#weird tabloid foolishness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

impyssadobsessions · 2 years

Text

Raising Phantom Chpt 8

Raising Phantom on Ao3

Jason sat up next to his favorite gargoyle as a kid, watching the city in thought. Duke, after the party, had confirmed something odd was with Danny and Vlad. Having caught a second glimpse of Vlad as he stormed out after recovering from a punch from Bruce. Which was a shock in itself as he was supposedly knocked out cold. Would have taken a normal man at least a few hours. Duke had tried his best to explain the image, but best he could describe it was a holographic card where it was two images at once. Danny's was a boy with white hair, and Vlad's was a vampire. It sounded ridiculous if Jason didn't remember that weird feeling he had when the boy was near. He had almost forgotten-well forgotten wasn't right word- He had accepted that strange feeling. It was eerie at first but grew comforting around the kid. He tapped his foot on the edge of the stone. Vlad had a weird pull too, he didn't notice until Duke pointed it out. He had assumed it was Danny, until he tried to track Vlad. Vlad always knew where to look for him, so he disappeared once he confirmed the feeling. Dick suggested that perhaps it was a freak accident both of them were apart of? Kept it secret from Jazz? But Jason doubted it. Tim brought up their unknown parents. Jason glared at the city view. That sounded plausible, they were responsible could be the reason they all had a falling out. “..I never known a boring day in my life..” Jason flexing his hand as he recalled Jazz's voice back in the library. Definitely pointed towards parents. Dead brother too. Jason stood up with a huff, he needed to stop reflecting on it. Let the others keep playing this game, but he was going to stomp his foot down if they cross the line. Stretching as he stared over the horizon. He definitely going to keep an eye on Danny. Though the tabloid story was going to make it hard. Stupid gossip. ---

Ever since they've arrived home, Vlad has been on their couch playing the 'pitiful me' card. He would whine about the gala, how foolish he looked. He begged Jasmine and Danny to let him get back at Bruce, which both declined. “Mr. Wayne started most of the foundations and fundraisers in Gotham as well as provide jobs for the city. INCLUDING the improvements made to both my college and future place of work. You can't hurt him because he punched you for threatening his kids!” Jazz would explain for a millionth time as she give Vlad his cup of coffee. Her hair wired and frizzed. Vlad was driving her nuts. “All for show! I bet the money ends up in the rogue's pockets.” Vlad sip his cup of coffee, while sitting in his fancy robs that were out of place on the makeshift bed of a couch. He gagged at the taste of the coffee, and made a face as if to tell Jazz his opinion of it, only to snap his mouth shut at the look she gave him. He cleared his throat, setting the coffee down. “BESIDES I was well within my right! What were you two thinking running off with those brats!?” Danny who was lazily poking at his scrambled eggs, “Thinking of kicking Dick and that it be funny to be kidnapped.” “Danny.” Jazz huffed, hands on her hips as she whipped back to face him. Danny just shrugged at her. “And you Jasmine!? Off with that boy! Have you lost your mind girl?! Bad boy look? REALLY-” “Not the first time-” Danny mumbled, only to get a look from Jazz. Message loud and clear, 'You're not helping!'. “Why can't you go to Harvard?! Or anywhere else!? I have the funds, my girl, just choose a place to go. You and Daniel don't have to stay in this filthy apartment, in this waste of a city! With terrible coffee and cat piss lining the hallways. You don't have to be here. That Asylum will get you killed and these vigilantes are like flies on a rotten carcass. So I trust them as little as I would Bruce to have a thought in his head!” Vlad moving dramatically, expressing with his hands as much as his voice. “I told you, Vlad. This is important to me! If I can learn and improve things here, then I can help so many more people than I could by being a family therapist. I could actually make a difference in their lives and the lives they affect. That's worth more than a comfy job writing psychology books and being a celebrity's psychologist.” Jazz huffed out of breath, tired of arguing her point. “And that's worth more than dying? What about Danny then?!” Vlad pointed out. His words making Danny flinch. Danny just stuffed his face with his eggs, looking away from them. He didn't want to be apart of this. “What if you perished because of your obsession with helping this god-forsaken place?! Of course I would take in Daniel, but his core would be damaged! Ghosts don't take grief well.” He hissed the last part. Danny frowned. Wanting to say he was fine, but the image of Dan made him shiver as he stabbed his eggs. At least growing up again means delaying looking like his future self... past.. self? He would only be four years younger than Dan was... Danny's eye twitched at the thought, hands clenching tight the fork in his hand. “I know that Vlad, but I have you know we TALKED about it. To get a doctorate in psychology will take years, so my plans won't even be in full swing until he's almost grown. Also I like to remind SOMEONE that I have nanobots in my blood stream so I be a bit harder to kill.” She put her hands on her hips. Vlad cleared his throat, looking away from her at the mention. He put the coffee mug to his lips, “Yes, well. I still think your obsession with this city is just as bad as your parents-” Vlad felt a dark chill down his spine that not even his hot watery coffee could warm. He quickly stammered to correct himself, “Oh. .did I .. I mean um. You know what, dear Jasmine. I-i think I may have been a little... dramatic. You are a grown woman and.. have.. your own ...ambitions. Who am I to judge...? hm?” He sipped his coffee loudly, as he stared at Jazz, whose eyes glimmered darkly. He was hoping that was enough to cool the situation. Jazz took a deep breath and turned away to grab her lunch bag and purse. Danny pushed from the table, hopping down to follow her, only for Jazz to put her hand in front of Danny to stop him. “Stay here with.. UNCLE Vlad, Danny. I'll be back at dinner.” Jazz running her fingers through her hair before putting it up in a ponytail. Danny stumbled back, confused. “What?! Why do I have to be punished?! Vlad's the one that-” “Danny, PLEASE. I just want to be alone, okay?” Jazz looked exhausted. Clearly she needed the break. Danny scrunched up his face and crossed his arms with a huff. Cursing Vlad in his head. “Don't worry about making dinner dear Jasmine! I-I'll order from that run-down- I mean quaint Italian restaurant you like.” Vlad doing his best to get on her good side, realizing how badly he slipped up with that comment. “Daniel and I will have a wonderful time.” Jazz and Danny both groaned as she turned to stomp out, closing the door with a hard slam behind her. Danny flinched at the noise, and rubbed his arm. He stared down at his feet. This was first time in a while he seen her so upset. If he wasn't so small, they wouldn't have to argue like that. They could dump Vlad and be on their merry way. Danny sighed, then he glanced over to Vlad who dramatically flailed back on the couch with a groan. A hand over his face as the coffee was set on the table. He too let out a loud sigh. “What am I going to do with that girl? Insisting on living like this- surely you would like somewhere better? Right Daniel?” “Danny. And it's fine.” Danny muttered as he walked over to the table where his breakfast still sat. He picked up his plate and decided to throw it away. He didn't feel hungry anymore. “You two don't even have to live with me! It could be an apartment in a safer place. Nothing too fancy.” Vlad waved his hand as he talked, the other still on his face. Danny snorted. Vlad's version of nothing too fancy was far drastic than their image of it. “Vlad, I don't even want you here, let alone a place you own.” “Yes yes. Because of the cloning, the murder plotting, and all that.” Vlad sighed again, before removing his hand off his face peaking at the corner where Danny emerged from the kitchen. “But seriously, you can't be happy here. Aren't you afraid of what could happen to her?” Danny flinched and stared down at his feet. He rubbed his arm as he swayed in his spot. He debated on answering him. “I'm fine.. and of course.. I worry. But I delayed her life already, she deserves to seek out her dreams, ya know?” Vlad stared at him and then rolled over on the couch with a groan. “You two will be the death of me.” Danny rolled his eyes as he moved through the living room. He glanced at the tv that was playing one of Vlad's favorite soap operas, and then glanced over to the door to his room. He debated on just watching videos or playing in his room, but.. He glanced at the front door. “Hey... Vlad?” Danny asked hesitantly, refusing to look at the man. “Yes, Daniel?” Vlad never moved to look at him either, his voice showing his exhaustion. His tired face staring at the tv screen. Danny stared at his hands, the question catching in his throat. Vlad waited a few moments, then shuffled to get up on his elbows, staring back at Danny with a raised brow. Danny twiddling his fingers, frozen. “Well? Get on with it.” Danny jerked staring back up at Vlad, matching his eyes. He blinked for a moment then glanced back to the side, taking a breath. Gathering his courage to ask in a squeaky, “......How's mo- how's our... parents doing?” Vlad's eyes stayed on Danny for a hard moment. Danny could see out the corner of his eyes, Vlad's flashing red with rage before cooling down. He sat up with a heavy groan, rubbing his face with his hand. Looking older by the minute. “Daniel-Danny.. its best you forget about them.” “I want to know.” Danny stated firmly or as firmly as he could. Vlad shook his head, looking away from the child. He propped his head on his hand, while he drummed his fingers with his other hand on the coffee table. His face morphing into sympathy or perhaps pity as he thinks about what to tell Danny. “They're still alive and bumbling fools.” Vlad rolled his tongue, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. “Do they.. still-” Danny tried to asked, afraid of the answer but wanting to hear it. His fist balling up in his shirt. “Yes. They still think you took their child- Danniel-Danny I really do think its best you stop worrying about them.” Vlad really reluctant to tell Danny more, not wanting to mention how delusional their parents had gotten. “I can't.” Danny stressed, pulling on his shirt. Vlad nodded, “Of course you can't. Oh what am I going to do with you?” Vlad's voice sounded more concern and gentle than Danny was use to. Danny stared at the floor, feeling his eyes water. Stupid. He knew the answer before he asked. He took breaths to keep his tears back and turned to run into his bedroom. The tv clicked off and he felt a ruffle of his hair before he could run. “I think we're overdue for a flight, don't you little badger?” Vlad smiled. “Don't try to teach me anything.” Danny said, his voice shakier than he would have like. “Don't plan on it, now come along. Be embarrassing to be out in our jammies.” Vlad ushering Danny towards the bedroom. “Jammies?” Danny questioned the childish nickname for pjamas. “Pjs, pjamas, sleepwear.” Vlad tiredly explained. Danny just frowned, but just wiped his face and sighed. He ran to his room to change, trying his best to forget about his parents again. He still didn't really get the answer he wanted, but perhaps its better he didn't know how far they were going.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #vlad masters #jazz fenton #jason todd #dp x dc #fanfic #raising phantom #de-aged danny

150 notes · View notes

brianbrianbrain · 5 months

Text

I am so tired of people's weird ass leapfrogging rhetoric, and very specifically am very fired up about how dangerous overdoing "union pride" can be. Take these two recent union posts:

ID. Screenshot of an Instagram post by @perfectunion on December 14, 2023. The slide is styled like a Twitter post from golden checkmarked user More Perfect Union @MorePerfectUS with added annotations for emphasis: Tesla is being forced to recall nearly begin underline every car end underline it's ever sold in the U.S.

The problem is the autopilot system, which has been involved in begin double underline numerous end double underline fatal crashes.

It's another sign that Tesla begin highlight needs a union end highlight. Musk must be stopped from putting profit before human life. End ID.

ID. Screenshot of an Instagram post by @teamsters on December 4, 2023: In the top half of the slide, a United Airlines plane in grey/blue scale is in the background. Bold white text is centered In the foreground: We don't think twice text gets slightly smaller when boarding an airplane because we entrust our safety to the finest American technicians. The bottom half of the slide has a sandy white background with bold blue text centered in the foreground: What would passengers think if they knew text gets larger their plane was last text gets larger, begin italics maintained text gets even larger in China? The slide is bordered by a yellow frame and the International Brotherhood of Teamsters logo (the necks and heads of two horses facing away from each other on top of a wheel) is centered at the bottom. End ID.

I'm not glued to social media whatsoever, and I think it's horrible to discover that two (pro-)union accounts have taken such tone deaf stances barely a week apart from each other. No doubt there have been more infractions in that time period even in just public statements alone. I was heartened to see that at least for the Teamsters post, almost all of the comments called out the sinophobia and how indefensible it is that the Teamsters spout such racist and nationalist rhetoric while they are supposed to be an "International Brotherhood" and while there are so many actually valid pro-union arguments they could be making. But for the Tesla post, most comments just added to the "haha, Elon Musk is/billionares are at it again!" vibe.

My first reaction to the Tesla post was: consider this, what if Tesla simply didn't exist at all? What if it wasn't there to contribute to the violence and coercion in the Congo and other places where the raw materials for electronics are mined? What if it wasn't there putting out tabloid quality news and playing stock games and diverting attention and resources from actually uplifting people? And most directly, what in the world does having a union or not have to do with a recall? This recall was because Elon Musk is a hubristic piece of shit who, yes, doesn't give a shit about people's lives – he just wants to sell lies. A union would not be able to change that; in fact, the union might serve to slightly legitimize Musk's lies. And sure, Musk must be stopped from putting profit before human life, but OP just really went for a series of false equivalencies or something with union -> people over profit -> lol no more fatal autopilot?

Both of these posts take some incredibly tangential "issue" or even fabricate a new one and claim that a union would solve it in order to further a pro-union agenda. And as much as I hope that the Teamsters do well as a union and that Tesla workers win their union, "union pride" being taken to this level is unacceptable and foolish. What a union will accomplish: making sure workers are paid fairly and that billionaires are not completely stealing people's livelihoods for their hoards. Incendiary racist rhetoric will only ever serve to detract from united power against billionaires. What a union will not accomplish: magically making billionaires stop putting profit before human lives. In fact, organizing into a union as the end all be all reinforces the power of billionaires, because what you say as a union is: yea, we'll still work for you, you just have to give us a little more of these silly little tokens so we don't totally riot. And then the union usually proceeds to care jackshit about literally anyone else than people who are paying union dues, thus remaining complicit in or implicitly endorsing any other exploitation the billionaire may be up to (for instance, during the recent WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, the lack of platform given to non-US workers. Sure there's legal shit where the union bargains for the union, but the LEAST you could do is to give other causes consistent shoutouts).

I want to make it clear that I am pro-union, but I stress that it must be seen as but one of the first steps. "Union pride" that treats the union as a silver bullet solution is unacceptable. Union pride that bashes the skills of scabs instead of considering more complex dynamics or at least only hounding on their lack of worker solidarity completely misses the point, and like racist rhetoric, only serves to divide power against billionaires. Stop jumping through hoops to act like a union would solve everything. It's not the holy grail. It's a stepping stone; as the Black Panthers put it, "Survival pending revolution." Unions are for making sure you've at least got enough to survive while you transition to a better future where unions as they exist today are no longer necessary.

(Tangentially, I do wonder if this is a US/European specific thing, if people in other countries understand the larger dynamics and that unions are for bargaining as a unit, not for pretending that they are the pinnacle of society. I wouldn't be surprised, given the Cold War era efforts to distance US worker movements from international liberation and fit them into the capitalist-imperialist machine.)

And this leapfrogging rhetoric is in no way exclusive to unions. For instance, you don't need to be going after how someone looks or making generalizations about people's cultures and origins when you're calling for an end to genocide, for the very simple fact that the most important thing is that the genocide needs to fucking end. Stop adding to false divides and be clear with your rhetoric instead of firing off every single goddamned piece of random shrapnel filled ammunition that your subconscious mind can spit up from the dark webs.

#image described #politics #honestly reminding me AGAIN about my roommate arguing against just saying “people's right to an abortion”#by claiming that it sounded like everyone could get an abortion such as for someone else #which like mf wanted me not to have a point so bad that they just went for the antithesis of “right to abortion”??#someone's rights are never a right to do something for someone else??#what???#clearly just bullshit instead of thinking through what they were saying #fuckin hells

0 notes

blackwoolncrown · 2 years

Note

I'm not following the Depp case very closely so I may be wrong but didn't Heard get recorded admitting to abusing him? Saying that nobody would believe him if he said he disclosed being abused by her?

Respectfully, y'all wild if you think I'm actually following the case. I'm marginally invested in letting it be known what a twisted farce the whole thing is. That's my stance. Since you've come to me let me make it clear:

If you've ever been abused, you know how much righteous anger you can feel towards your abuser. Abuse isn't about who does what to whom- it's actually about who has more power to do harm.

When I was 7 I threatened my father with a knife.

When I was 16 I kicked him in the balls.

Wheen I was 20 I admitted how much I really took pleasure in wanting to kill him.

However at every point he was a grown man thrice my size and 30 years older than me who was abusing me which was the source of my anger towards him.

If you've never been abused you really don't understand the complexities.

Beyond that it's patently clear this case is being used as a public spectacle to defame women DV victims as a whole and the fact that it is being treated as such is perverse to me and indicative of a larger problem of both retaliatory misogyny and a culture of men who do get abused by women but have no recourse for that bc of patriarchy and are idiotically taking that out on women instead of the system that robs them of the ability to be seen as valid victims of actual abuse and ONLY victims of 'unfair allegations' which, suspiciously, are largely accusations of rape (which people do not lie about).

Lastly:

None of us know these people. Celebrities are not extensions of us. Living through court cases is fucking weird though on the other hand it must be said that for DV survivors of all types the social attention around the court case is likely very triggering.

Ultimately I'm not of the mind that anyone actually fully knows what's going on between them but I'm also not foolish enough to interpret the two dimensional reporting of this case as factual and find it intereesting that there are many tabloids smearing Amber but almost none smearing Johnny while 'both' of them of course have dirt against them, as far as the hearings are concerned. It bodes ill that the 'Me Too' movement was distinctly mentioned in the litigation.

If anyone is an abuse victim and finds themselves drawn to following the court case I suggest you not invest yourself in the drama of others as if it will give you closure and resolve your own issues in a more healthy manner.

15 notes · View notes

netflixaddictedd · 4 years

Text

10 gay books you should read (I'm making a lesbian version soon!)

Red, white & royal blue: When his mother became President, Alex Claremont-Diaz was promptly cast as the American equivalent of a young royal. Handsome, charismatic, genius—his image is pure millennial-marketing gold for the White House. There's only one problem: Alex has a beef with the actual prince, Henry, across the pond. And when the tabloids get hold of a photo involving an Alex-Henry altercation, U.S./British relations take a turn for the worse. Heads of family, state, and other handlers devise a plan for damage control: staging a truce between the two rivals. What at first begins as a fake, Instragramable friendship grows deeper, and more dangerous, than either Alex or Henry could have imagined. Soon Alex finds himself hurtling into a secret romance with a surprisingly unstuffy Henry that could derail the campaign and upend two nations.

Running with lions: Bloomington High School Lions star goalie Sebastian Hughes should be excited about his senior year: His teammates are amazing, and hes got a coach who doesnt ask anyone to hide their sexuality. But when his estranged childhood-best-friend Emir Shah shows up at summer training camp, Sebastian realizes the teams success may end up in the hands of the one guy who hates him. Determined to reconnect with Emir for the sake of the Lions, he sets out to regain Emirs trust. But to Sebastians surprise, sweaty days on the pitch, wandering the towns streets, and bonding on the weekends spark more than just friendship between them.

The fascinators: Living in a small town where magic is frowned upon, Sam needs his friends James and Delia - and their time together in their school's magic club - to see him through to graduation. But as soon as senior year starts, little cracks in their group begin to show. Sam may or may not be in love with James. Delia is growing more frustrated with their amateur magic club. And James reveals that he got mixed up with some sketchy magickers over the summer, putting a target on all their backs. With so many fault lines threatening to derail his hopes for the year, Sam is forced to face the fact that the very love of magic that brought his group together is now tearing them apart - and there are some problems that no amount of magic can fix.

Infinity son: Growing up in New York, brothers Emil and Brighton always idolized the Spell Walkers—a vigilante group sworn to rid the world of specters. While the Spell Walkers and other celestials are born with powers, specters take them, violently stealing the essence of endangered magical creatures. Brighton wishes he had a power so he could join the fray. Emil just wants the fighting to stop. The cycle of violence has taken a toll, making it harder for anyone with a power to live peacefully and openly. In this climate of fear, a gang of specters has been growing bolder by the day. Then, in a brawl after a protest, Emil manifests a power of his own—one that puts him right at the heart of the conflict and sets him up to be the heroic Spell Walker Brighton always wanted to be. Brotherhood, love, and loyalty will be put to the test, and no one will escape the fight unscathed.

Aristotle and Dante discover the secrets of the universe: Aristotle is an angry teen with a brother in prison. Dante is a know-it-all who has an unusual way of looking at the world. When the two meet at the swimming pool, they seem to have nothing in common. But as the loners start spending time together, they discover that they share a special friendship—the kind that changes lives and lasts a lifetime. And it is through this friendship that Ari and Dante will learn the most important truths about themselves and the kind of people they want to be.

Simon vs the homosapiens agenda: Sixteen-year-old and not-so-openly gay Simon Spier prefers to save his drama for the school musical. But when an email falls into the wrong hands, his secret is at risk of being thrust into the spotlight. Now change-averse Simon has to find a way to step out of his comfort zone before he's pushed out without alienating his friends, compromising himself, or fumbling a shot at happiness with the most confusing, adorable guy he's never met.

Him: Jamie Canning has never been able to figure out how he lost his closest friend. Four years ago, his tattooed, wise-cracking, rule-breaking roommate cut him off without an explanation. So what if things got a little weird on the last night of hockey camp the summer they were eighteen? It was just a little drunken foolishness. Nobody died. Ryan Wesley’s biggest regret is coaxing his very straight friend into a bet that pushed the boundaries of their relationship. Now, with their college teams set to face off at the national championship, he’ll finally get a chance to apologize. But all it takes is one look at his longtime crush, and the ache is stronger than ever. Jamie has waited a long time for answers, but walks away with only more questions— can one night of sex ruin a friendship? If not, how about six more weeks of it? When Wesley turns up to coach alongside Jamie for one more hot summer at camp, Jamie has a few things to discover about his old friend...and a big one to learn about himself.

Date me, Bryson Keller: Everyone at Fairvale Academy knows Bryson Keller, the super-hot soccer captain who doesn't believe in high-school relationships. They also know about the dare Bryson accepted - each week he has to date the first person who asks him out. A single school week is all anyone gets. There have been no exceptions to this. None. Until me, that is. Because brilliant Bryson Keller forgot one thing. He never said it could only be girls...

The infinite noise: Caleb Michaels is a sixteen-year-old champion running back. Other than that his life is pretty normal. But when Caleb starts experiencing mood swings that are out of the ordinary for even a teenager, his life moves beyond “typical.” Caleb is an Atypical, an individual with enhanced abilities. Which sounds pretty cool except Caleb's ability is extreme empathy—he feels the emotions of everyone around him. Being an empath in high school would be hard enough, but Caleb's life becomes even more complicated when he keeps getting pulled into the emotional orbit of one of his classmates, Adam. Adam's feelings are big and all-consuming, but they fit together with Caleb's feelings in a way that he can't quite understand. Caleb's therapist, Dr. Bright, encourages Caleb to explore this connection by befriending Adam. As he and Adam grow closer, Caleb learns more about his ability, himself, his therapist—who seems to know a lot more than she lets on—and just how dangerous being an Atypical can be.

They both die at the end: On September 5, a little after midnight, Death-Cast calls Mateo Torrez and Rufus Emeterio to give them some bad news: They're going to die today. Mateo and Rufus are total strangers, but, for different reasons, they're both looking to make a new friend on their End Day. The good news: There's an app for that. It's called the Last Friend, and through it, Rufus and Mateo are about to meet up for one last great adventure to live a lifetime in a single day.

436 notes · View notes

nostuntmanneeded · 3 years

Note

I feel like yes he has spoken about his admiration of Chadwick in the past and is it coincidence that the anniversary of Chad’s death falls on the same day that Sebastian is once again in the streets without a mask on without a care in the world…yes. But does it still look hella shady that he posts about Chad and then pics of his foolishness and aloofness are posted within ours of one another…yes.

I’m also starting to believe that he has to be over there to fulfill his obligations because they would not get away with their actions here, and if they did we know it wouldn’t be Sebastian to reach out to the tabloids on her behalf. She has more of a following and reach in Spain thus getting what she wanted out of this agreement the entire time. If they could’ve been successful during her time of leeching over here they would have. It’s all just super telling. She was over here for months and we didn’t see them together one time. But as soon as they are on her turf, then it’s him having to abide by her rules.

For sure!

Everyone in the MCU was affected by Chadwick's death, so I wouldn't call it "damage control" just yet. Is it weird? Of course. But sometimes that's just what happens.

For example, Nick Castellanos tends to hit home runs during apologies and euologies in baseball broadcasts. It's not that anyone is insensitive or that it's a masterplan for something, but that's just how it's been. (And it's quite funny if I'm being honest.)

This trip to Spain could absolutely be in the contract, especially since he's supposed to be filming for "The Brutalist" in Europe anyway.

7 notes · View notes

katefiction · 3 years

Text

Love me royally

by simplylovelyfanfiction / 2012

I could only access chapters 5-7 of this story.

Chapter 5: family vows & boyfriend wows (love me royally)

“how did you know?” kate questioned her sister’s sixth sense.

pippa shook with excitement. “i don’t know. i just had this feeling that you were and i knew the moment that you said you were going to live with him that something was going on. am i right?”

“that’s not the reason why we moved in together.” she assured her. “we were just friends then.”

“now, you’re more than friends. ohhhhh.” she sounded childish as she harassed her sister about her relationship.

“pippa. shhh!” kate held her finger to her lips and pointed towards the kitchen. “i haven’t told them yet.”

“are you going to tell them?” pippa raised her eyebrow at her. it was as if she were wondering if kate was going to tell anyone about her secret affair with will.

“yes.” she simply answered.

“i just can’t believe it.” her sister was in complete awe of the situation. big eyes with her jaw dropped, she looked like a child who saw the tooth fairy for the first time.

as kate continued to share the adventure of her and will coming along the path of dating, she felt giddy with excitement too. she played it off to pippa as if the whole thing was casual, but really she was still just as shocked that she too had snagged herself a prince. flashbacks of the first night they shared their real kiss together sent dancing chills down her spine and for moment she caught her girlish smile break through her façade.

“you are the luckiest girl in all of england.” pippa chimed.

shuffles from the kitchen distracted them as their mother popped her head out from around the corner to announce that lunch was ready. the smell of baked chicken and steamed vegetables filled the kitchen and was now slowly drifting into the living the room where they sat. kate glanced over at pippa, who was clearly still beaming from the surprising news. she tapped her knee and pippa calmed down.

“let me tell them, not you.” kate gritted through her teeth.

the thudding footsteps of james came down the hallway, as he too smelled the deliciousness of the meal that her mother had prepared. her father sat quietly at the table reading the newspaper while sipping on his coffee. watching her father so relaxed made her miss being home as much as she used to be. “pip, what are you all smiles about?” james asked taking a seat.

“what?” she looked startled. “i don’t know i’m just happy.”

“you could flash a smile every now and then james.” her mother added and set down the plates with the steaming hot food.

“i smile.” he snapped back. “anyways, pippa has got that smile on her face like she knows something.”

kate’s stomach dropped. fear set in that this whole thing was going to be disaster. “the food looks amazing mum.” she tried to steer away from their conversation.

“thank you kate.” she took a seat next to her father. taking a sip of her wine, she cleared her throat and leaned back in her chair. “james is right. what is it pippa? care to share with the rest of us.”

“i know nothing.” pippa said and took a bite of her carrot.

“liar.” james chuckled. “you’ve always been the worse at keeping secrets.”

she was watching this whole thing unfold. kate kept quiet until she felt that it was appropriate for to finally chime in on her news, whenever that would be. keeping the spotlight on her younger sister would do for now, but sooner or later all eyes would be on her.

“james bug off.” she snipped at him.

“children.” her father finally spoke up. “i hear enough of you two bicker all day and night, let kate speak. we haven’t heard a single word about how she has been doing since the university started back up. so how have you been katie?”

katie. her father and mother were the only ones that called her that and it made it ten times harder for her to find the words to tell them. “i’ve been good. i’ve been busy.” a soft snort escaped pippa and she kicked her under the table.

“ow!” james yelped. “what was that for?”

“sorry.” kate cringed. “i didn’t mean to hit you.”

“bet it was meant for pippa.” he narrowed his eyes. “you know too. what is it? come on. fess up.”

“stop noising around.” pippa snarled at him.

their banter continued and kate took a few bites of her chicken. this was normal for them to be like this but it was honestly driving her mad. james was catching on that something was up. he was her brother and he knew when her or pippa knew something that he didn’t. however, it was always pippa that let every thing slip whether it was intentional or not. she just wanted to slide down in her chair and disappear, but she couldn’t. soon her father was budding into the fighting match and kate knew that if she wanted to cut the tension it was now or never.

“i’m dating will.”

the whole table grew silent one by one. pippa wasn’t hiding her smile anymore, while the rest of her family stared at her blankly. it felt amazing to say it, but the expressions they were giving her were not what she hoped for.

“i’m sorry.” her mother wiped her face and leaned in closer. “who?”

“will.” she said it softly and looked down. “we’ve been dating for a while and i thought it would only be proper to tell you guys in person. i know it may come as a shock, but i like him and he likes me.”

“you’re joking right?” james asked. this time it was pippa that let him have it and he squealed out in pain once again.

“she isn’t joking.” pippa joined in. “she really is. can’t you tell by the look on her face that she is? the girl is dating a prince!”

“pippa…” kate said with unease.

“that’s wonderful news.” her father spoke. they all glanced over at him.

“our daughter dating prince william.” the words sounded so flat coming from her mother. she couldn’t tell if she was unhappy or just shocked.

“look, i know its strange and i am not going to lie it is a unusual relationship,” kate explained. “but i’m okay with it. you guys just have to promise me you don’t say anything. not even to grandmother.”

“grandmother has the right to know.” james demanded.

“no!” she shouted. “i’m serious. will and i are trying to keep this private. it won’t take much for the media to find out and i personally would like to stay off the covers of the tabloids and so would he. i just really want this to work and all i am asking is for you guys to not tell anyone. please.”

the table was silent. everyone was looking around at one another like they were contemplating what to do next. it was her father that spoke up. “we promise katie. we won’t say a word.”

Chapter 6: a love like this

pulling into a parking space near her flat she turned off the ignition and rested her head back on the seat. she scene of events from the weekend played out in her head again. the awful bickering of her siblings and her blurting out her surprise was not how she had planned it. however, she was satisfied that her family was fine with her relationship and had promised to not tell anyone. pippa was the only person she grew nervous about, but even she could keep a good secret if her life depended on it.

the thought of it still made her want to scream, but now she was trying to focus in on being back at the university and being reunited with will. he could put her at ease. his ability to bring comfort and joy to her was like a spell being casted upon her. she looked down at her phone that she had not even checked once while she was away. nothing from will appeared on her screen. royalty really did call and wisped him away for the weekend. she wondered if he was home yet. taking her bags from the trunk she strolled up to the front door. the house was dark and she could only assume that her other two roommates were out somewhere grabbing dinner. she lugged her bags up the stairs and let them thud on the wood floor outside her room. turning the nob on her door the scent of wax met her nostrils. it was an odd odor to smell considering no one was home. when she opened the door she was met with a surprise.

“welcome home.” a tall handsome man that she liked to call her boyfriend stood waiting for her. dozens of candles were lit up in her room and rose petals were scattered on the bed and all over the floor. kate could not believe her eyes.

“will.” she covered her mouth. “wow.”

“i was thinking about you all weekend.” he confessed. “no matter what i was doing i just wanted to be with you and to say your name. i wanted to kiss you and hug you and tell you how beautiful you are.”

left speechless, kate latched on to him throwing her arms around his neck and kissed him. it was the only way she knew how to thank him for her wonderful surprise. he had definitely put her at ease. the taste of his lips sent cravings all over her body and she wanted nothing more than to stay like this. she pressed her chest against his causing him to fall back on her bed. they bounced as they hit the mattress and they giggled together.

“have i ever told you how amazing you really are?” she breathed and stared into his eyes.

“i think you might have.” he pretended to think about it.

a girlish giggle escaped her and she felt slight embarrassed by it. will ran his soft fingertips through the long locks of her hair. it soothed her his touch. there was something about him that drew her in. “this is so…unreal.”

“what do you mean?” will asked.

“i mean this. what’s going on between us.” kate explained. “forgive me if i sound foolish saying this, but never in a million years would i have expected to find someone like you. the whole prince thing is insane and the love i feel for you is a whole another thing.”

the smile that could make any girl go weak at the knees broke through. “you know i was just going to say the same thing. the whole dating a princess thing is pretty insane too.”

“come on.” she playfully hit him. “i’m serious. i’m not trying to be all weird, but it’s just different. not saying you being a prince makes you anything but normal it’s just…”

“kate.” will cupped the back of her neck and kissed her quickly. he continued to stare back into warm eyes. “i get it.”

spending the rest of the night in each other arms they conversed the reaction of kate’s family discovering their relationship. kate told will a full play by play of the weekend and he sat quietly listening to everything she had to say. the expression of content never left his face as she spoke to him about the amazement of her younger sister, pippa and the shock of her parents understanding why her relationship with him was secretive. it was as if he was already aware of how the situation was going to happen before she even experienced it herself. however, it was a relief to finally have her parents and siblings know and to tell will her family was supportive and would keep them a secret as well.

the door from downstairs swung open below them and the voices of their two roommates chimed back and forth. will and kate listened in closely as both their hearts raced. what if one of them was to barge in on them cozied up together? their secret would be reveal and neither of them was ready to tell their own roommates they were in a relationship. the loud footsteps stomped up the stairs and bickering chat began outside kate’s door.

“will, they…” kate whispered but was cut off by a finger to her lips.

tip toeing towards her door he silently locked it and crawled back into bed with her. “even if they wanted to they won’t be able to get in now.”

“when do you think everyone is going to find out about us?” she asked.

“it’s only a matter of time, but if we’re careful it won’t be for awhile.” he assured her.

she could get use to a love like this.

Chapter 7: Katie

five months later.

the night was still young and kate was gathered with a few of her good friends including will. the stale smell of beer and pretzels filled the small pub where her and him had shared their first real kiss outside in the rain. this was a special place to her and she could only assume it had meaning to him as well. a soccer game was being broadcasted on the television sets above them and a rowdy crowd a few tables down cheered and argued loudly with the plays. kate along with her friends snickered at the drunken comments being spat. across from her sat will, who shot her a smile with a hidden message behind it ever so often.

“look whose cheeks are rosy.” olivia squeaked and pointed at kate. “the alcohol getting you already love?”

alcohol? maybe it was that, but she felt her cheeks grow another shade of red as she grew embarrassed because she realized she was staring at will the moment olivia spoke. “could be.” she brushed her cheek and took another drink.

“we really should not be out on a night like this when i have a huge english exam in the morning.” her slightly intoxicated roommate stated.

“no one said you had to come liv.” will laughed. “you just can’t stay away from the pubs.”

“watch it!” she growled. “seriously though i am already one too many in and i think i need to go home and at least try to be a good student.”

without a second thought kate agreed to escort olivia home with the assistance of will of course. the torture of not being able to show him affection in public was awful and she wanted nothing more right now to be affectionate towards him. leaving the pub and their group of friends, olivia raising her voice from a volume that drew attention to the three of them was frustrating. the media was always following will and having a drunken friend who was making it even easier for them to snap their pictures and have some clever headline to write was annoying.

olivia stumbled along the paved sidewalk as kate and will followed closely behind. the cars rushed pass them giving both of them anxiety knowing whoever lurked inside the cars could be a media spy ready to capture any false move. “liv, please can you not be a complete embarrassment right now? the entire town does not need to hear you.” kate yelled to her and picking up her step.

“oh come on, live a little.” she sang and spread her arms wide open. “i promise once we are back you will not hear a peep out of me.”

“i don’t think any of are nearly on your level yet.” will joked.

“no one is on your level.” she spun around. “you’re a prince. you’re all high and mighty.”

“liv…” kate rushed up to her and grabbed on to her arm. she looked back at will, who showed nothing but a smile on his face.

“i’m only kidding.” she laughed. “kate, stop being so stuffy.”

“lets just get back.” yanking on her arm, olivia continued her drunken banter all the way home. will strolled behind them and kate casually peered over her shoulder to see him with his hands in his pocket. she was not sure if olivia’s comment was hurtful or not. it had come out in a negative tone and the tension in the air was there or at least she had felt it.

once they have had arrived to their apartment, kate stepped aside to let will unlock the door and olivia stripped herself of her coat. still with his hands in his pockets he watched as his roommate swirled around grab on to objects to steady herself. kate moved next to will to take in the hilarity of the moment as he brushed up against her arm. his touch sent a sparking sensation through her body.

“you know.” olivia put one foot on the staircase and steadied herself. “you two don’t have to be hush hush. i know what you’re doing. we all do. don’t worry loves charles and i aren’t going to say a thing. we will take it to the grave.” she winked and slowly moved up the ascending stairs. “and don’t worry about sneaking around at night.” she continued to ramble on. “it’s not like we didn’t hear you the first time.”

holding her breath, kate waited until olivia was up the stairs and in her room. she let out a loud sigh and looked to will for answers. his wrinkled forehead and squinting eyes told her he was just as confused too. they both thought they had been careful and quiet about their relationship, but maybe they had not had been as careful as they thought. at least not under the same roof since both their roommates were aware of their secret rendezvous.

“you know.” will began quietly. “i have never felt more relieved in my life.”

“what?” she asked.

“i mean why are we hiding our relationship from our roommates?” he wondered. “it’s not like we don’t trust them, do we? and clearly they caught on to what we were doing sooner than we thought.”

“but will,” kate showed concern. “i mean its not that i don’t mind honestly either its just what if more people find out. things won’t be the same.”

“i know.” he put his hands on her shoulders. “i know. i won’t let anyone ruin what we have. behind these doors we can finally be ourselves though. we can express how we truly feel, but we will be careful. i promise.”

“i guess we should have saw this coming.” she shook her head.

“i guess you’re right katie.” he stated and seemed slightly embarrassed.

“katie?” she took a step back. “no one ever calls me that besides my father.”

will bowed his head. “i’m sorry. i’ve just been really wanting to call you that and it just slipped.”

katie. it was different hearing from someone else besides her father calling her that, but she didn’t mind. hearing him say her name made her love him even more. it showed that he really did care for her and she put her hand under his chin to lift his head. “i love it.”

“are you sure?” he questioned.

“positive.” she assured him. “only those who really love me call me that and hearing you say it…makes me fall in love with you more.”

will leaned in to kiss her. she was no longer the girl he fell in love with. she was katie to will and she didn’t want it any other way.

#simplylovelyfanfiction #royal fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

victorineb · 4 years

Text

Bloodletting

An omegaverse fic for @hannigram-a-b-o-library‘s Reverse Bang, featuring vampires, reunited lovers, and lots and lots of blood. Huge thanks to @idontfindyouthatinteresting for the inspirational artwork and idea, and to @desperatelyseekingcannibals for coming onboard as co-writer to save my hopelessly blocked self. All the love to both you guys 💖💖💖

---

“So you want me to tell you the story of my life?” Will asks, silhouetted by hazy golden light from the large windows of Hannibal’s office, an edge of red staining him where the sun filters through the drapes.

“Not all of it,” comes Freddie’s reply. He can tell she’s smirking without having to look. “Just start from when you met Hannibal Lecter. You are clearly very close. Is that usual for a psychiatrist and his patient?”

Will doesn’t respond, merely lifts an eyebrow at her, at which she smirks.

Will huffs and turns back to the window, a smile playing across his lips. As if she even knows what she’s asking. He has to admit that his only reason for agreeing to this interview is for his own amusement. It is always a pleasure to watch Freddie’s misplaced confidence that she has the upper hand. But he hadn’t expected her to go straight for the throat.

“Whatever you wish to tell me,” she encourages.

“I see,” Will prevaricates.

He turns to look at her. She’s made herself comfortable in her chair, dictaphone in hand and note pad on lap. Intending to capture absolutely everything.

She doesn’t have to attempt discretion this time round. Not like the last time she’d been in this office, with her cover story and polite persona, thinking she could easily dupe some fussy shrink into giving up the goods on Will and the Stammets case. As Hannibal had told him after - unethical, even for a tabloid journalist.

Though, in truth, Hannibal’s irritation came mostly from the spanner she’d thrown into their plans. For she had seen the painting, carelessly left poking out of its packing box. That had piqued her interest all the more, turning her from a mere nuisance into a potential threat, and she had hounded Will until he had, so she believed, given up and granted her demand for an interview.

An interview, and some answers as to why Hannibal Lecter owned a clearly timeworn painting of himself together with an unstable FBI profiler who had only recently become his patient.

And so now she sits once again in Hannibal’s office, having been graciously allowed the space for their tête à tête, the cat that got the cream after all.

“Do you mind?” she asks, holding up the recording device and tipping it towards him as if asking for consent. As if she wouldn’t use it anyway, regardless of his agreement.

“You’d need a lot of tape for my story,” Will replies, drily, ignoring her question.

“It’s all digital these days, Mr Graham.” Freddie smiles that snake-like smile of hers, truly believing that she’s the predator in the room. “So, let’s get started.”

Will strolls slowly over and takes the chair opposite her. Hannibal’s chair, usually.

“Where should we start?” she asks, pleasant and patient and completely false. “Perhaps you could tell me a little about yourself.”

“All right then, since you asked. I’m a vampire,” Will says, cocking his head and waiting for her reaction, holding her gaze. It’s clear that she’s trying desperately not to roll her eyes.

“Funny,” she replies with a raised brow. But as his expression remains unchanged, hers sobers and she asks, “You mean this literally, I take it?”

“Absolutely.”

Freddie glares at him.

“Mr Graham, I appreciate your leaning into the crazy angle but if you’re going to waste my time-”

Will sucks in an unneeded breath and lets out a sigh. “You want to know how I met Hannibal.”

“Please,” she replies, firmly.

“How I met him this time, anyway,” Will clarifies and her eyes narrow again.

She settles in to listen to him anyway.

---

Will Graham is something of a legend amongst the students of the FBI Academy, known by all as brilliant, demanding, and intense. Rumour has it that if you have the temerity to ask a spontaneous question during one of his lectures he will eviscerate you with nothing more than a few cutting words and a scowl. And his ruthlessness with a red pen is enough to strike fear into even the most confident and diligent of students — the papers they receive back bear a striking resemblance to the crime scenes he lectures on, stained with red in cruel, ruthless slashes. All this perhaps explains why the halls of the Academy are currently clearing at an exaggerated rate, as students fling themselves out of the path of Professor Graham as he storms down the hallways towards his office. Or perhaps it’s just the look on his face that suggests he might finally have flipped, the way certain cruel rumours say he inevitably would, one day.

It is the unhappy fate of one student to have chosen this moment to visit Professor Graham’s office, a foolish thing in any case, as Will has no office hours scheduled for this day. He is loitering just outside Will’s door, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand, completely unaware of the unhinged professor stalking towards him until they are inches from each other. In fact, the student – name of Miller, Will thinks – only becomes aware of his professor’s presence by his scent, that weird, unsettling mix of alpha and omega that means no one ever knows what designation Graham is, or likes to be in close quarters with him for too long. Miller can never understand why the Professor doesn’t wear scent blockers; at least then he might avoid the hisses of freak that follow everywhere he goes.

Then again, Will Graham is exactly the kind of stubborn asshole who’d enjoy making people feel uncomfortable.

Miller looks up into the blue eyes of his professor and squeaks, an embarrassing noise that he immediately attempts to cover up with a cough.

“What?” Professor Graham growls, actually growls, a rumble of irritation that would rival any alpha in rut.

The boy squeaks again and stares, petrified, at his teacher.

“Intelligent commentary as usual, Miller.”

The kid flees and Will watches him skid down the corridor without a backward glance. He sighs, and scrubs a hand down his face. He’ll make it up to Miller somehow, give him easy credit for something. Will stares into nothingness for a moment longer and then slides into his office and closes the door firmly behind him. That little performance should have ensured no one will bother him for the rest of the day. Possibly the week. Will leans back against the door and finally allows the smile he has been holding back to burst onto his face.

The bone arena of my skull, he thinks, rolling his eyes. His beautiful boy has not changed, then, still as pretentious and as annoyingly brilliant as ever.

Hannibal Lecter.

Will’s grin broadens. His fangs ache.

---

Later, he stands in the middle of a field, regarding Hannibal’s field kabuki, and wonders if he should feel offended. Patronised, at least. Apparently Hannibal believes that Will needs some help to see the Shrike and has gifted him some perspective.

Really, Will has no idea how to feel. Hannibal’s art has always been beautiful and this is no exception – shows, in fact, that his boy has progressed far beyond even the skill he had developed under Will’s watchful eye (and doesn’t that come with a dull ache, the knowledge that Hannibal did not spend the years apart pining, but continued to pursue his pleasures with the singular focus that Will had never liked directed at anything but himself). But it also suggests that Hannibal has not learned the lessons Will had hoped he would. Asked him to.

That is… disappointing, in a way Will finds unmooring, forcing him to step away from the scene, pretending overwhelm and upset in order to placate Jack. Childishly, he snaps out some retort about Jack preferring Dr Lecter’s opinions to his own and storms off, shaking his head at the daddy issues he thought he’d long shaken off. Hannibal’s getting to him, as he always knows how. He takes one last backwards look at the tableau, sees the tenderness in it, not for the girl, but for him. Its black tines curve upwards to the sky and the points meet and melt into the sparkling sunlight.

It is a beautiful gift.

---

Will smells him before he knocks. Scent-blockers do nothing to mask him, not from Will. He suspects he could freeze Hannibal in ice, or seal him in plastic and still he would find that scent, maddening and delicious. Still, he makes the good doctor wait, taking his time to slide out of the motel bed and stretch his muscles into wakefulness, before flinging open the door. The sunlight blinds him for a second, his eyes still sensitive to it even after all these years, and then there is Hannibal, smile on his face, food inevitably in hand.

“Good morning, Will,” he says, and the bastard has the gall to sound amused. He always did enjoy unsettling Will. “May I come in?”

Will raises an eyebrow. “You need to ask?”

“It’s only polite. You know how I abhor rudeness.”

Will hums, unimpressed. “Where’s Crawford. You didn’t eat him, did you?”

Hannibal smiles, close-mouthed, no teeth. “Agent Crawford is deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today.”

Will sighs, lets his shoulders sag, turns away into the darkness. Hannibal takes this as the invitation it’s meant to be, stepping over the threshold, closing the door gently behind him. The second he does, Will is on him, shoving him against the wall, one hand around his throat, lifting, lifting until his arm is at full stretch. Hannibal’s feet dangle above the floor. He appears wholly unconcerned, looking down at Will with a serene expression and adoration lighting his eyes.

“I told you to stay put until you were summoned,” Will growls.

“And so I did, until I was.”

Will flexes his hand around Hannibal’s neck, feeling it ripple under his grip. “All right, what loophole has your clever little brain come up with this time?”

Hannibal grins, delighted by Will’s disdain. “You did not specify that it must be you who called. Jack Crawford summoned me to help the noble ranks of the FBI, I could not find it in myself to refuse. That he specifically wished me to support a gifted yet troubled profiler by the name of Will Graham was a mere technicality, albeit a happy one.” Hannibal slides his arm up and over Will’s and rests his hand on Will’s cheek. “And it was truly happy, Will.”

It’s an old trick and one Will is hard-pressed to resist. Soft words and soft touches, Hannibal’s always known how to wriggle under his skin.

He tries not to let Hannibal see the effect it still has on him but there’s no hiding the fact that his grip loosens a little. Nor that the smile it pulls from Hannibal makes Will want to kill him, or kiss him. He’s never quite sure.

“I ought to put my teeth in your neck right now,” Will snaps, trying to wind up his anger once more.

Hannibal, though, knows exactly the wrong – or right – response, smiling down at Will as he tells him, “I have missed your mark on me. I wept the day the last one faded.”

Will’s nose twitches for a moment, taking in Hannibal’s scent and finding little of his own evident there. Every instinct tells him to do just as his alpha suggests, but he doesn’t wish to give the petulant child the satisfaction.

“I don’t find you deserving.”

“You will.”

Will lets it go. Hannibal’s right, after all; this was never intended to be a permanent separation, just a few years to remind his boy of his priorities. And he’s been planning their reunion proper since the moment he caught Hannibal’s scent in the halls of the BAU.

Truth be told, he’s been planning it – in the abstract at least – ever since the first Ripper murder dropped, years ago. But he isn’t going to let Hannibal know that, not yet. And he certainly isn’t going to reward his bad behaviour without making him work for it first.

“All right, you can stay. Show me what you brought for breakfast.”

Will drops Hannibal unceremoniously on his feet and Hannibal reaches down to collect the bag he brought with him, unflustered, unfazed, as though nothing had just happened. Will watches as the alpha delicately removes the containers of food he has brought, setting them on the table like the offering they are.

When Hannibal takes a seat, Will does so too. He deigns to offer Hannibal nothing but a cool gaze as this old, familiar scene plays out like it has so many other times.

“Hardly a suitable offering,” Hannibal demurs as Will’s mouth twitches. “Or sufficient.”

The momentary glance between them then is an acknowledgement. Hannibal is aware that Will hasn’t fed in quite some time. A fine shiver passes over Will at the memories of them feasting together, before, in circumstances quite different from this. He feels his control slip ever so slightly at the thought of what Hannibal might have brought, his eyes following his alpha’s elegant hands closely as they set out their meal.

“A little protein scramble; eggs and sausage,” comes the familiar refrain.

“Used up all your creativity on unnecessary theatrics, none left over for the leftovers?” Will asks, forking his share onto a plate, deliberately uncouth, and trying not to drool at the scent. It isn’t exactly his preferred source of nourishment – nor Hannibal’s, to be sure – but Hannibal can do things with even such plain fare that just the memory of his kitchen has, on occasion, caused Will to kick himself for leaving.

“I elevated those parts of her that were worthy of it; the rest I did with what I could.”

“And here I thought you were just catering to my plebeian tastes,” Will says, looking up from under his lashes with a sneer.

“I do not recall your tastes ever being less than exquisite. Save perhaps that time in Constantinople.”

“Matthew,” Will says on a sigh, momentarily submerged in their shared memories. “He had such potential, a shame he had no control over himself.”

“I never liked him,” Hannibal sniffs, flicking out his napkin and setting it on his lap.

“You never liked any of the strays I brought home,” Will counters. “I wonder where he is now.”

“I should have killed him,” Hannibal glowers, and Will can’t help the swell in his chest at the reaction, even as Hannibal settles back into eating as though nothing has been said. Perhaps Will should have let Hannibal kill Matthew, but there is something pleasing still about having denied him. He has to admit to enjoying Hannibal’s still-piquant jealousy over that particular event.

It’s not the time to bask though, so Will decides to move on from this teasing and clears his throat.

“I give lectures on you, you know.” He watches Hannibal’s pupils dilate and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, thought you’d like that.”

“I will not deny that I always enjoyed being the focus of your attention. And I think that it would not be inaccurate to say that the opposite was true as well.”

“Yeah, well, that was the problem, wasn’t it? Your distraction.”

“My disobedience.”

“Stop. It was never that. Don’t make me out to be some cruel master,” Will snaps, unimpressed by Hannibal’s attempt to play the victim.

“Are you not? You may have preferred to dress us up as equals but the control was always and ultimately yours.”

“Really, alpha?” Will hisses.

“Really, sire.” Hannibal touches a hand to his throat, smooth, unmarred skin a lie and an insult to them both. Will longs to remedy it. He had always been so diligent about maintenance in the past. Instead, he takes another bite of his food, just to watch the way Hannibal watches him.

It seems clear to Will that despite his intentions, there is no avoiding this conversation. Even if he hadn’t intended to have it here and now. Hannibal is here. Now.

Will swallows his bite and places down his fork with a deliberate click, a movement that Hannibal notes with a raised brow but doesn’t comment on.

“I was three hundred years old when I met you.” Will knows Hannibal doesn’t need reminding. Their meeting is seared into both their minds. Will, an omega of thirty when he had been sired, had been selective for those three hundred years in regards to who he would sire himself. They had been few, and mostly for the sake of power orstrategy, rather than any great desire to keep them with him.

And then there had been Hannibal. A beautiful young nobleman bent on vengeance for his murdered family. They had encountered each other as Hannibal’s search brought him to the final murderer, by then a vampire of Will’s acquaintance.

Will is still unsure, all these centuries later, justwhy he agreed to help the young upstart, other than Hannibal being Hannibal and refusing to take no for an answer. He’s only a little clearer onhow he wound up allowing the alpha to seduce him so thoroughly. Will might have been irritated by the human, albeitgrudgingly impressed by his prowess as a killer and his passion for revenge, but Hannibal was beautiful and wild and utterly self-possessed. It tickled Will’s ego to let him attempt a courtship. He just hadn’t expected it to work.

“We had centuries together, Hannibal. And then you got distracted.” Will spits the word, imbuing it with the betrayal that still burns in his veins.

Hannibal’s eyes narrow for a moment, and Will knows what he’s thinking despite his tense silence. That it wasn’t his decision to separate them. That perhaps if Will had expressed his displeasure instead of exiling Hannibal without discussion, they could have worked things out. That they didn’t have to spend so many years estranged, alone, suffering heats and ruts that would always synchronise regardless of their distance, all for the sake of unfounded jealousy and petty resentment.

The thought makes Will wince, and his glare at Hannibal makes clear that he doesn’t want to hear anything from his mouth on that subject. And so Will brings them back to the point, Hannibal – amazingly, uncharacteristically – taking his scolding without riposte.

“We had a good thing in Florence, and then you got so caught up in playing cat and mouse with Pazzi that you lost focus. You, and your ego, were distracted to the point of endangerment.” Will tries not to growl the words; his ire will do no good.

Hannibal’s jaw clenches at the truth.

“And so you have tortured me with the denial of your presence for decades,” he grits out, finally.

“I wanted you to learn your lesson. I said I would let you return when I was ready to deal with you.”

“Are you ready now, Will?”

“Does it matter?” Will asks, with a poison-sweet smile. “You’ve forced my hand.” He picks up his fork and resumes eating the remnants of Hannibal’s gesture.

Hannibal’s smile returns, despite Will’s harsh words. Pleasure at being back in Will’s company, and being allowed to feed him in this way, apparently outweigh any fears of imminent rejection. In truth it’s enough to inflame Will’s desire for his alpha anew, that feeling of being the only thing in existence that matters. Not that he’s about to allow said alpha to see that. Will swallows and looks at Hannibal with a stern expression.

“What do you want, Hannibal?”

“Only the pleasure of your company,” comes the reply, all pleasant and proper and precision- engineered to piss Will off.

“You’ll spend another thirty years without it if you don’t cut the crap.”

If anything, Hannibal’s smile only broadens at this and Will unexpectedly finds himself hoping for his lips to part, to allow him a glimpse of fang. “Impossible boy,” Will says and it has the desired effect, Hannibal’s lips skinning back to reveal the points of his teeth. Will sighs, and aches for them in his neck, and says nothing.

Instead, Hannibal fills the silence with exactly what Will had expected. “I have but one request.”

“Of course you do.”

“Come to my table, allow me to make you dinner, permit me one conversation. I could live a very long time on one conversation.”

“You can live a very long time regardless.”

“Without you, it is mere existence.”

Will stops, his fork halfway to his mouth, and raises his eyebrows at Hannibal. “That was excessive, even for you.”

“Perhaps. The truth often is.”

Will hums and there is a lull before Hannibal rejoins.

“You know, Will, Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup, the finest china. Only used for special guests.”

Will’s chuckle is genuine and lightens his chest. As does Hannibal’s clear appreciation at having triggered that amusement. Will sits back in his chair with a sigh, smile still lingering. He missed this. Missed having an equal.

“How do you see me?” Will can’t help asking.

“My beginning and my end. My everything.”

Will’s chest aches and he bites back the words that try to claw out of his mouth, the admission he feels the same, that he’s been lost for so long, that Hannibal is the missing part of his soul (assuming he still has one). Instead, Will hums again before replying, cool and apparently unaffected.

“One dinner.” He forks the last of his food into his mouth and speaks as he chews. “To prove yourself to me again.”

Hannibal smiles and nods his agreement.

---

Later, sitting in front of the Hobbs’ front door, Will steals a glance at Hannibal and rolls his eyes.

“What are you smiling at?” he asks, not quite conjuring the detached disinterest he’s aiming for.

Hannibal, who might as well be purring with delight, takes a moment to consider, his eyes roving the homestead before them, denying Will the whole of his attention. It needles, just as it’s supposed to, bright little points of irritation biting their way out from under Will’s skin.

Will huffs, a release of pressure. “I got a criminology degree, you know. A good one, too, could have gone for the doctorate but…” He shrugs, one-shouldered and easy.

“Been there, done that?” Hannibal inquires. Will shoots him a smile, small but fond, acquiescent. “I did know,” Hannibal continues, returning to Will’s earlier remark. “I have even read your monograph. You were always fascinated by the creepy crawlies.”

“Says the man obsessed with cochlear gardens.” Will watches Hannibal let him have that and then, in for a penny, asks, “What did you think of it?”

“Your writing has improved greatly since I last read any of it. You have mastered your old weakness for the run-on sentence.”

“Damned with faint praise,” Will says, waiting Hannibal’s teasing out.

“You know what an imago is?”

“A flying insect.”

Hannibal smiles, soft lines by his mouth that will never grow any harsher. He knows Will knows that is not the answer he was looking for but he will indulge his sire’s intransigence. “An imago is an image of a loved one, buried in the unconscious, carried with us all our lives.”

“An ideal.”

“The concept of an ideal. Reading your book brought me as close to my ideal as I have been these last several decades. Still, it was only a concept, trapped and pinned to the page with its colour fading and its lifeblood drained.”

“Remind me never to ask you for a blurb on anything I publish,” Will says, burying himself under humour while the creak of his voice betrays him. “We should go,” he adds, unprepared to deal with the extent of Hannibal’s wanting him, even as he recognises the same urge building anew inside himself.

“Indeed,” Hannibal answers but neither of them move. “Was there something else?”

“What were you up to in that office?” Will asks, needing some kind of forewarning. He knows Hannibal did something, his antics with the box files deliberately obvious. And his alpha always did have a troublesome habit of setting things in motion out of idle curiosity. Just to see what would happen.

“I suppose we will find that out together,” Hannibal says, infuriatingly.

Will briefly considers punching him in the but he does have a job to do. He exits the car, stalking off towards the house and leaving Hannibal to follow or not as he may. The sound of the passenger door opening and closing provides the answer to that and Will doesn’t bother to look back, instead steeling himself to deal with Garrett Jacob Hobbs’ no-doubt polite but unconvincing front-door deflections.

Or not.

Will’s head snaps towards the door, beyond which he can hear the sounds of struggle, sense the outflowing of blood. He makes to sprint for the house but manages only a couple of steps before the front door is opening and the shadow of a man is pushing a bloodied, struggling woman into the light. The door slams and Will catches the woman – presumably Mrs Hobbs – in his arms. She is bleeding, bleeding, bleeding and Will’s vision is red, his eyes large and greedy as he goes to his knees under the deadweight of departing life. He pulls in a great breath of copper and fear and feels a fang slice his lip, shudders at the spark of pain, an echo of the agony beneath him. He can taste that pain as he tongues his lip, as he gazes into the woman’s shuttering eyes and he wants more of it. It’s been so long, he’s left it so long…

“Will.”

Hannibal. He shifts the woman so Hannibal can have access too. A life extinguishing in his arms and Hannibal at his side. This is right, this is how it always should be, this is-

“Will.” Hannibal’s voice is hushed, gentle but insistent. He places a finger beneath Will’s chin and lifts it until Will’s eyes are forced to lift and look at him. “You have a job to do, mustn’t forget.”

“Don’t you want to…” Will begins, hazy through the cloud of hunger that has enfolded him. He blinks. He knows Hannibal is right, and yet the instinct is almost too strong to resist. Why is it so hard to resist? Will whines, pained and overwhelmed.

“My love,” Hannibal says, stroking Will’s hair with such easy familiarity that Will cannot help but lean into it. “I have wanted nothing more for so many years but I think you wouldn’t thank me for it when the FBI arrives.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Will hisses.

Hannibal pauses at that, regards Will thoughtfully. “Have you been waiting for me to come and rescue you all this time, sire? From undeserving masters who use you like a dog in the endless pursuit of justice and you with no reason to leave? You who has razed cities to the ground, drained kings of their lifeforce, been a god of blood and terror, have you been hiding, waiting, craving for a reason to live again?”

Will whines again and does not deny it.

“Will.” Hannibal says it on a breath and his hand tightens in Will’s hair. “We have been foolish, haven’t we?”

Will can only nod.

Hannibal is right. He should have swallowed his stupid fucking pride and told Hannibal to stay. Should have kept him by his side at all times, through all ages, ‘til the end of everything. Should have circled the world with him, well-fed and well-loved, and then done it a thousand, thousand more times. Instead, he is shivering and famished on the doorstep of some dismal human killer, wracked with hunger of every imaginable kind, punished by his self-pitying refusal to feed more regularly.And now, despite his great age, the mere presence of his alpha is causing primal instincts to surface. He can feel it rising in Hannibal too,the instinct to come back together, to renew their bond;it’s almost strong enough for Will to beg for them to leave now, to be away from this farce of an existence, no note, no explanation.

Hannibal’s presence there is cause both for his weakness and his strength, as he pulls himself together as best he can.

Hannibal looks down at the body in his arms and for a moment Will’s unbeating heart gives a phantom spark. He can already taste her blood in Hannibal’s mouth. But then Hannibal moves away and takes the body with him, freeing Will from its weight.

“Go and play the hero,” Hannibal tells him, nodding at the front door, “and afterwards we will begin again.”

---

Somehow, Will finds himself inside the Hobbs’ front door, bracing himself against the hallway as he gropes for any trace of composure. He has his gun up, his eyes darting to the sides to check for activity, but he knows where he’s going. The stench of fear and panic is sharp in his nostrils and he follows it like the bloodhound rumour would paint him as.

Into the kitchen, then, ducking into the doorway and the sudden feeling of steel through his heart. He staggers, more from shock than pain, and grabs the door jamb for support, slicking it red. The knife is warm inside him, painted with another’s blood, and uncomfortable as Will’s body attempts to reject it. He looks up, into cold blue eyes that sparkle with triumph and then dull into confusion and fear as Will grasps the knife’s hilt and slides it from his body with a little groan of relief.

“Do you see?” he asks the bewildered Garret Jacob Hobbs, letting the blade fall from his shaking fingertips to clatter on the ground, the sound cacophonous in the stricken silence of the kitchen. Even the child lying on the floor has grown quiet, her life leaving her in great gouts; like mother like daughter.

“Monster,” Hobbs rasps, poised between fight and flight.

“Takes one to know one,” Will hisses, then lifts his gun and puts every bullet he has into the pathetic creature before him.

Hobbs is shoved back into the corner by the of Will’s shots and drops to the floor in a ragged heap, wet noises bubbling up from his throat. Will doesn’t pay him any further attention – he will die in that corner unwatched and unheard – instead folding to his knees beside the girl exsanguinating on the floor. Her breath is shallow but still there and Will clasps his hand around her neck, thinking to stem the flow despite the likely uselessness of the gesture. Her father used the same move on her as he did on her mother – uninspired – a deep cut to the neck, opening the carotid so her blood would be pushed out, fast and forceful, her young, healthy heart speeding her death along. An attempt at mercy, Will supposes, but a pointless one. She will still die in pain and confusion, life snatched from her by a man who should have lived to protect her.

“So easy to take a life, so hard to save one,” Hannibal remarks from the doorway. Will lifts his head, shaking, overwhelmed, suffused with blood and death and desperation. He’s covered in it, not an inch of him spared, and he looks up at Hannibal through glass blooming with crimson. Hannibal looks back at him and, without another word, crouches at the girl’s other side and gently replaces Will’s hand with his own.

“This won’t save her,” he murmurs, as Will’s knees finally give out from him and he slumps into a heap, still trembling and panting for air he doesn’t need. Even now, human instinct is still buried inside him, the urge for survival seeking out every last route, even the pointless ones.

Will shudders as he looks at the girl. A mere child.

A child. And his body burns.

“Hannibal, fuck, can you smell it?”

“Yes,” comes the reply, Hannibal not looking up from his examination of the damage to the girl’s throat, “you are in heat.”

“The blood, the fucking… there’s so much of it and…” Will trails off, whining.

“And your alpha is here,” Hannibal finishes for him, clinical and matter-of-fact, belying the need Will knows he is feeling.

Will is panting, sweating.

He should have fed. He shouldn’t have let Hannibal so close. He shouldn’t have agreed to help Jack. So many recriminations litter his path to this point, and none of them matter now.

Not with the girl bleeding out before them, and his whole body screaming for Hannibal to take him and knot him for the first time in decades, not when Will can barely focus on anything beyond the three of them.

“What?” Will looks up, tries to focus, realising Hannibal had said something.

“I asked if you want me to save her, Will?”

Will blinks, looks down at the girl, blinks again.

“She could be ours. We could be her fathers.” Hannibal’s words sound encouraging though his tone is matter of fact. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? A family? Let me give it to you Will. Let me make this future for us.”

Will winces and clasps his abdomen as a sharp pain strikes. His nostrils are filled with the scent of his would-be daughter’s blood. Could-be daughter. She’s choking on it, her eyes almost unseeing as her life continues draining inexorably from her.

An almost hysterical chuckle breaks from Will’s lips.

“Will she be your Claudia?”

Hannibal’s smile is soft, amused. “And which of us do you see as the scoundrel Lestat?”

Will finds a smile of his own, somehow. “Both. Neither. Can we just be ourselves?”

Hannibal looks like he would very much like to reach over and touch Will but he keeps his hands tight around the girl’s throat. “We certainly can try. But the point still stands. Do you want her, Will?”

“Yes,” the word escapes him like a cry.

Will seizes with longing and arousal as Hannibal’s fangs reveal themselves. He watches as he takes the near lifeless body into his arms and sinks his teeth into her, as Will sank his own into Hannibal so many centuries ago.

The girl convulses slightly as the last of this life flows from her and puts up no resistance as Hannibal nicks his wrist with a fang and streams a little of his blood down her throat. Will considers doing the same but it’s not necessary – Hannibal is his and she is Hannibal’s, the connection will flow through them all, it’s inescapable.

She will be nothing more than a husk now. At least, for a little while. Her new life will come with time and they will find her when it does. Hannibal will be drawn to her essence when she revives and will take her from whatever morgue or grave she has been stowed in.

And then they will be a family.

The thought sends another sharp pain through Will, his womb contracting with need.

“Hannibal.”

The alpha looks up and lets the girl slip from his arms, back into the pool of her own blood.

Will’s body cries out to be taken. So it is damn near excruciating when Hannibal simply raises a brow and tuts.

“You really should take better care of yourself, Will. Had you eaten as you should…”

Hannibal trails off when he hears Will’s desperate snarl.

“Hannibal,” Will growls.

Hannibal flinches, succumbing to the effect of his sire’s heat on him, helpless no matter how righteous he tries to seem.

Jolting into movement, Hannibal pulls Will to him and lifts him in his arms, getting to his feet in one smooth motion as though Will weighs nothing. The scent of Hannibal’s oncoming rut serves only to make Will’s womb clench all the harder, for his slick to run all the freer.

They are dripping with blood.

The little they had been flecked with from Mrs Hobbs, and the splatter on Will from shooting Garrett Jacob Hobbs, was nothing compared to the blood of their daughter. The Hobbs’ daughter once, but now – and forevermore – Will and Hannibal’s.

Will cries out as his body shakes through a painful tremor, instincts driving him to create new life inside him like a good omega, regardless of those organs having been rendered defunct and useless since the day and hour he was made.

“Breed me…” Will growls, trying not to whimper.

To which Hannibal sucks in a sharp breath and replies, “Claim me.”

Will trembles, and grins.

Trailing thick globules of blood, Hannibal carries Will from the kitchen, and towards the stairs. At that, Will can’t help a smirk. With backup doubtless on the way, Will can’t argue with the desire for privacy but Hannibal could have easily removed them to another room on the ground floor of the house. Instead, of course, Hannibal carries him to a bedroom and lays him gently on the soft blankets like a new bride.

Such a careful, caring action, deliciously at odds with the animalistic glean in Hannibal’s eyes that shows exactly how close the alpha is to descending into his rut.

And indeed, any restraint is gone in moments as Hannibal begins to tear at Will’s blood- soaked shirt. When it is shredded enough to fall apart, Hannibal crawls over Will like the predator he is, and lowers his mouth to Will’s right nipple.

Blood has soaked through to skin and Hannibal whines his pleasure as Will’s body contorts with need.

He needs to be naked, he needs Hannibal inside him.

But there is something else in this. Something in Hannibal sucking the blood from his chest, the girl’s blood. Their daughter.

The sight of it solidifies something within Will, a familial bond between the three of them. This will join them together irrevocably. Irredeemably. This is the promise of their future. The promise that he will never separate them again.

“Alpha…” Will gasps and wriggles and finally Hannibal pulls back.

His eyes are wide and feral, pupils dilated,

the expression Hannibal only wears when he’s killing or fucking. No, more than that, the one he only ever wears when he’s with Will, with his mate.

Will trembles at the sight. Has he ever understood what it means to be in love before this moment? How could he have? How could he have felt this and ever pushed Hannibal away?

“Mine,” Hannibal growls, moving back, ripping Will’s pants from him and throwing them away. They hit the wall next to the bed with a wet thunk, leaving a bloody impact stain.

Will tries to reach for Hannibal’s clothes, but it’s too late for that now.

He’s hazy, unfocused on anything but Hannibal’s scent.

But this is nothing compared to Hannibal’s loss of control. His rut is completely upon him now, vicious and unyielding until he knots his mate.

Hannibal pushes Will’s hands away. With motions quicker than even Will can follow, he reaches out and grabs Will’s throat, pulling him close enough to nose at the healed mating scar.

Oh, how Will hates that they heal this way.

It’s not a new regret, he has felt it every time they’ve renewed their claim on each other, but it’s all the more profound this time for how long it has been, how completely time has eradicated the proof of their bond.

Will whimpers as Hannibal pulls back and uses his grip to manipulate Will onto his front. He collapses to the bed when Hannibal releases him, but drags himself quickly onto all fours as he knows he must. As instinct drives him to in order to receive his alpha’s seed.

The sound behind him is unmistakable, Hannibal ripping open his exquisitely- tailored pants with no attempt to otherwise undo them.

“Stay,” he growls, an order and a plea, his hand now gripping the back of Will’s neck, forcing him down as he slides in tight against Will’s ass.

It’s only when the tip of Hannibal’s cock presses against his entrance that Will is aware of exactly how wet he is. Even for a heat, the slide is almost frictionless as Hannibal slips into him for the first time in decades, burying himself to the hilt.

The alpha pauses for a moment, shaking.

And Will wonders what is to come. They have never been so long between matings and now Hannibal has given him a child. Will shudders. Whatever is next, he wants it all.

There is some pain as Hannibal’s grip tightens on his neck, but it’s quickly soothed by the comfort of the alpha blanketing over his back, only the tattered remains of their clothes between them. He fucks Will hard. Harder than Will can remember.

And even with that, it is loving.

Hannibal’s grip loosens and he strokes over Will’s faded mating mark, before leaning in to nuzzle at it. Graze it with his fangs.

“Please, Hannibal.”

“Mine,” Hannibal grunts again and then sinks in his teeth.

Will comes.

He’s not sure if it lasts moments or days as his body drags Hannibal closer, further inside himself. He can feel the press of Hannibal’s knot against him but, beyond that, everything is dreamlike.

He is lost. There is nothing else but Hannibal’s body sliding in and out of his own.

It might last hours, Will can’t tell. He drifts in sensation, basks in their closeness, wishes that eternity could be nothing but this. But then Hannibal cries out as he pushes his knot into Will, and Will’s body locks around it, triggering another climax, this time for both of them.

Hannibal’s teeth are in his neck again, biting deeper.

Deeper.

“Enough, Hannibal,” Will commands in that voice that he so rarely wishes to use. The voice of a master over that which it has sired.

Still Hannibal grips, his tongue moving over flesh a moment longer, and Will wonders for a moment if it will be necessary to use force to settle his alpha. Hannibal’s remarkable discipline does not always extend to his indulgence in Will and they have sometimes come to blows before Hannibal’s control re-establishes itself. Will tenses slightly, in readiness for a fight but then Hannibal is pulling back, releasing. Collapsing.

Hannibal falls to his side and takes Will with him, his hips still pumping.

Both addled with pleasure and relief, Hannibal continues to fill Will with every drop of his seed, until they both black out from the exertion of their continued climaxes.

If time hadn’t lost meaning before, it has now.

Will has no idea how long has passed since they tied.

It’s still light out, but Will can’t be sure if they are even on the same day.

The initial haze of his heat has lifted, sated for now by the mating bite. Still, he will not be truly satisfied until he’s returned it.

Hannibal murmurs and then is awake.

He growls and Will shushes him gently.

He growls again, pushes up against Will and Will pulls away, seed spilling from him in the wake of Hannibal’s softened cock. This only brings another snarl from the rutting alpha, at which Will turns and snaps his fangs.

“Damn greedy boy. Insatiable boy. Behave and I’ll give you what you want.”

Hannibal proves his point by humping his now hard- again cock against Will’s thigh.

As quick as Hannibal had been before, Will pushes the alpha to his back and sinks down on his twitching member.

Hannibal’s growling fades into a howl and he almost doubles over, baring his teeth and snapping at Will.

Will chuckles, and smooths Hannibal’s hair back from his sweat -damp face.

“Oh, Hannibal. Always so beautiful in your rut. I have missed this.”

Hannibal’s lip twitches, his fangs exposed, when Will leans down into a biting kiss. He doesn’t know if the blood he tastes is his own or Hannibal’s as they catch fangs in each other's lips. He doesn’t care to know.

Will begins to rock gently, working Hannibal’s knot up. It swells quickly, and Will is glad that their bodies are reacting with such speed given that they won’t be alone for long. In fact he’s surprised they haven’t already been happened upon. Perhaps it’s a sign that not much time has passed at all.

“Remember this time, dear boy,” Will whispers, hovering above Hannibal’s lips before sliding his mouth down to Hannibal’s neck. “Remember it like the first time. Like every time.”

When Hannibal whimpers, Will sinks in his teeth.

And that’s all the alpha needs to howl once more and resume his impossible task of impregnating his omega. His sire.

Will sighs and lets Hannibal ravish him.

Lets him work through his rut.

For now, at least.

They have so much time ahead of them now.

---

“Will!” Jack’s voice is quickly followed by a heavy rapping on the bedroom door.

Will shakes his head, pulling himself from the muggy feeling of a heat temporarily sated by knots and bites. He’d passed out after their last round, straddling Hannibal’s hips, still securely knotted despite having collapsed face first onto the alpha’s chest.

He blinks and turns his head to the door, raises a brow.

“What do you intend to do?” Hannibal asks, casually curious, on his back with his arms crossed above his head. His knot pulses with his words.

Will squirms pleasantly at the sensation but keeps looking in the direction of the disturbance a moment more. Then he turns his head slowly, a sweet smile just for Hannibal bursting across his face.

“I intend to do nothing more than see just how you get us out of this mess. And you will get us out, Hannibal, because immediately after you do, I am taking you to my home, sating your rut, and then never letting you out of my sight again.”

Hannibal grins and calls out, in a professional tone that feels foreign in this intimate setting.

“Jack, this is Hannibal. I respectfully ask that you don’t come in.”

“Doctor Lecter? What the hell is-”

“I will write a full report for you, but suffice to say, Will was unexpectedly overcome. The adrenaline and shock of the experience, of the deaths downstairs, has driven his body into heat. A perfectly natural, if rare, side effect for an omega in these circumstances.”

Jack murmurs something on the other side of the door that neither of them can quite make out. Likely something about how he understands how delicate omegas can be.

Will raises a brow at Hannibal. Follows it with a scowl.

Before either of them can say anything further, Jack replies again.

“I will have this room restricted until you are ready to leave.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

They can hear retreating footsteps and Will bites back a growl.

“I would be mad at you for pulling that misogynistic bullshit with my boss, if I thought for one moment you believed it. Or that I’d have to work with him much longer. I’m surprised you didn’t just invite him in for us to feast upon.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to be so indiscreet. Though it’s not too late-”

“No,” Will growls.

Hannibal hums his agreement, then rocks his hips slightly and makes Will sigh at the feel of his knot still locked firmly within him.

“I will endeavour not to do anything rash. We’ll have to wait until we can steal Abigail away from the morgue. Once she’s fully recovered, we will start anew elsewhere.”

“Not Florence,” Will grumbles, clenching around Hannibal’s knot hard enough to make the alpha draw a sharp breath.

“No, not Florence,” Hannibal agrees, mouthing at the renewed mating mark on Will’s neck.

Will smiles, a happiness descending on him that he has missed all these years. Except now it holds the promise of so much more, all just waiting for the moment Abigail wakes in her bed to see her new fathers sitting beside her, each holding one of her hands. Ready to begin their life as a family.

---

“And here we are now,” Will ends, his hands spreading with a flourish.

“That’s it?” Freddie frowns, angry. “You really expect me to buy that?”

Will shrugs. “Up to you, Freddie. The evidence is all there, you just have to interpret it.”

She glares at him, clearly trying to decide just what kind of crazy he really is. Will thinks she’s this close to storming out of the room, off to write an exposé of his bizarre fantasies, when her eyes alight on his chest, which hasn’t risen for a breath for several minutes now. Her gaze widens into a full-blown stare and Will allows himself a smirk as he sees the wheels turning in her mind.

“You… you…” she stammers, before pulling herself together. Will always has admired her gumption. “You smell wrong, nobody could ever tell what you were until Lecter claimed you. And – wait, he did claim you, everybody saw the mark…”

She trails off as Will, smiling indulgently, lowers his shirt collar to reveal the smooth, unmarred flesh he’d allowed to regenerate (much to Hannibal’s heated protests) just for this moment.

Freddie’s pen drops to her lap and rolls off somewhere into the office, forgotten, as she raises a hand to her mouth. She leans forward, on the edge of her seat, as she scans the patch of skin which she had posted pictures of, bloodied and torn, just mere days previously. She looks as if she wants to touch; maybe she would have, if her attention hadn’t just been gripped by something new.

She peers into the darkening room and finally registers the boxes, the packing that has already begun in readiness for a new life, elsewhere. Her eyes snap to his, suddenly frantic. “That’s not the end. It can’t end there. Or, tell me something else, tell me about before, before meeting him this time.”

Will can’t help but smirk at how quickly her smug entitlement has melted into eagerness.

That, and the fact that she believes it all and yet apparently has developed no concerns for her safety.

He smiles at her, almost kind if not for the momentary flash of points behind his lips.

“For you, there is no more to tell. No more stories, Ms Lounds.”

“There has to be more… What people wouldn’t give to have your life! What I wouldn’t give!” Her eyes glow with the burning desire he has seen so many times before, so predictable in this type of human. Only one had ever surprised him… but then, Hannibal hadn’t really ever been human,not even as the young Lithuanian man who had looked into Will’s eyes and told him the bite could wait until he was ready.

“You agreed to this interview for a reason, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” she presses.

Will smirks.

“And what reason would that be?”

“To make me one of you. Another companion. You can see we are all alike, that I was meant to-”

Will cuts her off. “Ms Lounds, I can assure you, we are nothing alike.”

He laughs, a cruel chuckle, watching as she stands from her chair, places her hands on her hips, every bit the entitled brat.

“I’m not leaving here until-”

Will moves so swiftly from his chair to hers that he knows he is nothing more than a blur to her. And the fear in her eyes confirms it.

She shrieks as he looms over her, taking hold of her shoulders with a crushing grip as he growls at her.

“Is that what you want? To be one of the immortals?” he growls, enjoying the fear that grows in her eyes, replacing the passion of moments before. He leans in close and whispers, breath cool against her ear, “You’ll never be more than food to us.” And there it is, the difference between him and Hannibal, and the likes of Freddie Lounds. Her eagerness has been replaced by terror that marks her as fodder, not friend.

Freddie screams and, with a grin, Will lets her go.

He watches her run but he doesn’t need to follow.

He can hear as she comes to a sudden halt just beyond the door. And then he hears Hannibal croon words dripping with charm… and other, deadlier things.

“Ms Lounds, we’ve been remiss. I believe it’s about time my sire and I had you for dinner.”

97 notes · View notes

jbird-the-manwich · 3 years

Note

I don't follow enough of witchblr to ever know what the current drama is, but I follow your blog partially because it's like I'm subscribed to a fascinatingly weird tabloid describing foolishness in far off places that I don't understand but am entertained by anyway. Thank you for this valuable public service.

Just doing my job fam o7

12 notes · View notes

anonymoushouseplantfan · 4 years

Note

I don't know why Lainey sugars for them. They've made her look foolish multiple times. I mean come on. Become an advocate for indigenous women? And they clearly don't give her scoops anymore. And yet she sugars on. It's very odd to me.

It’s weird that she wrote an entire article about how significant it is that People got the LA exclusive, when Dan Wootton actually broke the story first for the Sun. She sounds like an idiot babbling about how mad the UK tabloids are that they didn’t get the story. They DID get it.

46 notes · View notes

kngston · 4 years

Text

[ ARÓN PIPER // CIS MAN // HE/HIM ] – oh my god, is that SILAS KINGSTON?! the tabloids can’t seem to stop buzzing about the 23 year old HEIR. the industry has dubbed him “THE HIMBO” and sources say, he is +SANGUINE and +CONFIDENT, yet also -BOISTEROUS and -NAIVE. yet, with all this gossip, who really knows?! one thing’s for sure, though– queen bee has it out for him!

𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕤.

full name: silas miles kingston age & birthday: 23, april 12th astrological sign: aries gender & preferred pronouns: cis man, he/him sexual & romantic orientation: pansexual, panromantic social media handle: @kingsilas personality traits: sanguine, boisterous, passionate, hedonistic, cocky, outspoken, shallow, youthful, confident, libidinous, naive, spoiled, egocentric, attention-seeking, foolish, fun, pretentious, lazy, vain, impatient, superficial, loyal, dramatic, dense aesthetics: designer sunglasses lowered to check out the babes, a lack of consequences, beer pong championship trophies, #himborights, & a lit cigarette between smirking lips

𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪.

reed kingston (father - age 54, fc: timothy olyphant) grace kingston (mother - age 52, fc: jennifer garner) poppy kingston (little sister - age 13, fc: millie bobby brown) chandler kingston (older brother - age 29, fc: max irons)

the kingston family’s money comes from a generations-old luxury watch business, that reed kingston is currently the ceo of. more recently, in 2014 they acquired a hard seltzer company, that has since skyrocketed their already incredibly massive amount of wealth into just under billionaire territory.

other than the notoriety he gets just from his last name alone, silas specifically is best known for his social media presence, where he regularly flexes the lavish purchases he makes with his family’s money, and the hedonistic lifestyle he thoroughly enjoys.

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤.

silas kingston is pretty much the sidekick to any rich villain in a nineties rom-com come to life. the one that’s just as wealthy, just as much of a douchebag, but too dumb to be the leader of the gang, and more interested in partying than playing weird mind games

due to being raised as a spoiled brat, the concept of not immediately getting whatever he wants isn’t something he’s used to. he goes through life just doing whatever will bring him the most pleasure, and consequences aren’t something he really worries about.

as the middle child, he sometimes feels like he doesn’t get quite as much attention as his older brother (the golden child) or his little sister (the baby of the family), but he’s always just used that to his advantage, taking it as an opportunity to just get away with whatever he wanted to do. he knows that there’s no pressure for him to take over his dad’s company once he retires, since chandler will be doing that for him.

silas has never taken anything seriously in his life, and that’s the way he likes it. he’s gotten himself a reputation for being a little bit of a heartbreaker - or, more accurately, fuckboy - which has resulted in his car getting keyed on more than one occasion. but when he can easily just replace it, he doesn’t see the situation as being that big of a problem.

𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤. (all open to any gender)

best friend 😜 - (0/1 taken)

friend 😊 - (1/∞ taken by sienna rivera)

the queen to his king 👑 - (1/1 taken by valentina banks) notes: someone that silas simps over. his feelings for them aren’t entirely unrequited, but for whatever reason, they haven’t given into his desires - at least not just yet (like the others, this is open to any gender, but i couldn’t think of a better name for this connection)

good influence/mom friend 🙄- (1/1 taken by blaise ross) notes: someone who tries to keep silas in line

party pal/bad influence 🥤- (1/∞ taken by melody park)

family friend 🤝 - (0/1 taken)

frenemy 😒 - (1/1 taken by tristan merritt)

enemy 🤬 - (1/2 taken by hayes finlay)

unrequited/secret crush 🥺 - (0/1 taken) notes: someone who’s into silas but he either doesn’t know about it, or doesn’t reciprocate the feelings

one night stand 👻 - (0/1 taken) notes: someone silas ghosted and possibly harbors resentment towards him now

friends with benefits 🍆 - (0/∞ taken)

booty call 🍑 - (0/∞ taken) notes: similar to friends with benefits, but without the friendship aspect

secret hookup 🤐 - (1/1 taken by balthazar cavalier) notes: for whatever reason, the details of their affair are kept hidden from the public

first time 🍒 - (1/1 taken by venus velour) notes: someone who lost their virginity to silas

enemies with benefits 👀 - (1/1 taken by scarlett van holt) notes: either a mutual dislike yet attraction to each other, or someone that silas likes but they don’t like silas, but still find themselves falling into bed with him

ex 💔 - (1/1 taken by alexa paige) notes: their relationship would have been short lived, likely having ended on bad terms

&& more! let me fill your wanted connections too! :)

𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕔. 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕤

( pinterest. / musings. / playlist. )

#renownedintro #( intro. )

5 notes · View notes

theapachevikingnomadfromhell · 3 months

Text

youtube

Decided to try something new. On the pilot episode of Weird Tabloid Foolishness, I'll be discussing strange WTF stories from the news. The 1st story about a Black Metal band apologizing for throwing severed pigs head a Houston, Tx show, Anti-abortion activist arrested after climbing the Las Vegas sphere and Minnesota cop sucking on experimental drug testing machine. This channel is supported exclusively by the viewers like you. Please send your digital donations to support my work to CashApp, Chime, PayPal and Venmo to rockinrobsa210. Thank you very much.

0 notes

savannah-lim · 4 years

Text

Two For One Sacrifice Special || Dave & Savannah

Dave didn’t really know what he had signed up for. An ad in the local newspaper that he’d answered, asking for a local human sacrifice. “Find your peace today.” It had said, and the image with it had been a terrifying tangle of tentacles. This was some White Crest nonsense, alright, and Dave had wanted to understand what the hell was going on, that people felt so comfortable putting ads like that right in the paper. So he’d signed up, told them he was old and tired of living, which were both only partially true. He’d been sent some co-ordinates and a time - 7pm, under the waxing gibbous. Only problem was, those co-ordinates? Near something called the Devil’s Gullet. Dave didn’t like that one bit, as he waited. His coat oversized and loose, hiding his weapons.

Cults, missing people, human freaking sacrifice. Those were the joys of White Crest. Savannah had retraced as many of Javier’s steps as she could. He’d made a pretty big deal about reading the paper every day, even if it did read like the tabloids that wrote about Alligators in the Sewers. That was where she had seen the ad. Human Sacrifice Wanted. Well… that couldn’t be good. But the spot had been filled, and so instead she had been calling the people who printed the newspaper trying to find as much information as possible. That didn’t lead anywhere either, so she tried something else. ‘Can I watch?’ It had taken a while before the answer came back. ‘Fine, we might need a backup.’ So now, here she was, unknowingly at the place where Javier had jumped to his death, armed with her government issued weapon. “Are you the…” she asked, approaching the other man on the scene.

“Sure am,” Dave replied, his eyes narrowed. She didn’t smell like anything too suspicious. She wasn’t a shifter, that was for damn sure, and if he could get closer, he might be able to feel if her heart was hammering. Still left him with a whole range of options. He breathed in deeply, catching the thick scent of coffee, and paper like she spent most of her time in the office. Printer ink, and alcohol still clinging to her clothes. More’n that too, but he wasn’t about to dig deeper into that particular spell. No weird herbs, or magic burning, no blood. Nothing. Weird as hell. “It just you, or are we waiting for a party?”

The evening light was enough for Savannah to make out the man’s features. He had a gruffness about him, a weathered kind of look. He struck her as someone who was very hands-on, who didn’t beat around the bush. She hadn’t finished her sentence. Was he the person who posted the ad or the one who answered it? “Party? Oh, no. This isn’t my idea of a party. My idea of a party is in a warm bar, music playing, maybe some dancing. Not a giant--” She gestured to the huge hole in the ground. “What exactly is this? Why did you answer the ad?”

That wasn’t promising in the slightest. “That’s usually my idea of a party too,” Dave agreed, tilting his head to try to get a better read on her too. “Aren’t you the one who should know?” Dave asked, his eyes narrowing even more deeply. “Hell if I know what this place is. I was sent the GPS coordinates and came right here.” He sighed, deeply. This could be a real problem. If she wasn’t part of them, then she might scare them away. Which’d defeat the whole point of putting himself in danger now, wouldn’t it. “If you weren’t the one who texted, why’re you here? D’you know who did text?”

Well, her guess had been right. “Me?” Savannah questioned, scoffing. “Oh, you think I’m the--” she laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. “Oh, no, I’m the back-up. The person who goes in the hole if you can’t make it or--” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry. It’s not going to happen.” She felt her badge from the inside of her jacket, but she wasn’t ready to show it yet. “Don’t know yet, but I’m going to find out.” She spoke normally again, in case they were being overheard. “I’m so excited. I’ve never seen an actual human sacrifice before.” She leaned as close to the hole as she dared, taking a look. “How deep do you think it goes?”

“Ah,” The actual fool in this situation, then, Dave thought a little unkindly. If she was here wanting to die, then he’d have to drag her out of here with him the moment shit went sideways. “Yeah, no need to throw you down there. Why’d you volunteer, if they already had someone?” He’d never even answered her question, but that was his prerogative. I wonder how you’d feel about salt. Dave groaned. That Dane kid was still stuck in his head too. Don’t send anyone out here, he tried to think loudly back at them, no idea if that would work. “Suspect I look the way most other humans look, not much exciting about me.” He didn’t quite hear what she said when she looked down the hole, but it didn’t matter ether way. “Think we got company.” He said, looking behind her, where two figures approached in deep red hoods, although to Dave they looked dark brown. It woulda looked impressive, if the hoods hadn’t come right from the costume store, literally. The price tags still hung on the hoods.

"Why wouldn't I volunteer for something so exciting? I wanted to see what this was all about." It was only partly a lie. Savannah was probably a little more excited about the prospect of busting up a potential cult than she should have been. Of course, unlike Javier, she had the sense to send all the information back at HQ so she wouldn't just disappear without a trace if anything happened. She lifted her eyes to examine the figures as they made their way towards them. "More than one?" she huffed. She'd hoped it would be one person. It made things easier. But they didn't exactly look professional. "Oh, come on. No need for all that secrecy. Go back to Party City and get your money back. Take those things off."

“Right,” Dave said, because she was beginning to look more foolish by the minute. He didn’t have time to say more, as the two approached in their cloaks. They looked young, from what he could see of their jaunt and their long, bony profiles. “You’re not in a position to make demands, ma’am. He is the guy. David, right?” One of them said, and while his eyes were hidden, Dave could see a bad batch of angry acne on his chin. Dave didn’t even blink as they walked over to him, clasping his hands behind his back. He looked back over to the woman, hoping she wouldn’t do anything rash. He almost missed what Acne-Chin had to say. “Shit. He’s not human!”

Savannah’s disapproval was evident as they came close enough for her to get a better look at them in spite of the hoods. “Not in a position to-- Oh, come on. I’m not going to be ordered around by Zac Efron in High School Musical.” She furrowed her brow. Technically, she could have arrested them right now, but she wanted to see what they would do. Advertising for a human sacrifice, though very suspect, wasn’t actually against the law. Not unless she could prove they were going to actually kill someone. “Uh, excuse me? What do you mean not human?”

Dave couldn’t help it, he snorted, trying not to take a liking to her when she’d volunteered herself to die. Still, the kid in the red hood wasn’t done talking, and Dave’d keep himself mild either way, trying not to curse as it revealed him. How the fuck did Acne-Chin know?“I can always tell. Her. We can use her. Can you get the circle going? I’ve got Dungeons and Dragons tonight and we gotta get this thing summoned before then or my grades’ll got to shit,” Acne-Chin said to his friend. A flap of wind caught his hood, briefly exposing the rest of his long, narrow face before tugging it back down. “Don’t worry old man, we’ll make sure you die either way.”

“Oh, no, you have to be able to legally drink to touch me.” Savannah stiffened, her features stern. Now that was enough. He’d made direct threats. Now was as good a time as any. There wasn’t going to be much more probably cause than that unless she actually let them throw this poor bastard into the hole. She reached for her badge, holding it up with one hand, brandishing her gun with the other. “FBI! Hands up, hoods down. You’re both under arrest for attempted murder.”

The acne riddled kid was reaching into his pocket as he was speaking. Dave opted to watch him do it rather than understanding the threats, so when he aimed to stab Dave caught his wrist before he could even do anything. The woman was yelling something, and the two turned to look at her simultaneously, giving Dave the chance to twist the kid’s wrist hard enough for him to drop the tackily decorated knife he was holding. Acne-Chin wilted, and Dave stepped away from him as Acne-Chin raised his hands. He hadn’t understood her yelling, but he could read the badge alright. Thank god she hadn’t really wanted to be sacrificed then. Acne-Chin started panting, his eyes wild as he made a break for the… giant hole in the ground. Before he could get much of anywhere, Dave grabbed him and shoved him to the ground. “No use in running, kid. No sacrifice for you today.”

Savannah couldn’t help but be a little impressed as Dave wrestled the knife out of the adolescent hand of the young man. The other was still brandishing one though, and she had her weapon trained on him. “Uh-uh, don’t do it, Riverdale.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder at his friend, the one who had since been wrestled to the ground, and he sighed, dropping the knife. “Damnit, Tucker, you couldn’t check if you were inviting law enforcement here?” Savannah rolled her eyes and moved in to cuff them. “Save it for the police station.” She tossed a pair of handcuffs to the other man. “Not human, huh? So they’re crazy as well as murderers?”

“Yeah, must be.” Dave lied, because like hell was he giving secrets to the FBI “Figured they were doing something weird ‘n’ creepy from the ad. Figured I was better at stopping them than some random hapless teen, you know.” Dave looked her over. “Turns out, the hapless person ain’t so hapless after all.” He wrestled the kid to the ground proper, yanking his hands behind his back, but the handcuffs were a little trickier to operate than Dave’d realised - he usually killed shit, he didn’t help cops with civilian arrests or whatever. All the while, it felt like the Devil’s Gullet was watching him, which made no sense, and made him want to get the hell outta here. He almost had the kid in the cuffs when the kid squirmed and yanked his arm free and reached into his pocket. Dave saw a round flask full of pink liquid, before it was thrown between him and the FBI lady, and exploded with a loud fizz.

“Oh, so you didn’t actually intend to let them throw you into a bottomless pit with your hands tied behind your back?” Savannah challenged. Well, that was a damn relief. She’d had enough crazy for tonight. But it seemed that crazy hadn’t had enough of her. “Watch it! He’s--” but she never got to finish her sentence. She didn’t manage to get the frat boy cultist into the back of her car by the time the other had thrown the flask. The pink liquid turned to pink smoke, engulfing the space between them. Savannah spluttered and coughed, her vision blurred, her surroundings becoming fuzzy at the edges. She saw Javier in the smoke, surrounded by faces she didn’t know. They were blurred and dream-like, but Javier was clear as day. She saw him jump into the pit, and her scream to him fell on nothingness. He couldn’t hear her.

Her head spun with an unspeakable language, like what she’d heard on Javier’s tapes, and out of the smoke, she saw squid-like tentacles reaching for her like desperate hands. She saw them mixing with Javier’s features, she saw him turn violent, and then her vision snapped back to normal. One teen had vanished in the smoke, and the other was still struggling on the ground having fallen there in the scuffle. “What the hell did you do to me, you little shit?” she snapped, and the boy gave the best shrug he could manage with handcuffed arms.

“Just showed you a little piece of the truth. What you do with it is up to you.”

“Wasn’t on my plan for the day,” Dave snorted wryly, but he should have been acting so glibly as the potion began to fizz. He coughed and spluttered, but didn’t let go of Acne-Chin once. The smoke filled his eyes and nose, suffocating out the rest of his vision. He didn’t see what she did, didn’t see anything more than the deep fog surrounding them. Maybe it was some damn part of the spell the college students hadn’t expected him to show up for, but he didn’t comment on it. Acne-Chin struggled in his grasp right up until the second the fog faded into the air. Dave was left holding the cheap red hood, and nothing else. He looked up at the agent as she snapped, visibly rattled. “Shit. You alright?”

“Ugh, yeah, I’m fine,” Savannah grumbled, rubbing the back of her head and pulling herself up off the ground, wiping off his jeans. She was having a hell of a day. “Just made my head spin for a second.” She planned on grilling this obnoxious little shit about exactly what his friend had poisoned her with. She opened up her car door, placing her captive in the back seat and locking him in. “I’m going to take him to the station and Miranda him. I trust I’ll be seeing you there to take a statement.” Her tone indicated that wasn’t merely a polite request. “Freaking kids and their freaking death cults…” she mumbled to herself, gritting her teeth as she climbed into the front seat. This town was going to be the death of her.

#paras #with: dave #wickedswriting

9 notes · View notes

fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

Proto Pop (Proto Gil, Hakuno)

“Thank you!”

The lights waved in the crowds. The cold air and the sweat on her person were starting to get to her. Truly, there was nothing better than the fact that she was going to be able to escape from the main concert hall and get a chance to drink some water and be off her feet.

A breeze drifted through the open ceiling, making her almost shiver.

Actually, she was pretty sure she had.

Damn.

Her manager would see it.

She wasn’t sure who her manager was, but they knew whenever she shivered or faltered. There was punishment that would come from this. She could already sense the complaints, the demands for financial compensation for the losses that covering up her shiver or her face fall would require.

She smiled passed all the crew as she went back. She held herself together until she reached her dressing room, collapsing onto the couch once the lights stopped flashing around her.

It had been foolish, but a part of her had been hoping that she would be able to keep some of the money that she had made from this concert. The cover ups were becoming more and more expensive and she was still managing to find some tabloids worrying about her. Her fans were becoming more and more handsy as time went on as well.

The flashing lights, the endless streams of people and calls, and even her assistant who seemed to be intent upon keeping her running; there was hardly enough time to breathe.

Which was why she was currently devoted to this couch she’d found in her dressing room. The leather almost hugged her, embracing her with a warmth and a blanket that said nothing more than simply, ‘come hither, child. Rest.’ The silence in the room, since the room itself was soundproof, was the most beautiful sound she had heard in so long.

She hated her songs.

She hated the endless hours.

This room understood so well. It merely took one look at her and went, ‘don’t worry about it.’

I’m humanizing a room.

It felt good to have something on her side, at least.

Her coffee was something she had to have to keep herself alive and upright. Falling asleep in this room, no matter how tempting, would end with her getting into trouble. She was hyped up on coffee and no longer able to think clearly. Thankfully there were a team of people that would ensure she got to her car and got driven home.

The warmth, now that she was warmed a little, was now becoming her enemy. She was getting too lethargic. She had a shoot in the morning and she needed to be ready to go home, not rest here. She had to shower and apply all the usual things.

Which meant a rigorous two hours of work.

“Miss Kishinami?”

Hakuno stood up, giving the blanket a small hug before she followed the new strangers to head towards the car.

She was so used to this. It was becoming such a chore to get up every day. Eventually, she would get this right. She would smile and laugh and show off just enough without her mind getting in the way. She’d be able to handle the cold and the excessive heat without reacting. Maybe she’d stop sweating or becoming tired.

Her building came up.

Hakuno found herself climbing out the moment the doors opened, smiling for the few members of the area that were no doubt paparazzi. She bounced up the stairs with a vigor she didn’t feel, thanking the doormen and heading towards the elevator.

Her guards didn’t join.

Why bother?

She received a room key from one and pressed the elevator buttons.

Up the thing went, ascending up to the heavens. She would be able to have her space once more. No smiling, no giggling. Hell, Hakuno already ripped her damn skirt off.

Fuck how short it was. She’d rather walk in her panties to her room.

When the doors opened, Hakuno stepped onto the landing.

There were no rooms occupied on the floors under her room or on her floor. She’d learned that the first time she’d gotten sick.

Each door felt like a waste of space. Each light felt like it was left on as just another means of wasting money that she really didn’t have. Truly, when she opened the door, the only thing she would have found nice was that her old things that had been placed in this room.

Would have…

Staring at the bloodied space and the writings inscribed across the walls, the weird tablets of stone and whatever else strewn about said she had the wrong room. There were no worn out hand knit blankets here, no candy stash to raid quietly before going for a shower.

She turned, but there was something wrong.

Her eyes drifted back to note that the elevators had closed.

Hurrying, she shut the door and waited, surveying her happened upon room.

It didn’t seem that anyone was here. There were no signs of company. Was this an occult room? Was it a murder scene?

She hurried forward, glancing around at the doors nearby to find them empty.

Okay, so no one was here, but there was a lot of blood.

If she had a phone, she could call for help, but there were no phones in this room. She still had her shoes on too, so no one would be able to tell she was here.

The tablets…

Hakuno inched towards them next, keeping her mind focused on the area for any kind of noise. She used her skirt to hold the edge of the table, looking over the writings.

Nothing deadly…

She spoke the words aloud only to find them oddly lyrical. It was more like a summoning spell or something, since it seemed like it was calling out to someone. Maybe this was an author?

Her wrist veins glowed for a moment, making her tumble back.

The floors began to glow, a strange energy building up. It sounded like someone had turned on a helicopter in the room. The winds were whipping at her outfit, the lights growing more and more. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear anything. It was getting worse and worse and then-

A figure appeared.

She did the only thing she could think of: she threw one of the tablets in front of her at the man.

“MASTER! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

One second, the figure was away from her- the next, he was grabbing her hands, stopping her from throwing another. Those blood red eyes glared at her, the blond hair fell partially into his face. Hakuno felt her heart hammering in her chest as she looked up at the fool.

“You’re… ah… You’re not dressed…”

A fan?!

She landed a blow to the fool, running again. This time, she threw the door open, running to the elevator and slamming her finger on the button until the doors opened. The moment they began to, she jumped in, spun around, slammed that close button, and watched as the blond held her skirt and glared in her direction.

The doors closed though.

She pressed the button for her floor, finding she was a few floors short.

And up she went.

What the hell had that been?

Coffee or not, she was wide awake now. Her heart was going a thousand beats a second as her floor came into view. She hurried, running to the door to her apartment and all but diving in. The doors were locked, bolted, chained; hell, she grabbed the shoe cabinet nearby and shoved it up to the door.

Fuck leaving.

“Why are we hiding?”

Hakuno screamed.

The blond was behind her, looming over her as he still held her skirt. Her apartment was around them. They were in her home-

“HOW ARE YOU HERE?!”

“Hmm? Why would I not be? You are my master, after all.” His hands stopped her next kick to his privates. “And I do hope you have a reason for assaulting me, dear master, or I might actually become angry with you. Beautiful and ethereal as you may be: no one strikes me and lives.”

She slumped against the cabinet.

Her fans had found a way to invade her apartment. Nowhere was sacred anymore.

A wetness came to her face, her vision blurring.

“Mast-“

“Stop…” Hakuno closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so tired. Just… whatever you want, I don’t have anything. I can’t even get a night of sleep. Take whatever you want and just let me sleep.”

#drabble #drabbles

9 notes · View notes

schoolastica · 5 years

Text

Writer in the dark

Starker AU. Based on the song by Lorde. Also in my AO3 profile, as ilikesadstories.

Break the news, you’re walking out

To be the good man to someone else

His bags are by the Penthouse door. Tony has a lump on his throat and a Tablet in his hands showing the headlines:” Stark and Parker are officially done!!!.”

Peter has a lump in his throat and the Penthouse keys in his hands. He already said goodbye to Edith, Tony’s dalmatian, and he cleared the place of anything that belonged to him. No reason to stretch the pain more than it needs to. Tony’s back is turned on him.

He wants to scream, to command Tony to the acknowledgment that he's leaving. He does no such thing. Tony only starts to cry when he hears the elevator doors closing. That’s it; that’s three years of relationship on a ride to the lobby. Tony suppose they have been rotten for a long time, they just didn’t want to let it go, not just yet. But it happened. After three years, 2 cop-related problems, 4 major fights, 1 photo of Tony cheating.

They hanged more than most people would.

Sorry, I was never good like you.

Tony Stark wasn’t a good man. Not good like Rhodes was, or good like Steve was, not nearly as a good man as Peter Parker was. He was rotten through and through, too old, too spoiled. He was a writer, he made his fortune written the sci-fi book series called “Avengers” when he was 15 and bored. All of the characters were based on his friends at the time, friends that didn’t even keep contact with him now. But he made money, real money. Enough to start his publisher, the Stark Royal Seal, worth billions, now that he was at his 50’s.It seemed like an eon ago when he was young and excited about being famous.

That was a time, right at the beginning, that Tony loved press, every tabloid about him, good or bad, was a prize. He was 15, inexperienced and easily lead on. By his 20, he was a world-wide playboy, he never stopped being. Now, a much older man, he had written 20 novels, 15 for the Avengers series(and he's not going back to writing it, Steve deserves a rest) and 5 romances, 3 of them were a critic failure.

Now he gets to live in his big, brand new Penthouse in the middle of Manhattan, all alone; because the love of his life is going down the elevator to never come back. As he lays down, crying in the fetal position, feeling a pain he only ever felt when his parents died, he thinks he will write a novel about hurt the next morning.

Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark

Their first meeting was a thing from the movies. Tony Stark, the acclaimed writer, the same man that was in a sex-tape leaked last week at the same time to have a billion contract with Netflix to produce the film adaptations of his book series, had to make a commemorative reading of the 30th year of the release of Avengers: The year of the fallen.This event was the most waited for in his whole schedule, Pepper had been talking about it, how he should be dressed and how he should behave since January.

The reading would be more symbolic than anything, it would take place in the first bookstore Tony ever did the first reading, Schmidt & Cia Bookstore. It only fits about 300 hundred people there, so the tickets at 500$ each were sold out in 40 minutes and about 10 of them were donated to raffle to the NY Writing course students. When the day came, Tony drank so much in anxiety that Pepper almost had a fit. She arrived at the Penthouse, threw the last of his expensive scotch in the sink and practically made him look presentable. Pepper had been with him since he was 18, they had a brief romance in the ’90s but now, seeing at how they behaved, it made sense to broke up, she was more of a mother to him than anything.

So here they were, once again at the front of Schmidt & Cia Bookstore. The building was still intact, even after years, all its colors and its old sign at the front of the window. The major difference was that now, at least a thousand of hallucinated fans were surrounding it, all screaming when his car, drove by Happy, approached. When he got out, the did the usual: smiled to everyone, old or young, talked to some reports and flirted around. He only wanted to come out of the little room they had prepared for him when the time of the reading came. When that happened, he lifted himself a little podium to speak and looked around the little crown that gathered around him.

Some faces there surprised him, they were middle-aged men, by the end of the room, witch Tony knew were powerful. All of them looking eagerly for his words. The ones closer to the podium were pretty, extremely young. His gaze wandered in each of their faces, landing on the prettiest boy he ever laid eyes upon. Curly, brown hair, smooth and fair skin(probably never touched) and a Cherubin's face. His brown eyes were sparkling while he held a hold, absolutely worn down a copy of his book, close to his heart. He was probably from the NY Writing course.

It seems like a foolish thing now, how Tony took one good look at that open and fresh face and got his strength from there. But he did. He smiled at the cameras pointed at him and said: “I want to start this reading by saying that a lot has changed since the first time I did this. People came and people left, but throughout all of this, I always had this crew” he lifted the heavy book as in indicating what he was saying,” to help me”. And with that, he began the reading. The first chapter was pretty much introductory, Captain America was aboard the spaceship J.A.R.V.I.S in search of his long lost crew that was lost in their last mission. The chapter had about 4 pages of text, and while reading it, Tony couldn't stop thinking how his first draft wasn't much different than this, and how his writing style had changed since he was 15.

When the chapter was over, everyone stood to give him a minute of applause and all of the journalists present shouted questions about him, about his legacy. He tried to ignore it because now it was time for him to give his autographs.Pepper and their team set up a little table, in front of a wall full of posters from the books, where Tony would sit and sign everything that 300 people wanted him too. He had his special pen for this, alongside with a bucket full of ice for his tired hands and a sly smile and soothing words for everyone. Tony had probably given his signature to about 100 people when he received the old and worn down first edition of his book.

Surprised, he looked up to see that beautiful and shy boy fixing his glasses while looking at him, blushing. If Tony was a good man, an honorable man, he would have smiled and signed the book without a word, being polite but not curious about this youngster in front of him. But he was a nasty, nasty man. He smiled his sweet smile, the one he knew made people’s knees buckle and said:” You must be quite a nerd to spend this kind of money in a first edition, Mr……?’ he fished for a name. “Oh’ the boy seemed surprised that Tony recognized the book “This was a gift, actually,” The boy said.

Tony kept looking at him, for a more elaborate story.“My dad bought it when it first came out’ the boy’s voice was soft and open as his face was “He gave it to me one month before he died. That's why I want you to dedicate it to ‘Richard and Peter Parker” if that's not a bother’ he said, his voice disappearing through the sentence. Tony analyzed him, smiled broader, and wrote: To Richard and Peter Parker, always in each other's hearts. He got the book back to its owner and said:” What are you doing after this?”.

Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark

They meet that same night, in a new restaurant called Francesco's Dark Dinner. The whole thing was a weird concept, a place where you had to use all your senses minus the sight, and it a young, youthful place. Tony suggested an old, well-known restaurant, with fine culinary but Peter had said that it was a place with great Italian food. He arrived earlier and waited for his partner to arrive while listening to the conversation around him.

When Peter arrived, he couldn't see how he was dressed or if he had a good day, the only thing he was glad he could do was smell a sweet, strawberry scent that he basked in. Their conversation was fluid, vivid, along with truly great food (Tony was really satisfied with his dishes) and Peter was, in no short of words, a true genius. He was in the NY Writing program and he was older than what he looked like, he was 20 years old. He was an only child, like Tony, who lost his parents at a young age, like Tony, but he never drank or took anything, unlike Tony. He almost didn't get a place at today's reading, his name was the last call, and he had cried of happiness when he got it. He was extremely polite and his voice stutters every time Tony brushed their hands together.

He was a prey ready and ripe for the taking.

When they kissed, Peter tasted like youth.

Stood on my chest and kept me down

Hated hearing my name on the lips of a crowd

Did my best to exist just for you

They had been great, really good for each other in the first year. Tony decided to be the best version of himself, he was punctual and caring. He introduced Peter to Pepper, Rhodes, and Happy as his boyfriend and he demanded respect. They pretended to dislike the boy at the beginning, saying he was too young and naive, but Tony saw Pepper’s hidden smirks, Rhodes open laughs at Peter’s stupid space jokes and saw how protective Happy became of him.

Peter's friends were a completely different story. MJ was a force to fight with, she looked at Tony as if he had killed Santa Claus with his bare hands. Ned was a funny goofy person, saw no evil in no one. Tony took them to Conney Island and they hang around the pier till sunset. During all this time, Ned would’ve shut up and MJ said about 3 words. It didn’t matter though, because Peter had smiled so wide all the time and when they went back to Tony’s place, he rode Tony’s cock like a champion.

Sex with Peter was a whole different experience. Either if they fucked quick and dirty or slow and passionate, it always made Tony shine with joy afterward. When he was younger, Tony had the habit of smoking a cigarette after a good fuck, but that ended when he quit smoking. Now, after leaving Peter sleeping in his bed, he develops the habit of writing. He starts writing and does it through the night. At the beginning, it’s just some short stories or he just describes what he just did with Peter(in very raw, crude words) but as the months are passing, it starts to form a romance novel. It’s about two man, not quite right for each other and every time Tony needs inspiration, he looks over at Peter, peaceful sleeping, his back shining with the sweat of their past activity and he has all the words he needs.

Peter was on the edge of finishing his degree and had an internship with the Osborn publishing, Tony offered him a place at his own company, Peter said no. He wats to grow alone, working in newspapers and them to release his own novel someday. Peter really wants to write a romance, but he secretly enjoys writing children’s books, actually. It really tells a lot about his personality. They are really into each other in their first year. Peter graduates and Tony is there with beautiful aunt May and Peter’s friends to celebrate. They go on summer vacation in Tony’s village in Italy and they make love under the stars there. When New Year’s Eve arrives, their picture was featured in all the major gossip magazines and Peter goes to Tony’s annual party.

When the watch hits 0, they kiss so deeply that Tony can taste Peter’s soul. Now she's gonna play and sing and lock you in her heart7 months after their break up, Tony is releasing his first book since having crushed his heart. ‘Resorsfullness’ its called. Its a tragedy, it was developed from that first romance novel Tony had begun to write during the first year with Peter. After they broke up, his writing became bitter and it slowly morphed into an epic love tragedy.

Pepper said it was the best works he ever did, she organized a huge US Tour and the marketing is heavy on this one. He drinks his weight and cries himself to sleep every night, but his life is still together. He still googles Peter’s name weekly and finds out that he’s releasing a second children’s book next fall. He pretends to be fine when he’s around his friends, but the only person he cant pretend to is Pepper. She sees right through all his bullshit, she invades his penthouse one day and pours his drinks in the sink and clean his kitchen. She screams at him when he wakes up and almost cries when Tony starts crying. She holds him through it all and just loves him for all he is.

I am my mother's child, I'll love you 'til my breathing stops

I'll love you 'til you call the cops on me

The first time the cops are called for them, they are dating for 19 months and they are getting tired. Tony drinks a lot, everyone knows that. Peter knows that, but he doesn��t like it. So they go to one gathering party of The Daily Budge, the newspaper Peter is working for. Tony always thought J.J. Jameson was funny, but the guy used Peter like he was a slave and pissed him off. To add up, Peters coworker, Quentin Beck, was a little shit.Peter never hid from anyone in his relationship, so Beck knew who he was seeing. Still, the guy would hit on Peter heavily and whenever he talked to Tony, he implied how old Tony was, how Peter was probably unsatisfied and that he was useless. Tony punched him, Peter screamed at Tony and they left the party in a huge arguing.

Tony gave Happy the day off so they decided to walk to and from the party, so they went the whole way to their home. At some point, they screamed so much that a passing by called the cops. It wasn’t pretty, they were on the next day’s highest searched subject on google.

The second time the cops were involved was when Tony was banging on Peter’s door at three am, begging for forgiveness, 2 weeks before they split.

But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power

I'll find a way to be without you baby

Tony’s strength cames back to him together with his words. Pepper clean his house sets him up straight and takes him to long walks in Central Park with Edith. Tony promise to stop drinking for once, he joins an AA and Rhodes and Happy take turns taking him there. Edith is the best pal he ever had, loves him and makes him do exercises every day.

The ache in his chest slowly fades, still there, but not so latent anymore. The first work he does, besides the hurt book that Pepper makes it be a success, is poems. He never wrote poems before, but the words bleed from him every sunrise and every sunset. He’s sitting in a Central Park bench, throwing a ball to Edith, that runs excited around the park, when he watches a small family picknick. He sees how the father acts with his 2 children, and watches how they sit eagerly to read ‘Polka dot dog’ by Peter Parker when the first seed of his idea is planted on the back of his mind.

He spends the next month searching about kids and by the end, he meets with Pepper to discuss having children. Tony knows she always wanted to be a mom, never found someone quite right, but when he brings that up she just laughs at him. ‘You can’t be serious, you don’t even look after yourself” she tells him. He promise he changed, that he’s ready, but it still takes her 2 months to come around the idea.They visited a Fertility clinic right after that.

They weren’t good for each other romantically, but they are the best of the friends and the doctor says they have a good chance to conceive. 16 months after they broke up, Pepper is confirmed to be pregnant, and Tony’s heart hurt is almost healed.

I still feel you, now and then

Slow like pseudo-ephedrine

When you see me, will you say I've changed?

I ride the subway, read the signs

I let the seasons change my mind

I love it here since I've stopped needing you

Peter was, without better words to put it, Tony’s first love. He had loved that boy as much as he could, as hard as he could, but it hadn’t been enough. He experienced his first true heartbreak late in life, but now he feels it all was worth it. His daughter, Morgan, was his true love, he knew that.

She was 5 years old and she was perfect. Tony hadn’t touched a bottle of alcohol for almost 6 years now, Pepper was so proud of that. Pepper was his best friend, she was his rock of moral rightness. They lived separated, but they were 5 minutes away from each other, Morgan was starting to walk between the houses all by herself. The last book Tony published was called ‘Parenthood and all the things I didn’t know how to do’ and it was his first attempt at poems, all about parenting. It was a huge success. But Morgan didn’t like his writing. She loves small, funny little children’s books and her favorite book was Mrs.Penguin by Peter Parker. His heart stopped every time she asked him that book as a goodnight story.

On his Sunday with her, Pepper looked apologetic to him and said she had promised to take her to a reading of the newest book Peter was going to publish but she had a party to go. He feels bile rising in his throat but he smiles and takes Morgan to see her first favorite author. The bookstore the reading is happening is small but childlike and Morgan looks amazed.

The book is named ‘The sunflower and the frog’ and when Peter shows up to do the reading, he looks straight at Tony and smiles. Morgan is not exactly a secret, Tony and Pepper are constantly at the news, and when its time for autographs, Tony had to wait in line for 50 minutes till Morgan got her chance. Peter looks dashing, 29 years old and beaming with health and fashion. He now looks more like a man than he did before, so pretty that Tony aches. Peter gives Morgan a big smile and asks if she likes his books. The girl is absolutely besotted by the young author, opening up like a little flower and Tony can’t help thinking that Starks always falls for Parkers. Peter gives her full attention and only looks at Tony when he’s signing the book.

He says, looking at Tony’s eyes: “I’m writing: To my dear Morgan, the happiest girl I’ve known’ and when he delivers the book back to Morgan he looks at Tony and says: What are you doing after this?

#starker #breakup #angst #hurt #songfic #starkerau

22 notes · View notes

darkobsidianquill · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness..

Chapter 30

Harry was woken by Ginny and Hermione showing up with food the next morning. Fleur was allowed to leave on the conditions that she was being transferred into the care of her family's healer. Her burns had been bad and were only partially healed but her family wanted to get her back to France. Harry bid her a fond farewell and wondered if he'd ever see her again.

Hermione and Ginny were eventually joined by Ron but none of them could stay very long since they all had exams to attend. Harry was a little annoyed that he was missing his transfiguration exam, even if he didn't need to take it. As soon as he was done with lunch Harry pulled out his bag and made it look like he was sorting through books to read. He wrapped his entire bag up in his invisibility cloak, making it disappear entirely. He sat and waited for Moody to show up and open the door to the hospital wing and as soon as the man did, Harry got up, telling Madam Pomfrey he was just going to use the loo.

He disappeared inside, wrapped the invisibility cloak around himself, activated the map and smiled at the second Harry Potter dot currently standing directly outside the door to the bathroom. His future self must have followed 'Moody' into the hospital wing.

Relieved that he wasn't going to have any trouble with his plan he opened the door to the loo and quickly slipped out. His other self slipped inside and Harry quickly hurried out of the hospital wing while his other self stepped out of the bathroom, sans invisibility cloak and returning to his bed. Harry caught a glimpse of himself as he darted out the open door and felt a shudder down his spine. It was never wise to see yourself when messing with time. There were horror stories about people going mad from it. Harry really wasn't sure why a person would go crazy from seeing themselves, especially if they completely understood why and how, and were even expecting it, but he still felt a weird quiver in his magic so he figured that there was probably just some weird magical law about time-travel that just made the whole thing a big no-no.

Twenty minutes later and Harry was limping his way up the stairs in the manor and feeling quite a bit out of breath. He had to admit that the damn spider's poison had left him feeling a bit weak. Just as Harry reached the top of the stairs, he heard the door to the study open and there stood a scowling Tom. Harry ducked his head instinctively but looked up at the Dark Lord through his long eyelashes with an innocent smile.

"Stupid foolish brat."

"I won, didn't I?"

"Have you seen what the papers are saying about the task yet?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't thought about that. "No, but it's probably all lies."

"It damn well better be," Tom growled.

Harry continued to make his way over to Tom, trying his best to minimize his limp but Tom noticed.

"Well they clearly got one thing right. You broke your ankle," Tom said crossing his arms over his chest and giving Harry an angry glare.

"S'not broken anymore. Promfrey healed it up rather nicely. It's only a little sore now," Harry mumbled defensively and looking away.

Tom scoffed and walked over, bending low and wrapping his arm under Harry's armpit and supporting his weight as he led Harry into the study. Harry was rather startled by the gesture but greedily leaned into the older man's side, soaking up the soft warmth of such physical contact. Once inside, Tom pulled out his wand and directed his chair out from behind his desk to the open section of the room and then transfiguring it into a couch. He sat down and pulled Harry onto it, laying him down with his head in Tom's lap. They had only assumed this position on the chaise lounge in the library before, but the arrangement was familiar enough that Harry quickly eased into a comfortable position and raised his injured ankle up onto the opposite armrest of the couch. He sighed happily, enjoying the arrangement greatly.

As was usual, Tom's fingers instantly found their way into Harry's hair.

"You worried me, do you realize that you stupid boy?" Tom said coldly, but Harry could hear something deeper behind the words and they caused a strange warm fluttering to fill his chest.

"Sorry," Harry apologized quietly, but he couldn't refrain from smiling through the words. "It wasn't all that bad. I'm sure that whatever the Prophet said was grossly exaggerated."

"It said that you managed to break your ankle after a battle with a giant acromantula that managed to bite you and then fall on you, crushing you beneath it."

"It didn't bite me so much as one of it's pincers scratched down my side while it fell beside me," Harry said.

"I'm sure," Tom said sarcastically and Harry could tell from the tone of the man's voice that he was probably rolling his eyes.

"I wouldn't of had so much trouble with the stupid spider if it weren't for the damn aggressive weeds in the hedges. The taratal vines grabbed hold of my ankles when I was busy shooting off the acromantula's legs and dug their nasty little barbs in. Tripped me and made me lose my opportunity to properly dodge. I had everything under control until that. It was a stupid little mistake and I know I was an idiot for not realizing what was happening sooner, but I still made it out of there fine in the end and I won with a record breaking time. I completed that maze faster than anyone ever has in the history of the Tri-Wizard tournament. I think that's gotta be worth something."

"It said that you appeared at the entrance to the maze unconscious and hanging onto the cup portkey," Tom said accusingly. "Making it out unconscious is hardly making it out fine in the end."

"I knew the cup was a portkey that would get me to the judges and thus, a healer. I think I did pretty good. I could have passed out before getting to the blasted cup and then the stupid taratal vines would have tried to pull me into the hedge and eat me or something."

Tom made a displeased growling noise in his throat and Harry felt Tom's fingers tighten in his hair for a moment. Finally he heaved a sigh and resumed gently massaging Harry's scalp.

"We have things to discuss."

"Right," Harry said nodding his head slightly in the other wizard's lap.

"Did you ever come up with an alias to use for the summer?"

"I did, actually!" Harry said, his voice perking up. "I was thinking Evan Harris."

"Evan Harris?"

"Yeah, with the last name as Harris, if anyone slips up and calls me Harry in the presence of any of the Death Eaters, they'll think that I was just called 'Harris' and not pay it any mind."

"That's good... I like it. And Harris is a very common name. There are a number of pureblood lines with that name. None are very well connected or have any significant standing, but that only makes it easier for you to disappear into the background without any proper proof of your identify. Very good, Harry."

Harry grinned widely at the praise.

"And Evan?" Tom asked.

"My mum's maiden name. Evans. It isn't too obvious is it?"

"Obvious would have been you going by James or Jim."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I figured out right away that using my middle name was out. When Evan occurred to me, I realized I really liked the idea. I mean, me liking it doesn't even really have much to do with it being based of my mum's last name – I actually just really like the name. I think I can be comfortable with going by that name."

"Mm," Tom made an acknowledging sound in his throat and nodded his head. "Evan... I believe I can get accustomed to that. You realize that I will have to use the name most of the summer, correct?"

"Oh yeah, I get that. I think I prefer it. I kind of like the idea of not being Harry Potter for a while."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean... Harry Potter isn't really even me. Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived. The Gryffindor Golden-boy. Dumbledore's man. I hate that. I mean, it's like Harry Potter is a character in the wizarding world's favorite fairy tale and they all have these irritating expectations about me. All that rubbish in the tabloids is just another level to it. People don't give a damn about me, they just want to know more about the story of Harry-bloody-Potter. I'm sick of Harry Potter," Harry finished with a disgruntled sigh.

"And you think becoming Evan Harris will help?"

"Did becoming Voldemort and throwing away Tom Riddle help you?"

"Point taken. I suppose I cannot fault you for wanting to create a new identity for yourself. Would you prefer me to start using Evan even in private now?"

"You can call me whatever you like in private. I really don't mind what you want to call me. You know me. You know the real me, so when you call me Harry I'm not Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. I'm just... Harry. But I think it might be nice to be Evan too... In any case, you let me call you Tom, and I love that you let me do that. It just feels... significant," Harry said trailing off in a whisper. "So whatever you like calling me, is fine with me."

There was silence for a minute and Harry wondered if he'd made a mistake voicing his inner thoughts.

"It is significant, pet," Tom said finally and Harry smiled at both the admission as well as the pet name. Tom was doing it more and more lately and Harry found that he really loved it.

They were quiet for another long minute before Tom spoke again. "Tonight I will be calling the Death Eaters at midnight. I would like for you to be here an hour early. Their marks will direct them into the entry hall since that is the only place within the manor wards that will accept their apparition travel. I want you to help guide them into the ballroom as they arrive."

"Alright," Harry agreed easily.

Tom pulled out his wand and with a flick a box floated over from the desk and levitated in the air before them. Tom removed his hands and Harry got the message that he was to sit up. He shifted his legs down and sat up beside Tom on the couch. The older man leaned back and his arm stretched along the back of the couch, stretching out behind Harry. Harry plucked the box from the air and opened it. Inside were what appeared to be fine pitch black robes. He pulled them out and found a chrome silver mask with etched designs into it, laying on the bottom.

He felt his heart stop for a moment before suddenly speeding up tremendously.

It was his Death Eater uniform.

The mask was different though. It was unlike any Death Eater mask he had ever seen before. Instead of a full face mask, it was a Venetian half mask. It only covered the upper half of his face and had a ridge for his nose. It was also silver instead of the bone white masks that he had seen at the Quidditch World Cup the previous fall.

Granted, every Death Eater mask he had seen was slightly unique, but they had all been full-face masks, and they had all been white. He'd never seen one that only covered part of the face. This would leave the lower half of his face completely unobstructed.

"It's beautiful," Harry whispered without even realizing he'd spoken. He looked up and met Tom's eyes. "It's different though."

"You are not merely a Death Eater. Even Evan Harris will not simply be one of my followers," Tom said.

Harry frowned, not quite understanding. "What do you mean?"

"You are to be known as my personal assistant and my... apprentice. The others will be made aware of your special position and rank tonight at the gathering."

Harry gaped at him, too stunned and overwhelmed to know what to say.

"You have done much for me Harry. Your services, loyalty, and sacrifices will be properly rewarded."

"Just being here with you is reward enough," Harry whispered shaking his head.

"And that is just one more reason..." Tom trailed off as his free hand came up and brushed lightly against Harry's cheek. Harry's eyes closed and he tilted his head into the touch, sighing contently.

"Tonight, my return will finally be known by all of my followers. Tonight I take the first step towards rebuilding my army, taking control of the magical world, and working towards my task, and you will be at my side."

Harry let out a shuddering breath as he tried to wrap his mind around that full enormity of that statement and what all it might mean. It filled him with such a powerful emotion and he wanted nothing more than to kiss one of those long slender fingers that were currently caressing the side of his face.

Instead, the next thing either of them knew, their lips were pressed together and they were both grabbing and pulling at each other, trying to get closer.

Heavy shallow breaths, swollen lips, marked flesh and tousled hair was followed by Harry feeling Tom's strong hands grabbing hold of his hips and pulling him up to straddle the older wizard's lap as he remained seated on the couch. Gasping breaths, keening whimpers, and long low moans escaped them as the two began to desperately writhe against each other. Robes were suddenly being desperately removed and buttons were undone as frustrating cloth was shoved to the side. Whispered pleas and names were panted and rhythmically called out as flesh was grasped in a warm, long-fingered hand, and hair was roughly pulled by the other.

Through his heavy lust-filled haze Harry managed to dig into Tom's trousers, grasping hold of the other man's length for the first time. The noise that escaped Tom's throat was euphoria to the younger wizard's ears and he knew in that moment that he could live his entire life with no other goal than to hear that sound again and again and be a happy man.

Harry came hard, panting heated breaths against Tom's neck and holding onto the older wizard as if his life depended on it. The other man quickly followed, muffling his own pleasured grunts in Harry's hair. He had never felt so drawn to one person; so in-tune and connected to one person before. So understood and so cared for. This man cared about him. Worried about him when he was hurt. This man wanted Harry to stand by his side while he conquered the world.

As he held onto Tom, slowly coming down from his euphoric high one thought kept echoing through Harry's mind and it almost gave him pause.

I'm falling in love with you, Tom...

But he couldn't say it. He couldn't say the words because he was just too afraid. Too afraid of breaking his perfect weird thing with Tom. He wouldn't be the one to screw this up. He needed it too badly. He needed Tom. So instead he clung to Tom harder, slowly letting his breathing calm to a normal rate.

The two eventually parted and Tom spelled them clean with a simple flick of his wand. They spent a bit more time discussing plans for that evening and it was decided that Harry would leave his Death Eater robes in the manor. He would put them on when he arrived that evening.

Tom helped Harry down the stairs, frowning at Harry's limp and eventually spelling Harry's ankle numb for him. He escorted Harry to the time-turner room and they shared one last passionate kiss before Harry disappeared inside.

– –

Harry was greatly relieved to find himself released from Madam Pomfrey's evil clutches that even for dinner. His limp was almost gone now and he didn't feel nearly as light-headed as he had earlier. A few extra hours and a few more potions had done him a world of good.

He walked into the Great Hall and the room fell silent for a moment before the entirety of the Gryffindor table began to applaud. Harry stood there, blinking in shock for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell this was all about. The Ravenclaws applauded and Harry saw the Hufflepuffs grudgingly joining in. The Slytherins were clearly above such actions, and in fact, several were sneering at him. It finally registered in Harry's brain that this was because he was now the Tri-Wizard Champion and had won the cup for Hogwarts.

He couldn't help but snort at the show of support the school was now so enthusiastic to show him when they had all utterly shunned him when he had first been forced into this ridiculous circus. He made his way over and sat down on an open bench beside Hermione and across from Ron. Ginny came over and sat down on Harry's other side, beaming at him enthusiastically.

"So Madam Pomfrey let you out early?" Ginny exclaimed.

Harry just looked at them all slightly blankly, still a bit unsure how to react to all of this. "Er, yeah. She let me out." He glanced around at the eager Gryffindors who were all looking at him with a level of pride and smugness that made him want to curse the lot of them.

"So Harry, is it true that you fought against a giant acromantula?" Seamus Finnigan exclaimed from down the table.

"Yes..." Harry said slowly, looking at Seamus funny.

"Is it true that you killed it?"

"Yes, I killed it," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"How?" Seamus exclaimed.

"I stuck my wand into its head and hit it with a point-blank blasting curse," Harry said slowly in a tone one would use explaining something to a child.

"You got close enough to stick your wand in it's head?" Dean yelped.

"Well this was after I'd cut off most of its legs and it fell to the ground."

"You cut off its legs?" a fifth year down the table gasped. "How?"

"A severing curse," Harry said in a very slow, condescending tone."

"What – diffindo? Diffindo cut through an acromantula's legs?" Another older Gryffindor said.

"No, not diffindo."

"What then?" the same boy asked, as if he couldn't imagine what other spell Harry could has possibly used.

"Uh, I think I used concisus on the spider's legs," Harry said with an exasperated sigh. This was getting old. He wondered if he'd even be able to eat.

"How the bloody hell did you learn concisus?" the boy exclaimed.

"Language!" a female 6th year prefect scolded him, but then looked at Harry with obvious curiosity.

"Er... a book?" Harry asked giving them a look that said 'duh'.

This continued for several annoyingly long minutes before Harry finally had enough and made it none-too-clear that he would rather be eating right then than speaking to any of them, any longer.

As the meal drew to a close Dumbledore stood from his chair and called the hall to attention.

"Attention, everyone! As I'm sure you are all well aware of now, the final task of the Tri-Wazard Tournament was held yesterday evening. Three of the four champions had to be taken directly to the hospital wing after exiting the maze, so no proper awards ceremony could be held during the actual event. And while young Miss Delacour is now resting at home in France, we do have the other three competitors here with us tonight, so we ought to take advantage of what we've got.

"Prior to last nights task, Mr. Harry Potter was in first place with a total of 88 points, Cedric Diggory was in second place with 76 points, Viktor Krum was in third place with 72 points, and finally Fleur Delacour was in fourth place with 60 points. Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory were both rendered unconscious and defeated by the foes within the maze and received ten points each for surviving for as long as they did, despite the dangers. Viktor Krum survived the maze and escaped with minimal injury and through the use of impressive spellwork. For his efforts the judges awarded him 40 points.

"And finally, finishing in first place after most skillfully dispatching a nest of young acromantula, a full-grown blast ended skrewt, anti-gravity mist, solving the sphinx's puzzle, and battling a full-grown giant acromantula, and coming to the end of the maze in record breaking time, Harry Potter was awarded a full 50 points!"

The hall burst into cheers, although Harry once again noted the lack of any enthusiasm from the Slytherin table. Although now that he looked closely he realized that Draco was looking at him with a rather odd look. It certainly wasn't loathing, that was for sure. Harry still didn't know if Draco had told his father about Harry's switch in loyalties, although he supposed he might learn about that tonight.

"Thus the standing leaves Mr. Harry Potter in first place with 138 points and the winner of the Tri-Wizard Cup!" Dumbledore called out, grinning and twinkling madly as the hall erupted in another round of cheering.

Harry suddenly realized he was being beckoned up to the front and gave a grudging sigh before standing up and plastering a gracious smile on his face. He walked to the head table and was presented with the cup and a heavy sack full of galleons from Ludo Bagman who seemed to by eyeing the money bag with hungry eyes. Harry held it tightly and kept his eye trained on the man. He also decided to make sure he counted the money before he handed it over to the Weasley twins.

Harry thanked the headmasters and Ludo Bagman and was grateful when he was able to escape the spotlight without having to do some sort of public speaking.

Harry left the Great Hall feeling burned out and irritated with all his new-found fans. Their two-faced-ness only stoked his anger. Did they honestly think that he would so easily forget how they had all treated him when this whole mess had started?

He stayed in the common room for as long as he could stand, but the admirers just kept coming and he eventually escaped up to his dorm room, claiming fatigue from his injuries. At 10:30 Harry secured his curtains around his bed and slipped down into the common room under his cloak. Invisibly slipping out the portrait hole without anyone noticing it opening and then closing was accomplished with a few silent notice-me-not charms.

He made his way down through the school, across the grounds and it was just after 11pm when he activated his portkey and reappeared in Riddle Manor. He could feel Tom's magical energy emanating from the ballroom on the first floor but he went upstairs to the study to collect his robes and mask first. He entered the room and picked the box up off a side table where he'd left it earlier in the day. He smiled to himself at the memory of their earlier escapades and had to squish the images out of his mind as he felt a shudder of desire surge through him. He slipped on the black robes and then slipped the glamor ring onto his left index finger and felt as the illusion took over his form. It was a strange magical effect. The illusion was semi-corporeal. He could feel the changes if he touched his face. He could even run his hands through the long blond hair that now hung from his head. But since he was keyed into his own appearance, if he looked in a mirror, he only saw his normal reflection staring back at him.

Finally he reached down into the bottom of the box and pulled out the silver-chrome half-mask and held it in his hands. It was really quite beautiful. He thought so at least. It had some simple flowing lines etched into its flawless metal surface from each side of the bridge of his nose up over his eyebrows.

Harry conjured a standing mirror with a flick of his cypress wand – his holly wand was carefully stowed inside his bag behind Tom's desk – and he came to stand before the mirror. Slowly, Harry rose the mask and applied it to his face. The masks had a magical sort of sticking charm applied to them that would prevent them being removed by anyone other than the wizard themselves, and the Dark Lord, so all he had to do was place it there and it was secured.

He stared into the mirror, mesmerized by what he saw there. He was still seeing himself, rather than his blond glamored appearance. After a moment of looking at himself in the mirror he pulled the hood of his fine black cloak up over his head, shrouding his face in darkness. The light caught off the chrome mask though, and made it that much more ethereal to see.

He shuddered in perverse pleasure at the sight. He felt powerful and dangerous. He felt like a force to be reckoned with. A force to be feared.

Harry made his way down the stairs and straight to the ballroom. Tom was there – or rather, Voldemort was there. He had already transformed and was standing there in the center of the room in all of his bone-white, hairless and scaled, serpentine glory. The man always felt overwhelming with parselmagic in this form and Harry felt himself grow slightly lightheaded from the power. It was intoxicating and he felt the most insane urge to kiss the man.

He was endlessly relieved that he was still able to be attracted to the man, even in this form, although it did make him wonder if there was something wrong with him. Because – honestly – Voldemort did appear entirely monstrous and frightening like this. There was nothing about him that should be considered attractive by anyone who was sane. Well, maybe his power. But being attracted to his power wasn't quite the same. Harry still felt attracted to him. To Voldemort. To Tom. Harry really couldn't find any logical way to describe what he was feeling, so he gave it up as a bad job and shoved the thoughts from his mind.

Tom was distracted with preparing for the gathering. He'd acquired two more house elves in the last week and they had been working with Mixey to get the manor in spotless condition, and had begun to work their way through the grounds. But that would be a lengthy and on-going process, and it wasn't like any of the Death Eaters would be seeing the grounds tonight anyway.

Harry stood in the ballroom, observing and lending aid whenever Voldemort required it. The Dark Lord spoke, mostly to himself, as he planned over certain things aloud, and Harry added in his opinions when it seemed appropriate. Voldemort didn't give much outward hint to it, but Harry could tell that the Dark Lord appreciated him being there.

Barty arrived at 11:30pm and by 11:45 he had returned entirely to himself and completely discarded the 'Moody' persona and all of it's paraphernalia. He had been confused as to who Harry was and it took Harry a moment before he remembered he had the glamor ring on. He chuckled and keyed Barty into his ring allowing the other man to see his true self. Voldemort also took that opportunity to inform Barty that Harry would be known as Evan Harris from here on out in the presence of any other Death Eaters.

At 11:50 Voldemort drew his yew wand and pressed it to Barty's left forearm, calling his Death Eaters to him for the first time since his return. Barty's flinched minutely and Harry could see beads of sweat upon his brow from pain, but the main smirked triumphantly despite it. Harry felt the leather cuff on his left arm warm up and was suddenly filled with an image of the manor's entry hall. He gasped a bit in surprise but then grinned widely up at Voldemort, who was secretly smirking right at him.

Harry hadn't been sure if his cuff portkey would really be activated along with all of the other normal marks, but found he really liked the idea that it did.

Harry knew what his expected task was and with a quick bow of his head he left the ballroom to wait in the entry hall to greet the Death Eaters as they arrived.

Harry stood there, leaning casually against the archway that lead from the entry hall to the long hall that lead to the ballroom. A few minutes passed before the first sound of apparition popped into the entry hall. The man standing there was already dressed in black Death Eater robes and a white full-face mask that had dark lines carved into it giving the shape the cheek bones and upper teeth of a skull. The person blinked at him in surprise and Harry gave the man a curt nod.

A moment later they were joined by another man. This one's mask was decorated in a fashion that reminded Harry of the restraint masks that were used in muggle asylums with only a small hole for the mouth filled with vertical lines to prevent anything large from entering it. Again, Harry gave the masked man a curt nod as he looked at Harry with a sign of surprise. The two men then looked at each other for the briefest of moment, silently acknowledging each other.

A second later the entry hall was filled with another two pops and two more black robed figures were suddenly there. Again, each one had a unique mask as their only distinguishing feature.

"The entry hall will get crowded quickly, you may start making your way towards the ballroom," Harry said suddenly, causing all of the men to focus on him. There was another pop and a fifth man entered the room. Harry jerked his head towards the archway. "Through there, to the left, down to the end and through the large double-doors. I'm sure you all will recognize the magical signature enough to know where to go."

The group shared a look before silently walking past Harry and through the archway.

After another five had gathered Harry repeated his instructions, sending them on their way. Six more after that arrived almost at the same time and he sent them to follow the last batch. Four more a moment later, and then an additional seven filled the entry hall in the span of ten seconds. Harry was glad he was clearing out the entry hall as fast as he was or else people would have started falling over each other. More and more came and he was impressed by the turnout, but these people had had months of warning.

Finally, at 12:05, Harry called one of the new house elves, a young male named Kibby and had him stay there for any who arrived especially late. He suspected Snape would be the only one he would encounter. Anyone stupid enough to be list late wouldn't be showing up at all. Harry briskly strode down the hall and entered the ballroom.

Voldemort had erected himself an elaborately molded silver, emerald and malachite throne atop a stone dais. As Harry walked in, what looked to be the last of the procession was crawling back from the Dark Lord on their knees and then standing to their feet.

Kissing his robes, Harry realized suddenly. He wondered if he should do it too. Tom hadn't mentioned any such thing, and he didn't mind doing it in the least...

"Ah, my dear Harrissss... come here and join uss," Voldemort said inclining his head and showing the barest hint of an upturned mouth. A small smirk stole its way onto Harry's lips but he mastered his expression and briskly walked across the large space to stand beside Voldemort and knelt down.

"My Lord," Harry said with honest reverence in his voice and a bow of his head.

"Stand, Harrissss and join my other Death Eaterss. You rightful spot is in the front row."

Harry quickly stood and walked over to stand in an opening towards the center of the smaller line that made up the front row. Behind it was a wider curved line that was extending all around Voldemort in a large semi-circle. Harry noticed out of the corner of his left eye that long platinum blond wisps were escaping the black hood of the man beside him and smirked to himself having a pretty good idea of exactly who he was standing beside.

Slowly, Voldemort stood to his feet and stepped down off the dais as he swept the crowd with his piercing red eyes. "Twenty-seven..." he began in a deadly quiet voice. "Twenty-seven of my followers who remained faithful and returned to me when called."

He paused and narrowed his eyes at many of those in the crowd. "Or have you? You have all returned to me now that I am restored to my full power, but not one of you sought me out!" He spat in an quiet angry hiss. "Thirteen yearsss, I was left to wander and not one of you came to my aid..." his voice trailed off and Harry could feel a shudder of fear run through the crowd and he felt a shudder of excitement and eager anticipation crawl up his spine.

"Please, my Lord! Forgive us!" one man from the front row called out as he threw himself onto the floor at the Dark Lord's feet.

"Forgive?" Voldemort's voice went high and angry and his wand was out faster than the eye could register. The next few seconds was filled with the tortured wailing of the masked man's screams as the Dark Lord cast a crucio on him.

Harry realized his voice had become fast and shallow with excitement and a mad grin had spread across his lips as he watched the man writhe, and felt Voldemort's powerful, intoxicating magic, fill the room with such a sudden fervor. The screaming ceased and Harry quickly blinked and masked away his emotions, trying to force himself under control.

"Forgive?" Voldemort hissed in a deadly whisper, speaking into the suddenly thick silence. "For now I may forgive but I will not forget," he spat. "Thirteen years you all lived comfortable lives after publicly denying your allegiance to me. Pleading coercion, mind control, and innocence. You spent your lives in comfort, hiding amongst our enemies and watching as they slowly destroyed our world with their ignorant philosophies and morals. All the while, I was left as little more than a specter, trapped and unable to save myself."

Suddenly the door opened and several heads turned to look at it out of instinct. Harry was sure that many of them were also curious to see who had the gall to show up several minutes late.

"Ah, Severus," Voldemort said, raising a single hand and beckoning Snape forward.

Snape took several steps forward and fell to one knee and bowing his head. "My Lord."

"Rise, Severus," Voldemort said and Snape stood to his feet, several feet from the Dark Lord. "I am to assume that all went as planned?"

"Yes, my Lord. It was just as you anticipated."

"Good. Go to the front line."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said again as he bowed his head briefly and took a few steps back until he came to stand in a space cleared to Harry's right side.

"Please, my Lord!" the Death Eater directly to Harry's left who he was now positive was Lucius Malfoy, said. "We all want to know. How did this miracle come to pass? What happened to you and where have you been all these long years?"

"Where have I been?" Voldemort sneered quietly. "I have been but an echo of my former self. Stripped of my body and my power. Capable of nothing more than possessing the simple creatures I encountered. I whiled away months and then years in a dark little hole, deep in the Albanian forests. Unable to wield a wand or perform the magic necessary to restore myself, I waited. Waited and hoped for one of my faithful followers to seek me out, but none came." Voldemort's hard cold eyes swept the group again with angry accusation burning through them.

"Why, I asked myself, would none return to my side? Surely they knew better than to actually believe me gone. My followers, who knew of the enumerable steps I had taken to guarantee my continued existence. I, who have gone further on the path to immortality than any other before me! Surely they knew better than to think me gone?

"If not that, than perhaps they had chosen to side with my enemies? To stand at the side of the Light sided sycophants? Perhaps they chose to stand with Dumbledore?"

At this Harry could feel an aura of disagreement and several shifted as if they wished to argue against the assumption, but did not have the guts or the idiocy to speak out of turn..

"Than perhaps they believed that I had actually been vanquished? Destroyed by the child hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived?" Voldemort continued on, glaring at the gathered men with narrowed eyes.

"Do you all wish to know what actually took place that night, more than thirteen years ago?" He asked raising a single hairless eyebrow, questioningly. The group shifted and murmured very quietly under their voices, but none spoke above a whisper.

"It was the magic of dear Lily Potter that did it," He said in a soft voice and Harry saw Voldemort's eyes travel to Snape. "It was requested that I allow Lily Potter to live. It was a request that I saw no reason to deny since the man who requested it had served me well and done me a tremendous service. So when I went to the Potter's home that night, I easily dispatched of James Potter and then followed Lily Potter up to the young Harry's nursery. I gave the woman the option to flee. She did not need to die, and I did not wish to kill her. Little did I know, this would be my final downfall. You see, young, innocent, Light, Lily Potter was secretly a practitioner of the Blood Magics and had enacted a pact with ancient magics I had not anticipated.

"When Lily refused to move aside and died by my hand when it was not necessary, she sacrificed her life in exchange for her son's. It created a protection powerful enough to deflect the majority of the force behind my killing curse. Young, fifteen month old Harry Potter was merely scarred while my very soul was ripped from my body and cast to the abyss. However it was clear that at least one of my experiments into the nature of immortality had worked because I was not dead, when I surely should have been. So you see, my followers, Harry Potter did not vanquish me. He didnothing. He was merely a baby, and nothing more. It was Lily Potter who brought about my temporary fall, and she is dead."

Harry was surprised by how utterly unaffected he was by listening to these words spoken to such a crowd, but it was clear by the short moment when he and Voldemort's eyes locked, that the Dark Lord actually harbored the briefest concern for Harry. The concern behind the man's eyes would have gone unseen by anyone else, but Harry saw it, and he returned a soft, reassuring smile that was banished a moment later behind a blank mask.

Voldemort instantly continued, refocusing on his gathered Death Eaters. "The Boy-Who-Lived is a fairytale. He is a fantasy character, created by the Light, and told to their children as a bedtime story to give them false hope. He does not exist. Some of you are aware that there was a prophecy that I had been pursuing in regards to the Potters. They had gone into hiding and were under Dumbledore's protection because a Seer had claimed that their child would be born with the power to vanquish me."

He paused and the room shifted with anxious anticipation.

"It was all a lie," Voldemort sneered. "The entire thing was concocted by Dumbledore in an elaborate plan to try and have me destroy myself. The Prophecy claiming my fall at the hands of Harry Potter is a lie."

Hushed murmurs broke out but were instantly silenced with a sharp look from the Dark Lord.

"What of Harry Potter, my Lord?" Lucius asked, and Harry could detect that there was something more to that question than was actually spoken. Snape glanced past Harry's position, and looking towards Lucius Malfoy for a moment before looking forward again. Harry knew that neither of them knew who he was and he fought to keep a smirk off his l lips.

"Ah, yes. Potter," Voldemort began slowly. "It is good that you ask, Lucius. This is a matter that I feel is of the utmost importance to discuss with you all tonight. Harry Potter," he began slowly, leaving a pause for dramatic effect, "is not to be touched. Under no circumstances should any of you approach him. Under no circumstances should any of you attack him. I have plans already set in motion regarding Harry Potter and I do not want any of you messing them up by interfering.

"Should I, at any point, learn that one of you was responsible for harming or attacking Potter, without my direct instruction, you will be punished most severely," Voldemort hissed threateningly and his eyes flared with a bright flash of blood red. The gathered crowd shuddered.

"Now back to more pressing matters. As you can all see, I have been back for some time now. I have been making preparations slowly and quietly. My miraculous return, as you asked, dear Lucius, is the result of three faithful followers. Wormtail, step forward!"

Wormtail flinched from his place at the far end of the first row and took a few quivering steps forward as he bowed his head.

"Wormtail was the only one of you to seek me out. He came to me, finding me as I drifted deep in the forests of Albania. It was through his initial aid that I was able to begin setting my plans in motion. But even Wormtail did not seek me out due to loyalty. No. Wormtail came to me seeking protection from those he had chosen to betray. He came to me out of fear." Wormtail flinched again and Harry could hear the lumpy man whimpering under his breath.

"Step back, Wormtail," Voldemort said with an air of disgust to it. "Barty!"

Barty stepped forward from his place four to Harry's right, tall and proud. "Now young Barty Crouch here is a truly faithful follower. He went to Azkaban rather than deny me as his master and Lord. He suffered there for over a year before he was secretly broken out by his dearly departed daddy," Voldemort finished in a mocking tone. "He suffered for a decade but freed himself and came to my aid. He has served me well this last year and has done much for me. He will be rewarded appropriately."

"Thank you, my Lord," Barty said bowing his head low before standing straight and taking a step back into the line.

"And finally, I would like to introduce you all to someone new. Someone who has proven himself loyal and valuable to me in ways that no one else could accomplish. Someone who has done for me things that no one else could possibly do and who has proven himself to me fully and completely.He is young still, but you all will show him the proper ressspect!" Voldemort said in a fierce voice before pausing to trail his eyes across the crowd.

"Evan, step forward," Voldemort commanded at last and Harry took several steps forward, coming to stand directly before the Dark Lord. "I wish to now introduce you all to my apprentissss; Evan Harris." Voldemort reached out and grasped Harry's shoulder, turning him to face the crowd. Harry easily spun around and bowed his head for a moment before standing tall again and looking out over them all.

It was clear that they were all stunned by the pronouncement, and Harry couldn't fully hide the slightly smug smirk that graced his lips as he looked out over the gathered group of Death Eaters.

"Evan will be living here in the manor for the next few months. He will be working as a personal assistant to me as well as attending to additional tasks. If there is any point that you come to the manor to deliver a report or other intelligence and I am indisposed, but Evan is available, you may leave the information with him and he shall make sure that I receive it quickly. Now..." Voldemort paused again, looking over the crowd and placing a hand on Harry's shoulder to indicate that he should return to the line. Harry quickly turned to face the Dark Lord again, bowed his head and took two steps backwards to resume his position in line.

"Quite a few of you have managed to gain positions within the Ministry. For this I am pleased. I wish for you all to prepare as much information about your department, work, the people who you work with, and those who you have influence over and bring it back to me. I will meet with each of you individually to discuss what you bring me.

"Much time has been wasted. While I was left to wander the abyss, the Light has been growing and growing in power. Passing legislation and establishing new departments that weaken the foundation of our society and leave us vulnerable to the muggles. The egregious actions of those idiots who have come into power must be rectified!" he hissed. "We must act swiftly, but we must act in secret until everything has been properly prepared for. This is a war that will initially be waged in the shadows, but once we are ready, we shall take control swiftly and secure it within an iron grasp!

"Our mission is paramount! The wizarding world is in more danger than they realize and it is not by our hands that they shall fall, but by their own! They are slowly destroying themselves and they are taking us with them. We shall all perish by their idiotic governing, when the muggles become aware and decide to act against us. We must gain control of the Ministry and the Wizengamot, and finally we must take Hogwarts. A new day is dawning, my faithful followers. With you by my side, I shall lead our world and restore the great glory to our society!"

The meeting went on for quite a while. Harry was eventually summoned to sit on the stone dais beside Voldemort's throne and to take directed notes. He quickly conjured parchment and a quill and began to note down each of the specific things that Voldemort would lean over and quietly speak to him to, as the Dark Lord discussed things and questioned different Death Eaters individually. Mostly the notes were reminders of things to investigate or to prepare, and objects that would be useful to crafted to serve specific spying purposes.

The back row was dismissed first after they had each been briefly debriefed and then assigned specific tasks. That then left what Harry figured was Voldemort's Inner Circle to stand before him. More things were discussed and more tasks were dolled out. Each person present was expected to prepare several reports on various intelligences and bring them back later. As Harry sat there, scribbling away on the rolls of parchment before him, he noticed several people in front of him eyeing him speculatively, and several eyeing him with contempt. It was clear that there were those among the Inner Circle who were less than pleased with some young unknown coming in out of no where and suddenly being assigned the title of 'Apprentice'. The idea of the Dark Lord taking on an apprentice at all was unheard of and had undoubtedly left quite a few of them bewildered.

The only person among the crowd who was currently keyed into Harry's glamor, besides Voldemort of course, was Barty. Even Wormtail was ignorant to Harry's true identity.

One by one, as the night wore on, the Inner Circle Death Eaters were dismissed until there was only Lucius, Snape, and Barty left standing in the line. Wormtail had long since been sent off to his room. At some point during the lengthy debriefing Nagini had come into the room and she was currently stretched along the base of the throne at Voldemort's feet.

The Dark Lord had just finished giving Lucius his final assignment and it would be the most obvious moment for Lucius to leave, but it was obvious that he was itching to ask another question and yet unsure if he should.

Voldemort smirked at the man's hesitation. "Was there something else you wished to speak to me about, Lucius?"

"I heard a... curious rumor, my Lord," Lucius said, bowing his head lightly and chancing a quick glance towards Snape and Barty.

"Did you now? About what?"

"About Harry Potter, my Lord," Lucius said, once again glancing towards the other two in the room and lingering most suspiciously on 'Evan Harris' sitting on the dais. "Perhaps we could discuss it in private when you are done with the others?"

"That will not be necessary, Lucius. Everyone else that still remains in this room is already aware of that which you are asking about," Voldemort said with a light air of amusement. The startled surprise in Malfoy's unobscured eyes caused Harry to duck his head to hide his smirk. He apparently didn't hide it well enough since Lucius was now glaring down at him.

"I am to assume that your son Draco probably made suggestions to you that Harry Potter said something to him that would suggest that the Boy-Who-Lived had become the Boy-Who-Switched-Sides?" Voldemort asked airily.

"Yes my Lord. I had my doubts to it's validity though. I suspected that Potter might be trying to trick Draco into admitting things he would be best served not admitting to someone like Potter. However Potter mentioned the date of March 20th, suggesting to Draco that on that date my mark would have reacted. It did of course – am I to assume that was the night of your full resurrection, my Lord?"

"That is correct."

"When Draco asked Potter how he knew such a thing, he said it was because he was there for the resurrection..." Lucius said, letting the sentence trail off into an unspoken question.

"He was," Voldemort confirmed easily. Lucius blinked and it was clear, even with the mask, that the man was stunned.

"He... was?"

"Potter has aligned himself with me. He played a crucial role in the ritual that restored my body and magical powers. He is secretly working against Dumbledore, and his switch in alliances must be kept secret at all costs."

"Yes, my Lord!" Lucius said, only barely recovering from his shock. His lips wavered a few times as if he were searching searching for words to speak, but unsure how to properly voice his questions without getting cursed. "H-how..."

"How did Harry Potter end up coming to my side?" Voldemort asked with a slight smirk gracing his lipless face.

"I must admit, my Lord, that I am also desperate to understand how this came to pass," Snape said from Lucius's right.

"Didn't Potter explain it to you when he first approached you for me?" Voldemort asked airily and Lucius's eyes widened behind his mask and darted over to Snape with shock.

"He... did," Snape said slowly. "He said that the reason his name was initially put into the cup for the tournament was your doing. The original plan was to abduct him during the final task and forcefully using his blood in a ritual to restore your body."

"That is correct."

"However he said that through the course of the year he came to several realizations, as well as discovering your plans."

"Again, correct. The realization that the prophecy was false, and that it was an elaborately constructed scheme by Dumbledore in an attempt to destroy me made it obvious that there was no legitimate reason for the two of us to continue attempting to kill each other. We both came to the realization that our efforts could be much better put to use working together to take down our common enemy – Albus Dumbledore."

"Harry Potter considers Dumbledore an enemy?" Lucius asked disbelievingly.

"We are all fully aware of the levels of duplicity that the man is capable of. He is also remarkably skilled at deceiving those around him. Unfortunately for Dumbledore, Harry Potter has had a bit of an awakening, and has learned to see the old man's deceit for what it is. He came to me of his own free will, with absolutely no coercion. He is loyal to me and has served me well so far.

"It is true that he made mistakes, but he was young and being played by a master manipulator. During his first year, when he prevented my acquisition of the philosopher's stone, he had no idea it was even I who was after it, and he was only acting because Dumbledore had secretly directed him to. In his second year, again, his actions cost me an extremely valuable object, and resulted in the death of a thousand-year-old basilisk, however, again – he was merely being used by the old man. He was an extension of Dumbledore's hand. He was being used. I do not blame him for his actions. He was young, naive, and he had been tricked.

"He has repented for his actions against me, I have forgiven him his past misdeeds and he has moved beyond those I have committed against him and come to terms with working under me. He has since proven himself dependable and devoted to me and our cause. I do not question his loyalties to me. You, however, have left me with my doubts."

"M-my Lord! I have only ever devoted myself to the dark cause! I have always and forever been loyal to you first! I –"

"You discarded a powerful magical artifact that was both precious and irreplaceable, for your own personal gain," Voldemort interjected with a harsh, angry, sneer.

"That muggle-loving fool Weasley was trying to push through legislature that would greatly hinder our cause, my Lord. I only ever wished –"

"To humiliate him and discredit him. Yes, I saw that much for myself, Lucius. Whether or not your actions actually had any effect on the bill failing to go through, however, is debatable. I can approve of the goal, however, I left that artifact with you with the expectation that you would guard it with your very life, and instead, you let it fall into the hands of light wizards. Your actions resulted in the diary's destruction, and for that, you will repay me."

Lucius's eyes were filled with barely concealed terror and he quickly shook his head before bowing low. "Y-yes, my Lord."

"Now, Lucius," Voldemort said sitting up straighter in his throne and calling the elder Malfoy to his full attention. "The school term is as good as over, but during the next school year I will be requiring your son's assistance with Potter."

"Of course, my Lord. Whatever you need."

"Bring him here to the manor during the summer so that I may speak with him."

Harry could see the discomfort in Lucius's posture but the man tried to mask it well. "Yes my Lord. I will bring him."

"Good. That is all Lucius. I expect the report from you within a week."

"Yes my Lord," Lucius said as he dipped to one knee and bowed before standing and preparing to leave. Harry wondered how many times that evening he had heard the phrase 'yes, my lord'.

"Evan, escort Lucius to the entry hall and wait for me in the study," Voldemort said then, pulling Harry out of his musings. Harry nodded his head and began to stand up. He had been expecting this. Snape and Barty would finish their Hogwarts debrief, and receive any end-of-term instructions now and Harry would be filled in later.

He rolled up the scrolls he had taken his notes on and tucked them under his arm. He stepped down off the dais and strolled over to Lucius's side. The pair quickly left the room, leaving Voldemort alone with Snape and Barty.

Harry and Lucius walked down the long hall in silence at first, but the silence was broken by Lucius.

"I must admit that my curiosity is beyond peaked about you," he said in a calm conversational voice.

"Oh? And what about me would inspire such curiosity?"

"I don't think I have ever heard of the Dark Lord taking on an apprentice. It is absolutely unheard of."

"Ah, that."

"Yes, that." Lucius said shortly and finally turning his head and giving Harry a sharp look. Harry smirked back causing the elder Malfoy's eyes to narrow.

"It is a position that I somehow slipped into my fluke. I was not seeking out the position, but the Dark Lord desired to teach me."

"He desired to teach you?" Lucius remarked disbelievingly.

"There is much about me that goes unseen," Harry said, grinning back.

"I would assume as much if you were able to catch the attention of the Dark Lord," Lucius said coming to a stop now in the entry hall and giving Harry a long look over. Not that there was a lot of look at since they were both covered head to toe in black robes. Although Lucius's eyes did linger longer of Harry's half-exposed face. The elder Malfoy was clearly intrigued by the unique mask, but didn't remark on it.

"Evan Harris, was it?" Lucius asked, conversationally.

"That's right."

"You wouldn't be related to the Tutshill Harris's or perhaps the Portree Harris's?"

Harry just gave the other man a small smirk and remained silent.

"Hm," Lucius huffed quietly before pulling his cloak around him better. "Well I suppose I shall be off."

"I suppose you shall. If you come to the manor often this summer, we shall probably see much of each other."

Lucius rose a single eyebrow before narrowing his eyes. He gave a curt nod before apparating away. Harry smirked and chuckled lightly under his breath before turning and heading up the stairs to wait in the study.

#Harry Potter #Dark!Harry #Tom Riddle #Tomarry #Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness..

2 notes · View notes