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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Happiness, I’m sorry you’ve been on hold.

Request: Could you do a one shot of Fred Weasley after the war, where he doesn’t die and actually falls in love with a muggle. And he tells her about wizards and meets his family? Thank you!

A/N: So this is now the longest thing I have ever written. My aim for this was to make it equal parts angst and equal parts fluff because I think Fred deserves all the fluff. Thank you so much for requesting this! I hope I have done it justice! Please read the warnings before reading this fic should anything trigger - you come first, not fic reading. Also, if anyone can name the TV shows I mention in this, you get a gold star! Title from Volbeat - For Evigt. I hope you all enjoy, I know it’s long!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of war, depression, insomnia, PTSD, swearing, food, but THERE IS SO MUCH FLUFF - SO MUCH (as well as a bit of steaminess).

Word count: 13.3k

The voices have blurred into a senseless mess; Fred can only just make out the deep timbre of adult males and the high pitched shouts of students. He doesn’t need to hear the words to know that spells are being thrown left, right, and centre.

He does his fair share of fighting; hurling jinx after jinx at any Death Eater he comes upon.

The corridor he runs down is moaning and groaning as if ready to collapse, but Fred continues, his breath coming in pants. His eyes run over the bodies of students and teachers; his heart beginning the painful mourning process then and there.

Someone shouts; he doesn’t know who.

Something creaks; he doesn’t know what.

A brilliant flash of light bounces in front of his eyes, and he feels himself blown away just as the wall beside him starts to collapse.

Whether from shock or from injury, his vision fades to black.

Fred wakes with a start; heart racing, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream, hands gripping the bedsheets in a vice-tight hold.

With his eyes closed, he takes a deep breath before he begins to go through his exercise. An exercise he repeats nightly.

Aloud he says their names like a mantra: “Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Ginny.”

He does this over and over again until his heart rate calms, and his hands can release the bedsheets.

Fred checks the clock; 3am. He nods, sighing. Three hours sleep.

Fred supposes he should be thankful. After all, it’s three hours more than he got the night before.

He leaves his bed, dragging his feet to the kitchen where with a flick of his wand, the kettle begins to boil, and teabag drops itself into his favourite mug – his only mug.

The Second Wizard War had been over for almost a year now, and for the most part, life had returned to normal. Routines were picked back up and time had simply started to move on.

But Fred felt stuck.

He couldn’t shake the nightmares; keeping the house up with his screams. He couldn’t face opening the shop up despite George’s best attempts at pleading.

He didn’t have it in him to laugh.

He felt broken; as if something vital within him snapped in two the day he avoided the winged clutches of death.

Settling on the couch with his now steeping mug of tea, Fred resigns himself to the fact that he won’t be getting anymore sleep tonight.

The TV plays lowly in the background, a rerun of an old British sitcom set in a prison playing. Fred pays it little to no attention; instead, looking around the small flat he’s called home for the last eight months of his life. The walls are sparsely decorated; a few photos hung up but nothing that screams his personality. His cupboards remain filled just enough for one person, as does his fridge. It’s a flat fit for a hermit; Fred thinks that’s what he’s become.

He decided to leave home two months after the end of the war. When he started to notice the dark circles underneath his mother’s eyes and realised that he was the cause of them – his nightmares and his screams.

Molly cried when he left; worried sick over how he would look after himself and cope. Fred reassured her and made a promise to send letters twice a week – a promise he has yet to break.

George was understandably angry with his twin’s decision, but he knew that deep down that Fred needed to go to heal so he can laugh in the shop once again.

With a tight hug from his parents and siblings alike, Fred began his new life in muggle society.

A frantic knock at his door has Fred spilling his tea and falling out of his reminiscing. Jumping up from the couch, his hand grabs his wand, ready to defend himself should he need to.

His breath comes in quick pants as a result of the adrenaline and panic coursing through his system. The only people who know where he lives are his family with the added bonus of Harry, Hermione and Lee Jordan; no-one else had his address.

The frantic knocking continues; becoming quicker if it was at all possible. Fred swallows past the lump in his throat as he unlocks his door, wrenching it open in a swift movement, ready to confront whatever was on the other side.

Fred wasn’t prepared for it to be you.

You stand in front of his flat with a wild look on your face; equal parts terror and panic. Your hand is still raised in a fist, ready to rain down on the faded red of his door. You only just stop yourself from pounding your fist into his chest.

“Can I help you?” Fred greets.

“I’m so sorry, I know how late it is, but I need your help.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “What with?”

You toe his welcome mat sheepishly, pointing towards your flat next door to his. “There’s a massive spider in my bathroom and I’m too scared to kill it myself.”

“You’re knocking down my door at this time in the morning for a spider?” Fred asks incredulously.

You glare at him, “This isn’t just any spider, okay? It’s massive; I can practically see its kneecaps!” You huff, placing your hands on your hips, “Will you please help me?”

Fred leans against the doorframe, a smirk gracing his lips, “What’s in it for me?”

You purse your lips; eyes glancing between the red-headed man vexing you and the door to your flat where you know the spider is waiting to make a mockery of you. You sigh, deciding the former is the lesser evil than the latter, “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“You’ll buy me breakfast for killing a spider?”

You nod rapidly, “Yes, I’ll buy you breakfast, and I’ll even fork out extra for hash browns, just please kill the spider.”

Fred pauses; pretending to think it over in order to annoy you that little bit more. It had been a while since he had taken the time to vex someone; he had to admit he was rather enjoying getting on your nerves.

“Well?” You press, tapping your foot on his welcome mat, “Will you help me or not?”

Fred pushes himself off the doorframe, keeping his wand concealed in his shirt sleeve. He bows at the waist with a cocky smile on his lips, “Lead the way, my lady.”

You roll your eyes at the man; not remembering a time when a man had gotten on your nerves to this extent. You lead him into your flat; his eyes wandering over the heavily decorated walls and the over-filled bookshelves. You pause outside the door to your bathroom, biting your lip as you face the red-haired man, “I last saw it in the sink. It could have moved now.”

Fred nods, “Don’t worry, I’ll find it. Do you have a boot or something I could use?”

You turn away from him, heading back to the entryway where he saw piles upon piles of shoes. “I don’t have a boot,” you start, “but I do have a pair of trainers.”

“They’ll work,” Fred reassures, taking them from your hands.

You throw him a thumbs-up before retreating a few paces into your living room. You haul yourself onto the couch, much to Fred’s amusement, as if the spider is going to come running out of the bathroom to exact its revenge on you for throwing your pot of face cream at it before you sprinted out of your flat.

“Good luck,” You state as Fred opens the door to your bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Fred runs his eyes around your bathroom, looking for the eight-legged arachnid that’s caused this much trouble at this time in the morning. He finds it in no time; still stuck in your sink, unable to make its way up the smooth porcelain sides.

It doesn’t take Fred long to dispose of the spider; trapping it with a spell and flinging it out of the window. For extra measure, and to not alert you to his magic, he slams the trainer down on the tiled floor of your bathroom. Fred even goes so far as to scrunch up some tissue in his hand to make it look as if he had gotten the spider.

If he can avoid it, Fred won’t kill another living creature. In the short span of his life, Fred had seen too much death, and he knows he doesn’t want to be witness to anymore.

Upon opening the door, Fred finds you stood in the exact same place but with a rolled up magazine in your hand. He wants to laugh at the sight, but he can’t dredge up the will to do so. Instead, he holds up the scrunched up tissue and your trainer, declaring, “It’s gone. I got rid of it.”

You jump down from the couch, pottering over to him. The rolled up magazine still in your hand, “It’s in there?”

Fred nods, a little white lie won’t hurt you and he doubts the spider would return. “Do you have somewhere I can put this?” he asks, waving the tissue around.

“Of course, the kitchen is over here.” You lead him to the small kitchenette where he disposes of the empty tissue. You take your trainer off him and Fred claps his hands together as if he’s completed a job well done.

“Right,” He starts, “If you don’t need me for anything else…”

Your eyes widen as if suddenly aware what time it is and how long you’ve kept him, “Of course!” you cry, “I didn’t realise the time, you’ll want to be getting back to sleep. Thank you for all your help…” you trail off, realising you don’t know his name.

“Fred. My name is Fred.”

“Fred,” You smile, “I’m (Y/N).”

“I’m glad I could help, (Y/N),” Fred says, making his way to your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

You frown, “Breakfast?”

“You owe me? For killing the spider, remember?”

You hold your hand to your forehead, “Yes! I remember. How does meeting at half past nine sound? I want to get some sleep before I meet you again.”

“Half nine it is. I’ll see you then.” Fred says as goodbye, shutting your front door behind him and making his way back to the couch that had been calling his name since he left it.

The TV has moved on now; showing another rerun of an old sitcom – this one about two brothers hustling their way through life in a borough of London. Fred rather likes this show, having gotten hooked his first month in muggle life. He turns the volume up, taking a sip of his now cold tea.

Fred tries to pay attention to scene currently playing; the brother’s elderly uncle unscrewing the fastenings to a very expensive chandelier they’ve been hired to clean. Little do they know they’ve got their wires crossed and disaster is about to strike.

Fred pays little attention to this, but rather than return to the wallowing he found himself in earlier, he lets himself think of breakfast tomorrow.

His eyes begin to flutter shut; the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. He slumps down onto the couch, reaching for the blanket he keeps draped across the back of it for this very reason, and he throws it across himself. He takes one last look at the television to see that the brothers had been underneath the wrong chandelier their elderly uncle was loosening, and he falls asleep with the thought of breakfast running through his mind.

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

Fred is ready too early; he knows he is.

He also thinks he’s overdressed but he doesn’t let himself think too much into that issue.

Another nightmare had awoken him an hour after he fell back asleep in front of the TV. Fred wasn’t too resigned though; four hours sleep in one night was the most he had gotten in a while. He was going to count this as a win.

For a while, he remained on the couch, flicking through the channels hoping to find something other than telly shopping. He skipped over the news channels, not needing to hear anything about muggle society that could potentially send him further into his spiral. He ran a hand over his face as he turned off the TV; he had moved away from home to start getting better; to start the healing process yet he felt as if he was only making things worse.

Before he could let himself dwell further on that subject, he hauled himself into the shower. Taking extra time to scrub at his hair and body; making himself look presentable for breakfast with you.

Fred took extra care in picking out his clothes. Once dressed, he did feel overdressed for the occasion, but as he sits on the couch, watching the hands on his analogue clock tick by slowly, he’s more bothered by the fact that he’s ready over an hour early.

He sighs as he watches the second hand make another circuit around the clock; one less minute to go, he thinks wryly to himself.

If his mother could see him now, Molly Weasley would proceed to smack him with a tea-towel before offering her advice on the matter. Thoughts of his mother has Fred overwhelmed with a strong sense of missing her. He misses his mother more than he misses anyone; how she would always have food on the table and tea ready to drink, how she would push back his hair from his forehead so she could kiss him there. She would do that a lot when the nightmares were very bad; she would sit with him on the couch where he had exiled himself after waking George up too many times – she would run her hands through his hair in a comforting manner, kissing his forehead as his eyes would start to droop. Molly would only let herself rest once her beloved son was sleeping somewhat peacefully.

Fred thinks of this memory as he digs around his flat for some spare parchment and a self-inking quill. He had already sent his two letters for the week, but Molly would be delighted to receive a third unexpectedly.

Quill scratches on parchment for some time. Fred inquires after the wellness of his siblings – did Charlie pull his finger out and ask out Evie? How was Ron and Hermione? How was Dad? Would he like any more of the muggle sweets he’s become so fond of?

Fred asks the inane questions before asking about George. Fred knows that George loves him; they’re twins, they’re closer than any other sibling would hope to be. George knew Fred’s moods like the back of his hand and he only wants the best for his brother. Which is why Fred struggles with the guilt at leaving George to cope with the joke shop alone. George has reassured him that it’s okay, that he needs to take time and the shop will always be here when he’s ready to come back.

But it still doesn’t lessen the guilt that sits in his stomach like a lead balloon.

Black ink covers his hand by the he’s finished his letter; finishing his letter with the news of breakfast with someone he could see being a good friend. That would be enough to quash his mother’s worries that he doesn’t leave his flat enough. He seals the envelope with wax, making a mental note to go to a wizarding post office after breakfast so he can send it off in express time to his mother.

Cracking his knuckles – a nasty habit he picked up at Hogwarts – Fred checks the time to see that it’s almost half past nine. He slips on his denim jacket, tucking his letter into an inside pocket, patting it to reassure himself it’s there.

As he’s locking up the door, he sees you exiting your flat. Fred realises that when you aren’t dressed in mismatched pyjamas with a terrified look on your face, you’re rather beautiful.

You hurry over to him; your bag bouncing against your hip as you come to a stop in front of him. “Good Morning,” you greet.

“Good Morning. How did you sleep? Any more spiders?”

You direct your gaze to the floor, feeling somewhat sheepish in the light of day, “I know I said it last night, but thank you again. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if you hadn’t have got it.”

Fred smiles softly, “I didn’t mind. Besides, I get breakfast out of it.”

You perk up, “That you do! Off we go then.”

You lead him out of the building, continuing on the main road before turning left and then a right. Fred follows you all the way; making small attempts at idle conversation which you gladly take up, chatting to him about anything and everything as you lead him down a side street to where a small café sits.

The bell above the door chimes happily as you enter the building, holding the door open for Fred to duck in first.

You lead him to a table by the window that’s big enough for two. He pulls out your chair for you, letting you sit first before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over the back of his chair. Fred may have been a little shit through his childhood and adolescence, but he had listened to his mother when she explained the etiquette for dining with a lady whether it be breakfast, lunch or dinner.

Menus are handed to the both of you by a waitress who looks to be wanting to be anywhere but here right now. Fred sympathises with her a little; remembering the early starts for the shop. They order their food in no time; you ordering a latte and Fred ordering a Yorkshire Tea to go with your Full English’s with extra hash browns.

You grin at him from across the table, “Thanks for agreeing to this.”

“Thanks for offering.”

“Did you get back to sleep okay after I woke you up?” You asks, face lined with worry.

Fred nods, clearing his throat, “I nodded back off, yeah.”

You sigh with relief, “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“I slept very well in my spider-free flat, yes.”

You fall silent as your drinks are placed in front of you with a promise that your food would be with you shortly. Fred smiles at the waitress in thanks as she leaves.

He turns his attention back to you, “How long have you lived in the building? I’m sure I would have seen you before.”

You wave a hand nonchalantly, “Not very long, I moved in a couple of months ago. How long have you lived there?”

Fred sips at his tea, adding a dash of sugar and milk before answering, “Around eight months now.”

You nod at his answer, taking a drink of your latte. The caffeine was needed; the adrenaline from the spider incident had taken a while to leave your body, leaving you tossing and turning in your bed and providing you more opportunity to think about the red-headed neighbour you had just met.

“I’m going to propose an idea.”

“Oh?”

“I say we play twenty-one questions and get to know each other.”

“Get to know each other?”

You blink at him, “Yes. We’re neighbours and we’re having breakfast. What else should we talk about? The weather?”

Fred glances out the window at your words, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Well the weather is particularly lovely for London.”

You hush him, “That’s not very neighbourly of you.”

“Perhaps I’m not very neighbourly,” Fred taunts.

You gasp dramatically, “I refuse to believe that. If you weren’t neighbourly, you would have shut the door in my face last night.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “Would you have started to knock again if I did?”

You purse your lips, repressing a smile, “Maybe.”

“Then I simply helped to lessen the noise.”

You scoff, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“You don’t have to.”

You glare at him, “Fred, stop being an arsehole and let me get to know you.”

Fred barks out a laugh, covering his mouth at the volume of the noise, “Well, when you put it like that. What do you want to know?”

You beam at him, and Fred can’t help but smile back. “How old are you?” you ask.

“I’m 22.”

“Are you at university?”

Fred shakes his head, “I thought I was supposed to ask the next question.”

You level him with a look, “Answer this one and then you can ask the next one.”

“Alright, but you can’t go jumping in with another question before I’ve asked mine. No, I’m not at university,” You open your mouth to interrupt but close it when you remember Fred’s words. He smiles at you, “How old are you?”

“You can’t repeat questions!”

“Why not?” Fred asks, affronted, “It’s only fair I know your age too!”

“Fine,” you mutter, “I’m 22 as well. 23 in a month.”

Fred nods, waiting patiently for your next question. You open your mouth, the words ready on the tip of your tongue but the waitress returns with your breakfast. The very smell of it has Fred’s stomach rumbling; he hadn’t a cooked breakfast like this since he left the Burrow. He digs in with renewed vigour; repressing a moan at the taste of the fried bread.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

Fred nods, unable to reply due to the mouthful of food he’s chewing.

You nod in understanding, swallowing your mouthful before saying, “I found this place in my final year of university; I needed somewhere that reminded me of my mum’s breakfasts. Her breakfasts will always be number one, but this comes pretty close.”

Fred pauses with a forkful of scrambled egg halfway to his mouth, “That’s what I miss most about home – my mum and her cooking.”

“Are you not from London originally?” You asks around a mouthful of bacon.

Fred shakes his head, “Devon originally. A tiny village in the county; it’s more of a hamlet really.”

Your eyes widen; eyebrows flying into your hairline, “Devon? That’s a while away. How often do you get to see your family?”

“Not as often as I’d like.” Fred says, drinking his tea.

For a moment, it’s silent between the two of you. The scraping of cutlery on plates being the only sound. Fred thinks of his family as he eats his breakfast; wondering what their plans are for the day – whether they’d be gnome hunting or playing quidditch or simply helping Molly with her vegetable garden. His heart hurts as he thinks of them; overcome with the absence of them from his life. It makes him shiver as he reaches for another drink of tea.

Fred breaks the comfortable silence, “What about you? Where are you from originally?”

“Lancashire originally but I moved to the south when I was young – it’s why my accent is so odd.”

Fred frown; he hadn’t noticed anything odd about your accent, thinking the way that you pronounced your vowels was similar to the way young Neville Longbottom does his, but yours are cut shorter.

“Tell me,” He starts, “Do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

“You’re going to repeat my every question, aren’t you?”

Fred grins, “Maybe… Maybe not. You’ll have to stick around to find out. Now, do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

You shake your head, “Not really. My parents like to travel a lot; a cruise here, a two week holiday there, a road trip across America through the summer. I don’t blame them though; they worked hard for the time they have now. I just wish they’d drop in more.”

“Are you rich?” Fred asks before he can stop himself. He cringes as the words leave his mouth.

You chuckle at the awkward expression on his face, “I’m not. My parents are. I’m a humble student working towards their master’s degree. My father created his company in printing greeting cards; he sold it off a few years back for a lot of money and they’ve been enjoying themselves since.”

“You’re a master’s student?” Fred asks; his knowledge on muggle degrees somewhat limited to what Hermione had told him.

You nod, scraping up the last forkful of food on your plate. “Yeah, I’m getting my master’s in Library Science.”

“What do you hope to do after that?”

“Work in a library or well, continue to work in a library, I already work at my university one. I’d love to work in an archives one day though, cataloguing pieces of history.”

Fred nods, enraptured by your words. He didn’t realise how much choice there was for muggles and their education. The wizarding world was somewhat limited to how witches and wizards could harness their talents; Fred and George were practically pariahs for choosing to dedicate their lives to pranks and happiness. He had always assumed the muggle world worked in the same way, but here you were, proving him wrong.

Knives and forks are crossed on plates when you ask, “You aren’t a university student, so you must have a job. What do you do for a living, Fred?”

Fred decides a kernel of truth wouldn’t do too much harm, “I own a joke shop with my twin brother.”

You laugh, clapping your hands together, “That’s incredible! Is the shop here in London?”

Fred nods, “It is. My twin brother is running it for the time being.”

“Can we go see it?”

Fred freezes; he hadn’t anticipated this. He glances down at the watch wrapped around his wrist then back up at you, not missing the glint of mischief in your eyes. “Perhaps another time?” he suggest, “I have some errands I need to run today that I can’t avoid.”

You lean back in your chair, feeling somewhat sad but you shake it off. “Of course, but I’ll hold you to that Fred. I won’t rest until I see your shop.”

Fred grins, “I have a feeling you’ll stick to your word.”

You move to reply but are interrupted by the waitress coming by to collect your plates and ask if you want anything else. She leaves the bill behind when her question is declined. Fred reaches for his wallet, but you stop him by snatching the bill.

“I made you a promise last night. Breakfast for your excellent services.”

Fred rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “I feel bad letting you pay.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” You tease, “No, I said I would buy you breakfast so I’m buying you breakfast. You can buy it next time.”

“So there’s going to be a next time?”

You shrug, biting your lip. “Sure – you might need my services for something. A blocked pipe or a blow fuse.”

Fred stands, pulling on his denim jacket, patting his inside pocket to find that his letter is still there.

You walk back to the main road together; waving goodbye to him as you head towards your university and he to a side street where he can apparate to the nearest wizarding post office. Fred hands his letter over to the clerk, paying a few extra knuts for express delivery.

Fred takes his time walking back to his flat; enjoying the spring day that was blooming around him. He felt lighter as he walked; as if he didn’t need to put as much effort into putting one foot in front of the other. He put it down to you and your presence; there was something about you that evoked all sorts of emotions from him. There was something about you that made him want to see you again.

However, he knew by tonight, the familiar fog will have settled over him – dulling the light of everything around him. He knew that he would still struggle to sleep; being lucky enough to get even an hour in before being pulled to consciousness kicking and screaming his way out of the same nightmare.

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

His time over the next month is split three ways. He spends a third of it on his couch; watching old reruns of sitcoms – his new favourite being set in second muggle war and follows the Home Guard; Fred finds himself whistling the theme song more often than he’d like to admit. He uses his time on the couch to write his letters to Molly who was thrilled at the aspect of Fred making a friend; she wrote question after question about wanting to know their star sign to their hair colour. Fred smiles fondly; a smile reserved only for his mother – one that got even bigger when a second owl arrived with a small note with another question. Through all of her excited questioning, Molly forgot one crucial detail – what was their name?

He spends the second third of his time running. Fred had always been sporty; had always had an athletic build that helped him gain his spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Beater with George on the team too. However, there are few places in muggle London where he can play the sport freely, so he gets it into his head to pretend to train for a match. Fred begins to run; every morning and every evening. Two runs a day, seven days a week. The runs on an evening tire out his body so he has more of a chance of falling into bed with the hopeless prayer of a dreamless sleep uttered from his lips. However, the runs on a morning are more frantic as he runs off the excess adrenaline and panic running through his system as a result of the night terror his mind unleashed upon him, dragging him from sleep less than two hours after his eyes closed.

Then Fred spends the final third of his time with you. In your flat or walking around Hyde Park or visiting your university.

Fred finds himself spending more and more time with you; he starts to crave your company. And he feels ridiculous for feeling that way because he’s only known you for over a month and he should be using this time to start the healing process.

But he’s already told his mother about you; and who isn’t to say that he can’t work on healing from the trauma of the war with you by his side being a warm, comforting presence?

Fred sits on his couch at nearing two in the morning; questioning his entire existence and reasoning for moving to muggle society when he realises that whilst it’s only been just over a month, if he wants to start healing with you by his side, he needs to be entirely honest with you.

He needs to confess.

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

Fred inhales a deep breath before knocking on your door. He shuffles from side to side, nerves rioting in his stomach. In less than a minute, you’ve wrenched open your door, smiling widely as you take in Fred standing before you.

“Freddie! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He holds his hands behind his back as he rocks back onto his heels, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

Your eyes run over his face; taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes. He had told you about his insomnia soon after the friendship began; it worried you, but Fred had reassured you that he had it controlled. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Fred nods, “That, and I really need to talk to you.”

“No problem. Let me just get my shoes on.”

Fred smiles as he watches you toe on the slip on trainers he had come to know as Vans. You told him just last week about your obsession with them; unable to resist buying a new pair each time you passed the shop.

You grab your jacket from the hook, pulling it on as you lock the door behind you, bumping into Fred as you step out into the hallway.

Fred leads you out of the building, turning the usual left that heads in the direction of the park. You struggle to keep up with his long strides; calling out for him to slow down a little so you can at least walk side by side. He smiles at you as you catch up to him; apologising for his speed, he is just anxious.

The walk to the park is walked in silence. Fred’s mind occupied with how he’s going to tell you the most important thing about himself and how you’re going to react when you find out that a lot of your friendship was built on a lie.

The park settles on the horizon too soon and his heart is in his mouth. Fred used to be a confident guy; happily getting involved in scheme after scheme that would bring chaos and laughter to the corridors of Hogwarts, but he had lost that part of him in the battle. He wondered if he would ever be that guy again.

You bump his shoulder, “We’re at the park, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred settles on a nearby bench; fiddling with his fingers, “I need to tell you something but I’m not sure how to say it.”

“That’s fine. Why don’t you tell me why we’re in the park?”

Fred sighs, “It’s so you have the freedom and the choice to leave after I tell you what I’ve been keeping from you.”

Your heart starts to pound in your chest; panic rising slowly in your gut. “What have you been keeping from me that’s so bad that I would need to walk away from you?”

Fred turns in his spot, staring into your eyes, “Do you promise to hear me out and not interrupt?”

“Fred, you’re worrying me. What’s the matter?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise! Now what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been lying to you… about so much.”

The air is knocked out of you, “I’m going to need more than that, Fred,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Do you remember when we first had breakfast? And I told you about the joke shop I own with my twin?”

“Yes… so what did you lie about? The joke shop or the twin?”

“Neither. I just lied about why you couldn’t see it.”

“Why?” You ask; your tone incredulous.

“Because I’m a wizard, and the joke shop I own with my twin – who is also a wizard – is a magical joke shops selling pranks and potions to witches and wizards attending Hogwarts.”

You stand from the bench, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, wondering when the TV cameras are going to show up, “That isn’t funny, Fred.”

“I’m not joking, (Y/N). I’m not lying to you now.”

“How do I know? What’s Hogwarts? Who is your twin? What’s the name of your shop? Why aren’t you there?”

Fred had prepared himself for the barrage of questions he knew would inevitably fall from your mouth; curiosity being your besetting sin. He hadn’t prepared himself for the look of betrayal and hurt that crosses over face as you continue to stare at him. Fred feels his already broken heart break some more at the sight of it.

He runs a hand over his face, “(Y/N), love, please sit down. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything?” You question, “I want to know it all.”

Fred crosses over his heart, “I promise. Now please sit down.”

You sit next to him; a few inches away as if the small distance will help to protect the heart that you had already started to give to the broken red-headed man.

You remain silent as Fred sorts out his words; you can see the cogs in his mind working as he figures out how to explain an entire society that you hadn’t known existed until less than a minute ago.

Finally he releases a breath and begins.

“Witches and wizards have always been around, but after famous witch hunts such as Salem, Pendle, and Samlesbury, we had to go into hiding to protect our numbers. From the age of eleven, we go to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is a school in the highlands of Scotland dedicated to teaching young witches and wizards the art of magic as well as how to control it. My twin is called George; we’re identical and sometimes, our own mother struggles to tell us apart,” Fred breaks off with a short laugh, thinking of Molly with fondness.

“He’s my rock, he’s my best friend. We bought the joke shop when we were eighteen – it’s called Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and it’s found in Diagon Alley. For your sake, it’s found near Charing Cross Road.”

Fred pauses once again, readying himself to explain his absence from the shop and his presence in your life. “I’m not there because I moved away. In our society, there was a dark wizard who started a war for purposes beyond me. I just know that when I was 21 I was running through the corridors of the school I used to attend fighting for my life and watching people I knew die. I almost died myself when a wall was blown apart; luckily, someone spelled me out of the way. I’ll be forever grateful to them for that.

“After the war, I couldn’t cope. I was doing more harm than good by being with my family – my insomnia stems from nightmares of the war so I left. I left them and moved here where I’ve started to heal from my experiences and where I met you after you started to bang on my door. I wanted to tell you sooner; my mother told me to in her letters, but I was enjoying my time with you, and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. It means a lot to me.”

Fred falls silent with a smile aimed at you. Your mouth hangs open from his words; unsure on whether to take them for the truth they sounded like or to question him to find the holes in his story.

But he looks so vulnerable; the smile is watery, and his eyes are lined with tears. You realise that it’s taken a lot for him to confess this to you, but that it had been weighing on his mind for some time.

You don’t say anything immediately. Instead, you draw his head to your shoulder, and he lets out the sob he’s been holding in since he started to talk about his past. You wrap your arms around him tightly; holding him together as he lets himself fall to pieces in your arms. You’re in public, and this is a scene but the both of you don’t care. You hold him to you until his sobs begin to quieten into sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” Fred murmurs, pulling away from you as he wipes his eyes.

“Never apologise for crying.”

He sniffles, “Do you believe me?”

You nod, “I do. I don’t think anyone could have made up what you just said. I don’t think there’s enough imagination in the world for it. But there’s one thing I want to know.”

Fred watches you warily, “What is it?”

You grip his hand tightly, “Are you healing, Fred? Are you coping?”

Fred’s shoulders slump as the tension leaves his body; he had tensed at your words, worried at what you might say. He stares into your eyes as he answers, “I am. I was struggling at first, but I think I’m starting to heal.”

“Can I help? How can I help?”

Fred pats your hand, “Continue doing what you’re doing, it’s enough.”

And it is. Fred finds it easier to breathe in your presence as if the weight of the world is no longer on his shoulders like he were Atlas. Instead, he finds it easier to focus on other things such as plans for the day or listening to you talk about your latest assignment. He doesn’t feel his mind drift off as much when he’s around you; which is a good thing, he thinks.

You smile at him, still holding onto his hand, “I can do that.”

You both fall into quiet; eyes now focused on the expanse of the park. Fred watches a young mother push her young son the swings, hearing his delighted laughter, whilst your eyes land on the teenage couple making out underneath a tree; you move your eyes away quickly, focusing instead, on the ducks swimming in the pond.

You break the silence, “Fred?”

He hums in answer.

“Would you cast a spell for me?” You ask tentatively, “If that’s okay!”

Fred smiles softly; letting go of your hand to reach for the dogwood wand he keeps hidden up his sleeve. With flare he hasn’t shown since opening the store, he pulls the wand out. He rolls the wand over his fingers, “Wizards can practice magic outside of school from the age of seventeen; I can show you a spell.”

“Really?” You ask, bouncing in your place.

“Are you ready?”

“Hold on, let me think for a minute… YES.” You shout, stamping your feet in the grass.

Fred grins; his eyes crinkling in the corners from the size of his smile. He checks for witnesses before holding his wand up whispering the incantation ‘Lumos’. The tip of his wand begins to glow with a pale light which in the falling darkness of the day only helps him see the beauty in your features.

You gasp at the sight of the light emanating from Fred’s wand, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. “I can’t believe it,” you sigh, “All this time I asked you to change lightbulbs and you could create light with a single word.”

“You’re not scared or freaked out?” He asks, unable to stop himself. The small voice in the back of his head needed to know whether you were going to leave him.

You shake your head, still watching the pale white light. With a single whisper of ‘Nox’, Fred turns out the light and slides his wand back into his sleeve. You turn your attention back to Fred, “I’m not scared or freaked out. I’m just in awe of you and this entire society that’s survived in secret. I feel like I’m privy to a secret organisation.”

“You’re in awe of me?” Fred asks; those being the only words he focused on in your entire sentence after confirming you weren’t scared of him.

“Absolutely. You can conjure magic, Fred! Actual magic! It’s incredible,” Your hands frame his face, keeping his eyes on you as you lean close and whisper, “You are incredible.”

He covers your hands with his; wondering when he’d become so soft. “Thank you,” he replies.

You pull away too soon; Fred’s hands dropping to his side, feeling suddenly cold at the loss of contact.

Standing from the bench, you hold your hand out for Fred to take. “Come on, magic man. It’s time we went home.”

“Magic man?” He asks, amused. He takes your offered hand, pulling himself up from the park bench.

“It’s my new nickname for you, do you like?”

“Magic man… magic man,” Fred repeats, testing the name out on his tongue, “I suppose I do.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’ll call you anything else.”

The walk back to the flat is quicker than the walk to the park. Fred’s steps lighter now than they were earlier. Chased by the turning on of street lights, you reach your building and lead him into your flat, offering him a warm drink as he takes a seat on your cream coloured couch.

Fred takes the hot mug of tea from you as you sit down next to him. He takes a shy sip, careful not to burn his tongue. It’s perfect, as it always is. You always know the right amount of sugar and milk to add.

“Thank you for telling me that today, I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“It wasn’t, but it got easier when you didn’t walk away. I was so worried that you were going to.”

“I don’t think I’d have forgiven myself if I had.”

Teas are drank after that, and Fred whispers goodnight to you before kissing your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. He lets himself out of your flat, making the short walk back to his where he throws himself on the couch and lets himself wonder when exactly he had started to fall in love with you.

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

Two more months follow, and Fred knows that he’s now arse over tea kettle in love you. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, that you like to shove under legs when laid on the couch together, so he yelps at their temperature.

Two more months follow, and Fred feels like he’s maybe able to start living his life again, but in small doses. He writes to his mother more who’s delighted by the tales he tells of you and your growing relationship; he could never keep anything from Molly – her face too trusting and her manner too warm. All Molly is concerned about in her letters is whether Fred is happy, and for the first time in over a year, Fred can reply saying he thinks he could be.

Molly won’t ever tell Fred this, but she cried at that letter, feeling her heart burst with happiness for the son she had always worried about.

Time passes, and Fred spends more and more time with you. Breakfast dates, lunch dates, movie marathons on the couch – he does it all with you. You even go so far as to make him decorate his flat more; pictures of his family now line the walls as well as the picture of him and George on the opening day of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

That’s when he knows he needs to go back to Diagon Alley, and he’s taking you with him.

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

At nine am on the dot, Fred knocks on your door until you open it. You glare at the red-headed man, demanding to know his presence at your door when he only left at four am after binging the entire Godfather trilogy without realising how long the films are.

Fred beams at your state, “Go get dressed, I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Why?” You ask, puzzled.

“I’m taking you to Diagon Alley and my joke shop.”

You stagger back a couple of steps, “Really? Are you sure? Are you ready?”

Fred’s grin moulds into something softer at your concern. “I am, and I want you to come with me.”

A slow smile breaks across your face, “Give me ten minutes and we can go!”

You rush into your room; pulling open the doors to your wardrobe and raking through to find any sort of clothes you’d wear to visit a magical shop, and possibly meet the twin brother of the man you’d fallen in love with.

Minutes later, you exit your room, pulling a brush through your hair to make yourself look more presentable. Gratefully, you take the cup of coffee from Fred’s hand before rushing into your bathroom to brush your teeth and spritz yourself in your favourite perfume – jasmine, lavender and citrus.

You drain the dregs of your coffee as you leave the bathroom. Dropping the pale pink mug in the sink, you turn to find Fred leaning against your kitchen counter with an amused and entertained look on his face.

“Someone’s excited, I see.” He teases.

You pout, “It’s not every day I get to go see magical London, magic man.”

Fred claps his hands, laughing quietly. “Come on then, let’s get you to Diagon Alley.”

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

Diagon Alley is nestled behind Charing Cross Road; it’s the largest area of wizarding London and is completely hidden from the muggle world.

Fred has been visiting Diagon Alley for as long as he can remember; flooing there with his mother and Bill, Charlie and Percy to collect their things for the latest school year. As a child, he loved visiting Florean Fortescue’s when the budget permitted it; getting a single scoop cone with rainbow sprinkles.

As he enters the Leaky Cauldron, leading you in by the hand, Fred is a mix of fear and excitement making him act jittery as he approaches the familiar face of Tom, the barman.

“Fred Weasley? Is that you?” Tom asks, a large smile on his face, “I haven’t seen you in over a year! How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, Tom. How have you been?”

“Never better – you know me.”

Fred smiles, nodding. “I’m heading out back, is that okay?”

“Anything for a Weasley. Does this have something to do with the muggle hiding behind your back?”

You reveal yourself from where you’ve hidden yourself behind Fred. Keeping a tight hold on his hand, you smile shyly at the barman, “I’m (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tom smiles politely, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Tom turns his attention back to Fred, “You know what to do.”

Fred parts ways with barman he had grown up knowing, pulling you to the back door which opens into a small courtyard.

“Fred, love, it’s a dead end.”

“Are you sure?” Fred asks with a smirk, reaching for his wand. “Want to see some proper magic?”

“Always, magic man.”

He grins at the use of your nickname for him before tapping his wand on the bricks blocking your way. You cry out as the bricks begin to move; shifting to the side to reveal an entryway to a cobbled street lined with shop after shop all varying in colours.

Letting go of Fred’s hand, you take your first step into the wizarding world; already in love with every aspect of it, just as you’re in love with every aspect of the man making his way to your side.

“What do you think?” He asks, breathless at the sight of the place he hasn’t seen in a year.

“This is unlike any other place I’ve seen.” You hold your hand out for Fred to grab, “Show me around?”

“With pleasure,” Fred replies, wrapping your hand in his, tangling your fingers.

Fred takes you on a tour of the Alley; stopping outside Ollivander’s and getting out his wand to explain the importance of the place, turning his wand around to show you what he means. He tells you the story of Harry Potter; of what his wand meant, being the twin of the wand that had killed his parents. Your heart breaks for the boy you had never met; had never even heard of until today – you ask after him, how is he now? Fred reassures you; after all, he’s fine, Harry’s dating his younger sister much to Fred’s chagrin.

He takes you into Florean Fortescue’s, buying you ice cream for breakfast as any adult should have. Your eyes widen at the taste of the Butterbeer ice cream; butterscotch and buttercream icing bursting on your tongue. Fred smiles at your expression, licking his way through his own ice cream – strawberries and cream for nostalgia’s sake.

Sitting down at a small table, you tap your ice creams to each other in a toast. “Where are we going next?” You ask, catching a drip of the melting ice cream with your tongue – not missing the way Fred’s eyes track the movement.

“I thought we could visit my shop.”

“Your shop?” You ask in disbelief, “Are you sure?”

Fred nods, catching a drip on his own ice cream. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes also track the movement of his mouth. “Yes, I’m sure.” He looks away, ashamed, “I’ve left George alone too long.”

You reach for his hand across the table, “I’m sure he understands, Fred.”

“I know he does, but it doesn’t stop the guilt.”

You rub your thumb across the back of his hand in a comforting motion, “Are you sure you’re okay to go? We can always come back another day.”

“You’d come back with me?”

You grin, “Of course, this is the best ice cream I’ve ever had. I’m here for you, magic man – who else is going to kill the spiders in my bathroom?”

Fred relaxes, “You’re the best, you know that right?”

You take another lick of your ice cream, “I do know that. Do you want to stay and see your brother, or do you want to go? I’m happy with either, but you’re going to have to give me time to get more ice cream.”

Fred laughs at your words, “It is good ice cream,” he takes a lick of his, “No, let’s go. I need to see him; I need to apologise.”

“Alright then. We’ll finish here and then we’ll go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes… at last.”

He nods, remaining silent. The ice creams are finished in silence; questioning looks sent to each other across the table. Your feelings for Fred often overwhelmed you with their strength; never imagining that knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning could ever lead to something like this. In the short time you had known the man, you had fallen head over heels for him and also had your entire worldview altered by finding out about the existence of magic.

He’d quite literally turned your world upside down, and the only thing that ran through your mind through it all was: I hope he feels the same.

Soon though, faces are wiped on napkins and hands are back to hold each other’s as Fred leads you from the ice cream parlour to where the orange top hat stands out against the darkly coloured shops.

In a last minute attempt to delay the inevitable, Fred pulls you over to the pet shop. You coo over the animals; pointing to the Puffskein with questions burning on your tongue. Fred answers them all happily, delighted to delay walking into the shop and brother he’s neglected for so long.

After a few more minutes, you step away from the shop window citing the temptation being too great and you may end up smuggling the Puffskeins to the muggle world.

“That was a fantastic distraction, magic man.”

“Wasn’t it?” He admits, blushing at having been caught out but not wanting to lie to you, “It worked like a treat.”

You chuckle, “It really did. They remind me of clouds do the Puffskeins; neon, furry clouds.”

Fred snorts, “An excellent description.”

The joke shop now looms in front of the two of you; the bright orange and purple of the paintwork almost luminous in the morning light. Fred stops in the middle of the pavement; feet stuck to the floor, unable to carry him forward. He’s avoided this for so long, but he finally feels ready to insert himself back into the life of pranks, jokes, and happiness.

Your grip on his hand tightens, “I’m here, magic man. I’m not going anywhere.”

His nod is the only sign you get to know that he’s heard your words.

Taking a deep breath, Fred begins to put one foot in front of the other; a hand outstretched for the door handle to the shop, giving it a light push. The bell above the door rings, signalling his entrance into the shop but also his entrance into his old life.

The shop is quiet; it being still too early in the day to get masses and masses of shoppers. Their busy season is the three weeks in August before terms starts where students come to buy their school books but to also stock up on items of mischief.

A near identical man to Fred stands up straighter from his position behind the counter. He starts to open his mouth, to welcome the new customers to the shop but when he looks up, the words never leave his mouth.

He simply freezes in place.

His eyes flicker between the two of you quickly, before running over the man stood next to you. Looking for what, you don’t know.

In between one blink of an eye and the next, he’s thrown himself across the counter, sprinting to where Fred stands in the entryway.

No words are spoken; he just holds Fred’s face in his hands before pulling him in for a hug that’s been long overdue.

You step away from their reunion, letting your eyes roam over the shop. They need this moment alone; you don’t need to invade by watching them. You wander a little; fingers running over displays. You frown when you see you an area lit up in pink titled ‘Love Potion’.

You pick up one of the little bottles shaped like a heart; the bright pink liquid inside jostling as you examine it.

“Careful,” A voice sounds behind you, “It’s a powerful potion.”

Turning you find Fred’s twin, George watching you with inquisitive eyes. “What does it do?” You ask, fiddling with the stopper.

“It mimics the effects of love and obsession. If you smell it, you smell the person you love.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Truly?”

George nods, “Truly. We sell crates full of the stuff nearing Valentine’s Day.”

Releasing the stopper from the neck of the bottle, you take a delicate sniff. Peonies, rain, and Yorkshire tea come filtering through. The very smells you’ve become to associate with the man who had never really been your neighbour but has always been something more.

Replacing the stopper, you drop the potion into George’s waiting hand. He pockets it before turning back to face his twin.

“What did you smell?” Fred asks as you settle back next to him.

You shrug, “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

George grins at the two of you, “Is this the famous (Y/N) from your letters to mum?”

You nudge Fred with your elbow, beaming, “You write to your mum about me, magic man?”

“Hold on – magic man?” George asks, eyes glancing at both Fred and you.

You nod, “It’s my nickname for him.”

George chuckles, “It’s brilliant. I may have to use it myself.”

Fred blushes at his brother’s use of your nickname for him. He doesn’t say it, but it doesn’t sound right coming from anyone else’s mouth but yours.

“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/N). Mum already loves you. I’m George.” George introduces, holding a hand out to you.

You shake his hand twice before dropping it, “It’s very nice to meet you too, George. Fred has told me so much.”

“He has?”

You nod, “He’s told me all about the pranks you played at Hogwarts and why you set up this shop – which I think is wonderful by the way – I feel like I already know you.”

George shifts his gaze to his twin, “I don’t know why but I didn’t think you’d talk about me.”

Fred gapes, “Of course I talk about you. You’re my twin brother, you’re practically half of me.”

George shrugs, “You only send letters to mum… I just assumed.”

Fred steps forward, placing his hands on George’s shoulders, “Mum made me promise to write, I couldn’t break that. I wanted to write to you so much, George, but the guilt I felt as just leaving you and the shop was too much and then more time passed. I’ve been an awful brother; can you forgive me?”

George laughs, tears falling freely down his face. “There’s nothing to forgive now that I know why.”

Fred hauls George into a hug; neither afraid to show their emotions through this reunion. Fred had been so worried before this; thinking his brother might turn him away at the door, but now holding him in his arms, he’s just happy to have his twin by his side once more.

They pull away with a sob; George clapping Fred on the back. “Will you be returning to work, Freddie?”

Fred’s eyes land on you; where you’ve stood silently through the whole exchange, just happy to see the two brothers reunite. His eyes search your face for something, and he finds it in your smile. “Yeah, George. I think I might do.”

George glances between you and Fred as if seeing the connection there. He keeps his mouth shut but smiles at the fact that his twin has found someone to share his life with.

You spend a couple more hours in the shop; pottering freely as Fred and George discuss the state of the business and when Fred would like to start work again. Pride runs through your veins as you listen to them from the upper floor; Fred has achieved so much in such a short space of time and you couldn’t be more prouder of him.

You also couldn’t be more in love with him. He handles himself with such grace; standing taller, smiling more. The more time you spent with him, the more you could feel yourself falling for him. Nights alone in your flat had you thinking of what it would be like to be laid in bed next to him – would he cuddle? Would he let you lay your head on his chest? Or would he prefer to spoon? You had spent so many nights thinking of these questions, trying to think of answers.

“(Y/N)?” Fred calls from the lower floor, “Are you ready to go?”

“Already?” You ask, descending the staircase.

Fred nods, “I’ll come back tomorrow and talk more to George about what I need to do. It’s time we got some lunch, however.”

Your stomach grumbles at his words, “You’ve got great timing it seems, magic man.”

He shakes his head, laughing softly, “No. I just know you too well.”

You smile at him before turning to George to say goodbye. George smiles at you, saying, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon,” with a wink at Fred.

The tips of Fred’s ears burn red as he claps his twin on the shoulder, promising he’ll call in tomorrow. “Tell mum you’ve seen me, will you? I know she worries,” Fred calls on his way out.

“Already on it!” are George’s final words before the door closes.

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

Sitting at a corner table in The Leaky Cauldron, Fred continues to ride on the high from seeing his twin brother after a year apart. He’s positively ravenous; the nerves before having dampened his appetite. He takes it upon himself to order for the both you; checking that you don’t mind. You wave him away, stating that you wouldn’t even know where to begin with ordering.

Tom hands Fred your drinks after ordering, letting him know it’d be around ten minutes before food was with you. Fred thanks the barman, picking up the drinks to return you.

“I’m really proud of you, Fred.” You state, taking a sip of the sweet Butterbeer.

“You are?” He asks bashfully.

“I am. It took a lot of bravery to do what you did today.”

Fred blushes, but doesn’t drop his eyes from yours. “I think I’m going to be brave one last time.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” He states, reaching for your hand, “I’ve only known you for less than six months but in that time you’ve helped me find who I was before the war. You’ve helped me find the laughter that was missing. What I’m trying to say is, is that I’ve fallen in love with you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, Fred,” You sniffle, “I love you too.”

“You do?”

You nod, “I really do. I love every last bit of you.

Fred sags in his chair; holding onto your hand tighter, “I was so worried you wouldn’t love me back.”

“No chance of that, magic man.”

The smile that breaks across his face is simply breathtaking, and you thank your lucky stars that the man you’ve fallen in love with, loves you back, just as much.

Tom fetches your food over then, settling two plates onto table. It smells divine and without letting go of Fred’s hand, you pick up your fork and dig in.

The meal is eaten in silence; happy looks and secret smiles exchanged over the steaming plates of food. Fred’s thumb rubs over the back of your hand; the motion now having another meaning alongside ‘I’m here’. Elation bubbles within you, flooding your veins. The love you feel for this man is entirely encompassing, filling your very pores, combining with your genetic makeup.

For as delicious as the meal is, the both of you barely taste it. Plates are empty in no time, and Fred leaves Tom a tip on the table. He pulls you up with him, dragging you to the door and back to muggle London.

It feels like a fever dream; stepping back into the reality you’ve known all your life until you met the red-headed man stood next to you.

Fred tugs you into him; his arm wrapping around your waist. He drops your hand in favour of caressing your cheek. His brown eyes sparkle with love and joy as he dips his head, pausing just before he touches his lips to yours, waiting for permission. You grant him in the form of pushing your mouth to his.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in close, feeling all of him pressed against all you. He tastes of the butterscotch from the dregs of his Butterbeer and you hum against his mouth – it’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating; you could lose yourself entirely in him and you wouldn’t mind a bit. Your hand runs through his hair, tugging lightly. Your toes curl at the sound of the low moan from the back of his throat.

From the outside, this looks like a simple passionate embrace between a young couple. They don’t know how long this kiss has been in the making; how many time you’ve wondered exactly what Fred would taste like, and now you have that knowledge, it’s not something you’ll be parting with soon.

Eventually, you pull away from him, coming back to the surface for breath but Fred doesn’t let you go. He holds onto you tightly, pressing kiss after kiss to your face making you giggle at his affectionate side.

He lets you go for a single instant to pull you into the side street beside The Leaky Cauldron. He wraps you tightly into his side, savouring the feel of you lined next to him.

“This is going to make you dizzy,” is his only warning before he apparates back to your flat.

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

Though confessions have been uttered, Fred takes his time to learn your body.

Kissing you slowly; peeling your clothes off your body with the air of someone who has all the time in the world – and he does. He takes his time to memorise every inch of your body; every dip, every curve, every freckle. He commits it all to memory though the both of you know that you’ll be doing this for a very long time. He whispers words of worship into your skin; your body was a cathedral and he was going to worship at your feet.

You take your time with him; running your hand through the hair on his chest before trailing it lower, watching how the muscles in his toned stomach jump at your touch. A simple touch, and it drives him wild.

He draws you in for a kiss; flipping the both of you so you’re underneath him. He braces himself above and you spend the rest of the night, and most of the morning, learning the noises that can be evoked from a kiss in the right place.

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

It surprised Fred that it takes his mother almost a month to send him a letter demanding that she finally get to meet the person who had stolen her son’s heart.

Fred reads the letter beside you at the breakfast table; chuckling at his mother’s words over his morning cup of tea. He hands you the letter once he’s finished reading, watching your face for every emotion as well as letting his gaze drop to the small purple bruises at the base of your neck, laid there by his mouth.

You hold a hand up to your mouth, repressing the smile. “Your mother wants to meet me?”

Fred nods, “She has for a while, but I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“There’s no chance of that now, magic man, especially after last night.”

Fred blushes but beams, satisfied. “Would you like to meet them?”

You pause, tilting your head to one side as you think of how to phrase your next few sentences, “I don’t want to presume anything, but I’d like to think I’m going to be in your life for a long while. I think the earlier I meet your family, the better.”

Fred takes your hand in his, dropping a kiss to the top of it. “You aren’t presuming anything; I want you in my life for an eternity and more. But are you sure you want to meet them? I’m from a very large family, and if I know them, it’ll be partners as well.”

You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek then to peck his lips quickly, “I love the worry, but it’s okay. I want to meet them, and I want to see pictures of my magic man as a baby.”

Fred groans; he’s forgotten about the baby pictures but from the look on your face, he know he’s fighting a losing battle. He kisses you quick, “I’ll send an owl to my mum now, letting her know we’ll come tomorrow, how does that sound?”

You hum happily, “That sounds like just enough time for me to find an outfit good enough.”

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

Molly Weasley opened Fred’s letter with a shriek; rushing to reply before getting started on calling the family together. She sends her Patronus to Charlie in Romania; threatening death should he not return home for this occasion. Charlie replies within two hours by showing up on the doorstep with his girlfriend, Evie in tow.

The whole family under one roof again would be something of an event; and one Molly would not waste by having petty squabbles and nasty reminders. She lines her family up in the living room; boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and wives and proceeds to lecture about what this means. She’s grateful it being a Friday evening so she can lecture the whole family without absentees claiming work as the excuse.

Halfway through her lecture to her family, Arthur places a soft hand on her shoulder, “Molly, dear, we’re going to be on our best behaviour.”

She whimpers, “I haven’t seen my son is so long, Arthur.”

He wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulder, knowing the toll Fred’s absence took on her. He had been the unexpected twin; but they didn’t love him any less for it. On the contrary, Molly loved him more for the fear of his siblings making him feel unwanted.

“I know, dear. But we all promise to be on our bestest behaviour, don’t we gang?”

Confirmation rings out across all six of their children and their partners. Molly levels them all with a look, “Fred is bringing his muggle girlfriend with him, and George has told me it’s serious. We aren’t going to have a problem with that are we?”

“Definitely not,” George calls out to the agreement of his siblings and siblings-in-law, “(Y/N) is a sweetheart; you’ll see the moment they both arrive.”

Molly dismisses her family; dispersing them to different rooms with different jobs to make the house presentable for Fred and (Y/N)’s visit tomorrow.

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

Tomorrow arrives quickly, and before you know it, the sun is shining through your window and the birds have begun their morning song. Fred’s arm hangs over your waist in a dead weight; you shift him gently as you make your way out of your bed and into the bathroom to begin your day.

By the time Fred wakes, you’re dressed and are brushing through your hair. With a lazy grin, he watches you get ready for the day. He’s in utter awe of how he met someone like you, but then you meet his eyes in the mirror and that awe transforms into something warmer.

He drags himself out of the warm bed desperate to feel you under his hands. He places his hands on your shoulder, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Good Morning,” He whispers, his voice still raspy with sleep, “You look beautiful.”

You hum, “Good Morning sleepy head. The kettle boiled a few minutes ago and there’s a teabag waiting in your favourite pot.”

“You’re a dream,” Fred calls out, pottering into the kitchen.

“And you’re a flatterer, magic man,” You call back; grinning when you hear his laughter.

Time flies by in a rush of breakfast, clothes, and kisses and before you know it, it’s time to apparate all the way to Devon.

“Are you ready?” Fred asks; your hand tight in his. You don’t miss the double meaning to his words.

“Take me to Devon, magic man,” is all you reply before your flat turns into a whirlpool of blended colours and you’re spat back out on the outskirts of green, green farmland.

Not letting go of your hand, Fred leads you in the direction of his childhood home. Air he hasn’t smelt in over a year wash over him, bringing with it a tidal wave of memories. Nostalgia settles within him as he glances down at you to gauge your reaction to his home.

The Burrow stands proudly in the valley between two hills. You gasp at the sheer height of it, “This is where you grew up?”

Fred nods, eyes on you, “It is. I lived here until I moved to London.”

“It’s incredible,” You whisper, taking a step forward, and then another, and then another until you break through the long grass into a clearing. A garage is situated to the left of the large house, and you can just make out the canes for a vegetable garden. You nod as if understanding every motive for the placement of everything; if you were to live somewhere like here, you’d too grow your own food.

Fred draws your attention back to him by speaking, “Through there is where we practice Quidditch; the game I told you about from Hogwarts?” He continues when he sees you nod, “Then behind there is a pond that a family of frogs live in. To the right of us is mum’s garden, it’s her pride and hoy – she excels at household charms, but she’s a wonder in the garden too.”

“Fred, this place is incredible. I already love it and I haven’t even met your family.”

Fred smiles, “You won’t need to wait very long; here’s George.”

You turn from the sight of the growing vegetables to see George making his way over to you. “Fred! (Y/N)! How are you?” he calls out.

Fred waves at his twin, leading you to him. “We’re good, Georgie. How is everyone?”

George beams at his twin and then you, “They’re beside themselves with excitement. Mum screeched when she got your letter; gave us a lecture on decorum and everything.”

Fred laughs; his heart swelling with love and fondness for the woman who had raised him with such love and care.

“What do you say, (Y/N)?” George starts, “Ready to meet the Weasley clan?”

You grin at George and then at Fred; utterly besotted by this man, “Lead the way.”

George claps his hands before turning his back on you, heading towards the open door. You follow him at a faster pace than the one you had done when walking up to the house. Eagerness settling in your stomach as you keep your eyes on the open door.

Fred keeps pace with you easily; both nerves and excitement coursing through his veins.

He hears his mother before he sees her, “Fred! My darling,” she cries, tackling him into a hug so tight Fred thinks his ribs might break. You pause next to him; Fred’s arm angled awkwardly as he hugs his mum with one arm – you move to let go of his hand so he can hug his mother properly, but his hold on you tightens.

“Hi Mum, I’ve missed you,” Fred says at the sound of her cries, “I’m home mum, and I’m starving so let’s get something to eat, shall we? I’ve missed your cooking too much.”

Molly wipes her eyes, running them over her son, “I think you have. You’re looking far too thin, darling,” Her eyes land on you; they widen for a second before she’s tackling you in a hug. She whispers, “Thank you” in your ear before saying much louder, “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you, dear. I’ve read so much about you I feel I know you already but it’s never the same thing.”

You return her hug with just as much vigour, “Thank you for having me, I love your home.”

Molly pulls away, “You’re lovely; you’re perfect for Fred, I know it. Come on in, it’s time we ate, and you can meet the rest of the family.”

Your stomach ties itself in knots as you follow Fred into his childhood home. Voices starts to shout upon the sight of Fred entering the home; he grins at them all, greeting them by name, passing out kiss after kiss on the cheek as well as hugs to his brothers.

Then it’s all silent as the crowd turns to you. Fred’s hand drops your and his arm wraps around your waist, “Everyone this is (Y/N). Please be nice, I’m rather fond as you’ve probably heard from mum and George.”

Everyone greets you as if you’ve been part of the family for years; kisses on cheeks and tight hugs as everyone introduces themselves. A dream of your since you were child was to have a large family, and now with Fred, it seems as if that dream would finally be possible.

His arm rests on the back of your chair as the family take their seats at the table. The food is served with loudness and love; Molly taking extra care with her cooking to make sure it’s perfect for you. From your first bite, you understand what Fred was on about all those months ago. After eating Molly’s food, you would be ruined for anyone else’s.

It’s wonderful; they take you in with open arms, ignoring the fact that you’re a muggle because to them, it doesn’t matter. They aren’t bothered whether you have magic or not, just that you love Fred and make him happy.

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

After the meal, Fred watches you interact with his family; explaining to his father the purpose of your degrees and your plans for the future as Arthur sits there entirely enraptured. He watches you asking Charlie question after question about Dragons with Charlie only being too happy to answer – his girlfriend Evie chiming in every now and then with her own knowledge on the subject matter.

He watches you talk animatedly; eyed wide and hands gesturing wildly, fitting in with his family better than he could have dreamed of.

Sighing happily, Fred realises three things:

One – his family would always be there for him, no matter the issue. They’re there to help, to never hinder.

Two – he’s still healing. It will be a long time before he’s recovered from the war, and he’s accepted that.

And three – he’s moving forward with all that in tow because he’s found the love of his life and he’s finally ready to start living it.

*********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe

Fred Weasley taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

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diary-of-an-onliner · 3 years

Text

lifelines [g.w.]

hi! first fic, pls be nice!

word count: 2300

warnings: none

After Gryffindor turned the tides at the last second, winning the second most important game of the season after a massive setback in the first hour, the celebrations raged harder than ever. Since Hufflepuff had beaten Slytherin to the ground two days ago, the path towards the Cup was clear. Angelina was sitting on the couch, having passed the point of looking pleased long ago, and now seemed almost frazzled by the result. People came up to her periodically, clapping her shoulder or topping off her drink, directing the buzzing energy of the common room straight into her.

Truly, the atmosphere was phenomenal, the stolen food and drinks from the kitchens juicer and a little more spiked than usual. Or maybe it was the sunlight still streaming through the windows as strongly as ever despite the past gloomy week. Whatever it was that made the day so electrically happy for everyone, it showed no signs of stopping.

This type of unrestrained feeling you always imagined started from the back of your head as s little star-like scribble that cast a net over you and spread the intensity throughout. This week it was stronger than it has been in a while.

You felt electric in the stands as you yelled for your team, an invisible line ripping the words from your throat before you even knew you were saying them. You felt elated as your housemates put their hands around you in delight, screaming themselves sore when they announced the winner. And you were feeling the happiness in your hair now, in every single strand from root to end as it swayed along with the bottle in your hand.

This was happy. This was joyful. This was utterly buttery in your chest and electric in the air.

You idly looked around the red and orange common room, which burned with excitement, deciding how to best spend this time before it runs out on Umbridge's watch and she ruins it.

No. No wasting thoughts on her today. She sucked enough life out of you and your housemates this year, she won't be doing it off the clock too.

Your eyes settled on possibly one of the strongest sources of this warmth - George Weasley, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his brother. The window behind him silhouetted him in gold perfectly, like the sun offered him to you. It accented how attractive he was, even if he burned a little at the top.

You've connected eyes before, talked before, even bantered. One wittier than the other every odd day, you toed the line between acquaintances and friends perfectly. Seeing as he's very popular, catching him in-between conversations was a matter of luck.

You imagined a line going from the center of your chest to his as you approached him. He pensively looked to the side, observing some goings-on on the far end of the room as you interrupted him.

"That was a good game. You got some very nice shots in," you said.

He turned to you with a mild close-mouthed 'hm', a look, and then a grin.

"You sure it was me?" he cocked his eyebrow and look at Fred on the couch next to Angelina, bumping knees with her and accepting congratulations in both of their names.

"You wear different numbers, genius. I know how to count this time."

"And you have my number memorized," he said, his voice glad.

"That would've been a great line if you were a Muggle."

"Pity, I already chose a magical career." he took a sip of his butterbeer and eyed you up, "Maybe I should start using my magical lines on you. Would those work better?" his eyes widened and his tone turned innocent at the end.

"I think I know too much anti-jinxes for that."

He pursed his lips in amusement. "Alright. What would work on you then?"

"Oh, I find responsibility and appropriacy really hot." you shot back, twirling a piece of your happy, charged up hair.

"Contradiction too," he said, "since you're still here."

"I find contradiction a natural state of the human soul, thus if I wasn't contradicting myself, I wouldn't fully be here."

"Hm. Brainy." he chuckled.

"Judgy. If you need me to simplify you can just say so."

"I think I can handle your smart mouth just fine."

"Then why am I winning?"

"I didn't realize this was a competition."

"Rookie mistake." you shook your head dramatically.

"I'm pretty sure it's a rookier mistake to assume you're winning. Who's the judge?"

"My innate inner sense of whether I'm winning or not."

"If it's inside you, then how would one file a complaint concerning an unfair ruling?"

"They wouldn't. It's a noble and just system that decided I'm in the lead. You just need to accept the truth."

"Don't make me come in there," he said, smirking good-naturedly.

"In where?" you shot back.

"In you." his smirk held on for a second before he seemed to realize what he said and his face scrunched up in apologetic laughter.

Your mind slipped into the gutter the way new yorkers fall into sinkholes filled with rats - hilariously fast.

Albeit greatly amused, he started to correct himself, "I didn't mean-"

"No, of course not." you licked your lips, "I understood you the first time " Was karma going to bite you in the ass for that lie? Who knows, but you might even be into that. Everything seems possible when the sun is shining. So he shone.

He grinned with his happy mouth and you once again noted how the light from the window behind him silhouetted him in the golden lining that made him look like a cutout glued onto the scene of this funny collage. His hair was aflame and his face was darker from the shadows but just as loudly burning with laughter.

This was happy.

You drew the word in your mind, line by line. H, a smooth move from the bottom, a decorative loop, then a parallel stroke, and a transversal. A, a circle with a tail, sharp move upward, and an even sharper drop for the backbone of p. P's tummy? Bulge? Nope, your mind shouldn't slip there in the middle of Binns’ class, no matter how boring he was. Another p, as George's knee bumped into yours. He was moved from "Mr. Wester, Phillip." for being disruptive, so he engaged in an under-the-table kind of disruption with his new tablemate.

You smiled. A long diagonal line, and another shorter one that cut into it. Y.

Happy.

You were, truly, right now. It sounded upside down to be happy though, both overall and when stuck in a soul-suckingly draining class, but you were.

George read over your shoulder, then audaciously engaged in over-the-table elbow-bumping-disruption and a cocked eyebrow. You straightened up, feeling a warm line unfold from the back of your head to the core of your brain, through the center of your chest, and straight to your stomach. Your happy line.

I'm happy, you mouthed.

Really? He mouthed back sarcastically yet good-naturedly. I can definitely see why. His eyes darted toward the professor. I say go for it, he's a catch. You might even be his type.

You burst out laughing, then immediately bit your lip. A few students, including Philip, looked at you as you shook with laughter, but professor Binns carried on.

George, on the other hand, shrugged with his shit-eating grin, pretending he has no idea why you were laughing, thus letting everyone know why you were laughing.

You scribbled, I don't know. What if it goes badly. I'd hate to be ghosted.

George raised his eyebrows at the Muggle slang you explained before. His hand slipped next to yours on the table and you felt your happy line thrum in approval. His hand was warm as he gently pressed it to yours, slowly took your quill, and scribbled back: Need someone more physical, huh? And I thought you were the romantic type.

Strong words for someone who never bought me dinner, you replied.

Mhm, as soon as I find a good line get you to agree to it.

Keep writing like that and I'll start thinking you fancy me.

Keep your mind in the gutter and I'll start thinking you don't fancy me back. He accented that line with a wink and an overdramatic lip bite.

You pouted sarcastically at him. Of course not, I only want you for your knobby knees.

He chuckled, reminded of the short line of warmth that connected your knees under the table. He pressed his into yours a little stronger, then pulled away.

That's a funny way of flirting. I'd know, I'm an expert at funny.

Self-proclaimed.

Untrue.

And I'm not flirting. If I was, you'd know it.

Would you? your breath hitched. For reasons you very well knew but refused to sound out to yourself, this short sentence drove the air around you two from joking to serious at breakneck speed.

Know if you were flirting with me? your happy line felt jumbled up in your stomach. He smiled at you.

Would you know if you were flirting with me?

The following week was arduous.

Gryffindors had a record amount of detentions, and Snape tore into them any and every chance he could. Even McGonagall was one edge, meaning lousy or missed homework was a death sentence. You forgot how to read from tiredness, submitting essays patchworked of other people's thoughts without ever having any information pass through your head. Everything was dull, gray, and dragged out.

Despite that, outside the castle the sky was blue and sunlight streamed through the soft clouds and a sweet breeze would blow around aimlessly. It was both comforting and a little mocking. The sky should be as exhausted and as beaten down as you. Good to know stress made you compare yourself to a literal sky. But maybe that's a little cruel. Nevertheless, it sounded like nature itself was turning its nose up at you, saying you're selfish for wanting grey skies, she doesn't care, she's above puny human affairs. The world turns and you have to turn with it or stop, then spend the rest of the time catching up.

You haven't stopped yet, but by all that is holy, you wanted to sleep. As the sun finally descended on a Friday after dinner, you finished your essays in hope that the next week might be kinder if you do everything quickly. The common room was dark, most of the light coming from the fire in the fireplace. It was also oddly empty for nine-thirty in the evening. Apparently, everyone had the same week as you.

Your almost finished essay laid on the table as you dozed, swinging your legs back and forth over the edge of your armchair.

The creak of the portrait opening caught your attention, and George Weasley walked in a second later, rubbing his sore hand and cussing.

Truly everyone had a shitty week.

"Love?" you said teasingly.

He looked up at you with a tired grin.

"It's late."

"Not really. You okay?"

"Nothing I can't handle, love." he sighed, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.

"Can I see?" you crossed the room to stand in front of him. Again, the firelight licked at the lines of his face, clear and sharp. He had circles under his eyes and a heavily nibbled lip.

"It's nothing." still, George raised his hand. "Love." he added, distantly. He seemed to be staring right above your head. You looked at the middle line of his lips again. You imagined him biting it.

Was it him that bit it? That one hurt. You hoped it was him.

You took his hand in your and rubbed circles into his knuckles. His eye winced.

"I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault."

"What happened?" he closed his eyes.

"Two ickle firsties almost brought the wrath of Umbridge into themselves with some dungbombs. You know how it goes," he said, a corner of his lip tugging upwards. Your chest expanded looking at him being satisfied with himself. As he should be.

"How... responsible of you," you said.

His eyes snapped downwards to yours.

"Keep looking at me like that and I might also start being appropriate too, darling."

You stepped closer, your happy line thrumming against your chest like a quivering violin string.

"What if being responsible is enough?"

"Enough for what?" he breathed out before you pressed yourself against him.

At first, that's was it was - a press of two warm lips. Then he started to move slowly, almost gentlemanly. How appropriate.

As he touched you, you felt the daze of last week lift. The little star scribble on the back of your head lit up, pulsing with brightness rather than fogging your thought. This was clear, you felt his every stroke that made up his face and chest and hands. The scribble of happiness extended itself into a web, overtaking your brain - you could feel it and you wondered if he saw it too when he looked at you. You pulled away and lifted your head to check. Probably not, but his eyes were glassy and he gave you a dopey smile. He was glad you were there. You pressed your lips against his again. You were glad he was there too.

The web continued down your neck, arms and chest, into your legs until your toes buzzed with light coursing through you. You were more awake than you have been in a long time.

Your hands were the brightest of all, and as you touched his hands, connecting them fingertip to fingertip, things made sense. The web buzzed and his breath was warm against yours, hands pulsing with energy as your every lifeline connected into his.

#george weasely #fanfic #hp fanfic #george weasley x reader

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haechanokeh · 3 years

Text

Sincerity is Scary

[Sad ending] [Continuation & Happy]

synopsis: haechan and you are best friends who couldn't admit their feelings which frustrates them both and the people around the two of you

content: college au! haechan x reader

word count: 1.9K

warning: none

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

You spit your coke - that didn't taste like one and coughed. you glared at haechan.

"what did you put in my coke?" you huffed. haechan gave you his innocent look.

"i don't know what you're talking about." he pouted.

"you put soy sauce in it right? i knew i should not leave my food and drinks when you're around." you said throwing tantrums.

haechan laughed and threw his arm over your shoulder and shoved a cold wet can of coke into your cheeks.

"here, drink this." he said, cooly. you rolled your eyes.

"you wasted money just to annoy me, seriously." you grunted.

"it's worth it though." he chuckled.

someone coughed and both of you just realized that you're with haechan's friends which your friends now.

"i thought you two forgotten we're with you." renjun used his sarcastic voice.

"both of you literally have your own worlds." jaemin added.

"i really don't understand why you're not dating here dude." jeno teased.

"what? hell no!" you said in unison.

you looked at each other, silently hurt. both of you felt awkward and haechan removed his arm from your shoulder. you opened the can of coke haechan gave.

haechan friends- renjun, jaemin, and jeno noticed the awkwardness between you. at first it was cute but it has been 3 years, they've been watching both of you and it was clear to them that you like each other. but what's stopping you and haechan from admitting it?

fear of the possibility of being wrong that you have mutual feelings for each other or that what happens if love vanishes because you'll never know. haechan is your childhood friend and your parents are really close there was a time you used to take a bath together when you're still toddlers. basically, you're so close with him and it'll be wasted.

you were lying on your stomach on haechan's bed while scrolling through your phone as you try to distract yourself from menstrual cramps. haechan is playing with his friends through his computer.

you shoved your face and groaned in pain because your menstrual cramp is an asshole! it was sever when it comes, it can make your head throb and your body is very weak. haechan heard you, the other side of his headphone wasn't covering his other ear. he looked back to check on you. he caught you massaging your abdomen.

"y/n?" brows furrowed in concern.

"hmm?" you just hummed.

"are you okay?" he worriedly asked, his hands were on the keyboard but he's not doing anything reason for jeno calling him out.

"haechan, what the hell dude?!"

"not really." you admitted. your in pain it was evident in your voice, face, and body.

haechan quickly removed his headphone and leave his gaming chair to go to you. you turned, your back is lying down now. haechan was staring at your hands on top of your lower abdomen.

"cramps again?" haechan knew how badly it gets when you're in menstruation. you nodded, you're almost tearing up.

he pitied you, he put his hands larger than yours and slightly rougher on top of the back of your palm. he's giving you a massage without directly touching your abdomen.

"you should've told me. wait here, i'll prepare the hot compress bag." he said and stood up.

"you have hot compress?"

"well, ahm.. mom bought it. wait here." he was lying, he bought it himself because he was traumatized 4 months ago where your cramp strike when you were in his house. that was the worst cramp that you ever experienced and it was in haechan's condo. since then, haechan stored napkins and bought hot compress.

haechan took care of you and he gave you his whole attention. he forgotten his game, left his computer open and friends hanging. but his friend already knew that you're always haechan's priority. haechan waited for you to sleep. it became a habit to you to sleep on haechan's arm and he's not bothered even though sometimes he couldn't feel his arm anymore because of numbness. he was jist staring at you as if you're the most precious thing he owns...

haechan saw his computer.

"sht." he cursed, he forgot he's playing. since you're already sleeping, he carefully removed his arm under your head. he went back to his seat and wore his headphone.

"sorry dude, y/n is not feeling well."

"your girlfriend?" jaemin teased. haechan just chuckle... bitterly.

"why don't you date her already?" jeno said.

"haechan, seriously you two look like dating already. why don't you just make it straight already?" renjun said.

haechan went silent. he couldn't count anymore how many times they tell this to him, but for him it was very hard. it wasn't easy, simply because it was scary. he thinks the same way with you, it's just scary of what's the difference of your relationship as friend vs lovers, that if it didn't work out because it's better to be just friends, then what will happen next? will you still become as comfortable with him? will he become as close to you as he used to? it's scary because both of you don't know what will happen so you both chose to hide it and keep it that way.

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

it's your university's foundation, there will be a night party. you went inside with haechan but women quickly eyeing at him. who wouldn't? he's wearing a black leathered jacket, ripped jeans, and his hair that is quite long made him more four times sexier.

"haechan, i'll just get a fruit punch. do you want some?" you asked slightly louder than your normal voice because of the noise.

haechan who's enjoying the band's performance, gaze down at you and shook his head.

"no thanks. want me to come with you?" he asked. you just shook your head saying that he doesn't have to. he just nodded and went back enjoying the performance.

you left him and go to the catering buffet just to grab fruit punch and quickly went back to where you left him but you stopped from walking when you saw him with another girl, standing beside him where you left. they were talking intimately, and it was painful. imagine jeno punching your stomach, yes! with those arms and strength, that's the scale of pain.

unware, the three boys- renjun, jeno, and jaemin watching the drama while munching the shared bag of chips.

"she will cry." jeno bet.

"nah, she will push the girl." jaemin contradict.

"tsk, no." renjun grabbed a handful chips from the bag earning a glare from the two. "she will confess." jeno and jaemin eyes bulge out for renjun being ridiculous, at least for them.

"her? that's not gonna happen." jaemin said. renjun rolled his eyes.

"as if she will push the girl jaemin, y/n isn't like that."

well they all agreed and returned watching the drama while eating chips. yeah, they are eating chips in the room with a catering service.

you walk, heart-pounding loudly and hands shaking while holding the cup. you silently stood beside haechan hoping that he will notice you, unfortunately, he didn't. you disappointedly sipped on the paper cup.

you were silently and listening to their conversation- well you are trying your best because the loud music made it harder for you. they were like getting to know each other kind of questions.

you're getting annoyed so you sneakily held haechan's hand. he quickly whipped his head down to you. he gazed at your hands then to you who looking straight to the band. when haechan realize it was you, warm electricity traveled in his whole system. the random girl saw everything, so she concluded that you and haechan are dating.

"well, I have to go to my friends... ahm bye." the girl nervously and quickly walked away. haechan didn't mind her, he was just staring at you.

"is she gone?" you looked up to face haechan who was seriously looking at you.

for some odd reason, his expression made your heartbeat fast not in a fluttering way but it made you nervous.

"let's talk outside." he told you sounding a little disappointed. both of you walk while holding hands.

and the 3 guys? saw that and was jumping on their feet and slapping each other in excitement.

"dude, dude! they will finally date!" jaemin said

"finally my frustration will end now." renjun said, he sighed in relief hands on top of his chest. "but why do i feel something ominous." he said feeling unease.

"don't jinx it." jeno groaned.

you and haechan were outside the hall, away from the crowd and noise. haechan let go of your hand and face you.

you were looking nervous and he.. he's sad and disappointed.

"i will never date a friend." haechan directly told you that you didn't expect to hear.

the atmosphere was tense and it's like the heaven and hell compressing you made you feel so small. you were deeply hurt but you didn't allow haechan to see that. you masked it with a laugh.

"why are you telling me that? wah... you think i will date you? yikes." you were laughing and it looked so real. you badly want to cry but don't want to. you were disappointed that you were right. you're just too close, his actions to you are equally no different to a friend.

haechan? like he was hurt. he was asking himself why did he say that? it wasn't real but he was also asking himself, why did you say that? it was written all over your face no matter how many emotions and expressions you put in your face, you were deeply hurt.

"well, i thought you were falling for me already." he grinned. you rolled your eyes.

"in your dreams." yeah, only in dreams.

"let's go back?" haechan asks holding in the pain in his chest. you gave him a smile.

"you go back first, i'll just go to the toilet." holding back your tears. the toilet is in the opposite direction from the room.

haechan just nodded and left you, parting ways. you turned your back and released every single emotion as you walked quickly towards the toilet room.

haechan with a heavy heart went back to the room. his friends approached haechan, hugging him and playfully pushing him.

"congrats dude!" renjun said cheerfully. haechan's forehead creased.

"what?"

"dude, you're finally dating y/n!" renjun said. but they saw haechan's face, it doesn't look like you were dating already. their smiles fell and turned into disbelief.

"what?! how?!" jeno exclaimed.

"just, i don't know." he shrugged.

"it's your fault, you jinxed it" jaemin amused that it was really jinxed by renjun. renjun gripped his own hair in frustration.

so why did haechan lie?

he realized that his world is small because the only person in it is you and that's not good. but he never wanted to lose you. at the same time haechan with the same reason that he always says in his mind. if things don't work out, someone will definitely leave. he couldn't bear that.

does it make sense? no. he's just convincing his self that this is why you don't like to date y/n.

sincerity is hard to give especially if you overthink things. as the song said, questioning why can't we just be sincere? it so easy but why is it hard for us? well, there are times that when we choose sincerity we ended up being vulnerable. the idea of being hurt is scary but you know what either way it's painful but it was extra painful when you became sincere because you know you became true to yourself but weren't accepted.

there will be another part, continuation but for people who don't like sad ending life me 😿

#haechan #haechan angst #nct dream haechan #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #nct dream #haechan imagines

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter. I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her. It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point. I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test. It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again. At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.” I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it. Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide. I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead. She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca. She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After. It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time. But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out. As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could. And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way. Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust. It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that. Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek. He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger. It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used. We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2. Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics. Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case. The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out! With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him. It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty. I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL. Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work. Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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chromalogue · 2 years

Text

Today I got accepted for a job I applied for.

This is the first time this has ever happened to me, where I did it in the way I understood to be how jobs happen, sent in a CV and did an interview and actually got accepted. I’ve had jobs before, lots of them, but they’ve all been things handed to me: I got them by going to a temp agency, or they were part of my funding package, or the university was contractually obligated to give them to me.

It’s not a paying thing, but it’s in a sector where a lot of unpaid work is required in order to get to the paid stuff, and the people who recognize this as a problem are not the ones with the resources to correct it. And this is something that looks good on a CV, in a way that may eventually get me paid someday, in the field that I actually want to go into professionally. Even if it never gets me that elusive paid job, it’s important work that I hope will do good in the world.

Even though this is kinda sorta my fourth year of unemployment, and I am slowly growing comfortable with the possibility that my days of paid work may well be behind me, it feels like five of the six or so part-time gigs I’ve had going are successful on their own terms.

I got accepted to two international conferences this year, one of which I will attend online, and I’m applying for a domestic conference that I always get accepted to.

A bunch of people have left the housing committee, and now I’m the chair.

A very kind and excellent person has been drawing fanart of my fic! And despite a months-long round of editor’s block, the new thing is shaping up.

The thing that has been consuming my life for the past two weeks is a winter carnival/Valentine’s Day bake sale. See, a thrift store opened up in town last fall, and the owner approached me about having cookies and truffles in the store--first at Christmas, but I’d burned myself out already, and then for this. I was a little concerned about the legality, but they’ve relaxed public health regulations about home-baked goods during the pandemic, and a public health person assured me that as long as I’m following the protocols to the best of my abilities, and not selling anything that needs immediate refrigeration, I should be okay.

So yeah, I am currently recovering after two intense weeks of making these:

[Image descriptions: six photographs. The first two are of petits fours with pink icing, some light with coloured edible ball bearings, and some darker pink with gold and silver edible ball bearings. The third is a collection of individually packaged shortbread hearts with blue and white flow icing. The final three are of gingersnaps decorated with hearts and flowers and vaguely Valentiney designs.]

People keep telling me I should make it into an actual business business, but even if I wanted to (I emphatically don't) it wouldn't work. These sales pay for materials plus around eighty bucks, and for them to be profitable in a traditional business model sense, I would have to use cheaper ingredients and spend less time on each cookie, say goodbye to all my other pursuits, and probably still hike up the price so that no one in this town could afford them anyway.

I have, of course, also been applying for paying jobs. One of them looks good, but I am afraid to jinx it by saying anything.

But even if it never happens, most of the time I think I could live like this. My needs are met, and for the moment I have access to a lot of stuff that even paid jobs don't normally guarantee (even though they really should). I acknowledge that I'm operating with a lot of privilege in a very messed-up system, and thereby contributing to its messed-up-itude, but this stuff brings me joy, and I don't think stopping will make things better. This way at least I get to provide people with the best analysis I can do and the best fiction I can write and the best cookies I can bake, and don't have to worry about my next meal, and if that is what success looks like, I'll take it.

#long post #I know the edible ball bearings have another name but I can't easily do accents on this keyboard #also #my spacebar quit working partway through

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ziracona · 3 years

Text

It’s my Birthday today and I wanted to start it off with updating a fic I’m enjoying writing. Hope you enjoy the read. : )

[Fate Grand Order AU fic] The Kid (pt: 1, ... 8, 9, 10, 11, ?)

----

“Okay so, sorry, I’m still doing a little catch-up,” mutters Robin as we reach another corner and pause. Ahead, Emiya holds up a hand for us to halt and we do.

“Robin, do you have the mana for May King?” I hear Emiya’s voice in my head. Which, I appreciate being looped in on. Kind of thought he was going to be more of a pain to work with just because he could be, but he’s surprisingly practical and easy to work with for the uncooperative introduction we have. He seems real familiar with Robin’s abilities; gotta wonder where and when exactly they did meet—'specially since Robin barely seems to remember him at all.

Unlike me, poor Ritsuka looks like the frequent mental chatter is still something she’s trying to get used to; zones out a little every time someone communicates this way. I get it—took me a while to not be weirded out myself my first time summoned, and that was with the ability coming naturally, since I was a spirit.

“Hold that thought,” whispers Robin to me, then mentally to us all, “Yeah, a few times if it’s short. This important?”

“It’s not a difficult hall,” replies Emiya mentally, “But there’s too many people interacting with their security measures, and we haven’t gotten enough of us free yet. If we can’t disarm the magecraft security system and their personnel at once, someone might stay up just long enough to hit an alarm, and I’d prefer we free as many of us as possible before they figure out what we’re up to, since-“ He almost hesitates, glancing at Ritsuka for a split second, but he doesn’t. “-they might just start to kill them.”

Makes sense. I know it. They have catalysts to get us all back, and we have no idea where those are. I hate it, but he’s right—they’d definitely do it. Pretty sure I see Ritsuka connecting the same dots.

“Roger. I’ll move ahead into position,” says Robin mentally, cracking his neck as he moves up, “Give me about six seconds to find a good vantage point, then I’ll go as soon as I sense mana from you going after the security system.”

“Can we help?” asks Ritsuka worriedly in my head.

“If something goes wrong,” replies Robin telepathically, “Hopefully we won’t need it.” He stands then. “Sorry Mast—Ritsuka. I’m going to take a little bit out of you with this, but it’s only a skill, utilized this way, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” At my side, Robin glances down and gives a nod, then vanishes—not to spirit form, just flat out invisible. God it’s so cool! It always has been. Wish I could vanish like that; be useful as hell when dodging pursuers or trying to get an edge! Wish it was a thing he could teach me, but it don’t work like that—it’s a skill earned in life, and it’s all the thief of the forest’s.

Ahead, Ritsuka’s eyes widen as she watches him vanish, but she follows where I think he might be—she’s connected more than we are to each other, so she probably has a better idea than I do. Honest, it’s weird to have a guess where he is at all; I...don’t think I’ve ever been co-servant to someone before. It’s different, but, I like it. I like having a team. I mean, I’ve had allies before, but this ain’t the same. I can sense Robin a little myself like this, but I gotta wonder just how different it feels to be a master.

Emiya places his hand against the wall and whispers somethin’, and I feel a pulse of mana from him and hear the sudden ‘flishk’ of drawn bow strings releasing and movement, plus one choked, barely audible cry, then several quiet thuds all in rapid succession.

“Clear,” comes Robin’s voice in our heads.

Emiya smiles and steps out, Ritsuka and me behind him, and Robin materializes ahead of us between five guards sprawled unconscious along the ground. Kinda amazed how well we’re doing so far—damn it I’m gonna jinx us, but still! Non-lethal is way harder, and we’re still doing ok.

Looking amazed by the scene, Ritsuka rushes up to Robin. “Wow, that was incredible!” she whispers excitedly, “How do you do that? —How did you know he could do that?” she adds, turning big eyed to Emiya.

Robin and Emiya share a glance, slightly awkward. Huh, don’t seem like Emiya knows him too well, from the way he’s lookin’ at him; which makes it weirder he knows so much about his skills. Maybe…they fought? They don’t seem hostile to each other at all, but somethin’ like a Holy Grail War, where mages force you to kill each other, God knows I’ve fought my share of people I had no desire to kill and who really had no desire to kill me either. I could see it bein’ somethin’ like that. …Maybe?

“It’s uh, an inherited custom from the Celts,” says Robin, “I picked up some tricks, when I was on the run so much, and I guess it was pretty good, because as a servant, it lets me do that.”

Ritsuka looks at Emiya for his half of an answer.

“...We’ve met,” offers Emiya vaguely.

“Oh,” says Ritsuka in surprise, “So. You and Billy and Robin-?”

“—No, we never met,” I interject, gesturing between me and Emiya.

“Okay, so, different times?” checks Ritsuka, “When-”

“-I don’t mean to be rude,” says Emiya gently, “But we don’t really have time to discuss this.” He gestures to the waiting door and Ritsuka flushes.

“R-right—I’m sorry—it’s just interesting how you all meet and I want to know more—“

“-Hey, don’t worry kid,” says Robin, clapping her on the back, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know later. To answer your question,” he adds casually, moving to the door and drawing back a leg to kick, “I’m not sure about him, but I don’t remember.” With one solid slam from his foot, Robin snaps through the remaining physical lock on the door so it slides open, and in the one second before I’m distracted by what’s inside, I notice Emiya raise an eyebrow. Huh. So you do remember.

I get a glimpse into the room ahead then, and every thought goes out of my head. Except ‘The...hell?’

It’s different. It’s so different. I know it’s only been me and Robin so far, but it’s not the death bed with a withered corpse I expected at all. The spirit in this room is very much alive, and it is furious.

The cell is circular, with more seals carved into and drawn on the floor and walls and ceiling than I can process, and the spirit is dead center of them all, with heavy, bulky, painful looking restraints locked around his feet and forearms, another thick band around his waist and more on his thighs, his neck, his upper arms, each attached to a different heavy chain drawn taut, tugging in opposite directions of each other and making it as close as it can to impossible for him to move at all. He’s got a blindfold on too, also metal and painful looking, and a gag, but he’s not kneeling under the weight of it all like I was, or immobile and weak like Robin; he’s thrashing madly with the tiny, limited movement he has. His head snaps in our direction when we enter, and I hear his muffled, angry shouts even from here. He’s choking himself and ripping at the skin on his arms and legs and neck, but still, he’s fighting—and wildly. In fact, I’m pretty sure the seals around the room are the only thing keeping him captive at all.

It hurts to watch, seeing one of us rip blindly at his restraints, trying to break free like a dog being forced into in a fighting ring. But, I’m also impressed. Astounded. He doesn’t seem scared at all, just angry, and there’s something reassuring about it. ‘Specially since he’s short too.

“Huh,” says Emiya, the same look on his face I figure is on mine, and is definitely on Ritsuka. She snaps out of it first though, and starts to rush toward the blinded spirit, then hesitates because we’ve all balked too.

“...Can’t one of you break the locks? Like for Robin?” asks Ritsuka worriedly, half-turning to face us.

“Probably, but we don’t know what happens if we step in the circle,” explains Emiya, indicating the etchings above, below, and all around us.

“Yeah, I don’t speak mage runes, but I’m pretty sure that says some version of ‘if you’re a heroic spirit, get fucked,‘ ’cause I can feel that from here. —I got you though,” I add quickly, “move a little left and I’ll shoot one from here.” Thank God for long ranged skills! Both of the others seem chagrined I’m the first to think of this; can’t decide if I should be proud, or insulted by that.

Ritsuka hops to the side, and I aim, but I hesitate again with my gun drawn. The man in front of me is blinded and I don’t think he can hear well, because he ain’t reacted to anything we’ve said—only our presence—and he’s flipped out. If I free him, he might lash out, and Ritsuka is closer than we are. I’d rush in, of course, but I have no idea if stepping in that circle would paralyze me.

“Hey Boss—Partner?” I correct, lowering my gun just a little, “I don’t think he can hear well with that thing on his head. He’s panicked and angry—might be a bad idea to cut him loose without explaining who we are. Even if he don’t attack us, he’s probably gonna make a lot of noise, and we don’t need that.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, looking from him to me. Ahead, the spirit lunges in our direction with a fury I understand and makes me pretty sure I’m right that he has no idea who we are.

“Think you can calm him down? I could shout from here, but we don’t wanna he heard, and you probably got a better shot anyway. Not sure how much he can hear, but he’s gotta be able to hear a little, since he seems to know where we are without his eyes. Try talking to him—let him know we’re here to help ‘fore I break him free?” I suggest.

“Uhm,” she says, looking from him to me, “I’ll try.”

I feel bad immediately, seeing the moment of fear in her before she moves forward, so I take another step, close as I can get without hitting the circle, and call after her, “Don’t worry! Promise; he makes a move to hurt you, I’ll stop him before he even gets close; easy shot from here, ‘n I’m a crack shot—I won’t miss. ‘N don’t worry—won’t hurt him too much, either,” I add with a wink.

She glances back and smiles at me, worry mostly evaporated, and I grin back.

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, and then she turns to the bound figure up ahead.

He hears her coming, and there’s a muffled scream of rage from him as he tears at the chains holding him back. We’re not any of us an easy thing to contain, and I can sense how much he knows it, how furious and how ready to make whoever did this pay.

Beside me, I sense movement and out of the corner of my eyes, and I make out Robin and Emiya both moving, Emiya first, materializing a bow and readying a shot like I am, Robin doing the same with an arrow on his crossbow, but pivoting to keep an eye behind us, on the hall. Bases covered.

Carefully, Ritsuka takes another step, edging closer. About fifteen feet from him now in the big room. He definitely knows where she is—even blindfolded, his head moves with her and he thrashes in her direction as threateningly as he can like he is. The restraints on his legs and arms are bulky, so I can’t see his hands or feet, but the places they end on his forearms and calves are bleeding from his attempts to rip free.

“I-it’s okay,” says Ritsuka, taking another careful step over one of the taut chains, and putting her hands up calming and nonthreateningly as she proceeds moving closer. He can’t see her, but of course she still is. “It’s alright. We a-”

The spirit uses his neck to rip the chain around it back with all his might, and I realize almost too late it’s the one she’s just now carefully stepping over.

I can’t think of a way to stop it long-distance, so I bolt. The second my foot goes over the first seal though, I feel an intense amount of mana hit me, and I knew it was coming, but it’s SO much worse than I expect, and I can’t move. It’s so much. It’s agonizing, like being hit with a bolt of lightning! The hell kind of seal-! Fuck! I—can move, damn it! I will!

I can! I can. I just... It takes immense effort, but I feel my muscles starting to move. I’m gonna be way too late—I should—

Arm throbbing with pain, I drag my hand up to level a shot as the chain snaps into her leg and she yelps and pivots forward. If he has a real plan and some way to grab her, least I can shoot him first, but something closes around the back of my vest and I’m flung backwards with force onto the safe ground outside.

“Idiot!” calls Emiya irritated over his shoulder, “You don’t have the magic resistance of an Archer! Stay out there!”

He’s...right, but. Even Robin and he shouldn’t...?

How is he doing that?

It’s been less than two seconds and he’s already there. He barely even lost steam throwing me. I-I am watching him shoot to her side with such speed I could almost swear he teleported, through a bounded field. He catches Ritsuka like it’s nothing while she’s still in the air, and rights her as she yelps in surprise, then jumps and flings himself back out of range of the circle, landing just outside it far on the right side with a little wince and a grimace. I gape at him from on the ground. It did hurt then, doing that. The field—It did hit him. He just...got through? The hell kind of magic resistance you got? I know Archer’s a knight class and that gets you some, but...

This is something else. I don’t know what. I-I didn’t think any of us could move in there, once I felt it; that can’t just be magic resistance can it? But it’s something. I want to ask, but I know it’s not the time. He glances at me though, after making sure Ritsuka is fine and giving her a nod when she checks over his should to see if everything is okay and she should keep going, and I realize to my surprise I’m pretty sure he’s doing the same with me—checking in to see I’m okay. I manage a nod as well.

“You okay?” asks Robin from behind me.

“Yeah,” I answer. My gun’s been leveled the whole time, but I’m only now remembering to get to my feet again, and do, eyes on the chained spirit the whole time, “Those things always sting, but it ain’t as bad as some other recent memories.”

I kind of expect Robin to say something back, but he doesn’t, so I turn 100% of my attention to the people in the middle of the room.

“It’s okay!” tries Ritsuka again, facing the bound spirit but hesitating to move forward out there now, “Please stop fighting us! I’m not an enemy; we’re trying to help you, I swear!”

I don’t feel a change in the atmosphere at all—the spirit is still radiating anger—but he stops tearing at his bindings for a moment when she speaks and just stands there breathing hard, blindfolded eyes turned towards her and blood running down his neck and limbs.

“Thank you,” says Ritsuka, smiling and holding up a hand in thanks with the word even though he can’t see it, before moving forward again, “If you just listen, I-I can explain—I promise, we’re not here to hurt you. We aren’t with the people who locked you up. We broke in here to try and help. Everyone but me in here is another heroic spirit, and we’re all trying to help you—help all the spirits trapped in here!”

The man stays still and tilts his head slowly, considering her. Mistrustful, I think, like I was. But he’s hopeful, or desperate, too—not sure why they’d send her to lie, which is enough to make you hope.

“I-I’m gonna get a little closer now, okay?” says Ritsuka, edging towards him again, “And see if I can get any of those chains off you. The others can probably do it if I can’t, but they’re all spirits so they’re having a hard time getting past the uh—the seals.”

He tilts his head back upright and then the other way, and tracks her movement by sound as she gets closer. The guy is still breathing heavy and clearly on edge, but he lets her get close this time.

When she reaches him, Ritsuka holds her hand up. I don’t think he’s going to lash out, but I don’t trust like that—‘specially knowing the pressure he’s under firsthand—and so I keep my gun trained on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay? To see if I can figure out how this is fastened. P-Please don’t hit me.”

She stutters nervously on that last line, and I see just a little of the tension in the man’s shoulders loosen. Interesting. I guess that means whoever he is, he ain’t the most hardened sort, if he’s feelin’ empathy for a stranger while trapped like that.

Ritsuka moves a little to the side for a better look and touches the back of the shackle blinding him, and he flinches and pulls away a half-inch on impulse, breathing quickening for a second, then goes still again. This must be agonizing for him.

“Really is okay!” I call out in a hushed voice, even though like that he probably can’t hear me. I can’t risk drawing security, but-

Emiya side-eyes me for a second. I can’t tell if the look is annoyed or amused. Guess it don’t matter.

“Okay—it’s pretty simple. Just a little bolt again,” says Ritsuka in relief. I hear a metallic ‘click’ and then she’s pulling the metal blindfold off him, and there’s a fairly young man—maybe early 30s at a guess—looking back at her then. He’s not very bulky, and taller than me, but not tall, kinda long and shaggy green hair, and a face I don’t recognize at all with red marks all over it where the metal bit in, a few little trickles of blood runnin’ down his forehead and cheekbones from it. The most notable thing though is the expression on his face. He registers Ritsuka’s form as she lowers the blindfold and his eyes go wide. The man blinks at her a few times, then quickly looks up, clocks me and Robin and Emiya, seems relieved, and looks back questioningly at Ritsuka. Almost all of his readiness to lash out has vanished in an instant.

“Hi,” says Ritsuka, smiling at him, “I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru. Nice to meet you. Thank you for not hitting me.”

The man blinks again, and gives her a little nod. I see more of his tension ease.

“I’m really sorry this happened to you. We’re here to help—those two were stuck here too.” She pauses to point to me and Robin, and I give him a little hat tip, Robin a two-fingered wave in acknowledgement.

Our Master—I mean partner—friend? —Ritsuka, she looks down at some of the other oddly bulky shackles, and then back up at the now much more calmly waiting man. I’m trying to guess who he could be. We had letter, earring, kunai, and a pot, according to her, ‘long with my and Robin’s catalysts. He’s definitely not Asian—looks maybe...middle eastern, Semitic? Not sure though. Either way, I’m willing to bet he’s not the kunai, so that leaves broken pot, earring, and letter. None of which help much. I don’t have a good guess, and that’s only if they haven’t gotten more since Ritsuka saw catalysts anyway, but, whoever he is, he seems level-headed and decent at least, so I’m takin’ this all so far as a good sign.

“The ones on your arms and legs have real locks, so I’m not sure I can get them—I’ll have to have one of the guys shoot them off from outside the circle,” says Ritsuka, looking sorry.

I look at Robin and Emiya, because what I got’s loud; the two of them exchange looks, and Emiya sighs and turns to study the chains for a second, then summons a long, thin…arrow? and draws.

“But let me get the gag first—I think I can get that too,” says Ritsuka smiling at the man as she reaches up to do it. Much less on his guard now, he stoops for her to make it easier to reach, still watching her carefully though. Or, actually, interested more than careful, maybe, at second glance. Huh. Very level-headed man.

The gag makes a snap sound, and Ritsuka pulls it off. Relieved, the man opens his mouth and kind of rolls his jaw, trying to get the taste of it out, then straightens back up and smiles at Ritsuka. “Well thank you very much, for that and the rescue.”

Unbelievably calm. But I don’t think he’s being fake—he’s just got some kinda personality.

“Where did you come from, Miss...Fujimaru, yes?” he asks, and she nods, “How did someone as young as you end up-” he tries to gesture, immediately hits already taut chain, and winces, “-here?”

“Wrong, or, right, depending on how you look at it, place at the right time,” answers Ritsuka.

He’s definitely curious, but he just gives a nod of acknowledgement.

“Oh—before you do that,” she says to Emiya, then turns back to the man, “Uhm, you’re probably connected to the building somehow, and if we break those, you’ll run out of mana. Or. You aren’t actually that hurt,” she adds like she’s only just now really thinking about it, “But you’ll still vanish pretty fast if we sever your connection to mana, won’t you?”

“Yes and no,” says the man, clearly surprised by how much she has figured out, “You’re right they somehow altered the contracts to let the technology itself provide us with mana, and we can break the contracts physically, like you would killing a Master, by breaking the machine.”

“Why?” she asks, lost.

“They want to sell us. This makes us easily transportable, and it’s not like a mage could support one of us alone outside a ritual easily anyway,” says the man, a bit of that earlier rage and spite sinking back into his tone. He refocuses on Ritsuka and smiles again. “But I’m an Archer, so I can survive for a little bit on my own—week or two—without an anchor, since I’m not in terrible shape.”

“Another fucking Archer?” asks Robin without thinking, almost affronted disbelief in his voice and his face when I turn to look and see him gaping.

Wait.

“Oh shit, he’s right! Did they only take Archers? Why??” I ask.

“That is almost upsetting somehow,” says Emiya thoughtfully, “They didn’t summon me, but two and a half out of six of you so far is still super weird.”

“You’d think we’d be less good picks, since we can survive so long on our own. They should be grabin’ Casters or somethin’,” I agree in confusion.

“Wait, all three of you are Archers?” asks the man.

“I’m a gunner,” I say like ‘kind of’ while Robin says “Yeah,” with irritation and Emiya says, “I guess.”

“That is weird,” says the man to Ritsuka, “but I don’t think we have time to discuss it. Their security might not be perfect, but they aren’t idiots.”

She nods. “Uhm, okay. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need to contract right now to be okay, but if you’d like to—to help you fight better or without worrying about disappearing, you can contract with me—if you want.”

His expression is one of a man hearing something that made complete sense until suddenly it made absolutely none at all. “...C. ...You? But.” He looks over at the rest of us, then back at her, “are none of the others...? -You know, outside a ritual, even a strong mage will be exhausted by that?”

“Oh, I know,” says Ritsuka quickly, nodding, “I’m not good at magic yet, and can’t do almost any spells, but my circuits are weird and apparently I have such a massive pool of mana I can support multiple heroic spirits on my own without a grail or anything!”

He stares at her like that straight up can’t compute. Blinks slowly. Looks at us.

“Yeah,” I say. She looks so proud of herself. It makes me happy! And weirdly proud too.

“It’s true,” agrees Robin, “Got no idea how many she can carry, but we’re three so far, and she hasn’t slowed down a bit.”

“Wow,” says the man, looking back at her with big eyes, “That’s quite a skill.” He considers for a moment and then smiles to himself. “Todah,” he says quietly, almost fondly, and then, “What a blessing; God never ceases to surprise. I will happily take you up on your offer Ba’al, I accept.” He gives a little, awkward and slightly painful looking bow as best he can still bound. “My true name is David, and I am an Archer. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, surprised and flattered. She flushes and holds out a hand, then realizes he can’t take one the way it is. He smiles at her and bows his head forward instead, resting it against her outstretched fingers. “Uhm.” She takes a second to find her footing. “My soul becomes your will, your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear me and agree, accept me and join, Archer.”

It’s softer than I’ve heard her say it before. Funny how many ways I’ve heard it now. Desperate, to me, afraid of losing me. Intense and pleading, to Emiya, begging for help. Kind and intent and sincere to Robin. And now here, soft and happy. I got no idea why that’s all so significant to me, but it is. I feel like I’m gonna remember it. I hope I will.

…I…

….Haven’t thought about that for a while, but now that the thought’s there, my gut sinks and my heart with it.

I might not. …So often, the Throne won’t let us remember anything from a summon once we die and get dragged back to it. God only knows how many Ritsukas I didn’t want to forget as bad as I don’t wanna forget this now, and don’t even get to know to be sad I can’t remember.

I hate that thought. ...

In the center of the room, a light flashes from Ritsuka’s hand at the point of connection, and I can feel a faint attachment of my own to David now. Try to focus on that instead. On how odd it feels to be under the same master as someone else, but not bad—just so different, in a way it’s hard to really get over.

David, he said? Right—which David? WAIT.

“David?” I ask way too fast, interrupting this beautiful moment without thinking, my mind completely blank outside of one sudden fear, “Wait, which David who’s an Archer—you’re not-?”

He looks over surprised and then gives me a kind of sheepish smile. “King David of Israel. Son of Jesse and Nitzevet, father of Solomon, my successor.”

Oh my God. Oh God; fuck—I’m so glad I didn’t shoot him.

Emiya is taking this in stride, but Robin looks at least a little something, and Ritsuka’s eyes have gone huge. “You’re a king? Wait. You’re from. -” She’s floundering, so I step in to save her.

“-King David? I—Hi, Billy the Kid; I’m so honored to meet you! I never met a Biblical-uhh-T-Torah-ical,” shit now I’m floundering worse god damn it; I was trying I—I just never seen someone from the...th-the actual religion that—I practice, before—I.

Totally nonplussed, King David shakes his head dismissively with a smile. “I know what you mean; pleased to meet you all. Please though, just call me David. My days as a King are long past, and on the Throne, I have been called to serve others again. I was a shepherd before I was a king, and I have always been the both. Think of me as just another companion, because right now, it’s who I am.”

“Whoa,” says Ritsuka, still a little pale and in awe, “Th-thank you. Okay, David. I-It’s great to meet you too. —I’m so sorry! What am I doing?! -Emiya, can you?” She glances over and sees his bow drawn, nods, and hops out of his way.

King David glances at Emiya, then holds perfectly still, and the archer draws a quick series of shots that tear through the restraints nearly simultaneously in a little shower of sparks and screeching metal. Some kinda style; don’t think I’ve ever seen someone shoot what was clearly swords just now off a bow string before. Huh. Who are you?

The chains fall away, and King David raises his arms and looks at his hands, flexes them, and takes in the bruising and lacerations on his body from trying to get free.

“I’ll try to heal you,” offers Ritsuka, stepping up to him. He glances over at her. “I’m still learning, so I’m not sure I can fix it all, but I’m sure I can help!”

He smiles and gives a nod, stoops a little and offers her his arms. She takes them in her hands, scrunches her face up and shuts her eyes, and I sense a quick, small pulse of mana. It’s amazing how much she picked up in one night. I’m kinda in awe, watchin’ the worst bruises fade, and the cuts that are still bleeding close up and start to heal. It ain’t perfect, like me, like Robin, but it’s a hell of a lot, and King David looks pleased and maybe a little impressed himself.

“Thank you, Ba’al,” says King David, “I’m good to go now.”

Ritsuka opens her eyes and beams at him. She’s sweating a little again from the effort, but it ain’t bad. She’s holdin’ up like a champ so far. “Great!” she says, “Let’s get moving, then!” She takes a step and spins right back around back to face King David. “—Oh. Can you walk out okay? Do I need to carry you?”

Kind David looks incredibly tickled by that offer, but he shakes his head. “I’ve got extremely good magic resistance, even for an Archer—I’d love to get out of this seal now though—it’s quite agonizing.” Without extra comment, he slides his hands under her armpits and lifts her up, then speed single-hops right out of the seal, like Emiya did, and sets her down gently.

“Oh—uh—thanks,” says Ritsuka, surprised but not bothered, “okay—sorry for taking so long,” she adds to us three, “Let’s get to the next one!”

Emiya gives a nod and moves to take point again, motioning us after.

“Question,” says Robin quietly as we slide out into the hall, watching King David’s surprised and little else expression as he takes in the unconscious guards, “I’m uh, really glad for you that you weren’t on death’s door like us—don’t get me wrong—but I thought that was their whole thing. Why were you just kind of...imprisoned? It’s a weird break of form. Might be significant.”

“Oh, that,” says David, “it is a break of form, but it’s not very significant, except I guess as proof they’re not exactly the most seasoned of field mages, no matter how much money, staff, and technical skill they have. They didn’t know which King they were going to get, summoning me. Just the general power of the catalyst—guess they got it not very legally, even for a catalyst. And unfortunately for them, I’m not a great candidate for death-battery-whatever they’re doing, because I died peacefully in my sleep as an old man.”

“The dream,” I say just loud enough for only Robin next to me to hear, and he shoots me a barely restrained smile.

“So then,” continues Robin, “Why keep you? Dangerous to leave one of us alive and motivated to rip shit apart.”

“Mmm,” agrees King David with a nod, “But they weren’t going to keep me. They were going to sell me, contract and all, to the highest bidder. Contacted a lot of mage groups.”

Ritsuka looks so horrified hearing that. It’s sweet, and a little sad, because Robin and I aren’t even surprised by it. It’s not really even odd; it makes sense. That’s how mages act, and that’s how we get treated.

“Any idea who or what for?” asks Robin.

“Hey,” comes Emiya’s voice in our heads, “Uh ahead. Sensing a containment field like the rest, but no guards at all this time.”

“That’s...weird,” says Ritsuka back mentally. She keeps closing her eyes to talk in her head when she starts, and it’s endearingly funny to watch. “I mean...I don’t want to jinx us, but hasn’t this all been...too easy? When I got Billy out, I had a huge explosion and the element of surprise, and no tripped alarms and a working pass, and I still barely got out. Here they’re already on high alert, and we’ve freed three heroic spirits now, and they’re not guarding the rest or checking their rooms?”

Huh. I mean, I’m not as familiar as she is with building security, but she’s right that they’ve been...weirdly placed.

“Yes,” agrees Emiya, tone firm, “it is strange. There are a lot of armed people here, and security, but even with all the luck in the world, it’s almost unbelievable they haven’t pinpointed us yet, and we haven’t hit more security. It’s like...”

“...A trap?” I ask nervously.

“...No,” says Emiya out loud as we all reach a corner and pause together, “It’s like someone’s helping us.”

“What?” says Ritsuka, taken aback.

“There’s too many people weirdly scattered for it to feel like a trap,” says Emiya, “It’s more like watching moves on a shogi board where someone is trying very hard to make sure they lose. The pieces are all here, they just keep...being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or, sure not being in the right one anyway.”

“Nobody helped you before, right?” I ask.

Ritsuka shakes her head.

Considering, King David tilts his head and lets out low ‘hmmmm,’ then says, “…There are people here right now, for me.”

“Hm?” says Robin.

“Other mage groups—their representatives. Rivals, some of them. To bid. It’s possible, not sure, but, someone might be grabbing this opportunity for a little self-serving corporate espionage.”

“God willing,” says Robin, cracking his neck again, “Love it if some selfish spineless little prick picked now to do something that helps us. Enemy of my enemy, and all.”

“That seems plausible, but since we can’t be sure, I know there’s no point saying ‘stay alert’ when we all already are, but, be ready for something to go wrong. It might,” says Emiya, and then he grimaces like ‘maybe shouldn’t have said that,’ looks at Ritsuka, and says, “it also might not. Just pays to prepare.”

She nods, and we all turn to face the hall. Emiya places his hand on the wall again and I feel a faint pulse of mana from him.

“Yup, definitely a servant up ahead. One floor up, almost directly above us. ‘Bout one room further,” says Emiya, pointing, “We can take the elevator shaft—probably less likely to draw attention than destroying the floor, and if we do have someone helping us with some corporate espionage or just a really incompetent new security staff, let’s not make it hard on them to keep going.”

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snowwhitelass · 3 years

Text

Sam Heughan: "Any Actor Would Never Say They're Not Interested In James Bond"

The 'Outlander' actor on those 007 rumours, not understanding 'Tenet', and the time he thought Andy McNab was about to kill him

Tom Nicholson

09/03/2021

We didn’t bring up James Bond. Sam Heughan did. For the record: he’s flattered, interested, coy and sceptical, in roughly that order. His new film does feel like a none-too-subtle hint that he could be comfortable behind the wheel of an Aston though.

SAS: Red Notice is a Big Action Flick based on Andy McNab’s novel of the same name. In which the very McNab-ishly emotion-free Special Forces operative Tom Buckingham, played by Heughan, has to sort out a bunch of mercenaries who’ve taken a trainful of hostages in the Channel Tunnel while rooting out corruption at the heart of the British establishment.

Buckingham is part Bruce Wayne (independently wealthy, dead parents, sage butler), part John McClane (trapped in a terrorist siege), and, yes, a bit of MI6’s least consistently secretive secret agent too (love of country, mild psychopathy). He is, at least, aware that the ease with which he throttles, stabs and grenade-launchers his way through life might indicate that there’s something wrong with him.

“And I think we can all relate to that, you know, we all have these feelings.” Heughan says over Zoom. He pauses. “[I’m] not saying we all think we're psychopaths. But, you know, it's a man who's slightly lost.”

Over lockdown Heughan’s been busy with work and very slowly learning the piano – “I think I've got up to ‘When The Saints Go Marching In’” – and waiting to hear about the next series of Outlander, his day job and the root of his considerable and vociferous personal fanbase.

“We're shooting season six. And hopefully, there'll be some news soon, about next season – a possible next season. So we'll see about that. But yeah, I don't know. I think as long as people enjoy it, and we enjoy making it then yeah, long may it live.”

Is it unsettling hanging out with someone who describes themselves as a psychopath?

I found myself at one point in this sort of cave, we were doing some tactical training in Leeds, there was no one there but me and him and we had some weapons with us. I just thought, 'Oh, my God, what am I doing here?' Like, I'm with a guy who's a trained killer, who is a self-professed psychopath. Like, what if he just doesn't like me? What if he thinks I'm not good enough? And he just, that's it, you're gone [Heughan imitates gunfire.] But it was really fascinating because he is the most gregarious, charming, outgoing, intelligent man – by studying him I realised that's how to play him.

Are action heroes necessarily psychopaths?

Somebody asked me earlier, "Is James Bond a psychopath?" There are a lot of high functioning, 'good' psychopaths, as we call them, in the military, but also lawyers, doctors, surgeons – people that have to be in these high stress situations that need to be logical, and not allow their emotions to take them over. It might be a learned behaviour, or it might be something they've been born with, but in a stressful situation they can turn down their empathy, they can turn up their logical thinking, or whatever it is. If they need to be charming, like maybe James Bond, you know, he could be more charming. It's very much about them being able to just manipulate their emotions and turn them on and turn them off. That's what Andy did: he was doing these studies with Oxford University and they had a heart rate monitor on him and checking all of his biometrics. They were showing him a lot of very graphic images and videos, and they saw his heart rate go up, and then just flatline. There's almost like something in his brain just switches off and he can just be totally fine.

You mentioned Bond there, so I’m going to ask the question: is it something you’re interested in?

I think any actor would never say they're not interested. Of course, you'd be interested. I mean, it is all rumours, and sometimes you think, should I, should we even talk about it? Because you don't want to jinx it. I'm sure the people, whoever runs [Bond] – you know, Barbara Broccoli and Eon and all that – they must be sick of it; people sort of throwing their hat into the ring. But yeah, he's a great character, and would be certainly be a fascinating character study and place to kick off. But I think in SAS we have our own authentic note based on real life scenarios, we have our authentic character, so I'd love to explore this one more.

In the past you’ve talked about wanting Scottish independence. Where are you at with that now?

I’m firstly very proud to be British, but certainly seeing the way that that Scotland has been surviving and been very well led, and also the way that the democratic system is set up; that Scotland, despite [being] promised that if we voted to stay in the UK, we would stay in Europe, and then we weren't, we were pulled out of it. The majority of Scotland wanted to stay in Europe, and I think it's important for us to work together with our European neighbours, and to be part of that. It's a time to remain open to other countries, rather than sort of closing our borders off. I think it's also dangerous to have actors sprouting their politics, but that's my personal opinion. I think it's a great country, Scotland, and I certainly would love to see it thrive and do well.

Most people who see SAS: Red Notice are going to see it at home. How’ve you been coping without cinemas and theatres?

I do miss them a great deal and theatre as well. Obviously, [as] an actor they're where I grew up and I would love to see them open again. After the first lockdown, I managed to get to the cinema a couple of times. I love that sort of shared experience, when you're with other people and you're not talking to them but there is this feeling when you're in a theatre or cinema [that] you're having a shared experience.

What did you see?

I saw Tenet and I saw On The Rocks with Bill Murray. Two very different movies.

What did you make of Tenet? Did you understand it?

Honestly as an experience, no, I didn't enjoy it. Watching it as a movie maker, I was in awe of how incredible it was. The action sequences are just stunning and I read about how they did the fight scenes – you know, in SAS, we have some great action sequences and I know how long that takes and how hard it is, so for them to then learn it backwards is ridiculous. But yeah, I was confused, to be honest. Still am.

Have you picked up anything over lockdown you’ve not had time for before?

I actually started teaching myself piano. I got a keyboard and I haven't touched it for about a month but I was enjoying it. I think we've all baked soda bread and drunk alcohol and read books and watched movies. I think now it feels like the spring is almost around the corner, I'm ready to get back outdoors and I really can't wait to get back out into the mountains, especially in Scotland, go hiking and stuff.

Best hike in Scotland?

There’s so many but I'll say an unknown but really beautiful ridge walk – and I love a ridge because you know they curve right the way around – is the Ballachulish ridge. It's a little known ridge, but it's stunning.

SAS: Red Notice is available only on Sky Cinema from 12 March

https://www.esquire.com/uk/culture/a35760811/sam-heughan-interview-james-bond/

#Sam Heughan #outlander #jamie fraser #sas red notice #james bond

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anjuschiffer · 3 years

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Amira Wayne - Chapter 17

Another chapter! Woo! And yes, I’m still going on with @biodad-bruce-month event despite being two months since it ended :D

Chapter 17: Villain (2)

WARNING: BLOOD MENTION AND DEATH IN THIS CHAPTER

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

Tag: @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords @fantasiame @corabeth11 @anonymously-odd @alexandriamw @officiallydarkgeek @galla02006 @maleive07

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Something wasn’t right and no, it didn’t take Wally having to see fog outside Amira’s bedroom to know that.

He had been on the phone with Dick, telling him of Amira’s stress baking when the chilly afternoon became a dark, foggy evening.

Rolls of mist covered the Parisian roads, people yelling out to each other as they stumbled to find each other.

“Dick. I have to call you back.” Wally said as he scrambled around the room in search of his suitcase.

To think he would need Barry’s gift so soon.

“Back? Wally what is-“ Wally hung up when he found the comms, his eyes darting around the room until he found a box tucked under the desk labeled ‘utilities.’

Rummaging around it, he grabbed some flashlights, batteries and some goggles before heading into the Parisian street.

He thought the fog was bad from behind the window, but now standing in...it was a nightmare.

Amira, please...be safe...

Fishing for his phone, Wally quickly scrolled through his contacts until he found Amira’s and began to call it.

The longer the call rang, the more Wally began to worry.

When his call didn’t get through, he tried again, turning on the goggles, taken aback at how high tech they were.

The perks of being rich he guessed.

When he noticed that the night vision wouldn’t work in this situation, Wally switched over to thermal, running into the school across the street and up the stairs.

“Marinette!” Wally yelled, holding back the urge to yell out her real name. But he knew better than that.

He knew better than to yell out Amira’s real identity.

“Marinette! Where are you?” Wally yelled out again, looking to see if anyone reacted to the name. That’s when he noticed a heat carefully walked towards the doorway of a classroom on the second floor.

“Hello?” A Parisian asked him, Wally biting his tongue. Damn it!

“Listen, do you speak English?”

“A little.” The person said back.

“That’s fine. Do you know where Marinette is? Do you know what happened to-”

“She was akumatized!” The person bellowed back, Wally feeling his heart stop.

Amira...Amira is the akuma? She...she got akumatized...by Hawkmoth?

How? This wasn’t part of the plan she told him last night!

Snapping from his spiraling thoughts, Wally cupped his hands around his mouth.

“What caused it?” Wally asked, wondering what the hell happened to Amira that caused her to lose control of her emotions.

What caused her to snap?

“She had a little argument over a boy with her classmate. About a boy named...Jason.”

Holy shit.

“No, no, no, no.” Wally muttered to himself, digging his hands into his hair, hating the answer to his questions.

“Are you-” The person asked, Wally seeing them almost hit with the balcony in front of them.

“Stop! Don’t leave the classroom! Stay in there and wait for La-Chat Noir and the team to arrive.” Wally managed to say, his brain running through every possible situation to help him cope with the idea that Amira was somewhere out there, distorted by her emotions…

Alone..dealing with emotions she never liked lingering in for too long...walking with her baggage of pain...and guilt…

Wait...the person said she was arguing with someone who knew Jason...but how was that possible?

“-can do for you?” Wally managed to register, running up the stairs and walked into the classroom, shutting the door behind him.

“I need you to tell me what exactly happened before Marinette got akumatized and don’t you dare try to cover up any details. If you do…” Wally closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn’t jinx the situation. “This akuma may become your livelihood for a very long time and not only that...this maybe be the Miraculous Team’s last fight and be Hawkmoth’s victory.”

---

Adrien held Chloe close as she continued to grip at his shirt, her body shaking violently as she muttered incoherent words. Tears ruined her makeup, her eyes bloodshot red as Chloe remained curled against Adrien’s shirt.

“Adrikins...you’re still there...right?”

“I’m still here.” Adrien assured, hugging Chloe closer to him.

“Maman and Daddy… I saw them die before my eyes. And I saw Sabrina and Mari...they..they also-”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Adrien hushed, turning to where Plagg was despite not being able to see anything but his glowing green eyes.

After Mari-Banshee caused Chloe to collapse and then disappeared from his sight, Adrien ordered Nino and Sabrina to head back to the class while he took care of Chloe.

Carefully dragging her to the locker room, Adrien began to softly talk to her, holding her hands as he tried to think of a way to lessen the effect of Banshee’s power on Chloe so that he could-

“-help her.” Cloe muttered out, Adrien feeling her hesitantly push herself away from him. “Go help her, Adrien.”

“Chloe, you aren’t-”

“But she needs more help than me Adrien.” Chloe echoed. “I know this will go away once the akuma is found, but right now...we need to do something about the akuma. Who knows how long Ladybird will get here and get rid of the akuma, but we’re here. You’re here.”

Adrien felt as Chloe untangled her hand from his. “I can’t do anything, but you can. You can help de escalate the situation and you even know who she is after. So please...help her Adrien...she’s our friend...who knows how long she can endure it…”

Adrien bit his lip, feeling Plagg settle back into Adrien’s pocket inside his jacket.

“I’ll try Chloe. I’ll try.”

Giving Chloe’s hand a squeeze, Adrien slowly makes his way back to where he last saw Marinette, holding back a scream that nestled in his throat.

“Kid. We need to hurry.” Plagg reminded him. “Because Chloe was right. We don’t know how long it will take Ladybird to find Marinette so we need all hands on-”

“I know Plagg.” Adrien cut off, digging his nails into his palms. “Plagg, claws out!”

---

Dick paced around his apartment, putting his phone to his ear as he attempted to call both Wally and Amira, only to get sent to voicemail.

Huffing, Dick was about to call again when Tim called first.

“Tim, can this-“

“This is urgent.”

“Tim, I’m trying to-“

“Something wrong is happening in Paris right now. Just open the link I sent you right now.”

With Tim hanging up, Dick got a message and opened it, watching a Parisian news station play on his screen.

“Nadja Chamack. Don’t bemused, it’s just the news. As you can see, it’s currently XX:XX and yet-“ Then the camera pans to show the conditions outside. “Our once sunny December day became a foggy night, our reporters are trying to- what? An akuma?”

The station then transitioned into a live feed of what seemed to be a figure walking within the fog.

“This just in! Turns out that this is the result of Hawkmoths most recent akuma! So everyone who is watching, under no circumstance, do not leave the premises you are-“

Nadja went on to talk about akuma protocol when Dick notices something oddly familiar about the figure that walked within the live video.

That bracelet on her hand…

Dick felt his heart sink to his stomach.

Grabbing some keys and his bike, Dick began making phone calls again, hating that no one was picking up...

Or so he thought.

“Selina? Yes... I need a favor.”

—-

Wally slammed his fist against the teacher’s desk, hearing a few gasps escape from the students in the class.

Damn that Lila. Can’t even face the consequences of her own actions.

“Did you idiots seriously not think something was wrong when someone you knew was acting unusual? Even if they weren’t your friend, when someone isn’t acting like themselves, that means you should be concerned.” Silence filled the room. Wally recomposed himself.

This was no time to lecture these idiots. Right now I have to track down both Marinette and Lila Rossi. “Does anyone know where Lila would have run off to?”

When he got nothing but silence for an answer, Wally held his composure. “Okay so no one actually knows this girl. Fine. I’ll look for her my-“

“Shouldn’t you leave this to Ladybird and her team?” The teacher spoke, Wally really wondering how dependent Parisians have become on their ‘heroes’ taking action first.

“My best friend has been akumatized and we haven’t heard a single update about the situation from the Parisian vigilantes. My thoughts? The Miraculous Team is having trouble finding either person and if I can at least help to locate Marinette, then so be it.

I’m not going to stand here and just depend on the vigilantes when I know I can actually do something to help.”

Walking towards the door, he stopped. “I suggest you guys find a way to deal with the mist inside this classroom. Perhaps turn the ventilation system on or something. You rather be able to see each other can keep each other company rather than not knowing what’s going on in the very room you think you’re safe in.”

With that, Wally dashed out the room, not noticing two other people walk behind him.

—-

Lila stumbled as she ran away from the thing that was supposed to be Marinette.

That creature dressed in an ombre dress that transitioned from white to black and whose eyes haunted her was no Marinette!

That was a creature straight from tales she used to hear from the nanny that took care of long ago.

A banshee.

Lila held in a whimper as tears filled her eyes as she heard the akumatized Marinette’s hums, hums that fluctuated between her name being shrieked and soft wails.

“Lila.” She would whisper in a hoarse voice, causing Lila to run even more. “Where are you?”

Lila turned a corner and scrambled to hide behind a dumpster, collapsing her hands over her mouth as she heard Marinette slowly make her way towards her.

Lila shut her eyes tight as she heard the hum grow louder, Lila hating that the hum kept getting louder by the second.

The hum was now right at the corner Lila had finished turning when it came to a halt.

With the foggy streets and the humming coming to a stop, Lila could hear her footsteps nice and clear, listening as her heels clicked and clacked as Marinette walked on the cobblestone street.

Lila didn’t dare to move, she didn’t dare breath as she kept hearing those dreading footsteps. She did, however, wish she had another set of hands as a piercing shriek, in the form of her name, rang throughout the Parisian streets.

Lila didn’t know what happened next as the shriek caused her ears and head ring, her vision becoming muddled as Lila attempted to open her eyes.

She wishes she had not.

As she fluttered her eyes open, bloodshot red eyes looked back at her, a thin smile directed at her.

“Here you are.” Marinette sang in her raspy voice.

Lila felt herself begin to violently shake as Marinette helped her get up by grabbing her wrists. “You know, you didn’t have to make up all those lies to get the class to like you. They just love to throw themselves to anyone if it meant gaining a new friend. They’re just so open hearted like that.

Of course, those types of people are the type whom I’m not fond of, so I steered away from them.

Sadly, you thought lying to them was the best course of action instead of checking to see if you had to lie or not to get their adoration. I could only assume you thought this was the best course of action as it's been your main way of getting attention.

Sadly, you have to pay for your actions this time ‘round.

Didn’t your mother teach you that every action has a consequence?”

Lila watched as Marinette let go of her hands.

“While they might forgive you for lying to them, I will not. You disparage my brother’s name and for that, you shall pay, Lila Rossi.”

She grabbed hold of Lila’s hand, Lila letting out a deathly scream as her hand went ablaze, watching as Marinette’s veil turned pitch black in color.

“Pay for your lies, for your manipulations and schemes.”

Lila felt her other hand go ablaze and soon her heart began to burn, screaming her lungs out as she watched her get swallowed by the ground.

She screamed and cried as she clawed to bring herself back up to the surface, only to feel cold hands pull her down.

“This is your punishment, Lila Rossi. Suffer like I have at the loss of my dear brother.”

The last thing Lila saw before being pulled underground was Marinette’s veil and dress turn pitch black, a vivid black she had never seen before.

Black just like the void that swallowed her, a black that was the only thing Lila could see for miles around her.

She didn’t know for how long she kept screaming, how long she was crying but she knew for quite some time as her throat grew dry. It became itchy, her eyes stinging and she started to grow cold.

She began to walk through the darkness, not daring to stretch out her arms in fear that she may attack her once again.

That’s when she saw him.

Standing there, in the darkness, was a man with olive green eyes and chestnut hair staring back at her.

A man she knew...

“Papà?” She said hoarsely.

She watched as the man looked at her with a smile, opening up his arms, welcoming her.

With a warbling smile, Lila ran to her father, only for him to disintegrate upon her touch.

“Papà!” Lila screeches, running after the dust. Why? Why?!

“Lila.” She heard her mother say monotonously, causing Lila to promptly shut up and stop pathetically trying to get her father back.

She slowly turned to her side, having to look up to see her mother’s pale face.

Was she always this tall?

Looking at herself, Lila realized she was holding her mother's hand and standing before her father’s grave.

She was 9 again.

9...“You can’t keep crying mia stella. We have to keep moving, no matter what. It’s what he would have wanted us to do.”

“Yes, Mamma.” Lila complied, watching as the two walked from the grave, watching how the grave quickly got invaded by thorn covered vines with each step she took. “Bye, Papà.”

“Bastarda! Bastarda!” The boys chanted as they circled her, Lila covering her ears, shutting her eyes as she crouched towards the floor.

“Smettila! [Quit it!]” Lila yelled, holding in tears as she heard the girls in her class whisper and snicker about her.

It wasn’t her fault that her mother couldn’t afford the latest clothing, the latest car or anything new for that matter.

If only her mother were more than just a secretary. If only her mother were someone important.

How she hated that they were able to see through her lies.

She could hear the laughter ringing around her, the chants of her being a bastard and bugiarda [poor] echoing in her mind.

She watched as smeared faces of her past circled around her, laughing at her and began to sing.

“Delilah! Delilah! Delilah the liar!”

“Shut up!” Lila screamed, but it went ignored.

The faces continued to sing and ridicule her, Lila screaming until she couldn’t anymore.

---

Chat looked out to the city below him, clicking his tongue when he wasn’t able to see anything below despite being at the very top of the Eiffel Tower.

Taking out his staff, Chat called Queen Bee, only to be sent directly to voicemail. He tried again, this time using their other mode of communication.

When he heard a click, Chat was about to talk when Bee beat him to it.

“I’m down Chat.’

“What?”

“I was in the area when the akuma struck. I tried to apprehend the Victim, but she got to me first. I don’t think I can...I don’t think I can fight in my condition Chat.”

Chat huffed, picking up a shriek in the distance. Narrowing his eyes, Chat started to sprint to the direction of which the shriek came from.

“Have you heard anything from Ladybird?” Chat asked, almost crashing into someone when he got to the ground. “I tried calling her, but-”

“I didn't get anything from her…” Chat heard a shuddering of breath from the other side. “Do you think...do you think the Victim got to her?”

“Let’s hope she didn’t.” Chat said, realizing where he was. Extending his staff, he went straight to their usual training grounds, glad to be up high again. “After all, she’s the only one who can reverse all of this.

Without her, we’re screwed.”

“I know Chat...I know. But what are you going to do without me? Without her? You need allies now more than ever Chat! Without them, who knows how long it will take to defeat this Victim!”

“I’ll find a way Bee, don’t you worry. For now, rest up. We’ll win this fight, you’ll see. We won’t let Hawkmoth win, not on our watch.”

With that, Chat hung up and mumbled a ‘claws in.’

“Did we-hey! Isn’t the reason why I give you my power to-”

“Plagg, you mentioned a Master Fu before.” Adrien cut off, handing some camembert towards Plagg. “You need to take me to him. I need to-”

“I know.” Plagg said, swallowing the cheese whole. “Something tells me you might need his help for this fight.”

“Thank you, Plagg.” Adrien said, eyeing a bag of utilities nearby. He rummaged through it before finding what he needed.

Plagg eyed the grappling hook in Adrien’s hands, wondering if he should tell him or not.

Should he? Should he tell him that Ladybird wasn’t going to come? That she was the Victim this time ‘round?

“Alright then, follow me!” Plagg said with a smile.

No, he shouldn’t tell him. Who knows what might happen if the kid would be at risk of also getting akumatized and that he couldn’t risk.

Not his kitten...not on his watch.

---

Black.

That is what Amira first saw when she barely came to her senses.

Amira felt herself walking, watching as something else took over her body.

Is this what every Victim felt like when they got akumatized by Hawkmoth?

Amira tried to move her arms, or attempted to stop herself from walking, but to no avail.

She kept walking to who knows where, hearing herself hum as she did, humming as she was looking for someone…but who?

The humming continued, Amira wondering why it resonated so much with her.

Amira listened to the hum, closing her eyes and soaking in the melodies as the hum continued,

---

Wally stood still as he barely made out the figures of the neatly aligned parked cars on either side of the road. Not a single person was in the street, not a single piece of paper dared to flutter within the dense fog.

Only the dim lights of the streetlights and of a few store lights allowed Wally to know where he was.

“Marinette!” He screamed, holding his breath as he strained his ears for any type of noise. When he heard nothing, he walked a few meters before standing still again and calling out for Marinette.

He kept doing his for what seemed an hour until Wally found himself right by the Seine.

The moment he stepped onto the Pont des Arts, he heard the faintest of hums, Wally feeling the edge of his lips begin to turn upward.

“Marinette!” He yelled out, but got nothing in return.

Sprinting to the other side of the bridge, Wally was glad to hear the humming grow louder, but hated that he had yet to see Amira.

“His chirps brightened my days

Talks that would last for hours

My jay, my jay.”

“Amira!” Wally yelled, his head swinging from side to side in hopes of seeing her, but nothing.

The quiet Parisian street taunted him, the rolling fog egging him to follow the only clue he had of tracking Amira.

“One day after you left

For you I did wait

Another gentle night like no other.”

Wally quickly began to follow the song, hating that no type of heat was registering through the goggles.

“I awaited for your arrival

But a visit I did not get

As I approached the window

I saw you there...

There you were.”

Wally felt like he was running towards nowhere, seeing as he had been running in the same direction for a while.

“On the ground

Your blue feathers now dyed red

Your flight towards me

Was a flight towards another place.”

Just where the hell was he?!

“Goodbye my Jay...goodbye.”

As those last words were said, the fog started to lift up a bit, Wally turning to see Amira staring back at him through her black veil.

Her eyes were a dull emerald, her hair long and straight just like it was when they were younger. She wore a black lace dress that seemed to sparkle under the dim Parisian streetlights.

“Wally. You’re alright.” Amira said, walking up to him, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. He felt his breath hitch. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I’m more worried about you.

“I’m fine.” Wally tried to hold her hand when she pulled it away.

“That’s good.” Her hand returning to her side, averting her gaze from him and biting her lip. “What about Chloe? Is she doing alright? I didn’t mean to hurt her like that.”

Wally gulped. She had used her power on Chloe?

Were those tear trails running down her face?

“She’s doing alright. She’s still under your power, but she isn’t as in much pain as she was before.” Wally lied, holding her wrists in his hands, ignoring the pain her got from placing pressure over her bracelet.

So it’s her hands he has to be wary of…more specifically, her palms.

“What about the rest of my team? Do they know where I am?” Amira asked him, Wally biting the side of his cheek.

“I think one of them might know where you are. As for the rest, I do not know.”

“I see.” Amira said, looking back at Wally, turning away from him.

“Where are you going?” Wally asked her, watching as her veil flared out a bit. He watched as a grin emerged from her once stoic face.

“I’m going to go check on Lila. You should’ve seen the look on her face as she succumbed to my punishment.”

“Amira, what have you done?” Wally almost growled out, noticing the small rips on her dress, how it seemed to merge with the shadows.

“She got the punishment she deserved. Right about now, she should be screeching her heart out.”

“How...how could you do something like that Amira?” Wally yelled, tightening his grasp on her wrists. “Vengeance isn’t the way to-”

“This was the only way to make her pay for trying to use Jason’s name for her own personal gain! Every action has a consequence, whether it be a good one or a bad one.”

“Amira, can’t you see-”

“If you are here to stop me, then don’t. I already made up my mind.” Amira tried to jerk her hands from Wally’s grasp, but couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her escape, not when she was right in front of him.

“Amira, please! Think-”

“I have. And this,” she lifted her arm ever so slightly, the corners of her mouth curving upwards as her palms hovered over Wally’s wrists. “This is my answer.”

WARNING: BLOOD AND DEATH AHEAD

Placing her palms on Wally, Wally screamed in agony as he collapsed to the floor, his hands grasping on his shirt, his knuckles turning white as his head and chest began to ring in pain.

Wally watched as his vision flickered between seeing Amira walking away from him in her black dress and her yelling out his name as she was being pulled away from him.

Wally watches as she tries to crawl back at him, as she claws at the ground as she’s being pulled away by purple miasma.

Her nails are scratched, her skin peeling off her fingers as she tries to hold onto loose cobblestones on the ground.

She screams for him, her tears merging with the blood that trailed from her head, mixing with the dirt on her face.

Cuts, both new and old were scattered, dried blood seeping from her mouth.

She manages to get up before she’s thrown back to the floor, a scream escaping from her.

“Amira!” Wally yells, trying to reach for her as he feels tears slip from his eyes. He watches as Amira stares at him one last time before her head limps forward, her hair draping over her face.

Wally feels himself stop breathing, raising his head as he sees Joker above her.

Why? Why were they back at Gotham?

His eyes register the crowbar in his hand, covered in blood...Amira’s blood...

Blood that dripped from the same hands that killed his friend, the same feral clown that looked down at him with his feral smile and crooked yellow teeth.

Wally let out a scream as he watched Joker walk away, leaving Amira’s corpse on the floor.

Managing to find the strength to get up, Wally ran next to Amira’s limp body, only for it to turn into mist upon lifting it.

Wally watched as the illusion merged with the mist around him, the mist slipping through his fingers as he watched his surroundings return him to the present...to Paris..

“Illusions…” Wally said, finding himself laughing as he ran one hand through his hair while the other pulled at it, feeling himself still shaking...

This is exactly why he wasn’t very fond of magic...

END

---

Nino jumped when he felt a hand on him, feeling his racing heart relax upon seeing Master Fu.

After having left the classroom when the mystery guy had run out, Nino tried to look for Ladybird, hoping to once again help his friend. But he had been running for hours, not seeing a single person at all as he searched for the Miraculous Team or Banshee.

“Master Fu, what are you-”

“You know clearly why I am here.” Fu said, slipping off the Turtle from his hand, Nino stretching out his hand towards him. “Ladybird and Queen Bee are down for this match, leaving Chat on his own.”

Nino couldn’t believe that. Chat...was on his own? Ladybird and Queen Bee...were out of commission? How?

Placing the bracelet into Nino’s hand, Master Fu closed it and looked at Nino. “Now go.”

“But Master Fu! How are-”

“The two of you are not alone.” Master Fu clarified. “Gris is to join you alongside a new ally. With you four, you must do what it takes to defeat this akuma. If not,” Master Fu lowered his gaze. “Hawkmoth might just get his hands on several miraculous tonight.”

Nino gulped, feeling unspeakable pressure pushing down on him.

Looking down at the bracelet, Nino furrowed his brows, slipping it on. Wayzz appeared before him, smiling at him.

“Don’t worry Master Fu. I will do what it takes to protect my team, the miraculous and the people of Paris! I will not let Hawkmoth win! Wayzz, shell on!”

---

Chat’s ears twitched when he heard a thud from behind him, turning to see Carapace walking towards him.

“About time you came.” Chat said, greeting Carapace. Gris waved at the turtle hero who returned the gesture.

“Master Fu mentioned having a new member. So, where are they?”

“A new user?” Gris asked, wondering why she didn’t get the memo.

“I would like to introduce you two to our newest member.”

The three turned to where Chat gestured, watching as a person with golden horns emerged from the doorway that led to their training grounds on the Montparnasse Tower.

“Hello everyone. My name is Ryuuko, wielder of the Dragon miraculous. I hope to be of some help.”

“Woah, she has a whole katana by her side! Is that allowed?” Carapace asked, stretching to see the black sheath that held the katana.

“Carapace. Focus.” Chat stern said. “It’s our job to deal with this akuma as soon as possible. As you know, Queen Bee is down and Ladybird might be due to her absence.

For this to be a success, Ryuuko, you are in charge of finding a way to lift up this fog to help with the search. Gris, multiply and scatter yourself around the city for any hints of where the akuma might be.”

“Got it.” “Roger that!” Ryuuko and Gris said, jumping off to complete their tasks.

“What about us?” Carapace asked.

“I want you to look for Lila Rossi. She’s who the akuma is after.”

“Right. But what about you?”

“I’ll keep searching around this area. Something tells me to stay put.” Chat said.

He watched as Carapace nodded, leaving him by himself.

Chat looked out towards the city, wondering if he was up to the job, if he was able to shine a candle to Ladybird, now that she was nowhere to be found. Would he be able to save Chloe? Marinette?

Sighing, Chat looked up to the sky, shutting his eyes firmly.

“What should I do, what should I do...Mom?”

#maribat #amira wayne

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94monkeys · 3 years

Text

Lazy wins, for once

I love when the decision to do nothing accidentally looks strategic!

My old job's health insurance ran out at the end of February so I bought a plan through the infamous* Healthcare DOT GOV. My number-one priority was to keep seeing the doctors I was seeing last year for continuity, because if you've never attempted to transfer medical records among systems, it is a special circle of hell**. So I ended up with a plan that was ehhhh fine and not the cheapest but made that possible. (It was also ~$700 cheaper than getting added to my spouse's plan through his job. Not a typo. SEVEN HUNDRED AMERICAN DOLLARS. They really don't wanna insure me!)

I knew eventually I could get health insurance through my new job, but there would be a wait on it, and I got busy, and I forgot to ask about it.

Today I had a meeting about our 401(k) which was very boring and condescending but when I wasn't staring into space, I pressed the representative for info about my new job's health insurance plan. Sounds like... not great! I would probably lose all my doctors and the hospital system if I went over. Normally I would just take whatever insurance was offered but I feel lucky to actually have a little wedge of agency to decide to stay where I am.

Now watch I've jinxed it. Healthy system! Seems fine!

*The infamous DOT GOV was actually better designed than most private insurance sites despite its reputation. Clearly they fixed whatever ailed it since it launched! And you should know that if you have been unemployed this year you can get coverage for a $0 premium. Also not a typo. (SALE!)

**I had to move a bunch of medical records from Office A to Office B, which entailed me having to print them out and mail them to Office B. Nothing so dissociative as reading page after page where I am described in 3rd person as a patient "in no apparent distress" when I was, in fact, extremely distressed. Maybe I should have cried harder? Big mystery.

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sometimes-sleeby-octopus · 3 years

Text

Robots Don't Go To Parties

(The start of a sci-fi robot love story at a whopping 1266 words that nobody asked for but that y'all are going to get :D)

Robots didn't go to parties. That's how it had been for a long time. However, there 023 was, in a setting that was unusual and uncomfortable to them. Their “real name” was 0237849, but they weren't going to talk to anyone. There would be no need for clarification and no need for a forecast report.

Robots made three thousand years after the start of AI had become very different. They could eat, “sleep”, and feel in various ways depending on who made them. 023 was created by a company centered around solar power and the weather, causing their group to become artificially nocturnal. This group of bots became “The Asteroid Faction”.

Due to the advancement of technology, it only took 12 hours of charging for these bots to stay awake for 2 days. Even so, their sensitivity to weather and vibrations could be bothersome at times, resulting in some more reclusive personalities. They knew about the current weather and could predict future weather. With help from special sensors that detected anything from fault shifts to humidity, they had 90% accuracy that was only going to get better with time. They also had naturally good balance and vision from their sensors. In addition, the bots could take care of and even possibly prevent disasters as big as falling asteroids, hence their group’s name: The Asteroid Faction.

There were many different groups of robots, made by both humans and robots themselves. At the moment, 023 only knew of the most famous ones, including the Glow Faction and the Star Faction. They couldn't bring themself to care much about the factions anyway.

At the moment, they were hiding under a table with some water in a plastic cup. They could hear humans and robots having the time of their lives, dancing and consuming various edible items. While humans and bots bonded better with their own kind, they could certainly party together and befriend each other.

023 found this surprising considering the biggest war between machines and humans was only 500 years ago. Robots had very long life spans and memories compared to humans after all. Or, that’s what they thought since they were only twenty years old. In fact, the first and only other party they had gone to was twenty years ago after they were brought to life.

023 had about half of their drink left and decided that they would depart after it ran dry. It was surprising how long they had gone unnoticed considering the table cloth didn’t even reach the floor.

“Well, what are you doing down there?” a stranger joked cheerily, sitting down on the floor.

They jinxed it. Why did they have to jinx it?

“I suppose you could call it camouflage,” 023 said bluntly.

“You’re right! I found you though, so it doesn’t count!”

“Animals such as octopuses and chameleons could be spotted by the human eye thousands of years ago. And you are the sole person who spotted me.”

The brightly colored robot laughed loudly. 023 made a face.

“You take things too seriously! What’s the name of such a serious guy?”

“023. Or 0237849 if that may confuse you.”

“First of all, that’s so cool! I’m a 02379 so we’re not too far off from each other! Second of all, you don’t have a name?”

“023 suffices.”

“But you have to have a name! Gives you more humanity, you know! My name is Spoon!”

023 tuned “Spoon” out as the odd fellow went on a long tangent. They wondered how the name contributed to one’s humanity. Especially when said person isn’t a human in the first place.

After a little while, Spoon remarked, “We should give you a name!”

The other robot sighed, “I told you: 023 suffices.”

“Come on! How about ‘Chad’ or ... ‘Karen’!”

023 glared at Spoon as they erupted into even noisier laughter.

“Humans with those names were notorious for their foolish behavior in the early 2000s.”

“Okay, okay! Then what do you want to be called?”

023’s glare turned into a curious frown. They had never been asked anything like that. Or asked anything at all that wasn’t about the weather. Their curiosity spread to Spoon, who had started waving in their face. 023 grimaced.

“...What are you doing?”

“Humans use it to get people’s attention! You kinda spaced out there.”

“Am I right to assume that you were made and raised by humans?”

Spoon shook their head with a smile.

“Nope! Just robots!”

“Oh. Well then.”

It was silent for a bit.

“So what do you want to be called? I just gotta know!” Spoon blurted out.

023 rolled their eyes before searching their database. With careful decision, they selected something and put it into their profile.

“...I suppose you can call me Ceres.”

“That’s an asteroid, right? Oh, that’s so funny!”

“Why so?”

“You’re part of the Asteroid Faction!”

Ceres looked more surprised than before. Spoon just simply smiled.

“You are correct. Although, I’m afraid I do not know your faction. I am...less social to say the least.”

“No worries! I am part of the Glow Faction!”

A peppy song began to play and Spoon lost their focus. There were stars and excitement in their eyes. Ceres could not see why, but found it amusing if not only slightly admirable.

“We should go dance! Now get out from under that table!!!”

Before Ceres could say a word, they were dragged out of their hiding place. In the process, they hit their head and grumbled, attempting to escape with no luck. Spoon laughed sheepishly and apologized before continuing, twirling and dancing happily. Ceres stood there clueless. Spoon grabbed their hand and swayed them around the dance floor. Their dance partner stared in awe and intrigue, letting go of their doubts for once. Ceres’s sensors were infinitely new to the feeling of dancing. And perhaps the feeling of someone’s hand in their own.

“You look nervous, dear,” Spoon whispered, “Are you okay?”

Ceres blushed, absolutely speechless. They opened their mouth to speak to no avail and stumbled a bit before rushing off the dance floor. Spoon followed gently after. Ceres sounded like they had just run a marathon.

“That was a pleasant kind of horrible and absolutely horrifying.”

“I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to overwhelm you! Why don’t we sit down for a bit? Are you feeling sick or anything?”

“I’m...fine. I probably needed to experience that anyway. Speaking of which, I should probably be going.”

“I understand. Sorry again! I hope I didn’t get on your nerves too much.”

“It’s alright. You aren’t half bad.”

Ceres did not intend for that to come out so softly. Spoon let out a small laugh and scribbled on a small hologram: “5/24/50XX. ‘Spoon’ 0237903 of the Glow Faction” it read. They transferred it to Ceres’s system. Were they blushing too? It wouldn’t surprise Ceres if they were seeing things after the previous experience.

“Oh, right! You can find me in the database to communicate!” Spoon finally said, “I will also be going to another party in about a month if you’d like to give it another try.”

“...I’ll consider it.”

It was silent for a while before Spoon hesitantly waved.

“Well, uh, see ya, Ceres! Don’t be a stranger!”

Ceres waved back, almost shyly.

“Goodbye, Spoon.”

Ceres walked out of the building without much attention drawn to them. As they neared their house, they looked at the date on the hologram that was sent them. Perhaps they would go to one more party, they thought. For research purposes, of course.

For research purposes.

#sci fi #scifi #fantasy #fiction #robots #robots in love #romance #also can i just say #there should be more robot love stories #as movies I mean #and shows honestly #walle is the only good one I know of with two robots in love #Like human x robot is cool and all but not my thing personally #MORE 👏 ROBOT 👏 LOVE 👏 STORIES👏#Walle is the bomb tho #They’re just so cute dhdbdb

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

Text

Becoming A Stark? (3) Peter Parker x Stark! FemReader

Word Count: 4848

Warnings: Swearing, mention of physical abuse of a child

A/N: Dinner with your two best friends and the Avengers, what could go wrong?

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

You had invited both Betty and Astrid for dinner, like Tony suggested. It had taken a lot of loose excuses to explain why you were picking them up instead of them just coming over and why your Nana and Pops wouldn’t be at dinner. But you and Betty had been best friends since kindergarten and Astrid had joined the two of you when she moved to New York in fourth grade, the three of you inseparable since then so they trusted you. But the idea of bringing your two best friends to the tower and introducing them to the Avengers and more importantly to Tony, that was a whole other thing. Plus Tony had mentioned that Pepper was going to be there, so you were meeting your dad’s girlfriend on top of everything. Tonight could possibly be the worst night of your life if everything goes to shit.

“Y/N, you ready to pick up Betty and Astrid?” Happy asks from the elevator in the living room.

“No.” You answer honestly as your sandal covered feet drag towards the elevator.

“It’s going to be great.” Bruce calls from the couch where he sits with Natasha.

“We’re excited to meet your friends.” Natasha adds.

“You’re not the one who has to explain that your life is over to your best friends.” You mumble. “Make sure Tony is at least presentable when we get back?”

“I’ll threaten him within an inch of his life if I have to.” Natasha promises. You wouldn’t honestly put it past her.

“And no inventions. This needs to go as normal as possible.” You add as Happy holds the elevator doors open for you.

“We’ll keep him out of the lab.” Bruce adds with a laugh. You run your hands over the skirt of your pastel pink dress, before walking into the elevator. The dress you chose for tonight is nicer than you’d normally choose for just dinner at home, but Astrid and Betty didn’t know the Tower was home, so you decided to at least put on a dress compared to the graphic t-shirt and shorts you had been wearing all day. This dress had buttons down the front, pleats, a collar, and a sash that tied around your waist. It was sleeveless, so you might get a bit cold, but Jarvis could always fix that if you did.

“It’s going to be alright. It’s just dinner with your friends and family.” Happy says from the other side of the elevator as the doors close.

“I don’t know if I’d call them family.” You say before asking Jarvis to take you down to the parking garage.

“They’d call you family.” Happy says before stepping off the elevator. You walk towards the black town car, thinking over the words he had said. Sure you were getting to know them all better and yes Tony was your biological father, but family? You’re not sure about that one. Happy opens the door for you to slide in. “Astrid or Betty first?”

“Betty is farther, so her first?” You suggest, before looking at your new phone you had gotten this morning. It was way too over the top, but seeing as it’s also top of the line, you can see why Tony would want you to be seen with it and not the phone you had for the past few years.

“Sounds like a plan.” Happy turns onto the street before looking towards you in the rear view mirror. “You want music?”

“Uh sure?”

“JARVIS can connect to your phone.”

“Jarvis is part of the car too?” You shouldn’t be surprised, but for some reason you find yourself surprised that he’s integrated into everything.

“He wouldn’t be Just A Rather Very Intelligent System if he wasn’t.”

“Wait, it's an acronym?” You ask, all this time just thinking it was a name like Wallace and Queenie are.

“Your dad is really into acronyms.” Happy gives you a small smile. “So music?”

“Uh JARVIS, can you play my Spotify playlist?”

“Sure which playlist Miss Y/N? June? I Hate Life? Tony Stark Can Rot?-” You cut him off before he says anything else.

“Play June JARVIS.” You close your eyes not wanting to make eye contact with Happy after JARVIS just told your dad’s security that you have a playlist called Tony Stark Can Rot.

“Secrets safe with my Y/N.” Happy says from the front seat as Under Pressure by Queen starts playing. He drives towards I-495E. Happy knows in a little more than a week, they’re going to be driving this twice a day to take Y/N to Midtown School of Science and Technology. It’s an almost hour drive round trip but Tony was adamant with everyone that Y/N not be moved from the school that all of her friends were going too. Happy is surprised to hear a lot of familiar music play through your playlist that normally plays through Tony’s. You may not have been anywhere near him growing up, but at least he’d be proud that you listened to the classics. Pulling up in front of the brown stone that was programmed into the GPS, Happy sees a blonde girl waiting in front of the building looking up and down the street, probably expecting Y/N to walk up at any point in time. Instead you open the door and call out to your best friend.

“Betty!” Her eyes open wide and stare at you. But she climbs into the car before asking all her questions.

“Y/N, holy cow! You never spring for like yellow cabs, so why did you get a town car? We could have even easily taken the subway like we do when we head into Manhattan.”

“It’s a long story, but I’m not the one paying for the car. I promise everything will be explained but can we wait until Astrid is here? I don’t want to explain everything twice.”

“Sure, of course! Have you finished the essay yet for English?”

“No, I'm still finishing the book.”

“You haven’t finished A Tree Grows in Brooklyn yet? Are you sick or something? You read faster than Astrid and I combined. Or did you spend more time on the science essay? Should I write more you think? I was thinking maybe I should do some more research about my favorite scientist. I mean there’s so much out there about Bruce Banner now since the whole Avenger saving New York thing. But I’ve already done two pages over what we're supposed to do. Who are you writing your paper on again?”

“Frederick Banting. Created insulin. Seemed important enough to get a paper about him.”

“Oh definitely. Look at Astrid’s dress, it is so cute! Not that yours isn’t!”

“It is cute.” You see your brunette friend waiting in a yellow sundress outside of her apartment building. You open the door, and see yet another surprised face at the town car.

“Ok, a town car. We’re fancy now?” Astrid asks as she climbs in with you and Betty.

“Apparently we are.” Betty says, still not knowing why you were in a town car.

“There is a crash on your route, so with traffic the drive will take 35 minutes, Happy and Miss Y/N.” Betty and Astrid look up in concern, trying to figure out where the voice is coming from.

“Thank you JARVIS.” Happy says, turning onto a side street.

“Is Jarvis like a GPS that happens to know your name?” Astrid asks looking at you wearily.

“Kind of? He’s more like an AI.”

“Why does the town car, which you’re not paying for, have an AI that knows your name?” Betty asks, more concerned.

“So the car is my dad’s along with the AI.”

“Your dad?” Astrid and Betty both repeat. They both have known you long enough to know that Nana and Pops had stepped into the role of parents before you could walk or talk.

“But I thought you had no idea who your dad was?” Betty asks.

“I didn’t. Not until a couple days ago and it kind of came out of nowhere. Long story short, I’m living with him and his, uh, family now.”

“But still in New York right? Like you’re still going to school with us right?” Astrid asks.

You nod as you say, “Yes. I’m just living in Midtown now and Happy here is going to drive me to and from school now for safety reasons.”

“For safety reasons?” Astrid asks as Betty voices her own question.

“What is your dad like a big somebody?”

“Yes.”

“To which?” Betty asks.

“To both.” You shrug. You really, really don’t want to say it. You beg the universe not to make you say it.

“Y/N, who is your dad?” The question you had been dreading leaves your friend’s mouth.

“Tony Stark.”

“Holy shit.”

“No way.”

“So you should win like every science fair that we have from here on out.”

“Science is still my least favorite subject.” You answer honestly. “Just because Tony is my father doesn’t change anything.”

“But you’re a Stark, that means like science flows through your blood.”

You motion towards Queenie, who’s clipped to your sash. “I think it’s like insulin. It’s supposed to but it doesn’t.”

“Wait, so if you’re taking us home for dinner, but your Nana and Pops won’t be there does that mean…” Betty trails off not wanting to jinx it.

“We’re going to the tower for dinner.” You confirm.

“Are the Avengers going to be there?” Astrid voices.

“I mean they live there and have eaten dinner with me every night so far.” You jokingly say. “And I figure they need to eat tonight too.”

“Hold on, I’m having dinner with Bruce Banner and you didn’t give me time to prep questions? This would have made my report so much better!” Betty’s head falls back to the headrest in defeat.

“Bett, I’m sure he’d be willing to answer anything you come up with. The Avengers are all really nice.”

“And Daddy Dearest?” Astrid asks.

“No comment.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It’s not like he’s bad or anything. It’s just he came out of nowhere, took me from Nana and Pops’ and he doesn’t seem to understand that I can handle my diabetes on my own. He had JARVIS monitoring but like way higher than it needed to be. He had alerts set if I fell under 100 the other day.”

“You’ve known him how many days Y/N?” Betty asks.

“Three?”

“It’ll take some time. Plus once we’re back at school, you won’t have to spend as much time with him.”

“Thank god.” You say softly as Happy pulls the car into the tower’s garage. You know as soon as you get upstairs you’ll feel suffocated again, but your friends want to see the tower. So you tell JARVIS to take you upstairs. When you get to the living room though you’re surprised to only see one person waiting for you.

“Hi you must be Astrid, Betty. I’m Pepper.” The strawberry blonde standing in front of you turns to look at you suddenly and with a genuine smile on her face turns to look at you. “And you have to be Y/N. Tony hasn’t stopped talking about you since he found out about you. Which is a nice change of pace since he likes talking about himself if you haven’t found out, which I would find highly impossible. I can’t wait to get to know you through you though. I’m sorry we haven’t met until tonight. SI business has been all over the place with the transition and, well, everything.” She motions towards you. “But I’d like to take you out to maybe lunch or something where it’s just the two of us before you go back to school if you don’t mind?” This was not the reaction you were expecting from your father’s girlfriend.

“Uh, sure. Yeah we can do that.” You push a lock of hair over your shoulder trying to distract yourself with the nervous habit of playing with your hair.

“Great, I’ll give you my number before the night’s over and we can plan something.” She flashes you a huge smile. “Now Steve and Bruce are in the kitchen and I think Natasha is either distracting them or trying to keep Tony from sneaking down to the lab again. And Rhodey is just hanging out I think. I don’t know where Clint has snuck off too but he’ll reappear before dinner is on the table I’ll bet on it. Want to introduce your friends to them all?”

“I was going to take them up to my room but we could do passing introductions.” You agree, knowing that Betty will never let you hear the end of it if you don’t introduce her to Bruce sooner rather than later. “Kitchen is this way.” You motion for them to follow. As you walk into the kitchen there’s a booming laugh that you don’t recognize. Six pairs of eyes turn to fall upon you and your friends as you enter into the kitchen.

“Tonydaughter!” A large, muscled blonde man comes to scoop you into a hug.

“Point Break maybe wait until she knows you to scoop her into a hug.” Tony calls from the other side of the kitchen, a glass filled with a dark liquid in his hand.

“Ha, midgardians are so funny. She will be a better friend of mine than you are.” This man that you have to assume is Thor based on how he talks and acts, sets you down though. Even though you weren’t expecting the hug, it did feel nice after so many days of not having much human contact. “Who are these?”

“I’m Betty Brant, your highness sir.”

“I’m Astrid Stollas.” Astrid does a bit of a curtsy, not sure how to act around the god.

“Brantdaughter and Stollasdaughter, there is no need for these Earthy customs. But we do need to feast.” He raises his fist as if to command it.

“It’s still cooking, Thor.” Steve says from the stove.

“Can you wait twenty minutes?” Bruce asks and Betty’s eyes go wide.

“Betty, Astrid,you met Thor, but meet Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, Tony, and-”

“I know who you are.” Betty cuts you off before you can introduce Bruce. Bruce goes a bit pale and you have a feeling you know where his mind went and not where her’s actually did.

“Yes, I know I’m the Hul-”

“You’re the most renowned scientist of the generation. They painted you into the mural at our school.”

“What?” Bruce looks at her in confusion.

“I just finished my seven page research paper on you.”

“Looks like Brucy has a fangirl.”

“And who are you again?” You ask Tony, determined to not let him ruin Bruce’s moment.

“I am Iron Man.”

“But you’re not in a mural at a school for science and technology. Clearly not important.” Pepper wraps an arm around Tony’s waist as his jaw drops.

“Fix it.” He says to her.

“I’m not donating to your daughter’s school just so you can be in a mural.”

“But I want it.” Tony whines.

“Can’t have it.” Pepper throws back.

“Clearly unimportant.” You say with a shrug. “Astrid, Betty, do you want to see my room?”

“I’m good here.” Betty says, staring at Bruce. Astrid rolls her eyes and pulls Betty by the elbow towards where you are before following you up the stairs.

“She said I was unimportant.” Tony whines to Pepper.

“I think coming from a fourteen year old, you’ll be ok.”

“She’s not just any fourteen year old.” Tony says it and Pepper knows it's true. That girl is the only thing that Tony has talked about for the past four days.

“At least she was joking with you tonight.” Natasha points out as she steals some of the veggies from Steve’s cutting board. “After yesterday, she could have done way worse.”

“And she introduced us to her best friends.” A smile rises to Tony’s face.

“She did say science is her least favorite subject.” Happy says from the living room and Tony’s face falls again.

“She what?”

“Nothing boss.” Happy takes the elevator to his own floor, leaving them with their own messes to deal with for the night.

“Why is she going to a science and technology school if she hates science?” Tony asks Pepper.

“You’ll have to ask her. Or, you could wait until she talks to you about school.” Pepper says.

“Wow Y/N. Half your books aren’t even here yet and you already have so many new ones.” Betty says looking at your shelves that Tony had built the other day.

“I think Tony thinks he can bribe his way into my life with buying books. But it won’t work.” Astrid is standing over by your desk and notices that your sticker covered laptop is plugged in charging but there are some dark data screens, waiting to be used.

“Did he make you a data-”

“I don’t know. I refuse to use as much of his tech as possible. The only one I have to use is the Stark Phone.”

“Y/N, he’s offering you the latest and greatest in Stark tech and you’re just throwing it away to stick it to the man? I would kill for half the tech you have, including the AI.”

“Well if you can find a way to take it, you’re welcome to have it. I don’t want most of it.”

“Because it’s from him or because it’s by him.”

“Both.” Astrid and Betty look at you in confusion. “I was perfectly happy with my life in Queens, living with Nana and Pops and he just came and took me away without any choice. Then he shoves all this tech in my hands and expects me to be elated over all of it. That’s not me. That’s not what I do.”

“Of course it’s not. You would live in the 18th century romance novels as long as you could still rep your LGBT letters.” Astrid says and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Before any of you can say anything else, JARVIS comes over head.

“Dinner is ready Miss Y/N.”

“Why does he call you Miss Y/N? Everyone else is just their names?” Betty asks.

“I don’t know. I guess he was programmed that way.”

“Jarvis?” Betty calls out.

“Yes?”

“Can you call Y/N just Y/N?”

“Certainly.” She smirks at you as you roll your eyes.

“Come on, let’s get dinner over with.” You say rolling your eyes.

“It won’t be that bad.” Astrid promises as the three of you head towards your door.

“You’ve yet to have dinner with the Avengers.” You mumble as you walk them down towards the kitchen. The three open spots are between Pepper and Bruce and you know that Betty will kill you and Astrid if she doesn’t get to sit next to her favorite scientist, so the three of you end up sitting with Betty next to Bruce, where she will probably talk his ear off all night, Astrid in between you and Betty, with Pepper on your right. Tony is sitting on her other side, so it’s not like you can just ignore your dad all through dinner, but you can sure try.

“So you’re all going to be freshmen this year?” Pepper asks. It’s not a total surprise that she knows about your schooling since Natasha had mentioned that Tony had talked to her and Pepper about the situation. But hearing it actually come out of her mouth takes you by surprise. But Astrid saves the day in the end.

“Yup. We’re all starting at Midtown School of Science and Technology, much to Y/N’s chagrin. If we could go to a school where the focus is only reading and English instead, that would probably be her top choice.”

“Is English your favorite subject?” Pepper asks you and you nod, having just taken a bite of the pasta in front of you.

“It’s always been her favorite subject. If Betty hadn’t made her put her book down the first day I met them, I don’t think I would have gotten a word out of her. But then again, Harry Potter is addictive, so it makes sense.” You shoot Astrid a look, for spilling all the beans about you.

“Tony mentioned you were a reader. Something about his cards are buying more fiction then they probably ever have.” Pepper’s hand pats his as she throws a smile in his direction. “That’s probably a good thing. Some people in this place could take some breaks for reading every now and then.”

“That’s unfair. I do read.” Tony almost whines from next to her.

“Something other than manuals and physics books?” Pepper teases. Maybe this is what Natasha meant by she doesn’t put up with Tony’s shit? She calls him out on things? You can’t help but think to yourself as you watch the interaction. Her attention turns back to you. “What are you reading right now?”

“Once and Always.” Tony says as you give your own answer.

“For school or for fun?” Then you turn and look at him. “No, I’m not. I finished that like two days ago.”

“You weren’t even halfway done with it.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrug.

“How about both?” Pepper asks, returning to your question.

“I have to finish A Tree Grows In Brooklyn and write an essay on it before the end of the first week of school, so I’m working on that. And for fun, I just started Love, Simon. And I’m loving it.”

“What’s Love, Simon about?” Pepper seems genuinely interested, but do you tell her the plot and possibly out yourself in front of the all of the Avengers? Especially when some of them like Steve had lived in a time when being bi was really not ok?

“It’s a contemporary of sorts. It’s kind of better to go into it not knowing a lot.” You decide to skimp on explanations and play it safe.

“Well if it you end up enjoying it all the way through, let me know. I’m always looking for a good next read.” Pepper says with a smile.

“Uh sure.” You’re almost surprised that she’s interested in what you’re reading. Nana and Pops always supported you reading whatever you wanted, but they had their own genres to read.

“What do you think of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn?” Steve asks from across the table.

“Boring.” Astrid says with a smirk. “I skimmed enough of it to write my paper.”

“I like the writing style. That’s why I’m taking my time with it.” You admit. “If I really wanted to, I could sit down and finish it in a couple hours. It reminds me of my first time reading To Kill A Mockingbird.”

“If you like those you should give The Secret Lives of Bees and The Poisonwood Bible a try.” Steve suggests before taking a bite of his own plate of pasta.

“You’re just suggesting those because you love those. If she’s a reader she should go with some of the real classics. War and Peace. Anna Karenina. Real Russian novels.” Natasha suggests with her fork enunciating her words. Betty and Astrid can’t help but laugh. All the Avengers turn to look at the teenagers, who seem to be laughing at one of the world’s deadliest assassins. Astrid tries to stifle her giggles, but Betty falls silent.

“Sorry Miss Widow, it’s just Y/N has already read both and loved them. But she read them back a couple of years ago and the school got mad at her for not reading at grade level.” Tony turns to look at you.

“You got in trouble for reading a big Russian novel in middle school?”

“Elementary school.” You correct him. “They didn’t think a 1200 word novel was the right reading experience for a fifth grader.”

“Yeah I’m never going to doubt she’s Tony’s kid.” Clint says before stuffing some pasta in his mouth.

“You read War and Peace at ten?” Natasha asks. You think about it for a moment and then nod.

“Yeah and followed with Anna Karenina, A Confession, The Death of Ivan Ilych, and Resurrection. I went through a Leo Tolstoy phase at that point.” Your eyes drop to your plate as everyone else’s eyes are on you. You push some of the veggies around your plate.

“Our teacher, Mr. Balton, hated it because he couldn’t get mad at Y/N because she was still getting all of her work done and she had the highest grades in our class. Even tried to say she was a distraction to the rest of the class, but when she’s just silently reading, he doesn’t have any pull. He even threw her book across the classroom one day, because he was pissed that she was reading so far above her grade level. And instead of exploding at him, Y/N stood up, walked across the room, picked up the book, sat back down, flipped it back open to where she was and started reading again.”

“Your teacher threw your book?”

“He wasn’t the greatest. It was public school.” You shrug, as Astrid had just explained one of the roughest school years of your life. Mr. Balton tried to make your life a living hell.

“I’m going to find him and-” Tony mutters.

“He got fired.” Betty adds. “He had issues with a lot of the students and was very prone to throwing things.” Betty pauses, and you can almost hear the story she’s not telling. Your head pops up and you catch her eyes. “Anyway…” She turns to change the subject.

“Betty you’re not going to tell the story that got him fired?” Astrid says around a mouthful of pasta and your hand flies over her mouth.

“I don’t think we need to share that story.”

“I think we definitely do.” Tony’s voice comes from the other side of Pepper, firm and less teasing than other nights at dinner.

“Betty, why don’t you tell us about your science paper?” You suggest, knowing that if Tony hears the story, someone will blow a gasket. Most likely him. It shows how badly the public schooling system was, and Pops and Nana had already blown a fuse over it. You didn’t need Tony Stark getting upset over something that happened four years ago.

“I’m more interested in learning about what got your teacher fired.” Tony repeats. “Astrid?”

“I’m good Mr. Stark. I don’t think I was even there the day it happened.” Astrid says before pushing some pasta into her mouth.

“Betty?”

“I’m not even sure which incident you’re talking about sir.” If anything, your two best friends would have your back no matter what. The rest of the table has gone silent. Tony could go into a rage over things that had happened last week. They all had suspicions based on the fact that you wouldn’t let your friends tell the story. If it was something from four years ago that you were worried about him losing it over, you probably had good reason to be worried.

“Y/N?”

“Tony?”

“How did your teacher get fired.” His words come out harsh.

“Why do you really want to know?” You challenge.

“I think you know exactly why I want to know.”

“Tony, is now really the time?” Pepper asks, a hand draping over his.

“Pep-”

“Fine, you really want to know. This is why.” You pull your hair back to show a six inch scar that is hidden by your hair normally.

“What the hell is that.”

“That is what happens when someone throws scissors across a classroom at your head.”

“He threw scissors? At your head?” Tony’s words are spoken through a clenched jaw.

“He did. And had you been there, you could have joined Nana and Pops in their outrage. But four years ago you were off doing your own thing. So… moving on.” You lift your fork to your lips as the rest of the room barely breathes.

“Why?” Tony’s words are almost silent.

“Why what?”

“Why did he throw scissors at you?”

“Because I was reading. I was reading Resurrection and he said no kid my age should be reading a 500 page book while there are kids who could barely do their multiplication tables. And he wanted to make his point. And the closest thing to him was a pair of scissors.”

“I’ll make sure he can never teach again.”

“He can’t. At least not in the state of New York. I doubt anywhere else either. He assaulted a minor. That goes on like police record shit.”

“I should have been there.”

“You didn’t know.” You try to be more mature than you feel in this moment. “You are now. Next time something happens. You’ll be there, I hope.”

“I will.” His arm wraps around Pepper to grasp your shoulder. “I’m here for you from now on.”

tags: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo

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