raw by time he was sure no blood was left, trembling fingers brushing the hair from your face as he tenderly cleared the blood from your cheek.

For hours on end he sat, holding your hand in his own. You were far too still for his liking. He was used to you reaching out for his touch constantly, always a tacticle creature. He sighed and placed a kiss on your knuckles, brushing over them with his thumb.

"You humans...you're all so delicate." He mused. "I never could understand why the doctor kept a troupe of your kind around. Typical- now I do, and the one I actually take a fancy to is knocked out cold." The Master sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. You still didnt move.

"What've you done to me, love? You've turned the universe's big bad Master into a sentimental, lovesick schoolboy. I hope you're proud of yourself."

He leant back in the chair, gently patting your hand. He sighed again. "You managed to make me fall for a human, you beautiful creature. If I didnt know you better i'd call you a fool, running into the arms of a being known for the destruction of everything in its path. But that wouldnt change anything, would it? You always were beautifully stubborn."

Silence. The master bit his lip.

"I took you in because I was bored, wanted something to tease and prod and play with. Maybe I was secretly lonely. God knows why you stayed." He let out a weak laugh, rubbing at his chin. "You put up with me all that time. You saw something, I still for the life of me can't figure out what you managed to find inside all the cruelty I sent your way. But you stayed, and now i'm the one begging you to stay with me. Strangely poetic, isn't it love?"

He would never admit it to anyone outside the TARDIS walls, but he was terrified- instinctively he knew at one point you'd be hurt. Humans just werent as durable, he knew that. But the pain of seeing you hurt? Now he certainly didnt expect it in as full force as it came to him.

"I can't lose you. Its supposed to be you and me, travelling the stars and causing chaos together- you're mine. Finally, something I care more about than myself-and the universe tries to take it from me."

He took your hand he refused to release in both of his own, placing his forehead on your knuckles and taking in a shaky breath.

"Despite my, and i'm directly quoting you here Y/N, 'devilishly handsome' new face - Im old, really old, i've been around for a while. I've seen things, things you wouldn't believe. Done things you couldn't begin to imagine. I've ran for prime minister and became the dictator of the world, explored a planet of cheetah people, turned the whole of planet earth's dead into cybermen- and i even did that one in a corset and heels."

The Master laughed, but it fell on deaf ears.

"It was all 'been there, done that, killed their people.' It got boring fast. But with you, its like the universe is this new, incredible thing- the look in your eye when we step out this tardis makes me feel like im doing all this for the first time again."

The master shakily laughed, kissing your fingertips. He'd blame it on the exhaustion, but tears began to well in his eyes.

"But this time... i'm happy. Sure, the anger never leaves, the need to destroy is still incessant and those god damn drums still plague my mind every single day: but now i'm happy. You make me so happy, love. You, with your wonder and excitement and cheeky little darkside, your willingness to see the world for whats real and not just whats good."

The Master sniffed, placing your knuckles against his lips as he looked at your unmoving form. He knew you'd normally squirm and blush at the sensation, your stillness hurting him even more.

"You kneel at my feet, stand by my side, lay in my arms and you call me your Master- and every time, you say it like a god damn prayer. You looked into the eyes of the universe's most messed up soul and said 'I love you'- and I thought I was the mad one. " The Master laughed weakly again, placing a kiss on your knuckles. He let out a breathy sigh and pondered for a moment.

"When you wake up, i'll show you the stars. Not like before, no. I'll take you anywhere your heart desires, show you the universe you want to see, and hold you in my arms. This TARDIS, my TARDIS, is your home. You belong next to me, not in a bed close to death but past that console room, out those doors, exploring space and time and making you as happy as you make me. Anything you want, you'll get. I'll even teach you to fly the TARDIS, eh?" He gave a pained smile, tapping your hand. "You've always wanted to know how to fly the old girl, havent you love?"

The master interlaced his fingers with your own, holding your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"So you just wake up now, darling. Save this old mans hearts from breaking. I cant be alone anymore, I can't walk the stars without you next to me. I need to share this life with you." The master paused, breath caught in his throat.

"I love you too much to let you go."

He'd said it before, in secret moments and late night confessions, but it still felt strange on his tongue. The Master didnt love, that was the Doctors job. The master was the cruel one, the monster that sought destruction across the universe, while the doctor dragged their bunch of tagalong pets behind him to pick up the pieces. It was an old game, a legendary one. But he couldnt do it alone, not any more.

Thats when he felt it- The gentle twitch of your fingertips against his hand. The timelord held his breath, straightening in his chair. You slowly began to stir. You were mumbling under your breath, eyelashes fluttering as the room slowly crept into view. Your lips were dry, voice hoarse, and as you pulled yourself from slumber you weakly called out his name.

"Master?"

The hand holding yours squeezed lovingly, brown eyes soon coming into your hazy field of vision. "I'm here, love. Im always here."

You smiled at that, tenderly pulling his hand towards your face and sighing into his touch. The master gently held your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. "Now what time do you call this, young lady?"

You laughed weakly, the force on your throat causing you to wince. The master shook his head, moving closer. "You're just a little trouble magnet, arent you?" He teased. A small smirk played on your lips as you leant closer into his touch. "Well, I learnt from the best."

It was the Masters turn to laugh now. "That was beautiful, what you said." You quietly murmured, gaze meeting his own. The Master paused for a moment, the internal debate going on in his mind evident on his face. You could see in his eyes he was raring to downplay his confession. "Don't try and deny it, pretty boy. I heard every word."

The Master finally relented, standing up from his chair and pulling his hand away from your face. You whined at the loss of contact, hand weakly reaching out towards the timelords arm. You felt a lump build in your throat- had he gotten annoyed at that? "No, Master i'm sorry, please don't leave." You whimpered out. He raised an eyebrow and gently shushed you.

"Hey hey, down girl. Give us a second." he smirked, pulling off his shoes and shedding himself of his waistcoat. You watched, transfixed, the Masters shirt and pants soon following, leaving him stood in his socks and underwear. The timelord returned to your side, pulling up the covers of the bed and signalling for you to shuffle over.

You limply moved to the side as the Master slipped under the covers, his arm curling around your shoulders. You instinctively nestled into his arms, head resting on his bare chest, your legs tangling together in a jumble of limbs. The Masters arms felt like safety, his fingertips trailing over your back, rhythmic heartbeat against your temple. You hummed contently. "What was that for?"

The master smirked cockily. "I said i'd hold you in my arms when you woke up, love. I thought you said you heard everything. Or did you just get distracted by the thought of me in a corset and heels?"

"Shut up." You weakly gave a playful push his chest with a groan, a low rumbling laugh following from the timelord. The Masters lips ghosted over your forehead, hot breath a sharp contrast to your cold skin as he placed a slow, gentle peck. You sighed contently into his hold, eyes fluttering shut with bliss.

"Thank you Master, for being there for me." you murmured lowly, your fingertips drawing circles over his warm skin. The Master hummed, head resting atop of yours.

"Always, love" he replied, thumb caressing over your shoulder. "As you humans say, 'in sickness and in health'."

You let out a soft giggle, the sensation making the Master shiver, goosebumps forming on his skin. "Normally, that's said during wedding vows." You supplied, biting your lip. "Its something reserved for a married couple."

The timelord brought you tighter to his chest, a smile playing on his lips. "Well then, if we're ever going to get to that point Y/N, you're going to have to stop trying to bleed out in the console room. I'm not cleaning up blood on our honeymoon." He jibed, smirking as he felt your heartrate quicken. The notion of you being wed seemed to excite you. He filed that thought away for later.

You craned your neck to face the Master, a tired smile gracing your lips. "So no 'til death do us part?'." Warm browns turned to meet your lazy gaze, a tender expression on his face as he shook his head. "Lets just focus on the sickness and health bit first, hm?"

You nodded gently, satisfied, the Masters hand gingerly taking hold of your cheek. The distance between you both soon closed, your lips meeting his. You quickly sank further into his hold, letting him guide your mouth, his touch soft and considerate. A soft smile spread across your face as you let him take control- even in his most gentle moments, he was still certainly your Master.

Time melted away, you had no clue just how long you'd submitted yourself to his kiss, the Master letting you break for air when you needed to before diving right back in and taking ownership back of your mouth. Eventually you parted, both of your lips red and glossy. You sank back into his chest, nestling deep into his arms as exhaustion took hold once more.

"I love you, Master" you mumbled into his skin as you began to fall back into slumber.

The Master smiled almost proudly, before letting his own eyes flutter shut. He didn't need sleep as much as you did, timelord biology never requiring them to rest. But he decided he'd make an exception for you- another one to add to the ever growing list.

"In sickness and in health" he purred in reply, before letting the coaxing lull of sleep pull him down into the comforting dark.

------------------------------------------------

[halothenthehorns]

THE DARK MARK

"Here you go Padfoot," James finally handed over his prize, the widest most stupid smirk still happily planted on his face.

Sirius eyed it, before stretching leisurely and saying, "nah, I'm good, I think I like being skipped. It's technically Harry's turn, have at it pup."

Harry didn't argue the point as he flipped to his chapter, ignoring that stupid little bubble that was trying to burst his good mood and inform him that nothing would be pleasant for much longer now that the Cup had ended.

Mr. Weasley was cautioning the twins not to go telling their mother they'd been gambling as they headed back to the stairwell.

"Oh that's nice," Lily muttered, "encourage them to lie to their mother."

"It's not lying," Remus said at once.

Even not having heard what Lily had said, Sirius agreed with him at once, "it's just keeping information from those who don't need it, a rather kind endeavor really, you should be thanking us."

"I'm sure that was your motto at school," she snorted at him.

"No," James smirked, "it was 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'"

Harry burst out laughing, even Lily couldn't stop a little smile as she shook her head at the lot of these boys.

      Fred promised that wouldn't be a problem, as they both had big plans for this gold and didn't want it being confiscated. Mr. Weasley hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to ask for details, but seemed to decide against it.

"I want to know," Sirius pouted, still happily bouncing in place in hopes they were going full throttle with that joke shop idea.

They were soon back in the crowds, heading back to the tents through the lantern path once again, leprechauns commonly cruising by above still happily laughing.

"That's going to be happening the rest of the night," James snickered.

They reached their tent and as no one was ready to settle down, they all got some cocoa ready, and were happily still arguing about the game.

"What kind of arguments were these?" Sirius demanded at once.

Harry opened his mouth to start saying the many spiraling conversations that had been going on, but Lily quickly elbowed her way in saying, "not now boys. How many times do I have to tell you, we are not spending hours just sitting around talking about Quidditch, I want to hear this."

"But, Quidditch," James turned pleading eyes on his wife.

"And the World Cup at that," Sirius nodded fervently.

Lily didn't budge though, so Harry turned back to his chapter.

It wasn't until Ginny fell asleep at the table did Arthur cut in it was time for them to get some sleep.

"Well that's not fair," Remus smiled lightly, "making all of them go to bed just because one fell asleep."

"They might have to get up early again," Lily offered.

As Hermione roused Ginny and they went to their own tent, they heard a small bang from the Irish side of the campsite, and Mr. Weasley happily said how he was pleased not to be on duty tonight, he didn't envy those who had the task of telling the Irish to settle down.

"I can only picture the bravest of souls taking up the challenge," James said solemnly.

"And the beautiful responses said Ministry employees will receive," Sirius cackled.

Harry lay in his bunk, watching the tent ceiling which occasionally still had a flash of color flying overhead. He was fantasizing about flying his own Firebolt when he got back to the Burrow, wanting to try out that Wronski Feint.

Lily groaned, placing her face in her hands and cursing his Quidditch father, broom giving godfather, and whatever else felt the need to encourage her son to continue with that insane sport.

Remus gave her a light pat on the shoulder in comfort, trying his hardest not to burst out laughing at the boys on the couch who were all laughing lightly at what they felt was an overreaction from her.

Harry was surprised Wood have never told him of this technique.

"Well it is rather advanced," Sirius nodded sagely. "I can understand if he hadn't even shown it to you yet."

"With the broom and experience you've got though," James hadn't thought it was possible for his mood to keep soaring, but speaking of this was doing so! "I wouldn't be surprised if you pulled it off first try."

"You are literally encouraging our son to ram himself into the ground as hard as he can until he pulls that off," Lily got out, her face still buried in her fingers.

"Ah, it won't cause any permanent damage," Remus snickered, "James seems mostly intact after his many attempts."

"Mostly?" James demanded with a challenging brow but, still snickering lightly, Harry decided to keep going himself now.

His daydream continued to morph, so that he was now performing that move in front of the stadium they'd just left, with Ludo Bagman calling out the name Potter to the cheering crowd.

"So now you actually want the attention?" Remus laughed.

"It's for Quidditch," Sirius said like it was obvious. "If Harry goes on to remember he joined the professionals, I wouldn't be surprised one little bit. That's the kind of fame I'd never be worried about him getting."

"You're all fired from giving him advice," Lily said stoutly, finally pulling her face out of her hands so they could see her rolling her eyes.

Harry wasn't sure if his mind's eye changed to actual dreams,

Harry was trying very hard now to force himself to relax. He'd gone to sleep after all, surely whatever was trying to creep up and ruin his mood wasn't going to happen...

but the next thing he heard was Arthur shouting at the lot of them to get up, this was an emergency!

The four who weren't reading felt terrible little twists inside of them, but at once tried to convince themselves they were being paranoid. They'd had an excellent run thus far, there was no way something to bad could be happening...

Harry sat upright and was lucky not to hit something harder than canvas above him as he muttered what was going on? He could still hear in the background some banging noises, but somehow they felt different, and he could hear people screaming now.

Lily began gnawing on her lip again at once, picturing all sorts of terrible things like a fire breaking out. In that kind of crowd it could cause a stampede and get someone hurt. Or worse the rival team and someone had started a riot, one drunk thing had gone too far, or...her mind kept offering up one worst thing after the other, and judging by the boy's faces, she wasn't the only one.

Harry slipped out of his bed and began trying to find a change of clothes, but at Arthur's insistence there was no time, he simply bolted out of the tent after Ron, and ran into a nightmare.

There were several camp fires still burning, now lighting his surroundings with ghostly shadows, and loud noises like gunshots coming closer.

"What on earth?" Remus muttered, his mind spinning to try and understand what Harry's half-awake mind couldn't process yet.

Harry couldn't answer, even if he wanted to. There was a hard knot of dread forming up inside of him, making it hard for him to concentrate on the words and keep going.

There seemed to be a large ring of people, all looking up and laughing at something, then there was another flash of light, and Harry could see that there was something hovering in the air above the crowd...people. Directly below them was a condensed group all wearing masks.

"Oh, oh no. Oh no, no, no, no," Lily was shaking her head so furiously to insist upon her brain she hadn't just heard the worst implication, that her hair was flying into her face and she didn't care.

"It doesn't necessarily mean," Sirius tried, but even his voice failed him and he couldn't keep it going.

"What, what's going on?" Harry demanded, as clearly they understood something.

"It, they-" James tried furiously to get the words out, but he'd switched from cloud nine to the worst form of agitated fear so quickly, he was having trouble processing anything.

"They're called Death Eater's,"* Remus was the first to get out, new worry lines appearing around his suddenly dark eyes. "They're what Voldemort calls his followers. Horrid people who do whatever their master commands-"

"Often while enjoying doing it," Sirius added on.

Harry was looking between all of them, now wishing more than anything they could just go back to talking of Quidditch. He'd sadly worked this out for himself, this wasn't the first time they'd mentioned Death Eaters, but only in passing. He'd long guessed for himself what they must be referring to, but now he was getting a firsthand account of their work, and he did not appreciate it.

When the silence dragged on though, Harry knew he may as well keep going, to get through this chapter and this terrible event and just hope nothing like it came up again. They may even be wrong after all, then again, how many groups of people wore masks and would be doing a thing like this?

High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes.

Lily gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth to muffle a scream at who those people must be. Muggles, or Muggle-born, being put on display, and- she realized she was shaking then, but not in fear as Remus throwing her a concerned look suggested, but in rage. In her last few years at school it had been made more clear than ever that her parentage made her stand out, and while there were those who couldn't care less, there were those who only cared about that. Those second groups were most likely the current Death Eaters, in her own time and in Harry's. She'd stepped in many a time to stop terrible fights breaking out, now she was having to listen to her son witness such a thing happening!

The other boys looked just as outraged at hearing this, and Lily was almost sad to see Harry was as well, because she'd have rather seen him confused. She wanted to shield him from that terrible knowledge that people would act this way towards each other, but then she realized she was feeling all the more proud for the reaction she was seeing. If she couldn't protect him from this, at least she was warmed that he knew how terrible this was, how much worse her son could have turned out if he'd been under the influence of someone like the Malfoy's.

Harry did not want to keep going one little bit, but as always he knew he may as well get the experience over with and just hope they turned out okay.

It seemed the masked people below were holding their limbs in invisible magic, and two of the four were very small.

"They've, got, children, up, there," Remus said slowly and dangerously, his hands curling into such tight fists the tendons were showing.

Harry wanted more than anything just to deny that one thing, but the words failed in his throat as he turned morosely back to the book.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies.

"How is that funny?" James seethed. "I, just, you don't-" his temper kept tampering off his words, leaving him a spluttering mess, while his face slowly grew more and more red from outrage.

Tents were being smashed to pieces as the group grew closer, either blasted out of the way or being trampled by the ever growing cheering crowd. The ones that did remain standing were caught on fire, and the screaming kept growing louder.

While Sirius deeply regretted forcing Harry to read this, and was fighting back the impulse to wrench the book away from him to prevent it continuing, he recognized he may not have been able to get these words out himself as his throat kept vibrating with repulsion, forever unable to kick away the mental image of his little brother, and now someone he'd once called a brother, joining in on this group.

The people above were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Harry recognized one of them, Mr. Roberts.

There were many times in the past where Harry actually regretted understanding why he'd felt a missing memory and did not appreciate having it returned, and this was definitely one of them. His feelings went beyond just pity for poor Mr. Roberts and his family, who had done nothing to deserve this treatment, but a righteous fury was quickly coming in as well, making him want to draw his wand, his body acting without his conscious mind telling him to go and help those people, you had the experience. He forced himself to shake that off though, blinking until the words below him came back into focus, and recognized that however he felt now, he could only deal with the then.

The others were most likely his wife and two children, all were receiving the same vile treatment. Mrs. Roberts was suddenly hung upside down, unable to stop her dress falling with her, leaving her flashing the crowd below.

Harry wasn't entirely sure he'd gotten through all of that and been completely understood, but he was sure they all got the gist of it by the murderous looks on their faces somehow increasing.

Ron managed to spit out how sick that was as his eyes followed one of the children being spun on his head like a top.

"Please be asleep, please let that poor thing be asleep," Lily murmured to herself, her nails digging into her own palm she was wringing her hands so hard.

Hermione and Ginny came out of their tents then, and Mr. Weasley then instructed all of the underage kids to get into the forest, while Percy, Bill, and Charlie were already running towards the mass with their wands out.

Each of them felt torn in half at that news. Of course they wanted Harry to get out of there, but they wanted Mr. Weasley to stay with him incase things somehow got worse, which seemed impossible at this point but as they'd all thought that before and it still somehow happened they weren't putting it past anymore. Then the other side, which was grateful relief that Arthur and his boys would blow those bloody Death Eater's sky high for what they were doing and make sure Mr. Robert's family was fine.

Harry reluctantly turned away as Fred and George each took one of Ginny's hands, and Ron and his two friends quickly followed them into the path where most of the other bystanders were running. Harry took one last glance behind and saw several ministry people were trying to muscle their way through the crowd to get to the masked people,clearly not wanting to curse anyone in fear it would make the Roberts family fall.

"Understandable that, can't apparate to their side either without risking getting blasted to smithereens, have to be a group effort," Remus was muttering under his breath, tapping away an insane rhythm on his knee in pure agitation he couldn't be helping.

The lanterns from before had been put out, the people shoving into one another along the dark path was causing just as much mayhem inside the trees, children could still be heard crying and still more anxious people were screaming into the night.

James and Sirius remembered their earlier joke about how they'd wanted to start a riot between the two rival Quidditch teams, and how that had somehow been turned on its head into this catastrophe, and now they just wanted to hear that everyone made it out of this night alive!

Harry felt himself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces he could not see. Then he heard Ron yell with pain.

Lily yelped so painfully, she sounded like she'd been sat on, but she couldn't even pretend to be okay when they all gave her anxious looks. She was picturing those Death Eater's catching up to her son, gagging and dragging him back to that decrepit Voldemort, or any other number of terrible things all because Ron had somehow gotten hurt!

Harry wanted to reassure her, he may feel dread for this night but he wanted to calm them all down that nothing too bad was going to happen to him, but that felt like he was dismissing what had happened to Mr. Robert's family, and he wasn't even sure if he was completely right, so he decided to keep going instead.

Hermione cried out for him, and when he didn't immediately respond she lit her wand to find Ron just a bit off the path lying in the dirt.

"He's going to get trampled like that," Sirius muttered, still jittering in a wholly different way than he had been in just the previous chapter.

He grumbled that he'd just tripped as he got back to his feet.

That was such a mundane thing compared to what they'd been afraid of, it almost caused them to laugh in surprise. Almost. They still felt wound up and wretched, but at least it was a breath of fresh air reminding that everything must turn out okay.

Someone began laughing at this misfortune, and Harry didn't have to look hard to find Draco Malfoy,

"Of course," James spat, his hazel eyes lighting furiously. "Why am I not surprised, it was probably his parents idea to do all of that!"

"Won't find anyone in here disagreeing," Harry muttered with such a vicious flip of the page he nearly tore it out.

leaning against a tree in the most casual of manners, clearly watching the show back on the campsite.

"Oh he's being real subtle," Remus sneered. "May as well go out and wave a sign around."

"Please have Hermione punch him again, please," Lily growled.

Ron told Malfoy to do something that Harry knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"I don't know," Sirius rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, though his tone wasn't up to its normal teasing levels even in appreciation of that statement. "I think she might just turn a deaf ear in light of what's going on."

Malfoy hardly reacted, saying they'd better keep running before Hermione was seen.

Harry felt himself stiffen up in even further disgust, the thought of Hermione up there with Mr. Robert's family making him want to retch, but he drew on every last drop of confidence he could muster that wasn't going to happen to his sister.

At that moment the loudest bang of all went off, green light flooding their surroundings.

Lily shuddered in renewed horror, the color green taking on a whole new light with what could be going on back there.

Hermione snapped back she demanded to know what he was on about, and Malfoy just laughed that those people out there were after Muggles. So unless she wanted to show off her knickers next, which would be pretty funny.

"You can't spot a Muggle just by looking at them!" James ground out through gritted teeth.

"Though I wouldn't put it past Malfoy, either of them, to shout it out," Remus seethed.

Harry snarled back that Hermione was a witch! Malfoy's smirk just widened, saying that if they wanted to test how well someone could spot a Mudblood, they should stick around.

Harry felt an acrid taste burning his tongue as he said that for the first time in his life, now knowing how his father felt. Even when you didn't mean it, it would always feel wrong to say.

Ron shouted at him to watch his own language!

"Do the slug curse again," Sirius suggested viciously, "you've got a proper wand now!"

"That's being kind, but a nice start," Remus nodded.

Hermione didn't seem to care too much, as she grabbed the back of Ron's shirt and began pulling him away.

"Or just punch him," James smirked, "I'll take either."

There was another bang, getting closer every time, and even more people screaming. Malfoy just continued to laugh.

It did not surprise them this was his reaction, not after everything he'd said and done previously, it was just all the more loathsome to continually hear about it.

He mocked the people around him for scarring so easily, then demanded of Ron if his dad was one of the idiots trying to save those Muggles? Ron shot back that Malfoy's dad was probably one of those keeping the Muggles up in the air.

"So proud of you, that's exactly what I was going to say," James sighed.

Malfoy's smug expression didn't even twitch as he said if his dad was out there, he wouldn't be telling them.

"Just put a big ol' sign up to say he was right why don't you, it would be much subtler," Remus hissed.

Hermione was really trying to get the two boys to walk away now, saying they'd gotten too far away from Ron's siblings. Malfoy laughed as she convinced them to start leaving, mockingly tossing back to keep her head down.

"Can't believe Hermione actually did manage to pull you both out of the way after all of that," Lily sighed in honest disappointment. Harry couldn't be out there helping Arthur, but he could at least get his own payback on this pompous child.

"We really did want to get Hermione out of there after that though," Harry muttered darkly.

Ron was still muttering about how he was sure Lucius was one under those hoods.

"Am not taking that bet," Sirius agreed.

Hermione was trying to sooth that the Ministry would most likely catch them, while still looking around desperately for the other three, who'd vanished.

"Of course you got separated from them," James groaned, rubbing furiously at the ridge of his nose and nearly knocking his glasses off he was already so upset by this set up. Nothing good had ever came of these three getting separated!

They kept pushing through though, running into a few random people along the way. One girl caught sight of them and ran up, asking them something in pure French, only the name Madame Maxime coming through.

Harry successfully butchered that so well, it took Remus a moment to ask, "was that French?"

"Err, yes," Harry muttered with a slight blush.

Whether he'd done it on purpose or not, probably not, that actually managed to cause genuine smiles back on all of them for at least this small and funny little distraction.

When they responded back in English, the girl muttered an apology and walked back to her group, muttering something about 'Ogwarts. Hermione said Beauxbatons as they kept walking,

After the last chapter he'd heard about involving several of the foreign schools, Harry didn't need much to put together that must be the French equivalent of Hogwarts.

explaining for the boys that was the French Academy of Magic. She'd read about it in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe.

"Of course she did," Remus gave a soft snort of delight, remembering how both he and Harry had thought earlier that's how Hermione would come across that information.

Harry agreed with disinterest, while Ron lit his own wand and rose it above his head to look for his siblings. Harry went digging for his own to help, when he realized he couldn't find it.

"It what!" James squaked in alarm.

Harry was gaping down at the book like a fish out of water, patting his own pocket now and feeling comforted his wand was at least there now!

"You, you left it in the tent, or," Sirius began stammering, eyeing Harry like he'd instead said he'd left his glasses behind. Even that would have made more sense.

"I, no I don't think so, the last time I remember having it-" he struggled, his mind floundering because he never used it on his summer holiday, but he always kept it in his pocket, so it was an unconscious feeling. He hadn't used it his whole time while at the Burrow, but he'd brought it along to the Cup. He hadn't used it there either, but it had always been in his pocket. There was an alarm bell going off in the base of his skull, something painful telling him he should know quite well where it had gone, but that was missing like any other important thing he tried to remember!

His frustration was clearly growing on his face, so James quickly jumped in by placing a calming hand on his shoulder and soothing, "relax Harry, I know you find it, and I also know you didn't just leave it lying around." He struggled for a moment, trying to understand what could have happened to it, as a wizard's wand was akin to an extra finger, you were never without it. He couldn't fathom what could be going on, but still persisted, "so let's get to that part where everything gets better again."

Harry nodded without any enthusiasm, but at least appreciated they weren't all badgering him about losing it.

The only thing on him was his Omnioculars. Harry exclaimed in fear it wasn't there, and Ron and Hermione froze as they looked on the ground for it now. Harry kept patting himself down, but it was nowhere around.

"Be a little worried if it was just randomly lying around," Remus muttered, as wands weren't know for just randomly falling out of pockets. If it had been him who'd tripped over a root, that would have been one thing, but no, he was sure something else besides dropping it was going on, that Chamber must have taught Harry about throwing his wand any old place.

Ron suggested it had been left in the tent, while Hermione offered he may have dropped it while they'd been running.

They shifted uncomfortably, finding these fair enough answers, but still as unusual as it could get, and just as unlikely coming from those two as themselves.

Harry absently agreed, suddenly feeling naked. He never went anywhere without his wand, and now felt ten times more vulnerable.

"Glad you agree," Lily murmured, those horrible visions from before still twisting away behind her mind's eye, now more terrible than ever that her son couldn't magically defend himself.

There was a rustling noise to their left, and then Winky came stumbling out. She was moving odd, like she was trying to run forward but something was pulling her backwards.

Harry choked as he got that out, going incredibly wide eyed all over again, but whatever he felt for that description was gone in a flash and his mind was back to gnawing on what had happened to his wand, something that was causing him an equal amount of pain in his head, no need to add more. Then why was something trying to warn him these two things were connected...

She was muttering to herself about how bad wizards were around, people being lifted in the air, and how she wanted to get out of there! She managed to struggle into another clump of bushes and vanish again. Ron asked why she'd been acting like that, and Harry offered it was probably because she'd been doing something without permission.

Even as Harry said that...(again...this time travel thing made that annoying,) he could feel something wasn't right, this was the wrong answer, and still he couldn't grasp hold of it for any reason and instead forced himself to concentrate on the print, much less painful.

His mind was on Dobby, who often acted the same way when he disobeyed a Malfoy order. Hermione was frowning after the little thing indignantly as she said how bad house-elves had it.

Harry nearly sobbed in relief at finally something much lighter for his conclusions to settle on, though he did wonder what about Hermione speaking of house-elves would lead to. He greedily latched onto it though, as he'd nearly developed a second pulse behind his eyes he'd been thinking so much about things he should know better of by now.

Speaking of how that was slavery. Mr. Crouch had forced her to go up to the stadium even though she'd been terrified to do so,

"Did he even show up?" Lily muttered randomly, that never having been noted at all. It was quite rude of him to force his house-elf to go up there and never even bother to show. Surely nothing so important could be going on during the actual cup.

and now she couldn't even run when all the tents were being trampled.

"She's not bewitched," Sirius snorted. "She didn't get permission, and was probably told not to leave the tent for some reason. That's just part of how they are."

"So you're okay with Winky getting hurt, just because Crouch didn't release her from that command before he ran off?" Lily demanded of him in blistering tones.

Sirius threw his hands in defeat at once, saying, "hey, I'm just saying he didn't do it on purpose."

Lily still had her eyes narrowed at him, and while Harry would have been more than happy at this rate watching them bicker about this, he also noticed Remus quickly trying to wave him on before the argument could escalate as well, so he sighed and kept at it.

Demanding of nobody why hadn't this been stopped long before now. Ron just shrugged that the elves were happy the way they were, but Hermione turned on him at once that it was people like him who were too lazy-

"Lazy?" James raised a brow in surprise. "He's just saying it like it's always been for thousands of years. I really don't see what Hermione's so strung up about either."

Lily ground her teeth together, but shook her head in furious silence. She understood completely where Hermione was coming from, after watching poor Dobby for a whole year and now this, she was really regretting her own life that she hadn't looked into this more. All she'd ever known were the house-elves at Hogwarts, treated perfectly well and never a care, and she'd naively believed that all were treated the same. She now realized how ignorant that was, and quite agreed with where she was positive Hermione was heading, there should be a standard for their living as much as anybody's.

There was another bang from behind them cutting off the rest of her words, and Ron suggested they keep moving with a worried look at Hermione. Harry couldn't help but agree, maybe there had been some truth to what Malfoy had said and Hermione was in more danger than them.

Sadly, that really was true. Honestly all three made wonderful targets for any Death Eater. The son of a blood traitor, who readily stood by his father and family. The Muggleborn, though not obvious Malfoy at least could point out. And the Boy Who Lived, which went without saying, and wandless! All three of them really needed to keep their heads down.

They set off again, Harry still searching his pockets, even though he knew his wand wasn't there.

Sadly that pain popped right back into Harry's temple the moment he was reminded of that, somehow doubling since it had gone away in its persistence he should be remembering something.

They continued down the dark winding path still keeping an eye out for more Weasley's, but all they passed were some goblins laughing over a sack of gold,

In his current mindset, he didn't even notice the light flutter he felt that this detail may have been important later.

and then a large group of veela,

"Guess they're not worried about anything," Lily rolled her eyes.

surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of whom were talking very loudly.

"Well that'll make you forget what's going on behind you," Sirius snorted with derision. Even he had to admit this was a terrible time to be flirting.

They were all shouting nonsense at the veela, one saying how he made a hundred Galleons a year!

"Congratulations," James rolled his eyes, "you should be richer than the richest by next month."

Another was yelling how he was a dragon killer!

"Not everyone appreciates that kind of boasting," Lily sniffed, finding that far more sad that this was a needed job then brave or whatever that numbskull was going for. She wasn't even the biggest fan of dragons and she wasn't fond of the idea of killing them.

A boy right beside him called him out on that lie, shouting that he was a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron, but then boasted his own that he was a vampire hunter!

"Right, and you happen to be friends with a dishwasher. Good of you to keep the company," Remus muttered.

One who stuck out to Harry who had pimples all over his face shouted next that he was slated to be the youngest ever Minister of Magic.

"I'm sure he'll do a better job than the current one," Sirius snorted, while Harry randomly thought he should find that funny, giving a slight snort as he recognized this young man, and finding irony that he in fact would do better.

Harry snorted with laughter as he recognized him, Stan Shunpike, a conductor on the Knight Bus.

"Oh that's brilliant," Lily snickered. She understood it was the magic of the Veela forcing them to want to impress making them act like fools, but she still found it sad that the way they went about it was lying. At least James never resorted to that in his mad attempts to gain her favor. Not that she was dumb enough to believe half of this bullocks, so it was a moot point.

Harry meant to tell Ron this, but then Ron chose that moment to begin shouting that he'd just invented a broom that could make it all the way to Jupiter.

"Now that I'd like to see," James laughed. "What's the brand you're calling it then, the Zeus model?"

"I'll let you know if he does," Harry promised with an easy smile, thanking once again this lighthearted switch for the reprieve he was getting, no matter how short.

Hermione sniffed as she and Harry grabbed hold of Ron's arms and dragged him away.

"I noticed you weren't affected that time," Remus pointed out.

Harry just shrugged, muttering, "wasn't really paying attention till I heard Stan speak up, then I was too busy laughing."

By the time all of that yelling had faded away, they were now mostly alone in the dark forest, things seemed to have gotten quieter.

Lily felt like goosebumps were smothering her as she said, "well, then perhaps you should go back and laugh at the Veela's admirers a bit more. It's not good for you to be so far out by yourself. Plus, you never caught up to Ron's siblings, I'm sure they're worried about you."

Harry wanted to agree, to voice that he had gone back into the more populated areas of the forest, but the words wouldn't come, something he knew he'd regret.

Harry was looking around as he said they should just wait where they were, they could hear anyone coming.

The four of them sighed in disappointment. Why did Harry have to be the one to suggest that? Was he trying to make their life more miserable by seeming to go out of his way in his younger self to cause these situations?!

He'd hardly got done saying that when Bagman burst from the trees, looking quite disheveled.

Sirius was frowning in concern for someone he'd almost call an idol, wondering what on earth could have happened to him. He hadn't been mugged had he, he'd been carrying around an awful lot of gold for his betting. Had he perhaps run into a not happy customer about a big loss? He really hoped he was okay, or had Bludgeoned whoever it was, causing that other person to look far more than strained.

He caught sight of them and asked what they were doing out here? Ron pointed back towards the campsite and said they were hiding from the riot. Bagman blinked in shock before demanding 'what?'

"So, he didn't know?" Lily raised a brow in surprise.

"What's he been doing this whole time, it's hardly been subtle," Remus agreed.

"Maybe he found an old friend and brought her along for some privacy," James smirked, thinking there were plenty of reasons he could be looking tossed around.

They began to explain, but once they were done Bagman swore in surprise,

"A very appropriate reaction honestly," Sirius huffed.

said 'damn them',

"Them?" They all asked in surprise, Sirius now thinking he may have been closer than he thought, but hopefully Bagman would file a report of it later and get back whatever he deserved.

and then Disapparated away. Hermione was frowning where he'd just been, saying how he wasn't on top of things much.

"You can't blame him for not being on high alert twenty four seven," Sirius muttered, grains of pity still lingering for him.

Ron just shrugged and said that he'd been a great Beater,

"Because that just made everything better," Lily snorted.

his old team the Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times when he'd been playing for them.

Sirius was more than happy to make a triumphant noise in delight at this news, hoping Harry and Ron would whittle away the boring hours until Arthur found them with Quidditch talk.

He took his figurine of Krum out of his pocket, set it down on the ground, and watched it walk around.

Giving all of them a nice laugh as well. They were still tense and uneasy, they couldn't help it until Harry was back out of that forest and safely back at the Burrow, but it was nice that he had Ron and Hermione there in the meantime to keep up distractions like this from the worst of their thoughts.

Ron sat down in the leaves to watch it pace around, and silence lingered for a few more moments before Hermione again voiced that she hoped the others were okay. Ron assured they were all fine, and Harry voiced that he hoped Arthur caught Lucius in the act.

"This whole ordeal will be worth it if that's true," Sirius nodded.

Ron agreed that would make his life, while Hermione whispered how bad those poor Muggles had it, wondering if they would get down okay?

"They will," Remus said at once at the uneasy look on Harry's face. "Then they'll make sure they're okay, before most likely giving them a powerful memory charm to erase this terrible instance from their mind."

"A kindness honestly," Lily sighed, "otherwise they may have gone mad from this."

Ron once again assured her everything would be fine. Hermione then changed to pointing out how mad those masked people were to have pulled this with so many Ministry people around.

"While true-" Lily sighed.

"They don't care," James finished for her with an ugly look in place. "It's all about making a statement with that lot, so long as there were more of them then the Ministry who would help, with a nice loud distraction which I'm sure they easily got, they'd keep at it till they had no other choice."

Harry was frowning sadly out the window, now wondering just how often events like this occurred in their time.

Neither boy got a chance to respond as they heard someone in the nearby blackness stumbling around.

They all went ramrod straight, their hands going instinctively towards their wands, a stupid but involuntary reaction as they heard some stranger was around Harry at this time.

Then the footsteps stopped, and Harry called out if anyone was there? **

James looked like he was visibly restraining himself from snapping as he said, "Harry, did you really just ask that! You're supposed to be quiet and stay out of sight at this time, not go yelling 'hey I'm over here!"

Harry was frowning at him, half feeling chastised that it probably had been a bad idea in retrospect, but also wanting to defend himself that at the time he hadn't seen himself in that much danger. He suppressed it though, they were tense enough and he really didn't want to pick at this.

Another long beat of silence, then a voice shouted out the spell 'Morsmordre.'

"Don't recognize that," Sirius muttered to himself, not that this made anyone feel any better. There were plenty of terrible curses out there these people had never heard of because they wouldn't go out looking for them.

Something vast, green,

Lily felt a scream rearing up in her throat at the thought of any green spell being set off around her baby, again!

and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Harry's eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

Then she felt foolish and embarrassed when he finished, sounding more puzzled than anything. She was being jumpy and paranoid, he was sitting there reading it, of course he hadn't had the killing curse set on him. It still wasn't helping her nerves one bit though. Maybe she'd made more a noise then she'd intended to, maybe Sirius was just getting to fidgety with all of this built up angst and he knew he was upsetting his charge, but the next thing Lily knew she had her baby in her lap which quickly calmed her down far better than anything else could.

Ron gaped in shock as it continued to rise above the treetops, looking much like the leprechaun formations from before. It transformed itself into a skull, with a serpent coming out of the mouth.

Harry was blinking in puzzlement as he finished the description, just knowing he should know what this was called, but when he looked up expectantly in hopes someone would tell him, he instead found all of them with sickly pale skin and gaping at him like he'd just turned into a corpse.

"Y-You're within shouting distance of a Death Eater!?" Sirius' throat couldn't seem to decide if it was going to fail him or release a rumbling growl as he got that out.

"That's what you got out of that?" Harry asked in surprise. "From some snake in the sky?"

"Th-that's, the Da-Dark Mark. Voldemort's symbol!" James managed to stutter out, wondering far too often for his liking how his son had survived to his current age. "Only a Death Eater knows how to produce it, so yes. That is understandably the first thing he, and the rest of us, grasped on."

"Oh," Harry simply muttered, unable to think of anything else to add to that. None of this explained what his ever growing agitation was, something building in the back of his mind that was quite insistently saying he should know this particular Death Eater, but that must be ridiculous. Hopefully he never got any closer to one of Voldemort's henchmen then he was in that moment, otherwise his family really might have a stress heart-attack.

Deciding to keep reading rather than watching them gasp for air, Harry forged on.

It seemed to grow brighter, like a new constellation forming, and then the screaming began again, louder than ever. Harry had no idea why, though he linked it to the glowing image in the sky. His eyes went back down to where it had been cast, and he again called out for who was out there.

"Harry James Potter, you stop that before you give me a heart attack!" Lily half screeched, only able to strangle off the full volume because even that scolding of her elder son made his younger counterpart begin crying in protest.

Harry was watching her with severe worry, remembering the last time she'd told him off for something he'd done in the past. At least then the other boys had helped her to laugh it off, as it had already happened long enough ago her snapping wouldn't do any good. Looking around now though, he saw they were quite in agreement with her exclamation, which wasn't making him feel any better. Desperately hoping now he had stopped shouting out or he'd probably regret it in this time, Harry tried to keep going in as calm a voice as possible to remind them all he was perfectly fine.

Hermione was trying to get them to move again, tugging on his shirt and begging him to run.

"Least one of you lot has some bleeding sense," Remus hissed, now wishing more than anything Harry hadn't been split off from Arthur, or Sirius had come, or if he'd bothered to keep in contact, anything then this constant mess that was Harry's life seeming to find the most danger when he was at his most vulnerable.

Harry asked what her problem was, as she'd gone white faced with fear.

"Does she know what that is?" Sirius asked in surprise, at least that distracted him from picturing that thing being cast right over his little pup's body while he was on the opposite side of the world.

"I guess I can see how," James muttered through almost chattering teeth as he was picturing much the same thing. "Wouldn't surprise me if the marks shown up in a book or two about Voldemort's reign."

Hermione told that it was the Dark Mark, You-Know-Who's sign!

"Right in one Prongs," Remus muttered, shifting his weight with continuing agitation, no matter how much it aggravated his injuries, that flare of pain was a constant reminder he was in the hear in now, listening to Harry read this rather than picturing it go a more gruesome way.

Harry tried to ask for more, but Hermione just begged them to start walking. Ron paused to pick up his Krum,

"Priorities," Lily mumbled, bouncing her infant in her arms to keep them both calm.

but the three of them only made it a few steps before there were about twenty pops of wizard's apparating into their space, surrounding the three.

Harry hadn't believed they could be more upset than they had in just the last book, but when he read that and their first thought was to jump to the fact that Harry was now surrounded on all sides by Death Eaters like that had been a calling, he was pretty sure his dad having vomited back during the Chamber would be a kind look back.

Harry recognized all wands were pointing at them,

Harry was quite glad he was the one reading, as when he glanced up all he saw was a mask of shocked faces on convulsing throats like they were all fighting back the urge to scream some more, most likely their own voices would have failed them at this point. All Harry remembered feeling at the time was shock, and the urge to hit the deck.

and he reacted first by seizing his friends necks and pulling them to the ground, screaming 'Duck!'

"Anaticula!" Sirius suddenly yelped at his side.

Harry looked at him with great concern, like he thought his godfather had finally lost his bleeding mind, but it had the desired effect of causing James and Remus to snap out of their comas and burst out laughing.

Lily looked just as confused as he felt, but Harry still had more sense about him as he demanded, "what's that mean?"

Sirius had to shake his head a couple of times to make sure his head was on straight and clear, before putting on a farce of his carefree nature and explaining, "it's a curse that makes your wand only able to produce ducks for the next few spells. Great laugh while you're running away." He managed to say all of that with only a few minor spasms of shock still wearing off from picturing all of this being directed at Harry.

"Remus used it on us once," James added on when it seemed Lily was finally calming back down as well, and hoping to keep them all breathing on this subject for as long as possible he turned mock angry eyes on Remus and finished in a 'huffy' tone, "in the middle of dinner. McGonagall wouldn't believe we hadn't done it on purpose, gave us detention that night, forcing me to reschedule one of my Quidditch practices."

"You two deserved it," Remus shot back, an old satisfied smirk in place his friends hadn't seen in awhile. "It was one of you lots fault I got strung up by my foot and missed my Care of Magical Creatures class that day, and since neither of you would tell me who did it, you both deserved it."

Lily was watching between the three with an actual smile in place now, unable to believe she could hold the expression in light of what was happening to her son, but had actually quite enjoyed during school watching the Marauders pick on each other much more than watching them go after their prank victims, so hearing retellings like this were always a treat.

The distraction had worked, they were all much more grounded and feeling at least less likely to have heart failure as Harry continued.

They slammed into the ground,

"Thank Merlin for those Quidditch reflexes," James murmured.

just as all the voices shouted as one 'Stupefy!'

At least that made them all feel better at the situation Harry was in. Certainly not content, but it was nicer to hear he only would have been stunned then something far worse.

Beams of red light went whizzing above their head, ricocheting off of trees and going every which way, and only ceasing when one voice called out above the rest for them to stop, that was his son!

"Arthur," Lily nearly sobbed in relief, knowing that couldn't refer to anyone else.

"So it was the Ministry who went there," James agreed, still looking fairly faint but at least some color returned to his face as he realized that.

Mr. Weasley came stumbling towards them, looking more terrified than Harry had ever seen him as he asked if they were alright?

"I can imagine," Remus nodded, knowing Arthur would have felt the same way they just had of finding his son under that mark.

Someone snapped at Arthur to move,

"Bite me!" James snapped at once, riling up at anyone trying to get in Arthur's way as he checked on those kids.

which turned out to be Mr. Crouch.

"I'll second that," Sirius agreed with a nasty look still in place, wanting to crack all twenty of those ministry fools over the head for shooting at his pup.

He and the other Ministry people were coming in closer as Harry got to his feet, facing Mr. Crouch who had his face drawn with fury. His wand was pointing at all three intermittently as he demanded which of them had done it.

"He actually just looked you in the face and demanded that?" Lily growled, her eyes narrowing furiously. "You? The bleeding Boy Who Lived."

"Plus a Weasley and a Muggleborn, the only ones they caught sight of, oh yeah it's hard to tell who has more motive in that group," Remus snarked.

"I'm just hoping they did manage to stun, incompetently but still, the one who did do it," James grumbled, hoping at least some good came of their heart attack moment.

Harry frowned in confusion as he said they hadn't done that while gesturing up above. Ron agreed they hadn't done a thing while looking indignantly at his father.

"He's the one defending you," Sirius snorted. "What's he glaring at him for?"

"Mr. Weasley looked just as shocked as anyone else," Harry shrugged, "maybe to Ron it looked more acquisitory."

While demanding to know why they'd been attacked.

Crouch snapped at Ron not to lie, while adding on a sir.

"At some point you can drop the manners," Remus muttered with an eye roll.

His wand now pointed right in Ron's face, his eyes popping with fury.

All of them scowled heavily at that, finding it completely uncalled for to be pointing a wand in Ron's face, when he hadn't even drawn his own to defend himself!

A witch in the back reminded Crouch that these were just kids, they couldn't have done that. Arthur turned on his charges and asked them where had the Mark come from?

"At least there are some sensible adults around," Lily sniffed.

Hermione pointed to the space, saying an incantation had been shouted. Crouch turned on her now, shouting about how she seemed well aware of how to make the Mark appear.

"Oh goodness me, you use an incantation to summon a magical image in the sky, who would have thunk it!" Remus snapped, not being able to press any more sarcasm into that if he'd tried.

No one else paid Hermione a second glance though, instead all wands turned to where the kids had pointed.

"Great, good to know it's only one out of twenty we should be really worried about," Sirius grumbled.

The same witch from before sighed it was no good, that person would have Disapparated by now.

"Probably at the exact same time they appeared, so you wouldn't have even heard it," James sighed, mostly in relief whoever that was, wasn't around his son anymore.

Then another spoke up saying he didn't think so, and Harry recognized Amos Diggory,

"Oh great, now I get two people in one clearing to piss me off," Sirius mock cheered, making Harry already long for the carefree chapter they'd just had and see them really happy again.

saying how they may have got a lucky shot with their stunners, they had gone through those trees. He walked off to go check himself, with several people behind him calling out warnings to be careful.

"Or, you know, at least a few of you could go with him!" Lily snapped, taking every last bit of her self-restraint not to facepalm in exasperation. They outnumbered that one lone person who was back there, and even if there were more, it was still more safe than just sending one person.

Mr. Diggory shouted back a few moments later that they'd caught someone,

"Finally, some good news," Remus sighed, actually sagging back in relief, thinking that was one less problem they had to worry about.

Harry though, was wondering why his first reaction was to think Mr. Diggory was wrong, they hadn't gotten anyone that night... but the thought flew away almost at once and he simply agreed with Remus instead.

but then he trailed off in surprise as he seemed to recognize whoever it was.

"That didn't seem like a good reaction though," Sirius frowned in concern.

Crouch did not sound convinced as he demanded who,

"He really still thinks it's those three kids?!" James snapped in disbelief, wanting more than anything to smack Crouch a good one.

as Diggory walked back in, with Winky in his arms.

"What?" All five of them yelped at once.

"There's no way that little elf did that," Sirius snorted in disbelief.

"The voice didn't even match," Harry agreed, still frowning deeply as he gently tried to understand why his earlier feeling was clearly right now.

"What was Winky even doing in that area though?" Lily's frown kept deepening the longer she thought about this. "We heard a Death Eater's voice in that direction, it's impossible Winky would be following them around as she belongs to Crouch."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it and quickly shut it before he vomited instead from the stress of repressing his response. The truth was, none of them had any idea what was going on, and absolutely none of them wanted to find out. They didn't care about this mystery, didn't want to sit on the idea any longer then they had to, because they didn't want it to have anything to do with Harry. They kept hoping any second now Arthur would jump in and say that these kids were no longer needed and take them away back to the Burrow for some actual peace!

Crouch froze as Diggory placed Winky at his feet. Crouch muttered this must be some mistake as he walked off to that same area, going out of sight but could still be heard searching the bushes for another culprit. Diggory called back that he'd checked, Winky was the only one there.

Harry had to blink hard a few times to keep some bright spots out of his eyes, but then kept on after a moment, now working harder than ever to ignore whatever feeling that gave him for whatever reason.

Diggory was shaking his head sadly as he muttered what a surprise this was, for Crouch's elf to have done this.

"They can't really think she did it?" James raised an even more disbelieving brow, somehow managing to find this more ridiculous than them thinking it was Harry. "She's a house-elf!"

While Lily agreed with him it was every kind of ludicrous, she didn't much like his tone of saying it.

Mr. Weasley scolded this was ridiculous, he couldn't really be serious in saying it was an elf to have done this.

"Now why would he think it was me helping the elf?" Sirius quickly inserted, ignoring all accompanied groans. "I like to think mine's gone off and died by this point."

Harry gave him a smile, still not having grown tired of that joke yet, but didn't linger on it either.

Reminding you had to have a wand to summon the Dark Mark, and Diggory agreed she'd had one.

"Had a what now?" Lily demanded, sure she'd heard that wrong.

They all turned surprised eyes at that, as Diggory said she'd had one in her hand, in direct violation to a code stating that non-human creatures weren't allowed to carry such a thing. Ludo Bagman Apparated onto the scene just then, gasping about the Dark Mark!

"Thank you, I hadn't noticed," Lily rolled her eyes.

"Where's he been this whole time?" Sirius asked in confusion, some of the misty eyed awe of a Quidditch star starting to wear off. "I thought the last time he Disapparated away was to go help with the riot. He should have seen it at the same time as the rest of these twenty people and come then."

"Search us," Remus sighed, thinking they'd had more questions from this chapter alone already building up, and it was clearly driving Harry mad as he once again went cross eyed in pain at being unable to answer them. He, along with everyone else, really wanted this chapter to be done with already.

His eyes flickered to Barty, who was coming back into sight, but then he added on another question of why he hadn't been at the match?

"So he never did show up," James murmured.

"That's incredibly odd for him," Lily explained to Harry, who was watching all of the boys holding a puzzled expression. "He was a big hand in putting this event together, he was expected to show up for it. Crouch does not miss that type of thing, it wouldn't look good," she finished with a sniff of distaste.

Harry felt like he was getting a little tick at the base of his skull, a muscle that just kept spasming every other sentence now as more and more of what he was hearing he was sure would come to bite him in the arse later, but for now he thanked his mum and kept going.

Reminding that his elf had been saving him a seat, but then Bagman caught sight of Winky and yelped in surprise what had happened to her? Crouch explained that she'd been stunned, and it took a moment for Bagman's eyes to flicker to her, then up to the Mark, before understanding took him and he gasped in surprise she couldn't have done that! She'd need a wand! Diggory repeated she'd had one, then asked Crouch if it was okay they unstun her to get some answers.

All four of them mumbled something about how it was bleeding obvious from the start she hadn't a thing to do with this and they should be out looking for who really did, but none of it was articulate enough Harry stopped.

When the spell 'Enervate' was used on her and she sat up, Winky burst into tears instantly. Diggory snapped at her to look at him, reminding of his position as a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

"Is he trying to scare her?" Remus' scowl deepened at this, finding this more than uncalled for of the clearly innocent creature.

"He's certainly not going out of his way to pretend otherwise," Lily nodded in agreement.

Then he demanded an explanation of what she'd been doing. Winky sobbed she hadn't done anything, while Diggory flashed the wand for all to see and snapped at her to explain where she'd found this. Harry caught sight of it properly for the first time, and exclaimed that was his!

"What?" They all yelped, finding that all too common an occurrence recently!

"How in Merlin's underpants did your wand end up in the same clearing as Winky, and a Death Eater!?" James gasped out first.

"That sounds like the bad start to a joke," Sirius moaned, rubbing furiously at his forehead to stave away a growing sense of doom.

"I-but-you-when-" Lily could not get out more than one word before her voice failed her and she just kept looking at her gobsmacked son, but he shook off the shock quicker than she did and continued in a hurry now.

Everyone turned startled eyes back to him.

"Guess that wasn't the best time to go shouting that when they all think it's you," Remus muttered.

"There really isn't a good time to say that in this circumstance," Sirius reminded.

Harry repeated that was his wand, that he'd dropped it. Diggory repeated that back in absolute disbelief. Demanding of Harry if that was a confession, that he'd thrown it aside after he'd conjured the Mark?

"Yeah, that's what he said," Remus snorted, his eyes darkening more and more every second the longer he heard about Diggory. His jumping to conclusions attitude along with his no good character was making Remus edgier the longer this carried on.

Arthur jumped in angrily then, demanding Amos think about what he'd just said to Harry Potter. Diggory agreed he'd gotten carried away.

"Damn right you did," James snapped, happy at least Arthur was keeping that man in check.

Harry then explained he hadn't dropped it anywhere around there, he'd only noticed it was missing when he came into the woods.

"But," Lily finally managed to collect herself to get out a real question, "does that mean Winky did take it from you in the Top Box? She's the only other person outside of your group who had the means to do it. I just cannot for the life of me imagine why."

"If not, then it's a really big fat coincidence," James sighed, running his hand through his hair in agitation. Of all the people who could be suspected of taking Harry's wand, as the more they heard of this the more they believed Harry hadn't simply dropped it, and it simply wound up in the grip of a Death Eater to use in the conjuration of the Dark Mark, this was beyond words unbelievable.

Diggory instead turned back on Winky, demanding of the elf that she'd found it and decided to have some fun.

"No one's going to question that she just, found it!" Sirius scowled, knowing the elf probably didn't have a better answer than that, but he wanted one anyways.

Winky wailed that she hadn't done anything!

Lily began wriggling around in displeasure now, feeling bad she'd thrown out a question regarding Winky herself now, and she wasn't even there. The elf clearly had no more to do with this then Harry, couldn't they lay off her?

She'd just picked it up!

Hermione jumped in then, going pink in shock when all eyes turned to her, yet still insisting it wasn't Winky.

"Can't say I'm surprised," Remus gave a small smile, "she's shown time and again she'll do and say what she thinks is right."

"In this case, I'm grateful for it," Lily nodded in agreement.

Explaining that Winky's voice was high pitched and squeaky, and the person they'd heard summon the Mark was definitely male. Diggory did not look impressed as he said there was a way to check and see what the last spell was used on a wand, directing this at the elf.

"That doesn't prove anything," James snorted. "She just said she found it, and she's got witnesses proving it wasn't her who used it last. It's been established Harry's wand was the one to use that spell, showing that off doesn't mean a thing."

Diggory then placed his wand tip to Harry's and used the spell 'Prior Incantato.'

Harry's heart gave a very hard twist when he read that, for some reason leaning just slightly closer to his dad and glancing up at his mother for a moment, but only had a moment to wonder why before he kept going.

Both parents were still so wound up over the situation at hand, neither noticed Harry's second of hesitation.

Sprouting from Harry's wand came a smaller resemblance of the glowing mark in the sky, which Diggory seemed to think proved his point as he shouted in triumph Winky had been caught in the act!

"I am going to punch him." Sirius scowled, beginning to tense up on the spot the longer he kept going. "I don't even like elves and I don't talk to them like that. Use some brains man, she's obviously not got a thing to do with this."

"Thinking he doesn't need to be working with Magical Creatures much," James agreed with a serious nod. "He clearly looks down on them too much."

"He's much too quick to blame as well," Lily added on in the same tones as them.

Remus couldn't help but give them a light smile they hopefully didn't see, he knew for a fact they could get overly touchy about this without even realizing it.

Arthur cut in then though, reminding how few wizards knew how to summon such a spell, where on earth could Winky have learned to do so? Crouch snapped that Diggory was implying he'd taught his elf this?

"Ooh, snappy," Sirius raised an imperious brow, feeling his point had been made quite well, and he didn't even like the man who'd done it.

Diggory went horrified with shock, stammering out of course that wasn't it to Crouch.

"Little late for backtracking you hobnocker," James huffed.

Crouch pressed in though, telling off Diggory for now having accused the two people in this clearing least likely to have done this, Harry Potter and himself! Surely Diggory knew of who Harry Potter was? Diggory agreed in uncomfortable tones everyone knew that.

"Glad someone put him down," Lily gave a soft laugh, not having thought she'd be rooting for Crouch any time soon, but at least she found he was useful for something.

Then Crouch also reminded he'd shown time and again the lengths he'd gone to prove how against Dark Magic he was!

Harry felt a stirring in him again, like earlier when he'd felt something was off about Crouch speaking of his perfect unbreakable vows about rules. There was something there that Harry knew he should have a puzzle piece to, but it faded through his conscious like his brain was filled with cracks.

Diggory tried to protest, saying he'd never meant to accuse Crouch.

"You suggested his elf did," Remus smirked, "and that's as good as."

Crouch shouted back that to accuse his elf was to accuse him!

Diggory tried to say she could have picked it up somewhere else,

"Oh yes, I'm sure Death Eaters pop by all the time selling cookies and just give a friendly tutoring session of how to do that in the meantime," Sirius snorted.

but then Arthur agreed Diggory had spoken true on that one. He turned his own attention on Winky, the first person to call her by name and kindly meet her eyes, but Winky still flinched away from him like all the rest,

Lily couldn't help cooing again, wanting to do something to help the poor dear relax, as she knew there was no way she would be getting in trouble for anything, or at least she shouldn't be.

as Arthur asked where she'd found the wand? Winky's voice still came out watery as she said she'd just found it lying there in the leaves. Arthur stood back up to face Diggory, saying clearly what had happened was that the person who'd cast the Dark Mark had simply used Harry's own wand then Disapparated away. It was actually clever not to have used their own wand. It was just Winky's misfortune to come across it moments later.

"While I don't think he's wrong," James's frown just got deeper as Arthur drew the same conclusions they'd been forced to come to.

"That hardly explains anything," Sirius grumbled.

"It actually just raises more questions," Remus sighed.

Diggory gasped that this must mean that Winky had seen the person who had done all of this!

"That," Lily struggled for a moment before grudgingly admitting, "is a really good point."

"Wish she'd started with that," Sirius huffed, "this could have been going a lot better."

Then he turned on Winky and demanded of the elf if she'd seen anyone!

Winky's eyes flickered to her masters as she whispered she hadn't seen anyone.

Harry had a mad desire to laugh, like he knew Winky was telling the truth in that moment...but leaving something off...

Crouch seemed to decide that was enough, as he addressed Diggory by telling him that he was aware the normal course of events would be Diggory to take her into his department, but if he'd allow him to take his elf home? Amos clearly didn't want to agree, but clearly Crouch was such an important person he wasn't going to argue.

"I'm truly shocked at how pleased I am," Remus frowned in pity for the poor thing, finding just a grain of irony that the very thing she'd feared would happen to Dobby was in fact being hung over her head this very same night, but at least her own master would be a better option.

Crouch added on though that she would be punished for this night.

"Ouch," Lily winced. After hearing about what the Malfoys had done to Dobby, she was actually quite afraid for Winky and what might become of her now.

Winky began sobbing in shock, begging her master to reconsider, but Crouch's face was like stone as he snapped at her that he'd commanded she stay in the tent, and she'd disobeyed! This meant clothes!

"Wow," James blinked spastically like Crouch had just started swearing in Mermish. "That was harsh."

"Yeah," Sirius had his head cocked to the side, his eyes narrowed like he was trying to study Crouch in person. "She did disobey, but it's hardly so grievous she should be sacked like that."

Remus and Lily exchanged a surprised look, considering their usual attitude towards elf's they would have honestly expected those two to agree with Crouch, but for all their laughing at the creatures, they clearly weren't as hard on them as they would lead.

Harry may have input his opinion on them, but he was too busy fighting back word vomit. There it was again, something involving Crouch and Winky that made him want to spew out something like a huge silent chunk of conversation had been taken place right in front of him, but he had nothing to offer except to read what was in front of him.

Winky wailed, crawling to Crouch's feet and begging for anything but that! Crouch shook her off in disgust, but then Hermione jumped in by trying to defend the elf! Saying she'd been frightened, and shouldn't be blamed for running!

Lily looked very much like she would get up and hug Hermione now, as well as shield her, for standing up to Crouch like that in front of everyone.

Crouch did not remove his disgusted eyes from the elf as he told Hermione off to, saying he had no use for a servant who didn't listen, who ruined his reputation!

"Oh I get it," Remus gave an ugly sneer now as his eyes flashed. "He's not getting rid of her because she didn't listen to him, she's getting the boot because she got caught and dragged Crouch into this."

"This is terrible," Lily scowled. "I don't even understand why he's reacting like this, no one's going to look twice at him now that everything's out in the open. Everyone there knows he's nothing to do with the dark arts, he shouldn't be taking all of this out on his elf like this!"

"While we agree," James sighed, feeling like they were hearing about a Dobby all over again, how often were these other house-elves treated like this? "It's no good shouting about it now dear."

She shot him the stank eye, but didn't pursue the point.

Hermione may have kept going, but Arthur put himself back in then, saying Harry should have his wand back, which Diggory did, and then began escorting the kids away. He had to call twice before Hermione would follow, and the moment they were out of sight she began rampaging about the lot of them and how they'd been treating Winky! Everyone just referring to her as 'elf!'

Sirius and James shared a surprised look, they hadn't even noticed that part.

How dare Crouch do that to her, treating her like she wasn't even human! Ron did point out that technically she wasn't.

Sirius closed his mouth sheepishly, he'd actually been about to say the same thing, but was now happy he hadn't gotten it out at the flashing look Lily gave the book for Ron's comment.

Hermione turned on him and began shouting he wasn't acting any better than those- but Arthur cut her off by saying she could go on about elf rights later. Then he asked where the rest of his kids were? Ron said they'd gotten separated, then asked what that skull thing had been?

"I'm actually a little more surprised Ron didn't know," James quirked a brow. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful he's never seen it, but still. You'd think his parents would have mentioned it."

"Not necessarily," Remus shrugged. "In the same concept as Ron not saying Voldemort's name, Ron and the kids of his generation would have been told as little as possible of what would have been a common occurrence to their parents, err us, whatever. The next generation of kids would have been shielded and told as little as possible of the horrors of this war."

James pondered that for a moment, not really in agreement as he didn't think this should just be glossed over, but couldn't argue the point much either. They were only fourteen, James wasn't even happy Harry was so involved with this at that age, so he let the matter slide.

Mr. Weasley didn't relax one little bit as they made it back out of the forest, but were bombarded almost at once by a group of people demanding questions of Arthur, asking if anyone had been caught, who'd done that Mark, and was it Him? Arthur snapped back of course it wasn't You-Know-Who, and the perpetrator had Disapparated away, then he escorted himself and his kids off to bed.

"Snappy," Sirius gave a small smirk.

"Probably still worried about the rest of his kids," Lily added, thinking that as soon as Ron was back at the tent Arthur would probably go looking for the twins and Ginny, most likely as his eldest three were now doing.

Arthur escorted the three to the tent, but upon their approach Charlie poked his head back and called out to his dad that the other three had gotten back, but he didn't know where the others were.

They all released a sigh of relief. They hadn't exactly been worried for their safety, but it was good nothing had happened none the less.

Arthur sighed in relief as he entered the tent, and Harry spotted all three of the eldest Weasley's sporting bloody injuries.

Harry's tone was already pitching in surprise, but he read out;

Bill had a sheet to his arm where it was quickly turning red, Charlie had a large tear in his shirt, and Percy was trying to stop a bloody nose.

before he asked, "what could have happened to them?"

"Probably some of the Death Eaters shot some spells back," Remus sighed. "Either that or the riot got a little more hands on then wands."

The twins and Ginny weren't harmed, but looked white with shock. Bill asked if his Dad had caught whoever had done the Mark?

"Well Bill at least knows what it is," James muttered to himself, thankful that it clearly wasn't going to be erased from history what was going on now. He'd be satisfied if only the older type of kids knew about it then.

Arthur said they hadn't, but instead explained that they'd found Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, which had been used to make the Dark Mark. They still had no idea who'd done it.

"That about summed it all up, yeah," Lily sighed, running a hand through her hair in agitation.

"Was a lot more bloody traumatizing to hear about it," James grumbled.

All of them yelped in surprise, Fred repeating the part about Harry's wand, while Percy in response to Crouch's elf.

"I can't decide who more deserved what was caught on," Remus snorted.

"Fred," Sirius said instantly, knowing he'd happily side with the twins then their immediate older brother any day.

The four who were present explained more fully the entire situation, and when they were done, Percy swelled with indignation.

"I'll agree with you now," Remus rolled his eyes.

Saying Crouch had been perfectly correct in his actions! Hermione snapped at him at once, causing Percy to take a step back in surprise. She and Percy usually got along pretty well, better than with his own brothers most days.

"Well that's just sad," Lily frowned slightly, always having suspected Percy didn't get along with his brothers very well, but for an outsider of the family like Hermione to so obviously be doing a better job, really got to her in that moment.

He pulled himself together quickly though and said that Crouch couldn't be seen going easy on an elf running amok with a wand.

"Run amok?" Sirius repeated in disbelief. "I'm still confounded what Crouch did, blowing that out of proportion. Though I guess I'm not that surprised Percy's agreeing with his boyfriend," he finished with a rude little curl of his nose.

Hermione shouted back that Winky hadn't done anything, but Ron butted in saying that he still wanted that Mark explained. Hermione turned on him and said that was You-Know-Who's symbol, something she'd read about in a book.

"Of course she did," Lily snorted, that felt like Hermione's answer to everything.

Arthur quietly added on it hadn't been seen in over thirteen years, it made perfect sense why people had panicked, it felt like seeing You-Know-Who back. Ron was still frowning though, saying it was just a symbol. Arthur tried again, telling that this mark was left over people who You-Know-Who had killed.

Causing the four around Harry to shiver, leading him to wonder and smother the question all at once who they'd found this mark hovering over. He decided he didn't want to know.

Trying to explain how much fear it instilled in people, coming home to your house and seeing that, knowing the very worst was inside...

Lily paled to the color of new snow, cuddling her baby all the closer to her.

Remus and James winced like they'd just been socked in the gut, but Sirius had the worst reaction. He'd lived that nightmare vividly in his dreams the previous night, coming over to find James and Lily...the only reason that mark had been absent was because no one was left alive to cast it...coupled together with the one responsible for it. He made a keening noise, shaking his head violently to get rid of that. He kept seeing it every time he closed his eyes, no need to dwell on it when he could give an unconvincing smirk to them now that he was just fine and could play this off as long as he dared.

it was everyone's worst fear.

"Okay, I'm appeased, Ron and Harry get it now," James murmured, deciding he'd never complain again about something Harry didn't know involving this type of thing.

There was a thick silence in the tent before Bill finally spoke up again, saying that whoever had cast it tonight had done them at least one favor. It scared the Death Eaters away, they all Disapparated the moment they saw it, and they'd only just caught the Roberts in time.

Giving them all a sigh of relief again. They had not forgotten what had started this whole mess, and it was a very good thing that Bill hadn't mentioned they'd been injured.

Explaining they were having their memories fixed now.

"Best thing that can happen to them," Remus gave a sad shake to his head, wanting to strangle every last one of those Death Eaters all over again at the thought of those poor Muggles suffering through that.

Harry repeated back the term Death Eaters in surprise, and Bill said that's what You-Know-Who's followers had called themselves. The ones they'd seen tonight were those who'd wriggled themselves out of Azkaban. Arthur tried to say there wasn't any proof it was them,

"Who else would it be?" Sirius asked, wishing to mock, but the tone wouldn't come as he would have been glad for an alternate answer.

but then relented it probably was. Ron perked up then, telling everyone what Malfoy had said to them about his Dad being out there. Harry then asked what was the point of doing that to those Muggles.

'Please stay that naive forever' Lily mentally sighed, brushing her baby's hair from his forehead for just a moment, as a reminder that scar wasn't there yet. While she never wanted it to, it was clear how much fiction that dream was since Harry hadn't even asked this now. He hadn't questioned this terrible act, even at his regrowing pace of learning he was already so much more aware of the crueler side of the world then Lily would ever wish her child to know.

Arthur looked sadly at Harry as he said the point had been for fun. What those Death Eaters had done tonight was their idea of entertainment. Ron then asked if those were You-Know-Who's supporters, why would they run at the sight of You-Know-Who's symbol? Shouldn't they have been happy? Bill told Ron to use his head,

"I thought it was a fair question," Harry said with a shrug, as he'd been wanting to ask it as well, but wondering if Ron would for him since he'd had a similar face to what Harry was feeling at the time.

explaining those Death Eaters were the ones who'd gone out of their way to denounce and say You-Know-Who had forced them to do all of that. They'd be as afraid as anyone if You-Know-Who came back, they'd have some retribution to pay.

Sirius gave a twisted little smirk that honestly scared the others, they didn't really want to know what his mind had jumped to, but it wasn't hard to picture either. One Death Eater in particular stuck out to all of them now, picturing that pathetic little rat and his hatred of being returned to his master. Those other loose Death Eaters would probably get much the same treatment if they ever found out any remnant of Voldemort existed. Not that they hoped this at all, the less people out helping Voldemort, willingly or not, the better.

Hermione then asked of the person who had shown the Dark Mark tonight, had they done it in support, or to scare off those Death Eaters?

"My guess is a combination of the two," Lily offered with a small frown, still hating to linger on this subject, but that was a good question. "They'd be showing off that they were winning, but warning it was time to go as well."

"I'm still trying to shake the feeling it wasn't left over a dead body," Remus shuddered, "and that individual wasn't doing some old time celebrating of his own."

"Thank you Sunshine," James groaned.

"That one was terrible," Sirius snorted in true amusement again. "I never understood why you tried to pitch an opposite of our nicknames that day."

"Thought it added an extra layer of mystery," James shrugged, managing to return the smile.

Arthur sighed her guess was as good as anyone's. Then he ushered they should all try to get some shuteye before they went out soon to grab a Portkey. Harry crawled back into his bed, but this time no Quidditch fantasies came to mind to help him relax. He instead let his mind spin back, to three days ago when his scar had awoken him with a burning pain. Now tonight, Voldemort's mark had appeared again. What did it all mean?

Lily's teeth started chattering as she huddled into herself, keeping her baby wrapped protectively in her arms and never wanting to let go. None of them had put those two things together until just now, but Harry was right, and they couldn't have felt worse about it.

'Nothing good' was the one thought that ran through all of their minds for his thought, and yet none of them could bear to say it in hopes they were wrong.

He thought of the letter he had written to Sirius, would he have gotten it yet?

For the first time since this had started, James felt no spike of jealousy in hearing Harry's first thought of help flit to Sirius. He'd happily take the idea Sirius was out there worrying about Harry like this.

James decided right then he wanted more than anything for Harry to work out with Dumbledore and the Weasleys that he'd in fact gotten a new dog and it would be with him at all times now! He'd take every minor annoyance in the world from his brother if he could have some more reassurances Harry would just be that little more safe.

Harry hoped he'd get a reply soon, and was left wondering on these things the rest of the night.

Harry gave one last deep sigh of discontent, already longing for that happy mood of the last chapter as he gave the book to Remus.

HPHPHPHPHP

*I recognized Harry should have questioned this long before now, it has been mentioned many times before, but even I forget sometimes Harry shouldn't have some knowledge that seems obvious. Can't go back and fix it now, just put all previous mentions of them not being questioned by Harry down to the fact that he worked it out himself considering the light they were being discussed in.

**No, really though, did anyone else besides me read this moment and think 'Horror movie alert' Harry is officially the dumb blonde of the series.

[nct-jungjaehyun]

[10:48pm] ever since that time you hung out with the rest of the boys, jaehyun has been letting you use his phone freely. you asked for it to play games, because he has a lot of storage, and he never minded. as time went by, you began to just take it and use it, and he was okay with it. he had nothing to hide.

however, recently you noticed the abundance of notifications he gets from instagram after he made his new instagram account. he asked you beforehand and you were so sure that it was a great idea to connect with fans, but you’re beginning to doubt yourself. not only that, he had also been hiding his phone and taking phone calls privately.

you jumped as another notification popped from the device in your hands.

‘ComE meet me outsiDe in 15 miNNutes IM comLng over tTo y0ur houze’

out of instinct, your finger tapped furiously at the notification and it was from another girl.

she looked really young and pretty, which boiled your stomach. her user doesn’t ring a bell at all, unfortunately. well, jaehyun never talks to you about any other girls he knows.

you scrolled up to read any other messages, but they were mostly really relaxed texting, nothing special.

you had no choice. you decided to delete the message. if jaehyun sees it and meets her outside, who knows what will happen?

your heart pounded as your finger hovered over the delete button.

in the end, you couldn’t bring yourself to doing it. you decided to not click it. you were already in the wrong for looking through his phone. you can’t make another dumb mistake by deleting his messages. he has a right to decide who he wants to be with. you wish it to be you, but the decision is his to make.

you exit the app and toss his phone around in your hands. just then, jaehyun walks into your shared room.

he climbs into bed beside you and cuddles your waist. “hey baby,” he sighs.

you automatically shove his phone on the opposite side and slide down the bed into his embrace. “hey,” you respond back weakly.

after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches over you to grab his phone.

he always checks his phone before sleeping to set an alarm and look through his groupchat. he leaves the 97 line groupchat on mute, though.

you forgot one thing, the mysterious message must’ve marked read because you touched it. that means that he’ll know you snuck into his dms. oh no!

panic spread through your body when he tensed under your fingertips. you wrapped your arms tighter around his waist. you don’t want him to leave.

“baby, uh, i need to go downstairs a bit,” jaehyun said.

you pretended to be nonchalant, “hm? why? Is there some-, something wrong?”

you wished that stutter wasn’t there, ugh.

he shook his head slightly, “no, everything’s fine. just go back to sleep. i’ll be right back, i promise, okay?”

you bit your lip and nodded reluctantly. you were glad he didn’t mention the part about his message being read, but you didn’t want to see him go.

he climbed out of bed and pulled the covers over you. before you can call him back, he already turned off the lights and left the room.

your hands twisted together nervously. who was she? why was she texting him? why has he never mentioned her to you? is everything going to be okay?

your legs rushed you downstairs and you bolted through the doors in your way. you slowed when you reached the front doorsteps. you creeped behind the staircase wall and peeked out to see what was going on.

they weren’t at a close distance so you can’t exactly hear their words. their voices were very muffled, but you swear you heard her mention your name.

you gasped when she threw her arms around him. jaehyun slammed her arms away and pushed her away, sending her stumbling backwards. her figure was a bit drunk, almost ghostly. he then marched to the street to call a taxi.

the next thing he did shocked you. he lifted the girl by her arm and tossed her into the cab. before she drove away, you can see how she looked through the window. her makeup was smeared and mascara ran down her eyes from the tears. her bloodshot eyes confirmed her drunken state.

you looked back over at jaehyun, who was currently sighing and rubbing his palm over his eyes. he seemed really stressed.

before you knew it, he was walking back towards the house, which was where you were hiding.

you had no time to think and you quickly turned to run up the stairs. your feet caught the puddle of water in the middle of the stairs before your eyes did and your sandal slipped. gravity launched you forward, but a force yanked you backwards into something sturdy, jaehyun’s chest. beside you was jaehyun’s muscular arm, holding you steady.

he twirled you around to face him, “are you alright? what was that? didn’t i tell you to stay in bed?”

you grabbed your heart and huffed, “no, that was terrifying, oh my god.”

he showed a cheeky grin, “let’s get you back up in bed before your clumsiness lands you in the hospital. what would you do without me?”

you laughed nervously. you know it was a joke, but what he said hit you hard. what would you do without him?

he sat you on a chair and rubbed your ankle to make sure it wasn’t sprained or hurt or anything.

“does this hurt?” he would ask when he examined your foot.

every single time, you said no, but it was because your heart hurt more.

he noticed how down you seemed and ended up dragging you to bed.

you laid there with so many thoughts running in your mind. the same questions were listed in your head and they were still left unanswered. it bothered you, but you can’t ask jaehyun. not after you checked his phone, anyway.

jaehyun interrupted your thoughts when he leaned over you to ask, “are you not sleepy yet? do you want to play some games? i know it’ll get you tired and help you sleep. subway surfers? candy crush?”

your mouth slightly opened.

he handed you his phone, “here, only for a little bit, though. it’s not good for your eyes to play so late.”

your fingers wrapped around his phone, and the ring on your finger caught your attention. it was a promise ring jaehyun gave you. you two promised to be honest with one another. you should come clean.

“jaehyun, is it okay if i talk to you for a little bit?” you asked timidly.

“yeah,” he sat up, “what is it?”

“earlier tonight, i looked at your dms and i read your messages.”

“so then you ran downstairs?”

you froze, “you, you knew?”

you couldn’t read his eyes. they were still and they stared back at you unforgivingly.

your hands waved back and forth, “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to. i just saw the message and i panicked and i began thinking that you’ll leave me and then i-”

before you can finish, jaehyun’s lips pushed against yours. you kissed him back and arched your back from his strong kiss. his hand landed on the small of your back.

when he pulled away, you weren’t breathless, but it was a sweet kiss that left butterflies in your stomach.

“baby, i’m sorry for being secretive with my phone lately. it’s my fault for making you suspicious.” he started.

you shook your head, “no, don’t...”

he took ahold of your hand, “the girl i was texting was a junior of mine. she let go of being a trainee and i supported her. but she went down the wrong path, she joined a modeling agency and it turned out to be a scam. she did it out of jealousy.”

“jealousy?”

“right after she left SM, you joined and debuted immediately.”

“so i took her spot?”

“no, don’t ever think that. you didn’t take her spot. i never told her until tonight either, but i found out that SM never planned to debut her. she was talented and had the looks, but her personality was horrible. her kindness was just to deceive the public. it was what mark told me last week when i asked, because they used to know each other on mickey mouse club.”

you nodded for jaehyun to carry on.

“she did all this to get my attention, because if she gets my validation, then it would mean she’s better than you. there was no chemistry between us. i only saw her as a junior. i thought it was best to hide it from you. i didn’t want anything between us to change.”

“things between us did change. this brought us closer. this just means that we have to be honest with each other.”

he smiled and pulled you into his arms for a big bear hug.

his voice was soft beside your ear, “i’ll be honest from now on. feel free to check my phone whenever you want. look through it proudly, i’m okay with it. you’re my girlfriend, you can do anything.”

that night just before falling asleep, you heard his soft whisper, “i mentioned earlier, what would you do without me. i don’t know what i would do without you either.” he sealed it with a soft kiss on your forehead.

[yugyummygot7reactions]

Into the Night - 6

Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

Finale tomorrow!!!! 8pm!!!

Pairing: Youngjae x You

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1819

Warnings: Solo Play

And just like that he was gone. As you drifted to sleep, you thought you felt someone still watching you, but you didn’t think Jinyoung would have stayed around for a round two.

You looked around and saw no one there, but what you didn’t know is that when the clock struck midnight there would be someone standing in the corner, ready for his own fun with you.

As midnight passed, a young man appeared in the room next to the bed, inches from your sleeping face. “I hope you don’t sleep as long as last time,” he said as he tried to brush your hair from your eyes, his hand instead gliding through your skin, “I only have one day a year to be seen and heard safely and I don’t want to waste it alone. Why do ghosts have to only have Devil’s Night to wander? Wouldn’t it make more sense for a demon to have that restriction?” The voice woke you up. It was smooth and gave you goosebumps. You slowly looked around and saw the faint image of a young man next to your bed. A transparent man. “You’re awake!” he loudly exclaimed, shocking you off of the opposite side of the bed. “Sorry,” he immediately apologized before floating towards you. “Who-“ You started, “I’m Youngjae,” He smiled and held out his hand. You reached out to shake it and your hand went right through his. “Well…I was Youngjae when I was living. Now I’m just your other world boy next door.” You stared dumbfounded. “You’re one of the monsters?” You asked as you approached him, looking at all of his features as closely as you could. “Monster? Sure, I guess. I’m not from here if that’s what you mean…well…this world…now…I used to be from this world. This was actually my old house before I died.” “How did you…” You didn’t know how to politely ask the question. “Die?” he laughed at your concern for his feelings, “Jaebeom.” He shrugged like that was normal. “Did you meet him yet? He’s actually quite cool. We crossed the threshold to this realm together during the portal opening.” “He killed you and you’re friends with him?” You looked at him confused as you adjusted the sheets that were acting as your only cover from the attractive man in front of you. “I mean…killing me was an accident and sort of my fault…so yea!” “How is him killing you your fault?” You were so confused. “He turned me into a vampire, with my permission, but then I freaked out when I had to drink blood from a living person to make the whole eternal life thing stick. I felt too guilty hurting someone else. So I just didn’t do it…and I died…” He looked so nonchalant, like he was telling you what he had for dinner last night. “You asked for eternal life in the living realm and ended up cutting your life short in the process?” “Yup,” He smiled, “I still have eternal life, but I can’t touch anyone. It’s annoying.” He pouted. “I did it to myself though. I didn’t think the whole vampire thing through before telling Jaebeom I wanted it.” You were astounded at his childishness. “So you can’t even touch other ghosts?” You put your hand through his chest. “Nope, but I do have a fun trick that lets me touch people for a while.” Before you knew it, the whisp of a man flew towards you at alarming speed. The next thing you knew, you had a voice in your head and no control of your body. “Cool, right?” He asked as he held your hands up in front of you. “Possession is fun in the right person. You smell like lemons. Jinyoung smells like amber, Jaebeom smells like old spice.” You laughed at his comments, but this was freaky. You had zero control. “Very funny, now get out. We can hang, but I want control of my body back.” “Mmmmmm…not quite yet.” He said with a hint of mischief, “I can only do this once a year and I think some fun is in order.” He made you tap your lips while he thought. “Jinyoung got to have some special fun with you, and now I want to too.” Within seconds the sheets were on the floor and you were back in bed. Your actions were not your own, but you could still feel all the movements and sensations from what Youngjae was doing to you. Your heart was pounding, breath racing, legs quaking. You were tingling all over, and a pleasant shiver going down your spine as Youngjae roamed your hands across your body. You realized you feel something else too; a dampness between your legs that was not there before. “I’ve never possessed a woman before,” Youngjae notified you, “Apparently me getting a ghostly boner gives you the female equivalent. Your hands dip down to your core and rub your slick for a moment before Youngjae brings your fingers up to your mouth. “Let’s both have a taste.” He hummed in delight as he tasted you. “I wish I could be down there tasting this with my own tongue.” He breathlessly said as his hands began to roam your body again. You blushed deep and your face goes hot as the thought of Youngjae not only controlling you, but feeling, seeing, and tasting what you were crossed your mind. You were being pleasured by a ghost. It was the young brunette with the beauty mark by his eye, the one who seemed the most innocent of all the monsters thus far. Your arousal was stronger this time than it had been with the others and you cannot just simply ignore and will it away. After a moment of trying to find a way to get Youngjae out of you, you decided to just cave in and let him help you pleasure yourself. Your hands were gliding over your body, enjoying the pleasant tingle it provides. Youngjae brings your hands up to your breasts and plays with your nipples, which have become hard and raised with the arousal from the both of you. He rubs and pinches them, the sensations traveling straight to your core. You can hear Youngjae shudder with pleasure. He keeps one hand there as he brings the other one down between your legs. Youngjae rubs a finger up and down your seam, collecting moisture, before rubbing the small bud of flesh and sensitive nerves that has become slightly engorged with your arousal. Youngjae gasps at the feeling, as it has been quite some time since he pleasured himself or anyone else. He rubs slow and steady circles with your finger while your other hand still pinches and rubs your nipple, slowly building your collective pleasure. Youngjae releases your nipple and brings your hand down to join the other one, only with this hand, he presses one of your long and slender fingers inside. Youngjae bites your lips at the slightly foreign action. He gives you a moment to adjust, bending your finger and thrusting lightly before he slides another finger inside, rubbing you a bit faster. He scissors your fingers open for a few minutes then adds a third. Despite the events of this week, you are tight, clamping down on your own fingers instinctively, but continues to rub your sensitive spot more firmly. Youngjae was coaxing you to relax. Speaking sweet nothings in your mind and trying to get you to imagine that it’s two of his fingers inside of you. It doesn’t take long before your muscles relax and Youngjae begins thrusting your fingers in and out of you slowly, enjoying the slide and pleasant feeling it provides. He twists your fingers and feels a slightly rough and bumpy patch at the front of your walls. He massages there gently and moans at the wonderful pleasure it causes you both.

You and he realize that your hand outside has stopped and he resumes pleasuring you there while also doing so from within. It doesn’t take long before you feel your climax approaching. Youngjae lifts your hips up as your legs tense, your back arching and your breath hitching as your minds go completely blank, your climax crashing down as wave upon wave of pleasure washes over the both of you. Your body quakes as your muscles clench and pulse around your fingers, which are still buried deep inside. "Oh Youngjae!" You regain control for a split second to call out on pure instinct, riding out your orgasm until your muscles relax again and you collapse back onto the mattress. Youngjae slowly pulls his fingers from your core. You were a bit oversensitive and twitching after experiencing your own pleasure as both yours and his. You both lie there for a few moments until your breathing and heart rate return to a more normal pace. As you both regain your senses and normal thought processes, you realize what you just let Youngjae do and flush red and hot color running across your chest and face, up to the tips of your ears. When Youngjae feels your body is able to stand without your legs giving out from under the both of you, he gets you up and goes to the bathroom to rinse off your fingers and wipe you clean. He even started a bath for you and made sure you were safely in the water relaxing before he pulled himself out of you and hovered near the tub. You instinctively go to cover up, but realize he has done so much more than just seen you naked and you settling for crossing your arms and legs for a little protection. Youngjae’s hair was still perfect, clothes nicely unwrinkled, skin pale as ever, the only change was that you could see his chest heaving. “That was wonderful,” he said as he floated over and settled himself into the tub so you were both sitting facing each other. “Thank you.” He smiled as he looked deep into your eyes. “To repay you for this wonderful time, other than providing you with a full day with me, totally PG rated mind you…well…mostly…” he laughed, “I’m going to help you catch the other monsters.” “I appreciate it, but you can’t grab them and the possession could be dangerous and you can’t possess all of them at once. I just don’t see how you can help.” “Mark Tuan,” He said with a smile. “Who?” You asked, confused. “Mark Tuan,” He said like this man was the most famous human on earth. “There is always a price to pay for his help, but if you need to catch all of them by tomorrow night without any hiccups or brushes with death, you go to Mark.” “How do I find him?” You asked, eager to get this over with. “You find out after a day of Netflix and chill with me.” He smiled, “No exceptions.” You nod in agreement and sigh. If he didn’t only get one day a year to communicate with other people, you would have told him to fuck off. “Who is he?” You ask, curious about how Youngjae might know of someone in the land of the living. “The seventh monster…and your only hope.”

[officialleehadan]

Stay Creepy

Hello darlings! Day 2 of Prompt Month!

This story is brought to you by Memprime, who is an angel and one of my longest supporters. Thank you so much darling. I giggled all the way through this one!

Prompt: This Old House

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“Mallory House is three hundred years old,” Kevin told the film crew and their star, a renowned ‘paranormal investigator’. They were in the sitting room, just after sunset, but he knew better than anyone who dark the old house got as soon as the sun went down. “The original builder was William Mallory, who built it for his wife, Elizabeth.”

The film crew obligingly followed him. The walks creaked ominously as they passed, and the floor groaned like it might give out.

“Is this safe?” the star, who introduced himself as Fred, asked with a dubious glance at the walls. “You said the place was under renovation?”

“I’m a licensed contractor,” Kevin assured him. Apparently, his ‘calm and collected attitude’ was a selling point for the show’s appearance at his house. They were, much to his deep pleasure, broadcasting live. Every ghost in the house was armed and ready to put on the show of a lifetime. “The only in-progress reno is the upstairs bathroom. I’m waiting on a bunch of tiles. This place is totally structurally sound and up to code.”

“Glad to hear it,” Fred muttered as the board under his feet moaned. “…It’s not doing this to you, I notice.”

“Oh, the ghosts like me,” Kevin said, more blasé than anyone who wasn’t confident in the good will of his ghostly housemates should reasonably be. He caught a glimpse of Franklin, who was grinning like pure trouble before he vanished again. Abruptly, footsteps echoed down from the floor above, the distinctive sound of hard-soled men’s shoes. “That’s Franklin.”

“…We thought the house was empty?”

“I mean, the ghosts don’t really leave, but we’re the only people in the house with a pulse.”

“Tell me you’re getting this,” someone hissed behind him. Kevin didn’t look, but it sounded like the producer. “This is gonna be such a great episode.”

“So the ghosts have spoken to you?” Fred asked, noticeably more anxious now, faced by the prospect of actual ghosts. “Madame Sapphire, we don’t usually ask this early, but are you getting anything?”

Madame Sapphire was a young white woman with sparkly butterfly clips in her hair, a whole wrist full of jangly bangles, and an upside-down pentacle at her throat. Not exactly his first thought when he imagined a ‘madame’ of anything.

She was, Kevin noticed, also looking nervous.

“There is death in this house,” she said, apparently willing to rally when the cameras turned to her. She couldn’t quite hide the fear in her eyes. “Centuries of pain and fear. I sense…. A presence.”

A cold hand landed on Kevin’s shoulder. He didn’t jump as William, visage that of the gentleman he once was before he died, flickered into view for just a single heartbeat, and was gone again.

Madame Sapphire was the only one besides Kevin to see William, and screamed. She attempted to lunge backwards, ran into a wall, and screamed again when the hand she threw out to steady herself came back bloody.

“Are you hurt?!” the producer, who had formerly been adamant about staying behind the scenes, demanded as he shoved between the cameras. “Medic! Let me see?”

“The walls bleed sometimes,” Kevin told them casually as they gingerly entered the kitchen to examine Madam Sapphire’s hand. It was, he knew, not injured. There was nothing sharp or fragile available for injuries. This crew was pretty notorious for breaking things, and Elizabeth didn’t want her beautiful house to fall victim to their clumsiness. “Oh, uh, watch out for the-“

The garbage disposal turned on with a roar.

Nobody was anywhere near the switch.

The kitchen erupted into pandemonium.

Kevin stepped out of the way as Madam Sapphire took off, down the hall, straight through Henry, and out the front door.

She could run surprisingly fast in those glittery heels. He was impressed. Henry traded bemused stares with him, hidden by the angle of the hallway, and vanished into silver smoke.

“How are you so chill?” Fred demanded when they managed to sort themselves out and the cameras were mostly steady again. “You live here?”

“I told you the ghosts like me,” Kevin said with a shrug, and walked over to turn off the disposal. “They’re not super dangerous. Mostly. Okay, Elizabeth’s pretty dangerous when she doesn’t like someone, but-“

“Are you talking about Elizabeth Mallory?!”

“Oh, yeah. She and William are still here. She tried to kill me for a while, but we worked things out.”

They were starting to realize that he wasn’t joking. He could see the way they stole glances at the door, and at each other, and considered following Madam Sapphire’s glittery example.

“If you decide to run for it,” he said, since none of them had, yet, “Watch out for the molding, okay? It took forever to match it to the old stuff.”

“Uh,” Fred muttered, shaky and not happy about his current life choices. “Let’s talk about- about the ghosts, huh? You mentioned a ‘Franklin’ earlier?”

Maybe he was made of sterner stuff than Kevin thought. He hadn’t run yet. Some of the camera guys were shuffling inch by inch for the door. At least they seemed to be minding the walls. Probably more because of the possibility that they would start bleeding than any real worry for the house.

“Yeah, Franklin Bennet” he said, and tried to remember Franklin’s history. Unfortunately, he drew a blank, and sighed. “Franklin? What year were you born?”

“1907,” Franklin said from the door. Kevin could just barely make out Henry behind him. The entire film crew froze at the sight of the ghosts in the door way. The two ghostly men straightened, the product of an age long gone. “Hello.”

For a moment, there was absolute silence in the kitchen as the humans stared at the ghosts, and the ghosts stared back.

Fred was the first to bolt.

The rest of the film crew followed, hollering and tripping over themselves as they all fought to be the first ones out the door. There was a frantic scramble when three of them got wedged in the door and the rest piled up behind them, but soon they were out, and running as fast as their legs would take them for the vans they came in.

Kevin looked around at their abandoned film equipment and sighed. Most of it could wait until tomorrow, when he could pack it up and send it back to them.

For now, however…

He picked up one of the fallen cameras, the light on the side promising that it was still running, and pointed it at himself awkwardly.

“Thanks for checking out Mallory House with me,” he said dryly. “We’re taking reservations if you want to see what all the fuss is about. Have a good night, folks. If he was still here,  Fred would tell you to Stay Creepy!”

+++

This Old House:

A haunted house isn’t the usual first choice for a fixer-upper, but Keven likes horror movies, and doesn’t mind when his ghost throw things, as long as they don’t damage the new paint.

Experienced Home-Buying

Living Negotiation (Subscriber-Only!)

White Roses and Deck Railings 

Bats at Twilight

Difference of Opinion

Art Treasures of Old

Malicious Smile (Subscriber-Only!)

Family Night (Free on Patreon!)

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More Stories!

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[sylph-feather]

delta echo alpha delta

Summary: 

He is here, for some reason, in this place and with these people he vaguely recognizes. He wants help. Please, please, please. 

(All they see is a haunting and a monster.)

Prompt by @ectopal

“Jack and Maddie, at the end of their rope,  beg Vlad to come to Amity to help stop the ghost that's haunting their family. Vlad realizes that it isn't a ghost that's terrorizing them, but their son, who recently became a half ghost and is having just about the worst time in the world dealing with it. Bonus points if in his human form Danny is extremely unsettling. ”

Notes:  (yes the title is from lemon demon’s lifetime achievement award). this... i spent. way longer setting it up so sorry about minimal vlad but. uhh im really proud of this. i went. i went a little nuts, admittedly. with imagery. i hope its not incomprehensible? 

Wordcount: 2825

Being dead… is new.

The Phantom isn’t sure just how it is new, it contemplates as it stares at two children who scream and scrabble at a smoking portal. Blank in their terror, they ignore him.

His eyes flicker towards a mirror on the other side of the room, and it only shows the two of them.

The phantom ignores them— who is he to interrupt? Dead men tell no tales. He gets the distinct feeling that everything is wrong, and a piece of that puzzle is the pair’s odd familiarity— but hey, he just died, he’s really not feeling up to much of anything.

Green eyes stare in the mirror, but that’s all he is— two green wisps, apparently ignored in the panic of two teens.

He supposes he should feel weirder having, presumably, died. No, he innately knows he died.

But mostly he just feels… confusion. Displacement.

And cold, not unpleasantly so, just a buried, almost peaceful chill.

In between blinks— perhaps he is tired, so tired, dead tired (he laughs to himself), the two teens flicker away, basement restored, before he can even think about questioning them. Why are you so familiar? Why am I here? It pokes sharply at his heart.

For the phantom knows he is dead, but he never considered that means alive once, too tired and dead-brained (hah) to question implication.

The ghost of Danny Fenton closes its wispy eyes, not strong enough to maintain form, let alone to pervade that shock scrabble at memories that may lead him to living again.

xXx

Three days pass. The ghost, in moments of waking, had decided Phantom. There is something so familiar about that name, the way it rolls off his (hypothetical) tongue.

In between blinks, he sees the Family in the basement, that place of awakening.

They speak of someone missing, lost. They gesture to the green, swirling abyss, upset as they work on something that looks like a rocket. Rocket. Stars pervade his mind as he lazily blinks, and he falls back asleep to dreams of space before he can even think again of questioning the Family, of asking can I help?

He knows what it is to be lost, but he is too tired and unfocussed.

xXx

The one with the firey, long hair notices him first. He has taken to floating about the abode. Nothing physical keeps him here, but there is some tug in his heart that makes him want to stay.

He likes the red haired one. She reads a lot. Talks about bad coping to the Parents, though he’s not sure what those words mean (he’s unsure also why he gets the feeling of vague annoyance, oddly familiar, and the stinging in his chest becomes so painful when he thinks like that, like a scorpion’s deadly barbed stinger).

One day, one higher energy day, a week after the awakening, Phantom lazily swishes after her, into her room. Sometimes he blinks and he hears the swishes of pages and a drip of water, and he has enough energy now to be curious.

The doors, the walls, the floor— they’re all nothing. Or maybe, rather, he’s nothing, he observes as he notes the girl crying on her psych book.

He frowns, distantly. She’ll ruin the pages like that. Maybe there’s something more he should be concerned about, but he is so young and lost, and so tired.

He runs a finger along a page, rolling away a tear, in an effort to dry it. The pages flutter in a wind, and the girl startles, glancing at the closed window.

For just a moment, Phantom sees not two piercing green wisps, but something blue and glinting, and a fragment of a foggy body in his place. He glances down— there is no second person here.

He’s distracted by the fact the girl is crying again, harder, scrubbing her eyes.

Distressed, he thumbs at her face, and a cool, wintery wind blows over her hair.

He’s too tired to do much more, and his chill becomes like a blanket to him.

xXx

It’s small, but maybe Phantom can help the family. His waking moments get more frequent and longer, and he starts to fidget with objects; the daughter cries, and he rustles her hair. The mother sleeps on her research of the great swirling door, and he drapes a foggy arm over her. The father squints into darkness at his foggy form as he goes down for a midnight snack— then blinks and rubs his eyes. He flickers the computers off when they should be sleeping, touches at their shoulders in comfort, because he wants to help them and he wants to be with them so bad. The flailing stinger pierces again and again.

“We’ll find him,” the Parents insists, and the Phantom tries to support them as best he can. The Daughter has given up, but he tries to help her, too.

Bluntly, the Phantom notes perhaps he is not exactly selfless— one of the few concrete truths he knows of himself (the other being an enjoyment of word play; he’s twisted dead and ghost every which way). There is some innate desire within him to be with them; seen, known, interacted with.

At the moment, he’s not more than a blustering wind and a foggy reflection.

He sinks to the floor, ghostly sigh escaping his ever invisible lungs. He’s wondered if ghosts are supposed to breathe as he does, but it’s not like anyone’s around to ask. His crackled voice is never heard by the Family, responded to by nothing but icy silence.

He brushes a hand against the cold lab table from his floating position. His hands feel solid to him, but again, do not reach the Family.

The Phantom takes a look around at the toxic green beakers and sleek white tech. He is slipping away again, not that he wants to— but not that he has a choice.

In what feel like his last moments for the day (week? Month? Time is undefinable) he grasps at a beaker, curious.

Green oozes onto the floor as it blows over. Frantically, the Phantom tries to correct his mistake— but touching it… touching it feels good. A jolt of electricity and energy. The tiredness… is gone.

Something flickers beneath him, and the Phantom jumps into the air. White feet follow black legs. Him.

The mirror that showed green wisps and two teens now show a white haired boy, with two green eyes. Something seems… underneath that reflection, though. Approaching the mirror, Phantom tilts his head, and the picture glints into something blue eyes and black haired for a fraction of a second, as though it is iridescent.

And then he blinks out altogether again.

xXx

Phantom’s first appearance is in the night. The girl has put away her book she was crying over while reading in the kitchen, and the Parents are upstairs; they eat, softly, quiet. It’s like walking in snow. The cold is not tranquil, the flakes not soft, they are just sharp things that land quietly in flesh.

The Phantom decides to break it with an icy crunch.

From the shadows, from the floors, he claws at that energy.

The Family stare in shock at the white haired, green eyed form that flickers in the shadows.

Their ears ring as his form, like static snowflakes, glints into something familiar, as they sit frozen.

xXx

He sleeps again, after that stunt— but the Phantom wakes, hopeful. The Family is searching for the lost person— perhaps they will also be sympathetic to his cause. Maybe they don’t even need to find the lost one, Phantom considers; this feels so much like home, maybe… maybe. No, no, you can both get help, he scolds in gentle reminder to himself, reminding those thoughts are the scoprion’s poison. It’s not malevolent— it just, in some way, he just knows he’ll slot in like a missing puzzle piece. He doesn’t know how he knows, and thoughts like that make the urge of please see me, the love, the need, grow so strong.

His voice reaches them in a static scream; he gives that approach up quickly when the Parents shoot into the nothing. He doesn’t want to scare, he wants to be helped, and to help. He’s finally a little less braindead (his chuckle is tinny static) and can contemplate a little more emotionally complicated situations— in other words, he can tell continuing to screech is perhaps not the best idea, and perhaps more subtlety that is available to him with his increased thoughts is required.

The TV channels, the word magnets, the radio. Static and the message lost lost lost please help lost lost forgot forgot see me see see see seeseeseeseesee me.

The Phantom feels his message is going well until the Family destroys those things in a green fire.

I need your help, though, he grimaces. Perhaps they just aren’t getting it. The dead cannot speak, are not supposed to; he knows this when he writes messages, something grating in his mind that keeps him from communicating all but his basic thoughts and wants.

Determined still, he starts flickering into existence again, clawing out of shadows. Lights flicker at his arrival.

It’s hard to do much like that, though; his brain dies (more?) and it’s all his concentration of see me see me.

The Family shoots at him, and more sleek machinery invades the household— defenses.

It doesn’t hurt him.

But… if he gets frustrated, slams at the fixtures a little harder than needed, rakes the words into place to try to say something, who can blame him? The Phantom, for some reason he cannot explain, feels the Family is his family. The Phantom wants to be seen. The universe tries to keep the dead in line, restrain the dead from disrupting that natural order of their old life and their afterlife. It’s a lot of factors, the Phantom dismisses, very much like a sassy teenager, and slams a door a little harder to get someone to notice.

The real problem is that they notice, then react in all the wrong ways. But the Phantom cannot swallow that, that his efforts are squandered, because then where would he be?

xXx

By the time the Fentons are valiant enough to get Vlad to get the “gang” back together, the creature is a constant. The ghost scrapes its filthy claws over the lights, resides in mirrors, screams over anything electronic— and their tech puts no stop to it. It’s like it has a foot in each world, caught between the ghost zone’s intangibility that would let it not be hurt but make it challenging to interact and the human realm’s solidity that would allow it to be wounded.

It is too powerful.

xXx

The Phantom can feel that the irritated old man is powerful. Something about his eyes glints red, in that same iridescent way that something inside Phantom’s green eyes glint blue like a glacier, if you just tilt your head and squint just right.

The Parents, who the Phantom has grown wary of— and yet he’s still here— why? It feels so much like home. He wants it to be home, because it’s always felt his place. Maybe that missing person doesn’t need to be found— maybe he can—no, no, remember!— the Parents, they are ranting about ghosts loudly. The man is impassive, and the Phantom plays with tilting his head just right to get the man’s skin to flood blue.

“I think it’s Danny,” Daughter says softly. That name stings him, but Phantom doesn’t think Daughter means to hurt him. She, Phantom still likes. She looks at him when he shows, looks at him like someone is concerned, even if she cries harder than ever nowadays (maybe Phantom is just awake to see it more, but he notes the constant redness of eyes and face is new, so maybe not). She doesn’t destroy his messages, just stares. Not helpful in the least, he notes sarcastically, plucking at the invisible yet black (—how can it be both? How can he be two things that are so opposite and parallel?) jumpsuit of his (how can it exist when he never can exist, so many hows).

“That isn’t Danny,” the Parents cement, and Phantom frowns. The name stings again, the scorpion sitting perched upon a rib and taking personal offence to that person. Who is Danny?

xXx

Watching the old man is tiring and boring. Phantom doesn’t have enough energy to reach him, to say help me (because the old man has the glint and that has to mean something) so he decides to change that.

When he sleeps, he dreams of so many glinting things. Flickering figures of the Family and the Teens that visit sometimes. But they are just ghosts of memories.

xXx

It is in the night when he wakes up, green eyes staring at the silver pool moon, pleased as he ever is staring at those stars.

A breath passes his lips, and his nonexistent form shudders. Someone—!

“You must change back,” the ghost he saw in glints of the old man says. Belatedly, he introduces— “I am Plasmius, and I am… like you.”

“You see me,” Phantom murmurs, breath foggy. No, that isn’t right. The ghost is squinting in general directions, as though Phantom is a glimmer in his eye. Phantom is a glimmer in his own eye in the mirror, so he understands.

“You are... foggy,” the blue ghost amends, confirming Phantom’s thoughts. “Something about you is wrong.”

“Thanks,” Phantom says sarcastically (a new ability, a new joke that he loves), “tell me something I don’t know.”

“What happened to you?” the ghost asks.

“I woke up,” Phantom says bluntly. “I’m here now. They won’t help me.”

“Their son— they ignored their son?”

“They have a Son?” Phantom’s eyes flutter— “is he the lost one?”

xXx

The ghost went back to flickering inside the old man, because the Mother charged in.

“Oh,” she sighed, “it’s just you.”

“Yes,” he says, and he glimmers and shows fangs and horns, “just me.”

Phantom does not like the way he is looking at the Mother, but he’s not that good at judging subtleties in people still, so he lets that feeling pass.

xXx

The next… Phantom isn’t sure if it’s the day, he fell asleep, but his naps are less and less, so he feels safe in calling it the next day… the next day, the ghost flickers out of the old man to float with him again.

“How do you do that?” Phantom wonders. Is it the key to not being seen, to guise oneself as one of them, as not dead?

“You should be able to do it, too,” the ghost mutters, “I see it in you.”

“The blue eyes and the black hair,” Phantom breathes. Like a bird feather that shows green at an angle, so too does his other, and this ghost is the same.

“But you are unstable,” Plasmius informs in a frown. “You never settled into one world, so you are stuck unable to traverse between them.”

Phantom blinks, confused, and Plasmius heaves a sigh of thin patience.

“You flicker a lot more than I do,” he informs bluntly, in a tone that suggests perhaps Phantom is an idiot. “And,” he tacks on, more contemplatively, “you seem to not remember anything, as though you’ve separated yourself from that essential connection.”

“Connection,” Phantom echoes, and he yearns for that connection. His entire soul keens for it, to fill that hole.

“Yes Danny,” Plasmius grunts, and that scorpion strikes again, “a connection.”

“I’m Phantom,” he defends, tapping at his ribs like he can knock the stinging creature off, away from his vulnerable chest.

“You’re both,” Plasmius says.

“Danny is the other?” Phantom asks.

“The blue eyes and the black hair? Yes. He is your glint, and he is the lost one, and he is just you.”

“Oh,” Phantom breathes, and the scorpion is writhing and striking his heart and itself and his ribs and— and—

He passes out, green eyes going out like a light.

—But the flickers, the flickers finger around him, crawling over his form like electricity for a moment, and his form is a patchwork of two, and his mind is a flood of memory.

xXx

“I defeated the ghost, last night, and he gave me your son,” Plasmius’ old-man voice rings.

And Phantom is Danny and Danny is Phantom— and as usual he sleeps. Memories came in dreams, an eruption after so long of being dammed, brought forth at simple acceptance. Despite the dreaming, or rather because of it, he is achingly tired, with zero energy.

This time, his family (the Family, the same) surrounds him in warmth, in that thread of connection, and inside, in more normal and soft dreams, he feels something become filled.

The scorpion crawls away into the soft, soft snow.

[lesetoilesfous]

Exhausted parent kiss. But I can't choose a ship! Your choice ❤

I finally wrote this! It got, very long, but I had fun. I hope you enjoy!

(If you want me to write you a Dragon Age ficlet, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Rating: Teen and up

Pairing: f!handers

Characters: Marian Hawke, Anders, OC kids

Tags: Fluff, the most dysfunctional happy family

“What do you mean you didn’t ride a three headed griffin into battle?”

Anders tries very, very hard not to sigh. Malcolm stares up at him with eyes as bright, brown and demanding as his own. Next to him, Karl tries and fails to stifle his giggles, causing him to turn a curious shade of red. Further up the bed, Leandra is watching all the three of them with determined disapproval. Her frown does not, however, hide the curiosity in her eyes. 

Anders sits back on the bed, and the straw mattress huffs a little with the movement. Malcolm scrambles backwards on the rough wool blankets to make room for him. Anders scratches his beard: it’s longer and thicker now than it’s ever been before. But Marian insists she likes it, and he hasn’t grown to hate it yet. Varric says it makes him look dignified, which Anders has tried not to take as the insult it probably is. As if he hadn’t been dignified before. 

“And where, exactly, did you hear this?”

“Mum said it!” Karl says, quickly and loudly, before Malcolm can reply. Malcolm whirls on his twin, eyes wide.

“Really? You didn’t say that before!” Even more excited now, betrayed mostly by the blue sparks falling around his short, plump fingers, Malcolm turns back to Anders. “Did she ride into battle with you? Did she have her own griffin? Was it bigger than yours? Did it have four heads?”

Anders tries very hard not to laugh, catching his son’s hands and letting his own magic wash over them, calming and soothing him before they find themselves putting out yet another accidental fire. All three children perk up at that, Leandra and Karl crawling closer on the bed to get a better look. Anders catches the blue light of his own magic in the reflection of his son’s brown eyes, and they betray nothing but wonder. Something in his chest aches. Outside the window, pigeons coo in the eaves. 

“I heard the griffons went extinct.” Leandra says, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Anders frowns a little as she does so. It really needs a wash, but Leandra is apparently at the age at which she has far more, better things to do than bathing. Anders releases Malcolm’s hands when he pulls at them, and sighs, adjusting himself on the bed again. The smell of hay and wool and three small children fills his mouth and nose. He doesn’t try to fight his smile. Instead, Anders sits back, and pulls on his magic again, conjuring an illusion. 

His children scramble closer as he does so, and Anders grins and leans back a little as Malcolm all but climbs into his lap, reaching up to poke the translucent, glowing blue apparition of a tiny griffon above his head. “They did.” Anders waves his hand, conjuring a horde of Grey Wardens (the king of Ferelden, the head of the Antivan crows, Divine Justinia...Nate, Sigrun, Velanna - even Oghren, sitting awkwardly on a stocky creature smaller than the others. At the head of the pack is the Warden herself, as furiously brave as Anders had ever seen her.) Anders waves his hand, and the wardens swoop over the childrens’ heads on their griffons. Malcolm jumps after them, and Karl reaches up to bat Alistair out of the air. Leandra stares, blues eye wide and bright.  

Anders clears his throat, “There was a time, when Ferelden was facing a terrible Blight.” He twists his hand, and a great draconic archdemon emerges from the air. Karl’s face falls as he glares at it, and Anders frowns a little, reaching out to ruffles his son’s messy black hair. As soon as he does, Karl’s seriousness dissipates, melting into a wide, toothy grin. Anders smiles, and waves his hand again. Two figures: Alistair and the Warden, form out of the light. “And only two Grey Wardens were left to save us all. No griffins. No army. The traitorous Teyrn Loghain had even made them enemies of the people, falsely claiming that they had betrayed King Cailan.” Anders summons a cartoonish Loghain, and Malcolm boos, shifting to sit more comfortably, cross-legged on the mattress. Leandra has found and is somewhat throttling the black bear Merrill had stitched for her. Karl moves a little closer to his brother. Anders smiles, enjoying the weight of his children’s combined, delighted attention. 

“But they found a formidable group of friends.” Anders summons them: Zevran, Leliana, Sten, Oghren, and - after a moment’s hesitation - Wynne. He adds Dog last, bounding and slobbering around the rest, knocking over Alistair. Malcolm giggles, and Karl grins. “They fought the archdemon, and won.” Anders’ ghostly warden takes a running leap at the archdemon, and as the shadows of the illusions flicker on the wall like sunlight through water, Anders watches the fierce longing in his daughter’s eyes. Her small hand curls into a fist in her lap. He takes a deep breath, and waves the illusion away. “The end.”

Malcolm frowns. “But what about you? You were a Grey Warden too, weren’t you?”

“He was.” Karl says, before Anders can. “That’s how we know there’s not any darkspawn in the woods.” Karl folds his arms tightly across his chest as he says it, and Anders frowns a little. Outside, the forest around their cottage creaks and rustles in a gentle breeze. 

“Are you worried about darkspawn in the woods?” 

Karl looks away from him, his brown eyes both so like and so different to Anders’ own. He frowns at the rough, brown rug on the wooden floorboards. “No. I’m just saying. If there were, you would know. Wouldn’t you?” Karl looks back at him then, and he is clearly trying as hard as an eight year old can to look like he isn’t afraid. Anders’ frown deepens, and he holds out his arms.

“Come here.” Karl bites his lip for a moment before coming closer, and letting Anders pull him into his lap. Anders pulls his son close - he’s already begun what Anders doesn’t doubt will be a long and rapid growth spurt, and he’s heavier then he used to be, but still small enough to fit under his chin. Anders’ arm tightens around Karl’s chest, and he looks up at Malcolm and Leandra. “Come on, you two as well.” Malcolm wastes no time getting into Anders’ lap, and Anders huffs a little as he does so, catching a mouthful of thick black hair. Malcolm grins up at him.

“Sorry Dad.”

Anders levels him with a look. “No, you’re not.” Malcolm’s grin widens until his cheeks dimple. Downstairs, there’s the sound of Mrs Whiskers meowing to be let in, and then the soft creak of the wooden door as Marian lets her. The shadows of early evening lengthen across the floorboards. 

Satisfied that he has his children’s attention, Anders reaches into his shirt and pulls out the strangely cold vial of darkspawn blood that he has worn ever since his joining. Immediately, he feels Karl and Leandra’s attention sharpen and focus. Karl shifts in Anders’ lap, and Anders tries not to wince as his son’s sharp elbow catches his ribs. 

“What’s that?”

“This,” Anders says, watching Karl carefully, “is darkspawn blood.” Immediately, Karl recoils. Malcolm snorts. 

“Scaredy cat.”

Karl glares at him, and orange sparks fall from his fingers to the wooden floorboards with a scent like smoke, dangerously close to one of the many existing scorch marks on the children’s battered rug. “I am not.”

Anders drops the vial, and squeezes Malcolm’s shoulders. “Mal.” Malcolm manages to hold his gaze for half a heartbeat before he scowls, flushing red.

“Sorry Karl.”

Karl frowns. “I’m not a scaredy cat.”

“No, you’re not.” Anders agrees, calmly. “But I am. Specifically, I am very scared of what your mother will do to me if I tell her you set fire to the carpet again.” Karl giggles, and Anders grins at him as the sparks fade, holding out his hand. “Ok?”

Karl looks at him for a moment, and Anders feels suddenly horribly nervous. As if on this evening, of all evenings, his son will suddenly run away from him. But then Karl’s narrow shoulders lower, and he takes Anders’ hand, and Anders gently pulls him closer as Karl climbs back up onto the bed. Karl nuzzles into Anders’ neck, and Anders presses a kiss to the top of his head, before turning to Malcolm and doing the same. Karl’s voice is muffled when he speaks. “Why d’you have darkspawn blood?”

Anders thinks about it. He can feel Leandra watching him, thoughtfully. Where she’d gotten her intelligence, he had no idea, but he was quite certain that she was brighter than both he and Marian had been at her age. He says, carefully, “This is what lets me sense darkspawn. But it only works for me. No one else.”

“Isn’t it scary?” Leandra’s voice is soft. Anders’ arms tighten around the twins. He takes a deep breath.

“Sometimes.” He admits. Downstairs, there’s the familiar, comforting clatter of Hawke attempting to make sense of the childrens’ collective mess. Anders is not interested in letting her do it alone. He heaves a sigh, and gets up, gently depositing the twins on the bed. “Anyway, that’s enough of that. Come on you three, it’s time for you to get some sleep.” 

Leandra immediately hops off the mattress and climbs into her own bed, lighting the candle beside it with a wave of her hand and a pleased little grin as she grabs for her latest gift from Varric - some book about Orlesian girls in a boarding school solving murder mysteries. Anders’ heart skips a beat, but his attention is diverted from his daughter by a tugging on his sleeve. Anders looks down at Malcolm’s wide brown eyes. “You never answered the question, Dad.”

Anders grins, bending down and picking him up, squeezing the heavy, warm weight of his son close for a moment before gently setting him down on the bed. Malcolm giggles as he does so, and Anders gently kisses his forehead as he tucks him in. “Well, mein schatz, a Grey Warden never shares his secrets.” Malcolm huffs as Anders moves to gently push Karl’s hair out of his face and kiss his forehead, too.

Karl frowns at him. “That’s just what rubbish people say when they don’t want to answer questions.” Anders raises his eyebrows, and Karl blushes, looking away and pulling up his blankets. “That’s what Uncle Varric says.” Anders files that away to bring up with Varric later as he crosses the room to Leandra’s bed.

Gently, Anders tucks Leandra’s hair behind her ear. “Don’t stay up too late, sweetheart.” Leandra nods, putting down her book and holding out her arms for a hug. Anders bends to hold her, tightly, gently, kissing her head as he lets her go. “Sweet dreams.”

“The boys are right, Dad.” Leandra says, seriously, over the pages of her book. “You didn’t say.”

Anders pauses in the door, and looks back at his children: happy, safe, magical and well. He’s not sure he was built to be this happy. But he grins at them, and throws one last illusion into the air. “I never rode a griffin, and neither did your mother. But when she first came to Kirkwall...She travelled by dragon.” All three of his children gasp as a glittering blue dragon, ridden by the armoured, beautiful figure of his wife, swoops down from the rafters above them and disappears in a shower of light.

Very softly, Anders shuts the door.