#this is how he became a trolley engineer. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

A Little Braver - 23

Here we are... the fluff is finally here and Rowan is back.

Enjoy the chapter.

6 months later

The months and seasons had slowly turned and autumn in Terrasen was in full swing with the trees now having lost of all of their leaves and the days turning chilly and October had brought with it all the smells of the season.

Rowan got out of the airbase and looked up at the sky and he could smell snow in the air. His favourite type of weather. He breathed in deeply and enjoyed for a second the feeling of being on land once again after months on a ship. This last deployment had taken a toll on the whole squadron and all of his team members had plans of enjoying their well deserved time off.

“Rowan!” A voice called him and he turned seeing Gavriel coming his way “need a lift somewhere?”

“I was going to call a taxi.”

“Come, I’ll drive you to the fire station.” The man said, knowing full well where Rowan was headed.

Rowan nodded and thanked him. Aelin had told him she was coming off shift around noon. It was eleven and he had some time.

“Are you looking forward seeing Aelin again?” Asked Gavriel once in the car.

“Yes, I have missed her like crazy.”

The man at his side chuckled “you never missed Lyria this much. Never spent so much time on your phone either calling her or texting her.”

Rowan sighed “Aelin is different.”

Gavriel nodded “you found a great one. Truly.”

Gavriel had never been a fan of Lyria either. And the more he thought about it the more he realised that a lot of people have never been keen on his ex wife. No one ever believed she was actually in love with him, but his friends now were fully supporting him with Aelin. Maybe this was how it was actually meant to go.

While he was wool-gathering they had arrived at the fire station and Gav had parked beside the pavement to let him out.

“Have fun you two.”

“Have a nice time off too, my friend.”

Rowan grabbed his duffel bag and turned to the yard. The doors to the apparatus floor were closed. He peeked through the glass and spotted engine and truck. Good, they were in. Now he had to try and make it a surprise.

A moment later he spotted Luca coming out of the main communal area and grabbed his arm “shhh Luca, it’s me.”

The young man turned and smiled deeply when he recognised him.

“Can you please ask Aelin if she can come out here? Invent an excuse, please.” The boy grinned and nodded in understanding “welcome back, captain. She missed you.”

“I missed her too.” He admitted while adjusting his uniform.

At that Luca walked out and Rowan bravely climbed on top of the engine. Dropped his bag and lay low until he heard her voice.

“Luca, what is it? Is there something wrong with the rigs?”

Rowan kept silent and hid a bit better but with his height it was difficult. He also felt the crazy urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

His legs hit the rail and he noticed her turn around looking for the origin of the sound.

“Come out. Show your face. I can kick your arse.”

He grinned and sat on the rig with his legs swinging from the edge while she had her back at him “Is that so, captain?”

He saw her turn and her expression morphed in the smile he adored. Being apart from her had been hell. He had no true idea how mad he was about her until he was forced to spend six months away from Aelin. The thought that he still had four years of that, made him want to scream.

Aelin gasped as she noticed Rowan sitting on top of the fire engine “you are back.” She said softly and Rowan nodded and heard her sniffle “you are truly back.” Aelin could not believe her eyes and for a moment she thought she had fallen asleep and it was all a dream.

“Come up here and see it for yourself.”

Aelin moved as if in a daze, slowly climbed the ladder and once at the top his strong arms pulled her to him and they fell into a heap on top of the hoses.

“Hey you…” he said as Aelin lay on top of him. Her blue eyes fixed on him.

“Hey you…” she replied burying her face in the crook of his neck to inhale the scent of him. He was home, he was back. He was real. Rowan’s arms wound around her in a tight hug “you have no idea how much I missed you. Since they told us when we were coming back I have been counting the days that I still had to spend away from you.”

Aelin did not reply she just melted in his embrace “you have been away from me 192 days and 20 hrs.” She said softly against his neck. She had counted each single day and the more they accumulated, the more she longed for the moment she could hug him and kiss him again.

“It felt like an eternity.”

Rowan turned his face and finally met her gaze and his eyes dropped to her lips and she must have noticed his stare because she looked up at him and kissed him.

The taste of her lips was enough to cancel all the longing of those months apart. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing her lips until she opened for him and a moan escaped Rowan’s mouth as tongues clashed and she moved fully on top of him.

“Aelin…” he said against her lips.

“I know, we are on top of the engine and I know how paranoid you are. Let’s just make out for a while, then once I am off shift we can go home and indulge in more private activities.”

They made out heavily for a good half an hour, then they finally came up for breath. With his hand Rowan pulled back a strand of hair from her face then flipped her nose feeling desperate for contact with her even if they were almost glued together.

“You seem tired.”

Her head thumped on his chest “long and busy shift.”

“Looks like someone needs some heavy cuddling tonight.”

She stared at him and grinned “always. And a back rub.”

“Something else?”

Her grin became wicked “of course, but later.”

She had so much to tell him but she would do it once they were back at home. On top of a fire engine was not ideal.

“I thought you were going to bring Lorcan too.”

“He will meet with Elide later I think. He always has a lot to do after we come back from a mission. But he will see her. The man has been pining like crazy.”

Aelin laughed “honestly? I can’t believe it.”

“Hey I was there and I couldn’t believe it.”

Aelin sat up “come on, let’s go and say hi to the others.”

“No,” he pulled her down back to him and squeezed her.

She brushed his hair and he closed his eyes and he almost purred in delight. Aelin smiled. Iceman, the man who seemed incapable of showing emotions was addicted to cuddling.

They stayed on top of the rig until Aelin heard Peter’s voice and second team arriving.

“Come on, buzzard, second team is here which means it’s time for us to go home.”

Swiftly she made her way down and Rowan followed.

“Hi Pete!” She greeted him happily.

The man looked behind her back “welcome back, sir.”

Rowan turned red at being caught sneaking down the engine but the other captain did not seem bothered.

“Thank you. It’s nice to be back.”

In that instant her whole team poured out in the main area and spotted Rowan behind her.

“Oh, that’s why she never got back.” Said Brullo.

“Yes, yes, the captain and I were cuddling on top of the rig. Now go home and relax.”

Lysandra moved closer to her ear “go and get some, girl. Just don’t make me an aunt yet.”

Aelin laughed “promise.”

The team walked out and Aelin grabbed Rowan’s hand “let me get out of this uniform.”

They reached the changing rooms and it was full of the guys from the second team. She went to her locker and opened the door and disappeared behind it.

“How was the night, cap?”

“Long,” she said, popping her head from behind the door “it seemed like the whole of east Orynth needed us last night.” She saw Rowan on the doorstep and smiled at him while wearing a polo shirt and then a hoodie “oh yeah we had to evacuate a couple who got stuck in an elevator.” And she grinned at Rowan “and by the time we got to open the trap they had decided to pass the time in an interesting way.”

“No bloody way,” commented Peter from his corner.

“The idiots,” she slammed the locker closed “I’ll see you all in a day.” She grabbed her bag and joined Rowan who was waiting for her. He pulled his arm around her shoulder “do you always change with the guys around?”

“Are you jealous?” he did not reply.

“Ro,” she stopped “they are not interested in me. And if I have to strip naked for my shower I’ll do it in private. But if they see me in my knickers and bra, what’s the difference with strangers seeing me in a bathing suit?” She replied “and as you saw I wear sports bra and comfy knickers for work. The sexy stuff is just for you.”

“I guess that firefighting with a thong is not recommended.”

Aelin laughed and they got to the car “jump in, buzzard.”

Before going home they stopped at the supermarket and Aelin explained she had nothing in the house and Rowan rolled his eyes muttering something about her diet.

At the supermarket she went to get a hand held basket but Rowan pulled her towards the bigger trolleys telling her that they needed to do a big shopping since he was back and was going to cook.

Once inside, Rowan offered to push the trolley and Aelin just grabbed his arm and walked at his side, happy at the domestic scene. They were shopping together and he had not mentioned his flat. Maybe she was worrying about nothing about asking to make it official and move in with her.

“Why are you buying all these veggies?” She asked him as he stopped at the vegetables and fruit aisle.

“To cook.” He stooped for a kiss “and stop complaining.”

They kept walking around the supermarket and Aelin saw the trolley getting fuller and fuller. It looked as if Rowan had every intention of keeping her well fed. Not that she complained.

An hour later they finally made it to the checkout. Rowan told her to put the groceries on the belt while he packed and she giggled at the military precision with which he packed.

She paid for the shopping and he carried the bags back to the car.

“We should have a budget for groceries. This one was big because you have nothing in the house.”

“Make sure the budget allows for chocolate expenses.”

“We’ll see.”

They got back in the car and not long after they were finally back at home.

Once inside, Rowan dropped the bags on the kitchen island and started unpacking straight away.

Aelin dropped his bag in the bedroom and joined him in the kitchen with bird Rowan in her arms “someone else wants to say hi.”

Rowan smiled “it’s actually quite nice. It looked lovely online.”

Aelin hugged the toy “he is so soft.”

“Come on, help me unpack.” She put bird Rowan back in the bedroom and went back to the kitchen and together they methodically unpacked the groceries ready to feed a family of five.

Slowly she watched her fridge become full again, something she hadn’t seen in six months.

“Now, let me take a shower, get changed and I’ll make lunch.” He kissed her softly and Aelin purred.

“A quick shower. If you come in as well we’ll never have lunch.”

“Spoilsport.” She turned but Rowan grabbed her arms and pulled her to his chest, his arm around her waist and his mouth on her neck trailing hot kisses along its length. Aelin threw her head back, but Rowan pulled back “fun times later. Food first.”

Aelin groaned in silence at the loss of contact with his body.

When he came back from his quick shower he found her on their bed with her huge hockey jersey and a pair of shorts, barely visible under the huge item of clothing. His eyes landed on her long legs and until that moment he had not fully realised how desperately he needed her. But lunch was a priority and he could not get distracted.

“Come on young lady, let’s go and get you fed.” He offered her a hand and Aelin climbed down the bed and they got to the kitchen.

Aelin sat on the counter and studied him while he set out all of the ingredients and started prepping them.

Then she decided to be brave and pose the question “Ro, do you want to move in with me? As in officially?”

Rowan looked at her perplexed “I thought that’s what we were doing? Living together?”

“Are we though? We never talked about it. You just stayed here after the accident.”

“So?” He asked while slicing the carrots.

“You still have your flat and some stuff there. And I understand if you want to keep your place for yourself to have a moment away from me if it gets too much. I know I am an handful.”

Rowan threw the veggies in the pan and then moved to her.

“Rowan the hob.” She ordered him. Her firefighter paranoia kicking in.

He switched off the gas and moved to her, between her legs and gently took her face in his hands “I only kept my flat in case you got fed up with me and threw me out. I don’t need it. I can sell it.” His hand brushed her hair “I thought I threw you enough hints that I was not moving out. Yes, you are a handful but I love living with you.”

Her arms went around his neck “so we are doing it.” Rowan nodded and kissed her “I can bring all my stuff here in the next few days.”

“I have a spare bedroom, dump your stuff in there.” She grinned and her legs went around his back and kissed him in a dangerous way, but he pulled back.

“Lunch?”

“I am famished.”

“Then let me cook.”

She smiled and swinged her legs happily. She could not believe it. She and Rowan had been together officially for around nine months but only spent three of those together and they were now officially shacking up. She was excited and for some strange reason it felt normal. With Sam it had taken much longer. They had been dating for over a year before she asked him. But with Rowan had felt natural, probably because of how their living situation had started.

“Now, this is how a stir fry looks like.”

“Still too many veggies.”

“Menace.”

Aelin grinned and stole a piece of chicken from the pan. His food tasted so much better than her mess.

Eventually they finished dinner and ended up on the sofa, Aelin all cosied up against him mentally getting ready to tell him everything that had happened while he was away.

“Ro,” she said softly, holding him “I have to tell you something.”

He looked down to her and her tone scared him.

“What, Fireheart?”

Aelin loosened a breath “while you were away a lot of stuff happened. Bad stuff.”

She felt him stiffen “how bad?”

And Aelin told him. About Hamel, her working with the police. Being assaulted in the house, Aedion being shot and the wedding postponed. Her going undercover and almost getting killed again before the detectives shot Hamel. About Hamel being the cause of Sam and Thomas’ deaths.”

Rowan stood abruptly and started pacing in the living room. His expression difficult to read. Rowan paced a bit more and a few times it seemed like he wanted to say something but then stopped. There was rage in him.”A guy, a stranger was in our house and tried to kill you. Hamel’s men tried to kill Aedion and you, not happy of all this, just went and played cop and almost got killed again?” He was not raising his voice but Aelin knew, he was furious. He paced around the coffee table “Rutting hell, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Aelin was taken aback by the harshness of his words “why you didn’t tell me?” His tone angry. His hand nervously ran through his hair. For a brief second he even stopped his pacing but never looked at Aelin in the eyes.

“You were away. How could I?” She stood in front of him “if I had told you, you would have worried and not concentrated on your job and risked getting killed. And I could not have that. I…” she felt tears stinging her eyes “I can’t lose you.”

“What if I lost you?” He shouted back at her, giving his back to Aelin “I can’t lose you either. And I almost did. Twice.” He walked out on the balcony and Aelin let him go and went back to the bedroom and curled on the bed hugging bird Rowan. And cried.

Rowan leaned against the rail of the balcony and stared at the lights of the city slowly coming alive as darkness fell. He was furious, but not at her. He was mad at fate who gave him a woman to love once again and did its best to take her from him. In an instant all his fears, all his doubts and his reasons for not getting involved again had come back. He took his head in his hands and the weak part in him told him to bail. To ignore that just earlier they had taken an extra step in their relationship and just get out of there. Go back being alone and cold. It was far easier.

Except it was not.

He turned to the house and looked at the bedroom. Aelin was curled in bed. He could not leave her. No matter the fears, he could not give up on her, not when she brought him happiness and gave him again the will to feel. He could not go back to a life of ice, pain and guilt. So he did the only thing he could do. He walked back to their bedroom.

She was all curled up and hugging the bird he gave her.

He climbed in bed with her and pulled her closer but Aelin turned and faced him, her eyes all puffy.

“I am sorry, I am a jerk.” he whispered, brushing her hair from her face and drying her tears with the back of his hand “I haven’t seen you in six months and all I can do is shout at you.” He kissed her once “I am not mad at you. Yes, you are reckless but I am more mad at what happened.” He hugged Aelin and drew her closer “I can’t stand the idea that you had to go through all this. And Sam…”

Aelin buried her face in his neck “I am better. Lys and the guys kept me from breaking down. Without them I don’t know…”

Rowan sighed “I should have been here. It looks like I haven’t learned from my past.” At the deep anguish in his voice, Aelin grabbed his face and kissed him deeply.

“You make me stupidly happy.” He told her, a hand brushing her head “and no matter how scared I am of your job or of what the future holds for us, I am not letting you go.” But she sensed unease in his voice.

She sniffled “you are still a bit mad at me.”

Rowan shook his head “no, not at you. At a lot of things, yes. But not mad at you.” His forehead brushed hers “I was overwhelmed and I overreacted. I am glad you did not tell me.” His nose bumped hers “you are right I would have been worried sick and not being able to concentrate and in our line of jobs is a deadly thing.”

Aelin nodded and kissed him gently “thank you for coming back to me.” She whispered against his lips.

“I made you a promise.” His hand sneaked under her shirt, caressing the length of her back. Aelin rolled on her back and pulled her jersey off, remaining only in her shorts. Rowan’s gaze became lustful and she pulled him down to her for a heated kiss. Rowan reached for the back of his t-shirt and pulled it off and discarded it on the floor and then moved on top of her, caging her head between his arms. Aelin took in the expanse of his chest with her hands, then followed the lines of his tattoo with her fingers.

“I missed this so much,” he whispered as his head ducked in the crook of her neck.

“Definitely better than on the phone,”Aelin joked pulling him down to her completely, skin touching. His mouth trailed south leaving scorching kisses on her collarbone and then down to her breasts. Aelin’s back arched on instinct and in response Rowan took one of her hard peaks in his mouth and Aelin moaned, fingers burying in his back and leaving gentle moon-shaped marks.

Aelin rocked her hips for friction and she felt Rowan grin “so impatient.”

“I need you…” she breathed “we can have all the foreplay in the second run, but not now…”

His mouth bit lightly on her neck then his hand slid down until it hit the band of her shorts and knickers “so I guess you don’t need these…” and in a swift motion she was bare in front of him.

“Well, if I am naked, so do you, captain.” Rowan smiled and peeled off his briefs. He leaned back down and her legs wrapped around him and she pulled him much closer until she felt him nudge her near where she desperately needed him.

“I love you,” he whispered and after months apart they met again.

Aelin was sitting against the head of the bed and Rowan’s head was in her lap while her fingers played gently with his hair “do you know how to ice skate?” She asked him.

“A bit, why?”

“They opened an ice rink down in the main square and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. It’s been a long time since I did it.” He turned on his back and looked up “I’d love to. Want to go tonight?”

Aelin nodded “can we have dinner out as well? Have a proper date?”

“Are you asking me out, captain?” Rowan smiled and stretched his arm to caress her cheek.

“Well, it’s my right as well to woo my boyfriend.”

Rowan smiled and sat back up and went to kiss her “I am yours.”

“What time does your shift starts tomorrow?”

“At ten and it’s my usual 24hrs shift.” She told him.

“We should not stay out too long. You came off another night shift this morning and never slept. I need to tuck you in in bed early.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rowan got off the bed and stood, holding out his hand to her “come on, miss firefighter, let’s get you ice skating.”

Aelin beamed in joy and got off the bed and went to put some clothes on. A polo shirt and her favourite TFD hoodie. Then she moved to the bird toy and got her dog tags from it.

“Make sure you have a nice layer on, it’s getting colder outside.” He pulled a scarf around her neck “forecast says it might snow.”

Aelin groaned “I love winter, but snow always causes so many accidents.” Then she realised what she said “I am sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He stooped to kiss her “it’s okay. I am fine.”

She smiled back at him, “let’s go skating, captain.”

Hand in hand they walked to the main square enjoying the chill air and the winter feeling.

“Look,” said Aelin once they reached the square “They have street vendors.”

“I thought you wanted to go out for dinner.”

She turned around and walked backward facing him “but this is winter fair food. It’s so good.”

“Come,” Rowan grabbed her hand “I’ll buy you dinner.” They walked to one of the stall “what do you want?”

“A nice juicy burger.” She smelled the food around her “and a couple of skewers as well.”

Rowan bought the food for her and himself and they sat down on a bench munching away happily.

In front of her the ice rink was surrounded by people being happy and having fun. Then a little blonde girl with pig tails ran to her “hello, gorgeous.” Aelin picked up the girl “where are your parents?” The little girl pointed in a random place. Rowan ruffled her hair and the girl giggled happily.

Then all of a sudden “Lynne.” And a woman hurried towards them “momma.” The little girl screamed at recognising the woman. Aelin passed the child to her mother “thank you,” said the woman hugging her daughter.

“She was adorable,” said Aelin leaning her head against Rowan’s shoulder. He kissed her head “she really was.”

Rowan eventually stood and took Aelin’s hand “Ice skating?”

Aelin joined him and together they went to the rental place and got their skates and changed into them.

Aelin took tentative steps to the entrance of the rink while Rowan had his hand on her lower back.

While Rowan went for the cautionary approach and moved some baby steps on the ice, Aelin was being her usual carefree self and jumped straight in the fray “Come on, buzzard, it’s easy.”

By the time she completed a few laps around the rink, Rowan was still holding to the edge for dear life. She slid to him and took his hands “come with me.” She took his hands and placed them on her sides “easy… follow me.” Slowly he got more confident and they managed to skate hand in hand.

The hour on the the ice was up and they were sitting on a bench again when when Lys texted her that she and Aedion were meeting Elide and Lorcan and have dinner together and invited them as well.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to see Lorcan out of work.” But his smile turned wicked “Oh no, I need to see smitten Lorcan.”

Aelin leaned forward and kissed him “but no jokes in front of Elide.”

“Don’t worry I’ll just gather enough material to take the mickey out of him when we are alone.”

Gently she patted his arms “you really are evil.”

He nodded proudly “no news there. You should know by now.”

The other two couples arrived not long after and Rowan laughed at seeing Lorcan with his arm around Elide’s shoulders. The scene was almost ridiculous given how tall was the man compared to the woman.

“Aren’t they cute?” Whispered Aelin, grabbing his hand and walking toward the couple.

“Hi guys,” said a very happy Elide, waving her hand at Rowan and Aelin.

“Hi, darling.” Aelin hugged her friend and then looked up at the man at her side “evening, commodore.”

“I am just Lorcan tonight.”

Rowan snorted loudly “sure, Lor,”

“Lys and Aedion are on their way.” Added Aelin.

“Did you go ice skating?” Asked Rowan to his boss.

Elide laughed “I tried to convince him but he laughed at me.”

“Oh it would have been amazing to see the drunken giraffe.” commented Rowan with a wicked grin and Lorcan growled back at him “Whitethorn…”

“What’s the drunken giraffe?” Aelin smiled, ready for some snooping.

“Don’t you dare…”

And now the whole group was even more interested.

“So,” started Rowan with an evil grin “Lor was my captain and I was just a lieutenant. We had a team evening here in Orynth and it was winter. The ice skating rink was out. We had a few girls we wanted to impress, so we took them out.” He narrated, while Lorcan glared at him “Lorcan tried to skate but he is stupidly tall and well…” Rowan moved his arms with a jerky motion “it was hilarious.” He continued “his girl called him a drunken giraffe.”

Everyone burst out laughing and for a moment that story threw a funnier light on the man who seemed to be made of ice.

“Fine, fine Rowan you had your fun.”

Elide gave him a pat on his shoulder and in that instant Lysandra and Aedion joined them.

“We are here. Sorry we are late, parking was a pain.”

Aelin jumped all excited “we can finally have dinner.”

“You haven’t stopped eating since we arrived.” And Rowan pulled Aelin to his chest and kissed her temple “I love my bottomless pit.”

“Ow, you two are so cute it’s disgusting.” Joked Lysandra wrapping her arm around Aedion’s midriff.

“Come on let’s go to dinner before Aelin turns hangry.” Elide took Lorcan’s hand and dragged him away and the rest followed.

Once at the restaurants they got a table for six and sat down. Aelin grabbed the menu and started perusing “this place seems amazing.”

“I think we need a nice bottle of wine to celebrate that you two boys are finally back.” Suggested Elide who, all of a sudden, was confident and seemed to have lost all of her shyness.

The waiter came and took their order and as usual Aelin shocked the poor youngster with her gigantic order.

“Captain, are you sure you can afford feeding her?” Joked Aedion.

Rowan shrugged and smiled at Aelin “the bank doesn’t offer mortgages for feeding your girlfriend, apparently.”

The rest of the group laughed.

Then the wine arrived and they toasted and Aelin looked around at the table and smiled at the scene. Of being with her friends and Rowan. She placed her hand on his and gave him a big smile. She kept repeating to herself that he was back and he was real.

Lorcan took a sip of his wine “this feels nice,” and a weak smile painted his lips “after six months of bad food and no treats, this feels like bliss.”

“I didn’t pin you for a wine lover, commodore.” Said Aelin sipping her wine and agreeing with the man. It was a nice one he had got.

The man shrugged “we are posh boys, of course we like wine.” He gave her a half smile.

Aedion snorted “that’s all you can handle.”

“Ok,” almost shouted Lysandra “this is a dinner to have some fun together, not a pissing contest to see who is better between the army and the airforce. Now you three behave.” She pointed her finger at them and Aelin hid her smile behind her hand.

“So,” started Rowan trying to change the topic “any new plans for the wedding?”

Aedion nodded “we have a temporary date in January. We just need to find a venue and few other bits and bobs. And hope for no interruptions this time.”

“At least this time my girls will have their real partner at their side.” She looked at the two men “I am waiting for you two to melt when you see in their dress.

“Oh, believe me they did the first time around too.”

Rowan nodded remembering Aelin in her dress. Yeah the shower had been quite longer than his usual “Both Lorcan and I remember the dresses.” Admitted Rowan trying to sound as casual as possible.

Lorcan looked away almost embarrassed by the admission but Elide gently pinched his side “admit it, you loved it.”

“I did.” He said quietly.

“So captain,” began Lysandra while sipping more wine “are you going to teach our Aelin to cook?”

Rowan chuckled “I can try but I have a feeling it’s a suicide mission. As a soldier I can see when it’s time to push back and retreat.” He brushed his hand on her head softly “but it’s fine I love cooking.”

Aelin was about to reply but their food arrived and her focus disappeared on the plates placed in front of her.

“Sometimes I think she would find me more interesting if I dressed up as a giant hamburger.” She stuck out het tongue out at him and he flicked her nose. After six months away from her he was desperate for some contact. He would have loved to go home and partake in more interesting activities, but the idea of having dinner with the other two couples had been quite pleasant. And Aelin did not seem displeased by his extreme need for PDA.

“So, Lorcan, are you coming to the station one day to see Elide in action?” Suggested Aelin with a grin and Elide almost glared at her nervously.

The man lowered his fork and looked at her “I think I might.” Replied the man eagerly “I must admit, I am quite fascinated.”

“We can also give you a proper tour of the firehouse. The official one.”

“I think we can take them on the trucks, one each” suggested Aedion “I am happy to take the commodore. But you guys need to stay inside the truck.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Hey, I have seen you fly, it’s only fair.”

“You seen him fly?” Elide’s face turned to Lorcan “Can I see you fly?”

“I am sure the commodore and I can give you a lovely display of how I kick his arse.” And Rowan grinned wickedly at his boss.

“Please, please.” Singsonged Elide, taking his hand.

Lorcan nodded “let me know of a day off and we can get it organised.”

“Yes!” Shouted Elide all excited.

“Actually…” continued Lorcan “we sometimes give tour of some ares of the base. I might be able to get permission to invite the whole station for a tour and with the excuse of a drill we can give you a show.” He explained “I think we owe it to the TFD for the help they gave us.”

Rowan stared at Lorcan in disbelief. He knew everyone joked but Elide really was doing the miracle on him. He had never seen his CO so relaxed and willing to offer a tour of the base. Usually he would shove that kind of stuff to him. Rowan gave a big smile to Elide and a silent thank you. Lorcan actually seemed happy.

“I am sure the guys would love it.” Then Aelin turned to Aedion “are you willing to come for one day at posh house?”

“I guess I can do that.” And he smiled.

Lorcan nodded “Rowan, liaise with the captain and choose a suitable day.”

Rowan squeezed her hand under the table.

“Ok good, Rowan is coming to the station tomorrow morning. You can join us around nine.”

“Am I?” But Aelin looked at him puzzled.

“Yes, unless you have other plans.”

“Uhhm I was planning on going kitchen household shopping but I assume I can do grampa stuff another day.”

Aelin patted his head “good, grampa. Come and have some fun.”

Lorcan nodded “9 am sounds perfect. I must admit I am looking forward to this.”

“And coming from Lorcan this is the best compliment ever.” Joked Rowan.

“This is going to be much more fun than you guys running drills with us.” Explained Aedion who for once did not seem to have any problems with the airforce.

The group finished their meal and Aelin was the only one who actually went for dessert and everyone took the mickey out of her.

“Of course she gets the cake.” Elide rolled her eyes “how is it that you are not the size of a zeppelin I do not know.”

“Uh, I love you too.” Added Aelin while munching her cake away.

After the meal the group said their goodbyes Aelin and Rowan walked home, taking a detour through the park, hand in hand.

“I had a lovely evening.” Said Rowan pulling their twinned hand to his mouth and depositing a gentle kiss.

“I can’t believe Lorcan. He is so different.”

“I will be forever grateful to Elide. He is like another man.” He explained “I have known Lorcan for a very long time and I have never seen him so happy.”

Aelin almost skipped happily “are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

“Very much. I really want to see you in action.” He gently pinched her butt and Aelin squealed “you and your sexy jacket.”

“It’s called turnout or bunker gear.” She said to him leaning forward for a kiss “not as hot as your jumpsuit…” She swayed her hips in front of him.

He took a couple of steps and folded his arms around her waist and turned her around “you look hot even covered in grime.”

Aelin chuckled “you never saw me coming out of a house collapse after slithering through the debris and come out with my clothes white, my hair grey ad my face verging on black.”

His hand caressed her sides “Imagine the long shower…” his lips brushing hers gently.

“We are in a park, captain.” Her arms sneaked around his neck.

“I am just reminiscing our first kiss.” And slowly pinned her to a tree.

Aelin leaned forward and kissed him first “I’d throw my shoes at you but they are trainers and would hurt. It’s a shame I don’t have my flats on.”

“My menace…” he whispered, their mouths sharing a breath. “I should take you home. You have work tomorrow.” And pulled back from her, grabbing then her hand and resuming walking.

“You fuss too much.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and smiled “let’s just say it’s in the job description for boyfriend.”

“What else does it entail?”

He took a long pause staring toward the pond “make you happy, mostly.”

Aelin stopped him and turned him to her “you do. Make me happy, I mean.” Rowan stooped and kissed her hard “home, now. It’s getting near your bed time.”

“Sexy bed time?”

“No, young lady, we are going home and tuck you in bed and no shenanigans allowed.”

“You are no fun,” she complained walking away from him pretending to be mad.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back “You came off shift this morning and I got home this morning. We both need rest.”

Her smile turned wicked “I might go and find myself a younger model. I wonder if Fenrys is interested in a sexy firefighter.”

A second later Aelin found herself pinned again against a tree and his lips on hers, the kiss demanding and almost possessive.

When Rowan pulled back they were both breathless, his forehead leaned on hers “don’t even joke about it.”

“Jealous much?”

“You are my girl.” He whispered against her lips and the tone he used made her heart melt.

“Said that again.”

“You,” his lips travelled along her neck “are,” a gentle nip of his teeth “my girl.” And a searing kiss.

How was it possible that the man in front of her could stir such deep passion and desire in her? Something so strong she had never felt before with anyone. It felt like an all consuming fire. She just hoped it would stay like that forever. She felt his hand sneak under her hoodie and touch skin and groaned into the kiss “let’s go home, captain. We are in a park and both about to lose it.”

He nodded silently and started walking home as quick as they could.

As soon as they were through the door to the house, Rowan lifted her in his arms, kicked the door shut with his foot and walked to the bedroom.

“I thought you said no shenanigans.”

“Fuck it.” He let her slid down and a second later his hand had started peeling off her clothes and she did the same.

“Show me what you got.” A second later she was airborne in his arm and then in bed. His strong body hovering over her. His pine green eyes trained on her and she could see the desire in them.

When he kissed her again her toes curled and heat began pooling at her core.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. It was all he needed and a moment later his name was on her lips begging him for more over and over again.

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @courtofjurdan

@whimsicallyreading @tillyrubes10 @surielandiareendgame

@aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @acreativelydifferentlove

@mis-lil-red @thegreyj

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #elide x lorcan #aedion x lysandra

64 notes · View notes

be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

The Luckiest (19 Years Later)

I wrote this as an epilogue to my multichapter fic, Completely Mental, but it works as a standalone drabble too. So here it is! I just love these boys (men!), and I love their friendship. #HarryAndRonBrotp

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

19 Years Later

The soft autumn sun smiled down on the Burrow’s grounds, its reflection illuminating the windows like a lighthouse. A crisp breeze whistled through the garden, bringing with it a hint of cooler days to come. Inside, the smell of dinner sizzling on the stove, butterbeer bottles clinking, children playing, and adults laughing filled the room, but it was still too quiet for Harry’s liking.

Harry always loved September. Growing up, September marked the transition from 4 Privet Drive to Hogwarts, and it came with a sweeping feeling of relief knowing he’d finally be able to see his friends again. Every year, his anticipation for September would grow stronger and start sooner, until summer eventually became something to endure rather than enjoy.

His love of autumn — and by extension, his distaste for summer — persisted into adulthood, even when life moved on after the war. Although there were no more shopping trips to Diagon Alley, journeys on the Hogwarts Express, or sorting hat ceremonies reinforcing Harry’s eagerness for the fall, his feelings remained. Harry would wake up on September 1st giddy and eager, like a child on Christmas Eve, and then proceed to make breakfast for the kids and floo to the Ministry for an Auror meeting, just like any other day. There was no longer anything particularly exciting about September, but he kept a tight grip on his memories of the scarlet steam engine, trolley snacks, and welcome feasts.

That all changed two years ago when James began his first year at Hogwarts. That year, September 1st brought a change that he wasn’t ready for — watching his son board the Hogwarts Express. James’ eyes sparkled with excitement, but Harry shared none of the enthusiasm. Instead, Harry’s stomach felt heavy with dread as he watched the train roll away, smiling and waving at James’ anxious face in the window while holding back tears and desperately wishing it was still August.

The following year wasn’t any easier, and today was even worse. When Albus joined James on the train, it took all of Harry’s effort to reassure him that everything would be okay because, for Harry, it probably wouldn’t. It was funny how Harry could defeat Voldemort at seventeen, but he was still convinced that saying goodbye to his kids on platform nine and three-quarters was the most difficult thing he’d ever do.

Harry was half-listening to the hustle and bustle of the Burrow and trying not to get too comfy in the extra spaciousness in the living room, made possible only by the absence of the older children when he spotted a flash of red outside in the garden. Ron was sitting alone on a bench, cradling a butterbeer, his hair a stark contrast to the muted green of the overgrown lawn.

Without a second thought, Harry moved toward the Burrow’s exit, following the narrow stone pathway that curved into the garden. It didn’t cross his mind whether or not Ron wanted to be alone, and even if he did, there was an unspoken agreement between them that ‘alone’ didn’t exclude being with each other.

Ron smiled ruefully when he spotted Harry approaching, but it only lasted a second before his shoulders slumped and his smile vanished. “Hey, mate.”

“Hey,” said Harry, plopping down beside Ron on the bench. Ron shifted sideways to make room for him. “You okay?”

“Dunno,” said Ron, before bringing his butterbeer to his lips and taking in a long gulp.

“Thinking about Rosie?” asked Harry.

Ron nodded and coughed, clearing his throat from his oversized sip. “Bloody hate that she’s gone.”

“I know the feeling,” said Harry. “Was even worse this year with Al going too.”

“I bet. Sorry, mate.”

A few comfortable moments of silence passed, as both men knew perfectly well that there was nothing to say to make the other feel better.

Ron gulped down the rest of his butterbeer before speaking again. “I just hope she’s okay.”

Harry smiled, remembering how he said that about James his first year. When James turned out fine, better than fine, Harry had to admit his concern was for his own loneliness rather than James’ safety. “She’s probably fine, but you know that,” he says, earning a moment of confused eye contact from Ron. “It’s us you should worry about.”

“We almost died at Hogwarts. So many times,” said Ron, a wistful smile forming on his lips.

“And thanks to us,” said Harry, “they have it better than we did. Either way, she’s a tough girl. Smart. You raised a good one.”

“Thank Merlin she takes after her mum.”

Harry laughed. Hermione always said that Rose took after Ron, not her. Harry thought it was both. They probably saw the best traits in their daughter and assumed they were from the other parent. “Rosie takes after you a lot more than you think.”

“That’s what Hermione says. But thanks, now I’m even more worried,” laughed Ron. “Think Rosie and Albus’ll be in Gryffindor together?”

“No doubt about Rosie,” said Harry, as the memory of Rosie’s first time on a broomstick resurfaced. Rosie’s face was scarlet-red with excitement as she took a nosedive toward the ground, followed by a frenzied and panicked Ron. The cushioning charm he just barely cast in time turned out to be unnecessary, as she swerved at the last second to avoid a collision, but Harry was pretty sure Ron’s blood pressure had never returned to a normal level.

“Yeah, stupid question,” laughed Ron. He smiled, and Harry wondered if he was recalling the same memory or one of the many other times Rosie demonstrated Gryffindor courage, even if it meant disregarding her own safety. “What about Albus?”

“Honestly, no clue. I could see him being in Gryffindor or Slytherin,” he said, noticing Ron wince at ‘Slytherin.’ Ron’s reaction filled Harry with a parental defensiveness he wasn’t expecting, and he added pointedly, “I’ll be proud of him either way.”

Ron nodded in agreement, maybe a bit too eagerly, but it momentarily settled the passing fear that Albus would be sorted into a different house than his siblings and cousins. It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want him to be in Slytherin, he just didn’t want him to be alone.

But maybe Albus wanted to be in a different house than his family, and Harry was just projecting.

“I wonder who they’re sitting with on the train,” said Ron as if reading Harry’s mind. Then he flashed his lopsided grin, still goofy and youthful even at the ripe age of thirty-seven. “You know those unfortunate souls will have to be their friends for the rest of time.”

Unfortunate souls. Harry smiled at the insinuation that becoming Ron’s best friend was determined as soon as they found that empty compartment together on the Hogwarts Express. Maybe Neville was meant to lose his toad, and Hermione’s subsequent intrusion was no accident. As far as Harry was concerned, prophecies had only caused him trouble, but maybe he owed destiny a token of gratitude, too. “Whatever souls they’re sitting next to are extremely lucky.”

“The luckiest,” added Ron with a nostalgic smile.

It was unclear if Ron was still referring to the kids at this point, but it didn’t matter. It was all the same to Harry. They were the luckiest.

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

For more moments like this, read Completely Mental on Ao3 or FFN. Now complete! <3

#brOTP #harry and ron brotp #Ron Weasley #Harry Potter #hp ficlet #ROMIONE #hinny #ron x hermione #Ron and Hermione #next gen harry potter #canon compliant

95 notes · View notes

allfrogsmatter · 3 years

Text

The two sat in silence for a while, thinking about their futures and how they’d just changed.

Tony couldn’t be an engineer, not without the education. And now he couldn’t even finish out high school.

“Tony...” Irene said softly, breaking the silence, “I’d come with you if you asked”

Tony looked at her, trying to understand as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’d be your wife”

The sounds of the river sloshing about its bed and the trolley rattling past became deafening as Irene’s words hit him.

Tony wanted her to be his wife- he did. But he wasn’t sure he was ready. When he was going to be an engineer, he had four more years of university before he would be expected to think of marriage. He could have put her off until he was ready, but now his entire future was shattered. He couldn’t see a clear path forward, and he knew he’d have to make one.

Tony looked at her a long while, thinking about what he should say. If he should propose right then and there, or tell her they were too young. He was only seventeen, and Irene sixteen, but then, many people married young. Some younger than seventeen or sixteen.

The longer his silence drew on the more embarrassed and discouraged Irene grew. A humiliated blush spread across her cheeks and her lip began to quiver as she held back tears. Seeing her in such a state quickly put Tony’s mind to rest, and his heart decided his response.

“I’d like that”

first ~ previous ~ next

#ts4 #s4 decades #sims 4 decades #ts4 decades challenge #hayes legacy #1920s #sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 decades challenge #anton paige #irene pierson

13 notes · View notes

dorminchu · 3 years

Text

Insult to Injury: The Director’s Cut — Chapter 02

Fandom: James Bond Characters: Madeleine Swann, Lyutsifer Safin, various OC(s) Relationships: Madeleine Swann & OC(s), Madeleine Swann & Mr White, Madeleine & Lyutsifer Safin Warnings: Aftermath of violence, PTSD, implicit sexual content, moderate language. Rating: M Genre: Crime/Drama Summary: A troubled psychologist desperate to escape her past criminal ties finds herself drawn into a far more insidious schism. [Post-Skyfall]

[Ao3 | FFNet]

— Episode II: GRATITUDE —

Behind closed eyes it was impossible to tell if the Jeep was approaching or departing the source of violence. Slowly, Madeleine let her hands fall into her lap. They were travelling up the main road. In front of her, the driver whom she did not recognise. In the passenger seat, going by the voice and distinct gloves, Safin.

As they pulled onto the main road the vehicle merged into a convoy. In the opposite lane, several more unmarked cars headed back the way they’d come. Her mind made the connection her emotions wouldn’t.

“Don’t look," said Miller quietly, "it won’t do you any good.” Madeleine attempted to shrink deeper into herself but could not. Even now, thinking of her own survival. Who could say how many of the Psychosocial Unit or the remaining MSF were still alive? What of the doctors? What of their patients? And what had become of the FSP?

It could have been her brain matter spattered over the vehicle. Each time she undertook a mission she accepted the inevitability of violence and prolonged emotional duress. Easier to coldly recontextualize the events in the aftermath, never so intimately.

Madeleine tried to focus on something else. Just the hum of the engine and her own breathing. A few indistinguishable words exchanged between Safin and the driver. Morris's hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Pulling into the lot at Conakry International Airport, the Jeep came to a stop. Ushered out of the vehicle, asphalt beneath her feet, cleaner air in her lungs. After a standard security check Madeleine was directed towards a side room away from the main terminal. The Project Coordinator came over and put an arm around her and offered her a place to sit and some bottled water.

Miller was called away to confer with the surviving team members. Madeleine surveyed the room. The door that she’d came in through was currently flanked by Kerberos. With the exception of the Medical Coordinator the other mission heads had survived. There were only about thirty of the fifty members of the operation present. She didn’t recognise anyone from the Psychosocial Unit.

Unfamiliar hand on her shoulder causing her to flinch. Looking up into the face of a hospital aide, male. Probably Arnaud's age. Fresh latex gloves. Arms recently scoured. “Dr Swann, right? You were with the Psychosocial Unit.” Voice slightly muffled by respirator mask.

Madeleine gave a curt nod. The aide studied her face. Attention drawn to her hands caked with dry blood, throttling the plastic bottle. She let go. Jaw tight.

"Okay.” Brief, pitying look before his attention diverted. Madeleine unclenched her jaw, kept her head down.

“The situation has changed,” announced the Project Coordinator. “A few days ago, following the initial attack on the hospital, we received intelligence that Donka Hospital would be targeted directly. Thanks to the combined efforts of Kerberos and our Logistics Unit, the majority of our patients and remaining MSF were moved to a safer location over the last several nights and have not been harmed. The motive behind the attack on the hospital and MSF staff this morning has not been determined. But due to misinformation spread about the nature of this virus, and the circumstances surrounding the previous incident at Donka Hospital, many civilians are ready to place blame upon the MSF for complicity in tampering with the vaccine.

“Now, the details are still murky. I can assure you, there is no causation on part of the MSF. And it is fortunate that we've minimised the casualties of the patients as well as our own. But we cannot continue operations without a proper Medical Unit. All non-essential members of the mission will be discharged.”

After the briefing, the Project Coordinator took Madeleine aside. “What is the duration of your assignment as psychologist consultant, Dr Swann?”

“Three months. I started in May.” Her voice was dry, brittle.

“Well, they’ll have to find another consultant.”

“How soon will you be able to find a replacement for the position?”

His face became stony. “You are the sole survivor of the unit. It may as well not exist in its current state. There's no sense in forcing you to remain on-site.”

Two Kerberos escorted her outside while Safin exchanged a few words with the Project Coordinator. Catching up, he said nothing to her as they walked across the lot and into the car. When the driver pulled out of the lot she was given the following information: Her flight home departed later in the evening. In the meantime she'd have a room to herself at Hotel Palm Camayenne. Her luggage had been accounted for. “You'll be collected from the room an hour in advance; the party will ask for White's daughter. Don't open the door to anyone else.” He looked over at her in the mirror. “Is that clear?”

“Of course.”

⁂

In the tastefully lit lobby of the Hotel Palm Camayenne, the attendant behind the desk sized Madeleine up and informed her she'd been marked down for a Prestige Suite. Madeleine, still reeling from the chaotic morning but wise enough to roll with the situation, asked if her things had been collected.

The attendant's eyes went quickly to the Kerberos in the background. She gave Madeleine the room number and gestured brusquely towards the young-faced bellhop waiting beside the elevator. “He's got all of your things from the other hotel. Enjoy your stay.”

The bellhop wasn't for conversation. He stole a couple pointed glances at Madeleine as if she were wearing something ostentatious. The elevator door opened, and he asked curtly if she would like him to help her into the room with the bags. When Madeleine accepted, he wheeled the trolley ahead, unlocking the door and unloading her valise, quickly muttered: “Have a nice day,” and left without looking back.

On her own, Madeleine was taken aback by the scale of the room. Closer to a small suite; complete with living room, an elegant dining room and desk. Classic furniture. A view of the Atlantic Ocean through panorama windows. Carpet at her feet. Air conditioning. After two solid months of living in a small, stuffy room at the Grand Hotel de L’independence this was much closer to home.

All of her clothes and additional items were in order. Afraid to touch anything or sit down for fear of sullying it. With that settled she wandered into the bathroom; Carrara marble. A shower and bathtub. French cosmetics by Chopard. Artificial floral scent permeated her nostrils. She finally got a look at herself in the mirror and imagined the look on Arnaud's face if she showed up at the gate in her current condition. Smirked.

The staff here probably didn't see many dishevelled, bloodied socialites. No wonder she'd garnered such a reception. She laughed. Caught her eyes in the mirror. She wasn't laughing anymore. Difficult to breathe. It was the perfume.

Her throat tightened. Dry-heaving. Collapsing over the toilet. Exhuming whatever was left inside of her stomach. A convulsion worked through her body. Her voice warped, mutating. Not a sob but a guttural sound clawing its way up from her lungs. Animal distress, unable to escape. Head clutched in her hands. Shaking, shaking.

Breathe.

Clutching the porcelain.

Just breathe.

You’re going home in a few hours. This will just be another bad dream.

She turned on the fan to air out the room, had a shower, redressed. The operation in Conakry would just become another failure written off as a fluke. In a matter of hours the tragedy would breach headlines in the interest of garnering military attention and drop within a week, after the government stepped in. In a month she’d reacclimatise to her career too substantial to be dead-end, Arnaud and her sham of a social life, until the cycle repeated itself.

She had a few hours left until her flight. There were a couple restaurants on the ground floor, and Safin's instructions didn't preclude her from leaving the room. Might as well see if she could keep a meal down.

⁂

Later that night, confined to the plane's cabin with no tangible distractions, unable to sleep. Her arrangements at the hotel provoked an extreme reaction and it wasn't only a result of recent trauma; the quality of the room itself, the collection of her possessions without incident, and even the window of time before her collection and escort to the airport, were all characteristic of her father's tacit interference.

From the time she was ten until seventeen he would send her off to Ermatige International School for the lion's share of the year. Abroad, Madeleine felt for the first time a sense of emptiness her young heart understood yet failed to quantify. She had never been close to her father but in his absence, something was lost that could not be remade.

The first day she was shown her room, her roommate introduced herself as Alice and shook her hand. Alice had a firm grip for an eleven year-old. “It’s nice to meet you, Madeleine. Can I call you Maddie?”

The nickname brought to mind her father’s voice, but there was no dissuading certain people from habit. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Alice let her go. “So, the counsellor’s going to have us all meet up in the courtyard in ten minutes for a basic tour. I could walk down with you.”

“I know how to get there by myself. It’s just down the stairs. The instructor provided a map.”

“Oh… well, if you have any questions about where to go or what to do, don’t think twice about asking me.”

“I won’t.” Madeleine made a point of straightening out her bedsheets, then noticed Alice was in the doorway waiting up for her. “Thanks.”

For the next several months falling into the façade of the aloof, privileged girl who led an unassuming life at Maisons-Laffitte. Classes were stimulating enough to take her mind off her own problems. Extracurricular activities; horseback riding, hikes in the summer, touring the town in winter. Enjoying the sights and sounds as like a tourist.

The instructors found her obedient and diligent in her studies but expressed concern about what they referred to as antisocial tendencies. Her classmates speculated about her in English and then talked to her cordially in French.

Even in the mess hall, she couldn’t catch a break. “Hey!” Madeleine tensed. Expecting another round of condescension masquerading as kindness—but it was just Alice and her own circle of friends. “Come on, sit with us!” Alice's friends were all a year older. Charitable enough, giving Madeleine the obvious questions—where are you from, what classes are you most interested in, et cetera. Madeleine endured their kindness without complaint.

At night, there were no more diversions. Dreams experienced in abstract. The old home in Altaussee. The front door unlocked. Lake frozen over. She could run, but never fast enough.

Ice beneath her feet giving way. Turning from the water at her back made no difference. Submerged. Gloved hands reached for her, an iron grip that pulled her toward the water’s surface.

Madeleine screamed, taking in water. Clawing at bare hands, softer arms. A girl’s voice, calling her name.

Opening her eyes. Alice’s young face tight with horror. Her eyes wet.

A few minutes later Madeleine was sitting in the nurse’s office, who attempted to pry more than a monosyllabic answer out of her for twenty minutes before leaving to talk with someone higher-up, and Madeleine sat there, deliberating. Act too stubborn and they'd label her psychotic. Too hysterical and they’d kick her out. So when the nurse returned Madeleine grudgingly confessed the truth. She’d been having bad dreams ever since her maman was gone, and that her father didn't know how else to deal with it beyond sending her here.

The nurse's demeanour shifted. She asked Madeleine a few more questions about the situation. Madeleine gave rote, easy answers. In the end, the nurse concluded that there was nothing technically wrong but she'd have to be isolated from her roommate if this behaviour persisted. She gave Madeleine some names and a pamphlet about grief counselling and advised her to look it over in the morning. Madeleine thanked her.

It was Alice who waited outside and walked her back to their room, finally breaking the silence: “Are you okay?” Madeleine averted her face to the window, squaring her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?” Madeleine walked over to her bed, sat down, looking at the pamphlets without processing the printed words. “Enough of that—you need to try and sleep.”

“I can't.” Madeleine pulled the sheets tighter around herself.

“Okay. May I sit with you?” Madeleine shrugged. Alice's weight flumped down on the mattress. Their shoulders touched. Listening to the other girl's even breathing, Madeleine gradually relaxed in the same way. “My mother died earlier this year. My father sent me here.”

“Oh.” Alice turned her face towards her. “Uh—I'm sorry about your mother. Was she nice?”

Madeleine began to shiver again. Alice's arm came around her and Madeleine shut her eyes, turning loosely into the gesture without reciprocation.

For the rest of the year Alice kept Madeleine stabilised while Madeleine kept her at arm’s length. The closest thing to a best friend she’d ever had.

When Madeleine came home on holiday, her father was suddenly a different man. Never once would his disposition thaw into true warmth, but all of a sudden he wanted to know; how were the other students, did she enjoy her classes, and did she have any particular school in mind if she wished to continue studying abroad after graduation?

Who was this stranger? Since when had he ever offered to get to know her on a personal level? That had been mother's concern. Ten year-old Madeleine wanted to laugh. She’d wanted to dig down into her tiny adolescent heart and find the right string of words to destroy him for such an affront. As if he could simply earn her respect and affection through negotiation. Instead, she just shrugged her shoulders and said: “It's not bad so far. I liked my instructors. I promised this one girl I’d write to her over holidays.”

“It’s my understanding that you had a rough start?” Madeleine froze. Her father’s eyes cold. “If you had told me as such, I could have set aside a psychologist for you to speak with.”

“It wasn’t my first choice. I just told the psychologist that my mother had died, and I was upset about it.”

“And what did he say?”

“She told me it wasn’t my fault. People process their grief in different ways.” She shrugged. “These things happen.”

Raising her eyes to meet her father’s. His expression softened a fraction but not for her sake. The best way to destroy a man like this was to let him go on thinking he was forgiven. No sense looking a gift horse in the mouth. She'd take his money and whatever else he saw fit to bestow with a rudimentary thank you. And she would work as hard as possible to step out of his shadow and have something to call her own.

The next year Alice transferred to a different academy, so they kept in contact through epistolary means. At fifteen, Madeleine stopped responding to her letters.

⁂

Arnaud picked her up from Air France airport. Diligent enough not to greet her with an interrogation, only a hello and an unexpected one-armed embrace. Normally Madeleine would have tried to squirm out of it, but all she could think about was how alive he was in her arms—even the smell of him. She hadn't gotten a lick of sleep on the flight. Without thinking she let him take her arm as they walked out of the terminal into the sunshine.

On their walk to the car, driving away, Arnaud was quiet. Something which Madeleine had always appreciated about him before but only recalled the horrible stillness in the drive to the airport. Her hands wandered towards the radio dial and turned it up sharply. Arnaud turned the volume down low at the next stop, glancing over at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Couldn’t he just ask if she were okay? “There’s not much to say. I did my job to the best of my ability. There were drastic complications and the mission was ultimately a failure. Now I am back here. Does that cover it?”

He frowned. “No one is blaming you for anything.”

Madeleine sat back and waited for the pressure to ease up in her head. Disconnected from the familiar sights and smells of ordinary civilian life after two and a half months living in Conakry. When she stepped out of the car her gait was unsteady. If she even sat down a little longer, let her guard down, she’d nod off. Going up the stairs, Arnaud helped her with the luggage and asked if she needed anything else. Madeleine shook her head. Flopped down on the bed like a corpse, into dreamless sleep.

⁂

Opening her eyes, expecting the cracked peeling paint of the hotel room. The lack of humidity gave her pause. A gentle floral scent persisted, alien to the room. Arnaud must've left the window open.

Turning into the warm body at her shoulder, cradling her. After so many days of running herself ragged the promise of empty stillness and domesticity brought no comfort. She laid very still without closing her eyes. The ochre light cast onto the room might be dusk or daybreak. Her vision clouded over. An involuntary reaction incited by recent trauma. Trembling.

Arnaud made a soft noise into her cheek. The hand at her shoulder shifted. Madeleine froze. Unable to verbalise what she needed, pressing herself closer. Arnaud, running a hand over her back, said something gentle, indistinct.

Madeleine couldn't settle down. She was more alive in this moment than she had been in a long time. She turned into his chest. Threw her leg over his waist. His expression changed. She took his face in her hands, kissing him bluntly.

His breath released slow against her mouth. Slowly coming alive. Hands moving over her body like she'd break if he went any faster. Madeleine allowed him this courtesy. For the first time in months they couldn't get much closer.

Another round of dreamless sleep. She woke up in a start, unsure what time it was, before realising she didn't have to go into work anyway. Arnaud was still there. He kissed her temple and told her it was only evening. Asked if she'd like to order-in.

A pit heavy in her stomach, then an urge to cry. Trapped in a period of convalescence, what could she say to this man? “That's fine.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Your secretary called earlier in the afternoon.”

“Oh, yes. I'll get back to her soon.”

Arnaud smiled. “I think you could use a break from taking calls, don't you?”

Madeleine shook her head. A smile worked onto her mouth as if by reflex.

⁂

The next few days were relatively uneventful. Arnaud took time off work to keep her company. Madeleine accepted his presence in his life without comment. Once she’d rested and he was reassured she’d be okay by herself, she had full dominion.

When she could not busy herself in paperwork or other constructive activities, she would become despondent and start picking apart the heads of anyone who tried to dissuade her into optimism. Arnaud was a convenient enough target, but he was just as keen to make himself scarce.

Before she'd left for Conakry, they lacked the investment to like or dislike each other with any real commitment. Now he was a little kinder. Her recent brush with death had softened her up enough to let him talk her into going along to the L’Orriù di Beauvau, trying to assign significance to the sights and sounds surrounding her, in the voice of the waitress and the smell of coffee. She did not look around for inconspicuous men and women who might be sitting in the side-lines, observing.

Sleep was almost impossible now without Arnaud. Three months ago, the idea of relying on him, or anyone else to that degree, would have been disconcerting. Physical intimacy a decent enough substitute, only as a last resort. She’d misled him in that regard.

⁂

A discreet, anonymous enrolment into Oxford and the Sorbonne were her father’s last gifts to her before he cut off all official contact. During her time at the Sorbonne as well as Oxford, Madeleine relinquished any prospect of a social life to work as hard as possible. Only her college roommate was a constant in her life, so Madeleine made sure to keep their relationship cordial but never too intimate.

Her roommate and assorted friends were more socially conscious and made a habit of dragging Madeleine along to various functions as their designated driver. Efforts to invite her on group dates proved fruitless. Madeleine kept her answers non-incriminating and dull, quietly vetting what was offered. Well-groomed socialites jockeying for compatible mates. An ill-fitting distraction from the emotional void kept close to her chest. So the other women assumed she was too good for any of it, and the men were uncomfortable being scrutinised. Madeleine was the only one who found it amusing.

Other colleagues would come to her for advice in an educational context. Graduation was a quick, unemotional affair. Madeleine had no extended family to invite. Just her short-term friends, to be thanked politely, genuinely, and then discarded. The ceremony itself was lovely. Safe and boring.

In the middle of the commencement speech an individual figure in the stands caught her attention. An older man, perhaps in his early fifties, hidden partially behind sunglasses and a smart dress-hat. With a nauseating thrill she recognized his smile, the angles in his face a little more pronounced with age. If she seemed to balk, it was on account of the crowd and her nerves and nothing else. For the rest of the ceremony she wanted nothing more than to escape her own body.

Taking feeble comfort in the idea that he would not converse with her directly; but his presence was enough of an affront. Why give him further opportunity to wound her pride by acknowledging him outright?

⁂

Days in Paris bled into each other without further incident. Even after convalescing a sense of displacement remained. Whenever out and about, Madeleine couldn’t help casing the streets. Just in case. It couldn’t hurt. Arnaud didn’t even seem to notice at first.

Then he wanted to bring his friends. “They want to see you, too.”

It was easier to remain cold when the tangible fragility of her existence was as distant as her father. Now, trapped in a lovely room with people she did not trust in the same tenuous sense as Arnaud. What gave them the right to emphasise?

It would be so easy to dismantle any of them and their residential issues. Laughable that she should bother to relate to them after the problems she had been listening to for weeks on end.

Her eyes skirted around the room. Unable to enjoy herself. Arnaud took her hand; Madeleine realised she was trembling. The woman sitting across from her asked if she was all right. They’d all heard about Conakry. Polite enough to have restraint but their eyes betrayed them, itching to know more. Madeleine had nothing to say. Pretty soon Arnaud and his friends were scrambling for conversation topics and trying not to pay her behaviour any mind.

When they got home he accused her of making a scene. She assured him, patiently, that she was not trying to ruin anything. Just on-guard after weeks of living in what amounted to a warzone. Arnaud chewed on that. Apologised, he was trying to understand her situation, and all they could do was be patient with each other.

But he was frostier. That night, sleep was fitful. Waking from an intangible nightmare, she was ten—twenty-six, in Paris. Smell of fresh linen, coffee. The apartment was small and spare. Morning again. No one beside her.

“Madeleine?”

She sat up. Arnaud was dressed for work. He’d never looked his age before. Then again, their relationship had never offered so much duress.

“When are you going to see someone?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m worried about you.”

“I can’t.”

A sharp exhale. “Why can’t you?”

“I have my reasons.”

“I don’t know how you can go on living like this. You won’t even try to fix yourself.”

“What could you possibly understand about my life?” she spat. “You’ve never given a thought about—” jaw tight, she averted her eyes “—it isn’t as simple as coming back and pretending to be okay. I would never ask you to understand what I am going through. But if you want me to stay with you, I’m not discussing this again.”

“Do you hear yourself?” he hissed. “You’re acting like a child. All you have to do is take the first step to fix this.”

Madeleine straightened up. “If that’s how you feel, then I won’t bother you anymore.” He laughed, incredulous. “We’re both financially secure. You were convenient enough three years ago to get my father off of my case, but we have our own lives to consider. This arrangement was always going to be temporary.

Arnaud didn't laugh or raise his voice. He just went quiet. An awful, ringing kind of silence she’d never had to deal with from him. Then said, “All right. I've got work to do anyway. We’ll discuss this later.”

Leaving without another word. He’d never done that before. Arnaud couldn’t cut through the cruel veneer of indifference that her father's upbringing had instilled in her, and she wouldn’t force him to deal with her emotional baggage.

Madeleine did a quick self-assessment. The woman in the mirror looked like hell. She dressed for the day, made an effort to appear photogenic, phoned the secretary and informed her she would arrive at her office in half-an-hour, no further discussion.

On the way to work she was thinking of the weather, hoping it rained now rather than when she got off her shift so she wouldn’t have to come home in a downpour. By the time she got to the office, the conversation with Arnaud was just another bad dream.

Of course, everyone in the clinic wanted to know how she was after a week of radio silence. Madeleine acknowledged their concerns. It had been a mess abroad, and she was grateful to be back home. The awkward silence didn’t console her. She locked eyes with her secretary and coolly asked who would be seeing her today.

Fifteen minutes into her first session with a client, she received a call. Probably Arnaud. She ignored it without checking. A minute later the phone rang again. Madeleine glanced over at the number. Secretary. She picked up. “Yes?”

Men from the Brigade criminelle here to see her. They would not take no for answer.

With a contrite apology and a much colder vice in her stomach Madeleine escorted the client out while two men came to substitute. The first, Officer Blois, a middle-aged man with red hair and a mole on the side of his chin, introduced himself accordingly. “I’ll get right to the point. Arnaud is dead. He was found this morning outside of the apartment. Presumably he must have jumped but there are a few details that we’d like to run by you.”

Madeleine said: “That’s all right.” Her eyes drifted to the other man and her blood froze. She’d recognise him anywhere. As if he was brought into existence out of recollection and into reality. Safin wouldn’t look directly at her.

“He was found this morning?” Madeleine reiterated, forcing herself to focus on the situation at-hand. Officer Blois misinterpreted the nature of her unease.

“That’s right. Was he involved directly in your activities with MSF?”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Did he have any prior knowledge of your activities?”

“Only to the extent that I volunteered, nothing specific. We have—we had, our separate interests.”

“Do you have reason to suspect he would have any suicidal idealisation, thoughts of self-harm?”

“No.”

Was it possible he’d come back and decided enough was enough? Or walked into the apartment to find someone else waiting for him?

“Is there anyone in his life that would wish him or yourself ill?”

“No one, he had—colleagues, but we didn’t talk much.”

“I’ll take it from here,” said Safin coolly.

Officer Blois looked from Madeleine’s dubious expression to Safin’s unreadable one, frowned. “Are you sure there’s nothing—?”

“Officer Blois—” another woman opened the door, also in uniform “—we’ve got some new information, do you have a minute?”

Officer Blois’s eyes rested on Safin for a second before he left the two of them alone. Safin did not take a seat but walked over to stand in front of her desk.

“To ensure the safety of each client,” he began without invitation, “I have to follow through. In a case like yours I’m liable to investigate.”

“I’ve done nothing to warrant this.”

“You have been avoiding my eyes ever since Officer Blois brought up the topic of suicide, do you realise?” Madeleine forced herself to look at him. “When was the last time you spoke to your father?”

“Not for a long time. I stopped contact with him—"

“—has he contacted you at all this year?”

“We’re living separate lives.”

“Then, I’ll inform you. I am here because Mr. White has requested an audience with you. There is a safehouse set aside for you in Sion. Your HR manager has already been informed you’ll be taking two weeks off at short-notice. Once you step outside this building, you’ll be collected by my team and taken to the train station.”

Madeleine shot him a foul look that went unreciprocated. “And you expect me to just go along with you?”

“Your family’s reputation precedes you. You are no safer here in France than you were in Conakry. I doubt Arnaud was the first person you’ve had to sacrifice for the sake of security. But, if you will not come along quietly there are several alternatives.”

“Such as?”

He looked her over. “You would fit easily into a suitcase.”

Madeleine waited for him to elaborate. He looked at her. She broke the silence with a polite scoff. “You'd waste more time smuggling me out of the building. There are cameras everywhere.”

A flash in the dark eyes betrayed his initial veneer of detachment. Madeleine had her pride but she wasn’t about to test him. She stood up stiffly. A subtle, unpleasant smile that brought his scarification into relief. “Come along.”

That the situation would escalate to this level of severity was no surprise. A life spent not in paranoia but with an aggrieved awareness. Not stringent enough to start keeping a gun under her pillow; she’d have a hard-enough time explaining that to Arnaud. Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

She was guided out the door by two men who did not speak to her and steered discreetly into the black Mercedes-Benz Sprinter waiting quietly by the curb.

It was a twenty minute drive to Paris-Gare de Lyon. On the way it dawned on her that Safin was probably kidding about the suitcase. An empty threat to provoke her nerves, watch her squirm. The alternative was something she’d rather not consider. Not that she cared what a thug like him thought to begin with.

They provided her first-class tickets for Swiss Federal Railway and the appropriate gate number. Several suspiciously uneventful minutes later she was at the station, boarding the train, taking her seat closest to the aisle while the two men took up seats by the door and adjacent to her row respectively. Safin took the seat directly adjacent her without a word.

The train shifted into motion. Madeleine, jarred from thought, made up her mind. “You are protecting me under my father’s authority?”

“That’s correct.”

Madeleine huffed. “I should have guessed. You're another one of SPECTRE's thugs?”

Safin blinked slowly but his indifferent expression didn't change. “Counterintelligence.” Now he was scrutinising her more closely. Well, what had she expected? Even if he was one of theirs he would never admit it. “I'm sure you have a few questions about the situation. They'll have to wait until we're in a more secure location.”

“I didn’t ask for this life.” Safin simply held her gaze. “Moving around every couple years. Watching everyone around me wither and die or settle down while I live in the shadow of my father and the men he answers to.”

“But you accepted his money to get ahead.”

“What’s your point?” Madeleine snapped.

Safin said nothing. All right, now he was trying to be funny. He didn’t seem like the kind of man one called to lighten a mood. Madeleine wouldn’t be able to tolerate half-an-hour of this, let alone five. The look Safin was giving her would indicate that sentiment was mutual.

“I don’t want your pity,” she said, tearing her eyes towards the window.

“If we’re going to have a conversation, I would prefer your undivided attention.”

“You want to talk.”

“I’ve never had to point a gun at your head to get you to comply.”

Madeleine almost smiled. It was the first time anyone had been so straightforward with her. “Well, there’s no need to start now.”

#no time to die #multichapter #lyutsifer safin #madeleine swann #mr white #fanfiction #fanfic #crime drama #slow build

11 notes · View notes

marvel-and-mischief · 4 years

Text

Monkshood & Anemone

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Ezra x GN!Reader Words: 3900 Warnings: descriptions of an infected wound, threats of death/murder, attempted murder, force labour (reader is in a tricky situation), needles, descriptions of blood, death, reader kills someone in self defence, reader isn't a good person but they're not bad either Synopsis: You're a healer stranded on a moon with no way out of your situation. There's hope when Ezra and Cee cross your path.

Monkshood: danger ahead Anemone: sickness

💐

Five months you had been forced into this. Five months of treating people you would, quite frankly, prefer to see dead. Five months of patching up bandits and thieves, your skills the only thing keeping you from being killed and thrown onto the rapidly growing compost heap at the edge of the forest.

You didn’t intend to step foot on this moon, but your pod had experienced engine failure and the closest planet was too far to safely land on, so this had been your only choice. You had crash landed, tumbling out of the broken door, landing awkwardly and breaking your big toe. You had been found a few days later and dragged to the leader of a pack of bandits, a guy named Taron, that seemed to be in charge of this side of the moon. He’d been impressed with your makeshift toe splint and admired how well you were healing, quickly putting you to work in the medic tents.

It was never quiet in these tents. Minor injuries usually, shoulders dislocated or fingers broken in fights, quick fixes that had you sending them back out in a matter of minutes. Some screamed bloody murder when you sewed up their stab wounds, but you had been here long enough that they trusted you now, you worked quickly and efficiently so they swore though the pain and gave you a pat on the back on their way out of the tent as thank you.

Those touches made you shudder, they were too familiar, friendly but also not, a dark reminder that there was a thin line that if crossed would see you strung up in a heartbeat. But you bit your tongue and played the long game; you would get off this moon when the opportunity struck. Though somedays you wondered if that day would ever come.

So you made preparations for that day. You were allowed to go foraging with a chaperone once a week, gathering plants and herbs that you could find in the forest for medicines. Most of what you found was useless, some plants could be used for soothing burns or treating bug bites but then you found the monkshood hidden in a damp part of the forest. The purple petals stood out amongst the greens and browns but that wasn’t what caught your attention. You knew the roots of the flower could be used as a poison. And as long as nobody else knew that, then you had your way out, you just had to choose your moment wisely.

You were tying off the stitch in someones hand when a man was thrown through the flaps of the tent, landing at your feet with a cry of agony. You jumped out of the way just as he was about to roll onto your feet and you looked up to see one of the bandits, a large guy who usually did the heavy lifting in this place, holding onto the arm of a young girl.

“Taron needs these two healthy and put to work quickly,” he grunted, shaking the girl in his hand and making her squeal.

“I’ll do what I can,” you assured him, pushing out a forced smile before crouching down to the man on the floor who was only half conscious, “leave them both with me,” you eyed the girl who wore an angry scowl, trying to hide any indication that she had been crying behind a feisty spirit.

“If she runs, it’s on your head,” the brute pointed his dirty, meaty finger in your direction and left the tent with a huff.

“I need you to help me get him onto a cot,” you spoke gently to the girl as you gripped the mans arm. The girl nodded and immediately wrapped her arms around the mans waist and it was then you noticed he had no right arm to balance his weight between the two of you. With careful steps you manoeuvred him onto a cot in the corner of the tent.

“What happened?” you asked, beginning to strip away the mans outer suit. His head was lolling from side to side, pained noises escaping him as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

“He was stabbed, can you save him?” The girl was clearly panicked as she hovered over your shoulder and watched everything you did to her… dad? Friend? You couldn’t make out what their relationship was.

“And what about the arm?”

“I did my best.”

You had pulled his suit down to his waist, revealing a black long sleeved shirt. You grabbed a pair of scissors from a box next to the cot and cut away the shirt. You saw the stab wound immediately, infected and seeping yellow pus and blood in equal measure. You took a peak at the stump where his arm once was and gave an impressive nod. The bandaging was neat and there was nothing leaking through it so you left it alone in favor of the more pressing issue.

“On the other side of the tent is a pump, fill a tinpot with water and grab some cloths on your way back,” the girl went to work instantly whilst you collected the instruments you needed from around the room. The man was sleeping now but his breathing was ragged and you knew you only had a small amount of time before he became feverish.

You set to work cleaning needles and scalpels before washing the wound out with the water that was handed to you. The girl was at your side, so close you could hear her breathing as you starting to clear the wound of infection.

“What are your names?”

“Cee and Ezra,” she whispered, eyes never leaving your hands as they worked.

“Is he your dad?”

“No, he’s just looking after me.”

“Seems as though it’s the other way round,” you chuckled softly, and you saw Cee smile as she agreed.

Ezra had been sleeping until you began stitching the wound up, the sharp needle entering his sensitive skin making him jolt in surprise as he mumbled unintelligible words.

“Can you hear me Ezra?”

“The…pod. Need to get to… the pod…”

You frowned as you tried to make out his words. You noticed Cee freeze up beside you.

“Shush Ezra, go back to sleep,” Cee urged insistently, placing her hand over his mouth until he fell back to sleep. You eyed her curiously as you tried to squash down the spark of hope threatening to leap out of your chest. They had a pod? Had you just found your way out of this forsaken place? Cee cleared her throat and refused to meet your eye.

“Did you crash land here?”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Cee’s voice was stern and you worried if you tried to push it she would go into flight or fight mode so stayed quiet.

You’d waited five months for your opportunity to leave, you could be patient a little longer.

You had fallen asleep on the other side of the tent shortly afterwards, the excitement of the new arrivals and the prospect of freedom leaving you lethargic. You heard voices as you came to, one you had come to know as Cee’s and the other much deeper, a mans voice you assumed was Ezra, though he sounded stronger than he had in his delirious state.

“…if we stay, we will surely perish in this hole…”

“…not strong enough, you were stabbed…”

“…no further than the edge of the forest…”

Making out their conversation was difficult but you got the gist of it; they wanted to leave, and they had the means to do so.

The vial of monkshood felt heavy in your boot as you planned your next move. You could kill Ezra and force Cee to take you to their pod, one less person was less of a logistical problem for you, especially as he was still recovering from a stab wound. But Cee seemed close to him, she would fight you and maybe make a big enough fuss that you wouldn’t get to the pod with disruption. The only other option you could see was to threaten one or both of their lives and force them into working as a team with you. You’d saved Ezra’s life after all, you’d already proved yourself an invaluable team member.

You began to make your presence known, sitting up from your cot and stretching your arms over your head with a loud yawn. They silenced themselves immediately and watched you carefully as you threw them a friendly smile. Ezra was sitting up in bed, Cee sat on a crate next to him.

“I see you’re awake Ezra,” you greeted him, bending down to untie and tie your shoelace up. In the shadow of the cot you were able to slip out the vial of monkshood from the heel of your boot and conceal it in the sleeve of your sweater as you stood and made you way over to them.

“I have been told that you are my saviour,” Ezra spoke fluidly, not a hint of pain in his voice as he watched you move closer. They were both being cautious of you, you couldn’t blame them with the knowledge of what you were about to do. You felt guilty as Ezra held out his hand for a shake, his lips lopsided in a smile. In a world of scoundrels and thieves and no-gooders he was the first man, the first person, to show you kindness in the months you’d been on this moon and now you were going to give him a reason to mistrust you.

You shook his hand quickly and turned your back on him where a trolley sat filled with various empty pots and jars of pickled plants. You needed to focus and breathe, and remember that this was life or death. Your one shot at freedom, you were putting your trust in these strangers to get you out of here.

“It’s my job to help people, nothing to thank me for,” you turned around to face them, a forced smile planted on your lips. You took a syringe and punched it into the top of the vial and proceeded to pull out the liquid you had made.

“And what, may I ask, is that you’re going there?” Ezra asked, his heart rate spiking as he eyed the needle in your hand.

“Just a little something,” you began, pushing the sharp needle into the tubing of the rudimentary drip you had created to administer fluids to Ezra’s dehydrated state.

“Yes, but what does it do?” Ezra’s tone had take on a dangerous edge as he began to, rightly, suspect that you were up to something. You swallowed and paused with a finger on the plunger, meeting Ezra with the most confident stare you could muster with your heart beating uncomfortably fast in your chest.

“This syringe contains enough poison to kill you within the hour, there’s no antidote,. Now I know you have a pod somewhere, I need you to tell me where it is.”

On the other side of the cot Cee took a step back, ready to launch herself over Ezra to attack you but he shot her a look to stop her. There was a curious glint in his eye and a dark quirk of his lip suggested that there was a part of him that was enjoying this. He was impressed by your show of desperation, the lengths you would go to in order to escape your situation. He nodded slowly, staring at the syringe in your hand.

“If you kill me, you will never leave. You will die alone, amongst the worst of humanity, is that what you want?”

You clenched your jaw, his calmness was irritating you and despite being the one in a position to kill him, you felt like Ezra was in full control.

“Do you enjoy playing with your life, Ezra?” You raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I have stared death in the face more times than I would like,” Ezra stated calmly and shifted so he was leaning into your space, “you are a healer not a killer, so why don’t we disperse of these unpleasantries and we can talk like adults.”

“I don’t trust you enough to do that,” you admitted, managing to keep your voice from wobbling as you felt your guarded walls start to crumble. This was not going to plan and now you didn’t know what to do. You kept a shaky hand on the syringe, careful not to accidentally push the liquid into the tubing that connected to Ezra’s vein. You noticed Cee eyeing the flaps of the tent and decided to lean away from Ezra and concentrate on her instead.

“Those guards outside? They don’t care if you live or die, they’ll use your corpses as fertiliser,” you stated, an underlying warning not to alert anyone to the situation. It seemed to do more than frighten the girl though, it also made Ezra blink for the first time, a frown creasing his brow.

“Clever girl,” Ezra muttered, realising you could bring the guards to have them dispatched and you would be safe. Still trapped on this moon, but Ezra and Cee had a little more to lose than you did. “I will make a deal with you, if that’s what you wish.”

You nodded, pulling the needle out of the tubing a fraction to show you would keep your word.

“Keep Cee and I alive and we will get you safe passage off this moon,” Ezra promised, just as the flaps of the tent were thrown open and the heavy set man that had brought your new acquaintances to you earlier stepped in.

“Will he live?”

You subtly pulled out the syringe and held it behind your back, out of view of the bandit.

“He’s delirious from the infection in his wound, but I think he will make a full recovery in a couple of days.”

The bandit grunted something under his breath and left, allowing you to finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“We have two days to come up with a plan,” you sighed, anxious at the thought. Ezra nodded in understanding, already formulating a plan in his head.

It was less of a plan and more ‘this is the only option we have if we don’t want to get caught’. You had told Ezra about the guards stationed at the front and the back of the medic tent, the one side faced the fire pits that kept people warm and the final side was where the unlit, densely populated forest stood tall, and that was your only way out. If you could get through the forest and up the ridge Ezra and Cee had been found on, they would be able to find the path back to their pod.

You enacted your plan the following night. The tent was crudely held down by nothing more than metal spikes hammered into wet soil that made up this moon. It had taken you no time at all to shimmy a few nails up with your scissors and create an opening big enough for you all to fit through.

You gave Ezra one last check over, eyeing the bandage that peaked through the arm of his shirt and the wound you knew sat above his ribs that he was protecting with his remaining arm.

“Your concern warms my heart, but I promise I will not let anything hold me back from getting us out of here,” Ezra assured you. You realised at that moment that you weren’t worried about him holding you back from your escape, instead you were concerned with his health. You had grown to care for him the past day, amongst monitoring his health and concocting plans. Maybe it was his never-ending charm, or maybe you just couldn’t remember the last time you had genuinely cared for someone you had taken care of. Either way it scared you to think you could be falling for a man you’d threatened to kill the same day you met.

You turned away and popped your head under the tent to see nothing but trees and darkness. You crawled your way through the mud and held the flaps open for Cee and Ezra to do the same.

Entering the forest was dangerous for many reasons. You couldn’t risk lighting a torch because you would be seen by the bandits from a distance, so you had to navigate fallen trees and curled up roots that had broken up through the ground in the dark. It was slow progress for an hour or so, walking in silence, suffocating in the tense atmosphere that sat between the three of you. Cee stuck to Ezra’s side, an arm around his waist to keep him steady. You walked in front of them, pointing out trip hazards the best you could without making any loud noises.

Getting to the other end of the forest was the hardest part so you were relieved when you reached the ridge that went up the hill and hung over a deep cavern that dropped down for miles.

“This is where they found you?” you whispered, eyeing the long drop that would surely see you dead if you were to fall.

“We followed the ridge round until we got here,” Cee answered, and you tore your eyes away from the drop to see Ezra’s face scrunched up in pain. You picked out a small pill from your back pocket and held it up to his mouth. He jerked away on instinct, you couldn’t blame him after your previous antics.

“It’s for the pain.” The glow of the stars above you illuminated the sincerity in your eyes, the concern shown in the crinkle of your brow and he knew you were telling the truth. He opened his mouth enough for you to slip in the pill.

“We should go,” Cee nodded to the hill that would lead to their pod and for the first time that night you allowed yourself to hope.

The climb was gradual but you felt it in your thighs. You hoped the pill was starting to work on Ezra but he kept silent except for a few grunts in an effort to keep climbing. You had taken to holding onto the crook his arm, with Cee on his other side. You were hardly touching his elbow, an unspoken promise that you would help if he needed it but he was a stubborn man, though not prideful enough to shake you off.

You reached the top of the hill and there, maybe two hundred feet away, was the pod. It was barely big enough to fit the three of you but it would have to do. It was caked in dirt and dust, flecks of mud were splashed all the way up to the top indicating that it had been a bumpy landing for Cee and Ezra.

You felt Ezra huff out a laugh as he spotted it but the mood was disturbed when you were suddenly thrown forward, hitting the ground face first. You heard Cee’s scream of surprise and Ezra’s shout of your name as you struggled to breathe underneath the heavy body landing on top of you. You tried to push yourself up off the floor and twist around onto your back but it was no use. There was a scuffle behind you and for a second the weight on top of you let off enough for you to wriggle your arm into your side pocket and grab the scissors you had shoved in there.

Ezra gave a shout of frustration and then the weight was boring down on you once more, but with a firm grip on your scissors you thrust your hand blindly over your shoulder, the blades piercing flesh before you pulled them away to see blood covering your hand and scissors. You quickly shoved the assailant off you with all you could muster, the adrenaline definitely helping more than your strength, and you saw it was a bandit who had followed you from the base. He clutched the side of his neck, blood spurting through his fingers as he struggled to clamp down on the wound.

Cee was helping Ezra to his feet but he was more concerned with you as he stumbled over to gently pry the blood covered scissors out of your hands. You were staring at the bandit, watching as he gurgled around a throat full of blood, slowly dying out next to you.

“Sweet thing, I hope you can recover quickly because we need to get to our pod now,” with fingers pressed to your cheek Ezra softly turned your head to face him and away from the dying man. His voice was firm but not unkind, exactly what you needed to come back to yourself and realise he was right, you needed to leave, who knows how many more bandits were coming your way.

You nodded and stood to your feet, gripping onto Ezra’s arm as you moved towards the pod. Freedom seemed a lot further away than it did before the bandit attacked you.

As soon as you reached the pod door Cee unlatched the bolts and you both helped Ezra up the steps and inside.

It was bright once the lights were switched on, the room small just as it looked from the outside. Ezra reached out for your hand from his seat at the controls and pulled you to sit next to him.

“It must be a shock, to take your first life,” Ezra began, reaching for a strap by your hip to pull over your lap. You took the hint and buckled yourself in as you listened to him.

“I cannot remember mine, and that is why I speak to you now. Do not ever forget it.”

You frowned at him, not understanding what he was saying.

“Don’t make the mistake I have. To forget your first kill is to forget how it feels to kill.”

You felt the thrum of the engine as Cee started up the pod, bringing it to life to get you off this moon once and for all.

“The difference between a good person and a bad person is the bad person forgets the fear and the pain that comes with taking a life.”

You took a deep breath, the first real breath of hope in months and looked into the eyes of your new companion. He looked so tired, dark skin around his eyes and a permanent frown etched into his features.

“Have you forgotten?”

Ezra expected the question, giving you a dejected smile in reply.

Your stomach dropped as it does when you are lifted into the air, and you sat back in your seat as the pod shook with the effort.

“I’m just happy to get out of here,” you smiled, it didn’t quite meet your eyes but it wasn’t false. You were relieved to be finding someplace better than where you’d been. A sadness lingered, and probably would for some time. You were leaving this moon a different person and you would have to learn to live with that, but you could do so knowing you were with two people you could see becoming friends with; Ezra would be the reminder of the darkness within you and Cee would be the hope for a brighter future.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @computeringturtle @anu-simps @bts17army

#Floriography Series #Ezra #Ezra x Reader #Prospect #Pedro Pascal

34 notes · View notes

smegdwarf · 4 years

Text

But Who Could Love Me? (Rimmer X Reader) - Chapter 2

A/N: ..........👀

Warnings: Eh not really

Summary: Pretty much just giving Rimmer the love he deserves ☺️

It was no surprise that your new found friendship with Rimmer lead to teasing and wind ups from the rest of the crew but you being you, you took it on the chin. Something Rimmer admired you for.

“So let me get this straight? You’re friends with Rimmer now?” Lister asked, mischief in his voice.

“Is that a problem?” You replied, your eyes not leaving the book in front of you.

“No no...” Lister paused for a second “It’s just a bit weird”

“Well I am weird Listy!” You looked up with a smile.

“Ain’t that the truth” Lister laughed as you stood up “Where is his royal smegness anyway?”

“Working which is more than I can say for you Lister!” You smirked before flicking Listers nose and leaving the room.

“Ow you smegger!” You heard him shout after you.

You knew without putting too much thought into it where Rimmer would be, after all someone had to make sure Red Dwarf was running smoothly and headed in the right direction ...although he may not have been the best choice.

“Good Afternoon” You smiled as you walked into the Dwarfs navigation room, Rimmer quietly making his way through the book he was borrowing from you “Enjoying the book?”

“Well I was until they brought in a love storyline” Rimmer screwed up his nose “What’s wrong with a having a good story without love?”

“Is love really that bad?” You laughed a little as Rimmer’s eyes met you with a dead stare “Anyway...”

“What brings you here?” Rimmer asked putting the book down, maintaining friendships was always a challenge.

“Here, the dumb snack dispenser chucked out two bars when I only paid for one” You smiled as you placed the extra chocolate bar down next to the book followed by some almost inaudible jabbering from the snack machine just outside the door “Now it’s giving me back chat”

You’re little escapade with the snack dispenser brought a small smile to Rimmer’s lips as he let out a soft laugh while the snack machine outside continue to lose it.

“Hey buddy, you chucked out two snacks instead of one not me” You shouted out of the door at the machine.

“You didn’t have to take the second one” The snack machine was clearly up for a fight.

“Shut it or I will unplug you!” You threatened the machine as Rimmer laughed behind you “Am I really about to throw punches with a snack machine?”

“Apparently so” Rimmer smiled, still tickled by your snack fight.

“Well if it keeps you smiling” You shrugged with a smile “So what’s the plan for today?”

“I ...erm ...no plan yet” Rimmer stuttered, it would honestly be a miracle for him to accept your kindness without almost having a full blown panic attack.

“Ok well give me a shout if anything changes, there’s a few things Kryten wants me to take a look at” You smiled as you went to leave.

“Erm I’ve been meaning to ask ...what exactly is it that you do?” Rimmer was generally curious as you had never confirmed exactly what your position on your old ship was but you also couldn’t help but feel that Rimmer also didn’t want you to leave just yet.

“I’m an engineer” You smiled leaning against the door frame.

“What kind of engineer? Snack machines? Drink machines?” Before Rimmer wouldn’t even look at you and now here he is trying to hold a full conversation.

“An engineer engineer, I’m trained to fix anything that’s broken”

“C-can I help?” Rimmer asked innocently.

“I’m sure there’s a chicken soup dispenser that needs fixing somewhere” You smiled with a wink “Come on”

Rimmer didn’t know whether to groan and glare or smile and laugh at your dig, settling with a playful glare and a soft ‘you little smeg’ as you made your way to Kryten.

“So where do you need me to start Krytes?” You asked the mechanoid enjoying mopping the floors of the ship far more than anyone ever should.

“Oh of course, this way ma’am” It was only then when Kryten looked up from the floor he was cleaning that he realized that you wasn’t alone “Excuse me ma’am but are you aware Mr Rimmer is standing behind you?”

“Yes Kryten, he’s going to help me” You laughed as Kryten pulled a face of worry “Don’t worry it’ll be fine Krytes”

“Yes of course, this way” Kryten walked on a head.

“Bloody gimboid!” Rimmer muttered.

“Lister corrupted him, you know he can’t help it” You smiled as Rimmer’s shoulders relaxed and all tension left his body, you clearly had a stronger affect on him than you thought.

“Don’t you need tools?” Rimmer asked, noting your lack of a tool box or trolley.

“Who needs tools when we’ve got Kryten” You smiled as you patted the droid on the shoulder “He is basically a walking multi-tool ...no offense Krytes”

“None taken ma’am ...you are technically correct” Kryten gave you a smile only a droid can give.

“Let’s get fixing shall we?” And with that you took off to fix the many, many issues on Red Dwarf.

A few hours later and you were joined, in Rimmer’s eyes, by an unwanted visitor. Despite working away behind a soup dispenser you knew exactly who it is was without looking.

“What’s going on here then?” You could tell Lister was grinning, making a clear point about you and Rimmer working together “See we don’t even need to set it up anymore”

“Set what up?” Rimmer asked completely blind to what the boys had really been up to the moment you glitched to the ship.

“Just ignore him” You grumbled from behind the dispenser, rattling a pipe “Hey Arnie? Could you move the dispenser nozzle over for me please?”

“Ok” Rimmer replied quick and short as he did as you asked, apart from Kryten as soon as you were joined by either of the remaining crew Rimmer would instantly withdraw, almost too scared to even speak incase Lister would pick him apart or even worse he’d upset you., after all the filter between his brain and his mouth was faulty and he was much more aware of it with you around.

“Perfect!” You smiled at Rimmer from behind the machine as you triggered the machines cleaning system, a projectile wave of old chicken soup chunks covering Lister “Well that might explain why it wasn’t working?”

“YOU BLOODY SMEGHEADS!” Lister stormed off in a huff, presumably to the nearest shower.

“Have fun!” You called down the corridor after him as Rimmer broke into laughter “Two can play that game Listy!”

“Was that actually the problem with it?” Rimmer asked referring to the machine.

“Oh no, as soon as he opened his mouth I thought you know what would make him look better? Old chicken soup chunks!” You laughed as Rimmer looked at you almost in awe.

“You’re perfect” Rimmer let slip as he laughed, catching himself almost instantly attempting to covering it up.

“Arnold?” You replied surprised, for Rimmer that was the last thing you were expecting to escape his mouth.

“The prank!” He stuttered “I meant the prank was perfect”

“Come on, Kryten will almost be ready with dinner” You smiled, sparing Rimmer from more embarrassment than he was already feeling as his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink “I’m starving”

“Erm you’re a hologram, holograms don’t eat?” Rimmer pointed out, his smile slowly returning.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel hunger, let’s go!” You smiled as you walked off ahead, a soft chuckle from Rimmer travelled down the corridor.

Arriving back at the crews quarters The Cat and Lister were already digging into their dinner, the usual vindaloo.

“Your dinner ma’am” Kryten smiled as he placed the pasta dish down in front of you.

“Thanks Krytes, it looks great” You grinned at your plate.

“See Listy, I told you other food existed besides vindaloo curry” Rimmer grinned as he sat down at the table continuing on with his book from earlier earning a not so subtle groan from Lister.

“Hey pretty lady” Cat scooted his chair over to you, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Don’t even think about it” The Cat had made it his mission since you got here to try and ‘win you over’ but no matter how many times you turned him down he was reluctant to give up.

“Oh come on” Cat tried again, you noticed Rimmer watching you from the side of his vision behind his book.

“You need to back off before all 9 of your lives flash before your eyes” You said sternly enough that he eventually moved back.

“Obviously you’re not interested in the Cat or Kryten ...so what about me?” Lister looked up from his plate with the devil in his eyes.

“Why has my love life suddenly became topic of discussion?” You sighed as you tried to continue eating, Rimmer had completely stopped reading as he hid behind his book.

“Well would you?” Lister pushed a little more.

“I wouldn’t no” You replied bluntly as a grin formed on Listers face.

“What about Rimmer?” You choked on your pasta as the words left Listers mouth, Rimmer completely frozen behind his book.

“Just because there is a woman on your ship doesn’t mean one of you has to sleep with her?” You shouted as you dropped your fork, a loud clang radiating through the room as the metal hit the plate.

“It’s just hypothetical, you don’t have to date any of us” Lister pointed out.

“Lister shut up!” Rimmer growled, sensing your anger.

“Damn right I don’t” You stood up in a huff “Why do men never think with their brain?”

And with that you stormed out, leaving your dinner unfinished and you not quite sure where you were storming off too.

Realizing the only place you could really escape without being bothered was your room. Asking Holly to lock the door before throwing yourself in your bunk. It’s times like this that made you glad you chose to have your own quarters. Who knows what kind of hell would ensue if you hadn’t? You knew in their minds the boys probably didn’t mean it to be harmless but you weren’t standing for it ...and for that matter neither was Rimmer, it wasn’t much but he did try and get Lister to stop.

After losing yourself in a book for a couple hours you decided to go hunt down a snack machine, after all you had abandoned your dinner earlier. It would be your luck though that you didn’t have enough money on you, your foul mood insisting you take a hit on the snack machine but before you could an arm in a blue sleeve appeared over your shoulder to place a coin into the slot.

“Here” Rimmer said softly but still managing to scare the life out of you ...well metaphorically.

“Bloody hell” You grumbled as you held your chest, you maybe a hologram but holograms could still have heart attacks.

“Sorry I didn’t meant to...” Rimmer panicked.

“It’s fine and thank you, you didn’t have to do that” You managed a smile as your snack hit the bottom of the machine.

“Sorry about earlier” Rimmer’s eyes shot to the floor.

“It wasn’t your fault Arnie?” You looked at him a little sad, he didn’t do anything wrong and yet he was still taking the blame “Please don’t blame yourself”

“If you want I can get Kryten to make you another dinner...” Rimmer started to blabber “It’s not a problem”

“Arnie it’s fine” You smiled, placing your hand on his shoulder and feeling him instantly relax.

“The boys are having a game night, if you want to join?” Rimmer asked

“Erm I think I’ll pass this time” You spoke softly “I’m not really in the mood”

“Yeah me neither ...I best get going though” Rimmer turned to leave.

“You know you don’t have to go to game night...” You hesitated to see if he’d pick up on where you were going.

“What?” Rimmer froze, as far as he was concerned he was dreaming and he’d wake up any moment.

“You’re more than welcome to keep me company for the evening... if you want?” You smiled as Rimmer mulled over your offer “Come on”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the footsteps behind you, pleased that Rimmer had chose the option that would make him happy and instead of going with what everyone else was doing so he didn’t feel left out. Rimmer had only seen your quarters from the door as you swapped over books for him, this time he was actually inside, looking around and taking in all of his surroundings.

“Excuse me while I change” You said calmly.

“Wait what?” Rimmer panicked, completely forgetting in that moment that you were a hologram and only focusing on the ‘change’ part of your sentence.

“Comfies please Hol!” You asked the computer as your blue uniform changed to leggings and an oversized jumper “Ah much better ...maybe you should try changing into something comfier?”

“I don’t think I have anything like that?” Rimmer spoke quietly, you were clearly distracting him.

“Holly, find some comfy clothes for Rimmer please?” You asked Holly again.

“Don’t look!” Rimmer exclaimed.

“What?” You laughed.

“I’m know I’m a hologram but don’t look while I change” Rimmer chuckled.

“Alright fine I won’t look” You laughed as you covered your eyes “Go on Holly!”

“Oh god this feels weird” Rimmer looked over his new clothes, black jogging bottoms and a blue jumper and even you couldn’t deny how soft and sweet he looked as he stood in front of you confused.

“Good weird?” You smiled as you sat down on your bunk.

“Too soon to say” Rimmer was completely occupied by what he was wearing to notice you had sat down.

“Hey Holly, is there anything new to watch?” You asked as Rimmer stood next to your bunk “Well sit down then”

“Are you sure?” It was clear he was nervous, it had been a really long time since he’d had any interaction with the opposite sex and even when he was alive it wasn’t something he was particularly experienced with.

“Yes” You laughed softly as you patted the spot next to you gently “Please sit down”

“You know if the others find us they’ll rinse us?” Rimmer sat down next you cautiously, as far he was concerned this was all some sort of elaborate joke and you were going to walk away or tell him to leave.

“Oh I have a plan don’t worry” You smiled as you looked over at the screen “Holly?”

“Yes Y/N?” Holly replied.

“Could you make sure the door is locked please? ...oh and see if you can get one of the scutters to bring up some snacks too please?” You made your demand, a sweet but nervous smile lighting up Rimmer’s face.

“Bob should be up in a few minutes, shall I tell him to leave your delivery outside the door?” Holly asked.

“You know the drill Hol!” You grinned.

“Something tells me you’ve done this before?” Rimmer raised his eyebrow, his hands resting in his lap.

“Well I need an escape from the rest of you sometimes you know” You teased “Well the other 3 anyway”

“You chose me over them?” Rimmer looked at you confused as the scutter tapped the door outside.

“I suppose I did” You smiled as you went to retrieve the delivery, turning back round to see a smug and rather pleased smile on Rimmer’s face “Hey no need to be a smug git ...or I might have to start calling you Ace?”

“Oi?” Rimmer shot you a glare as you sat back down.

“I’m joking” You laughed a little, picking up the chocolate bar Rimmer had got you earlier, breaking it in half and offering it to him “Here...”

“Erm thanks” Rimmer smiled as he took the offer.

“You’re welcome ...Holly start the film!” You asked the computer and that was it.

From that moment on movie night with Rimmer became a regular thing, you had both agreed not to speak a word to anyone else. After all you didn’t want everyone invading your space and for Rimmer, although he would never admit, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else. Arnold Rimmer was starting to feel something he’d never really felt before.

#red dwarf #arnold judas rimmer #arnold rimmer #arnold j rimmer #Rimmer #arnold rimmer x reader #Rimmer x reader #red dwarf fanfic #holy crap it fits in one!

29 notes · View notes

thewidowsghost · 4 years

Text

The Unknown Muggleworn - Chapter 3

3rd Person POV

The next month went by very quickly. (Y/n) and Hermione had spent a lot of time studying their spell books.

(Y/n) took a lot of time trying to learn defensive spells and as well as some simple ones like Reparo, the repairing spell, Alohomora, the unlocking spell, and Lumos, the wand lighting spell, and Wingardium Leviosa, the levitating spell.

The night before the journey to Hogwarts, Hermione and (Y/n) pack up their trunks and carry them down by the front door.

The next morning, Hermione, (Y/n), and Mr. and Mrs. Granger get into the car and make their way to King's Cross Station.

Once they get there, Mr. Granger and (Y/n) pull the heavy trunks onto two trollies, Marvel's cat carrier sitting on top of (Y/n)'s trunk.

"So, if I'm correct, we need to run between Platforms Nine and Ten," (Y/n) says once they reach the two platforms.

"Or we could ask someone," Hermione suggests.

The four look around to see a plump woman walking by with four boys and a young girl, all with flaming red hair, and the four boys are pushing trollies with trunks on it.

"Come on," (Y/n) says, stepping forward towards the family.

"Hello," (Y/n) says, rather shyly, the others though.

The plump woman turns to the group. She studies (Y/n) thoughtfully, catching sight of her scar - (Y/n)'s hair had been pulled into a low ponytail.

"Hello dears, need to get onto the Platform?" the woman asks, continuing to watch (Y/n) thoughtfully.

"Yes ma'am," Hermione answers and the plump woman's gaze wonders to her.

"All you have to do is run into the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten," the women says and (Y/n) shoots a triumphant look at Hermione.

"Ha, I was right!" (Y/n) says, nudging her sister affectionately. Hermione rolls her eyes as the plump women laughs.

We start towards the platform, Mr. and Mrs. Granger starting up a conversation with the plump woman.

(Y/n) jumps slightly as two voices, almost identical, speak up from behind her, "Hello -"

"We're Fred -"

"And George -"

"Weasley," they finish in unison.

(Y/n) and Hermione turn at the same time to study two identical boys, about two years older than the two.

"Hello, I'm (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, and this is my sister, Hermione Granger," (Y/n) says.

"Twins?" Hermione guesses and the two red haired boys nod.

"Yes -" Fred, (Y/n) thinks at least, begins.

"Of course we are," the other twin, (Y/n) believes was George, finishes.

The group gets to the barrier and (Y/n) catches sight of the black haired boy from Diagon Alley.

(Y/n), Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger pass through the barrier.

(Y/n) takes in the Platform quizzically.

A scarlet steam engine is waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sigh overhead says, Hogwarts Express, Eleven o'clock.

"Wow!" Hermione breathes, her brown eyes full of wonder. There were so many people on the Platform that (Y/n) nor Hermione could count them all, as well as cats and owls of so may colors it was hard to believe so many existed.

3rd Person POV – With Harry

According to the large clock over the arrivals board, Harry had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people were just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"— packed with Muggles, of course —"

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him — and they had an owl.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go . . ."

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it — but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two Platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone — but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier — he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. "Yes," said Harry. "The thing is — the thing is, I don't know how to —"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er — okay," said Harry.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble — leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn't be able to stop — the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes ready for the crash —

It didn't come . . . he kept on running . . . he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again." "Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on." The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the traindoor. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you — ?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

Harry had also spotted the two girls from Madam Malkin's Robe Shop.

He could see the mother and father of the two girls, but there was something off about the taller one.

She doesn't seem to belong with them, Harry thinks. Not in a bad way, but she looks nothing like the brown haired girl or the mother and father.

Harry is caught off guard as he overhears the conversation-taking place between the red haired family.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?" One of the red-haired twins says.

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

Harry heard the little girl's voice. "Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please. . . ."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?" The mother asks, turning to Fred.

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightning."

"Poor dear — no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?" One of the twins asks.

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls." Fred says.

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat." George adds. "George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

(Y/n)'s POV

Hermione and I rush to haul our things onto the train.

We find a compartment but there was someone already sitting there.

I slide the door open, "Mind if we sit here?"

"I don't mind," the round faced boy says. "I'm Neville," he says.

"(Y/n)," I hold out my hand and the boy shakes it. "This is my sister Hermione."

"It's nice to meet the two of you," Neville says, then he continues, "Would you mind helping me find my toad?"

"We'll help look," I answer after exchanging a nod with Hermione.

Time Skip – Still (Y/N)'s POV

We all meet back up in the compartment we started in.

"Did anyone find Trevor?" Neville asks and we all shake our heads reluctantly, not wanting to give the poor boy any bad news. Neville groans.

"What about we all look together?" I suggest, and the others nod.

"Just give me a moment," I say, digging through my trunk, looking for my robes.

I find them, then dart out of the compartment to the bathroom, changing quickly, returning to the compartment.

"Okay, off to find Trevor," Hermione says, a twinkle of amusement evident in her eyes.

All three of us walk down the passages asking everyone if they had seen a toad anywhere.

We reach a compartment where Harry and one of the red-haired boys that we had walked through the station with.

Hermione slides the compartment door open, and we all step in.

3rd Person POV – Harry's Perspective

Ron raises his wand just when the compartment door slides open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him, and the two girls from Diagon Alley. The two of the girls were already wearing their new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," the shorter girl says. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sits down. Ron looks taken aback, but the tall girl didn't, her green gaze sparkling with amusement.

"Er — all right." Ron clears his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waves his wand, but nothing happens. Scabbers stays gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" says the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? We've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in our family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when we got our letters, but we were ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, we heard — We've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" She says all this very fast.

Harry looks at Ron, and is relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either, but the other girl looks at Hermione, nodding in agreement, clearly meaning that the two of them had learned all the course books by heart.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron mutters.

"Harry Potter," Harry says.

"Are you really?" asks Hermione. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" asks Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know. I've found out everything I could if it was me," says Hermione. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I did hear though that Dumbledore himself was in it too, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . Anyway, we'd better go look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

Hermione leaves, taking Neville with her leaving the other girl behind, a glint in her green eyes.

"Sorry about her," the (H/c) haired girls says. "My sister's just excited about going to Hogwarts. I mean, if you couldn't tell. I'm (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger."

"Are you really?" Ron asks (Y/n) curiously. "Do you have a scar too?" he then asks.

(Y/n) pulls her hair back, exposing an hourglass shaped scar on the left side of her neck.

"Why are your glasses broken?" (Y/n) abruptly changes the subject, turning to look at Harry.

"Cousin . . ." Harry explains and (Y/n) walks over to him, pulling out her wand.

"Let me try something," (Y/n) says, pointing her wand in his face, his eyes crossing slightly. "Reparo!" she says, and the glasses mend themselves. Harry takes them off, looking in wonderment between his glasses, Ron, and (Y/n).

"That's better, isn't it?" (Y/n) asks, laughing slightly.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, (Y/n)," Harry says.

"Well, I'd better go find my sister," (Y/n) says, walking out of the compartment, closing the compartment door on the way out.

Time Skip - (Y/n)'s POV

A couple of hours after meeting Harry and Ron in their compartment, we arrived at Hogwarts.

A voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

The train slows down, and finally stops. People push their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and a loud voice calls, "Firs' years? Firs' years over here! All right there , Harry?" It must have been Hagrid, the man who was with Harry in Diagon Alley.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" Hagrid says.

All of us slipping and stumbling, we follow Hagrid down what seems to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark that I thought there must be thick trees here. Nobody spoke much, the only one making any noise was Neville, we still hadn't been able to find his toad.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid calls over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!" I didn't realize that one came from my mouth as well.

A narrow path opens suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling brightly in the starry sky was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid calls, pointing to a fleet of boats sitting in the water by the shore.

Hermione and I follow Harry and Ron into a boat.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid shouts, who has a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

Then the fleet of little boats moves off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. No one spoke as the little fleet of boats carries us through a curtain of ivy that hides a wide opening in the cliff face. We're carried along a dark tunnel, which seems to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reach a kind of underground harbor, where we all clamber out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid asks, who was checking the boats as all of us climb out of them.

"Trevor!" cries Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.

We all clamber up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

We all walk up a fight of stone steps and crowd around the huge oak front door.

"Neville, still got Trevor?" I ask, my (H/l), (H/c) hair flying back over my shoulders as the door opens.

3rd Person POV

The door swings open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. (Y/n) instantly recognizes the woman and nudges the Hermione, muttering, "Professor McGonagall. "

The brunette nods in acknowledgement.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," says Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Professor McGonagall says.

Professor McGonagall opens the door wider. The entrance hall was so big, Harry thinks, you could fit the whole of the Dursley's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

The new students follow Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry hears the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall shows the first years into the small, empty chamber off of the hall. The students crowd in, standing rather closer together than they normally would have, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall says. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you ae here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." Professor McGonagall says. "Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school," (Y/n) and Hermione's gazes all meet at Professor McGonagall's words. "I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Professor McGonagall's eyes linger for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.

(Y/n) looks over and sees Harry nervously trying to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall tells the nervous first years, "Please wait quietly."

She leaves the chamber, and Harry swallows.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Harry asks Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." Ron answers, and Harry's heart gives a horrible jolt.

A test? In front of the while school? But Harry didn't know any magic yet, what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment he arrived. He looks around anxiously and saw that everyone else looks terrified, too, except (Y/n), who seemed to be holding an a face of calm on her face for the benefit of everyone else. No one was talking much except for Hermione Granger, and (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, who were whispering very fast to each other all the spells they had learned and wondering which ones they might need. Harry is trying really hard not to listen to them. He had never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. Harry and (Y/n) kept their eyes on the door. Any second now, Harry thinks, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead Harry to his doom.

Then something happened that made Harry jump about a foot in the air – several people behind him scream.

"What the -?"

Harry gasps, and so did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed thought the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. The ghost seemed to be arguing. What looks like to be a fat little monk says, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to five him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights seems to have noticed the first years.

(Y/n) raises her hand nervously, and the ghost in the ruff turns to her.

"Yes?" He asks.

"We're new students, we're about to be sorted," She says, shaking a little.

A few people nod in agreement.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" says the Friar. "My old House, you know."

"Move along now," a sharp voice says. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned to the hall, and one by one, the ghosts float away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall tells the first years, "and follow me."

(Y/n) felling nervous, falls in line behind Ron, Hermione behind her. Professor McGonagall leads the first years out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

(Y/n) had never imagined such an amazing thing could exist. Thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, Probably the House tables, (Y/n) thinks, where the older students were sitting, light the Great Hall. On the tops of the tables, there were glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall leads the first years towards the table, so that they come to a halt in a line facing the other students. Hundreds of faces stare back at them like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight, and dotted among the students, the ghost shone a misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looks upwards and sees a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Harry hears Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in –"

"Hogwarts, A History?" (Y/n) asks her sister with a smile.

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, Harry thinks, and that the Great hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looks down again as Professor McGonagall silently places a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she puts a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was so patched and frayed, and extremely dirty, Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house, Harry thinks.

Harry think wildly, Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, It seems the soft of thing. (Y/n) then notices that everyone is staring at the hat, and she looks towards it too. For a few moments, there was complete silence, then the hat twitches, a rip near the brim opens wide like a mouth – and the hat begins to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don't be afraid ! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall bursts into applause as the hat finishes its song. It bows to each of the four tables and then becomes quote still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispers to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiles weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but Harry wishes they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seems to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brace or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the had had mentions a House for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now steps forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"Abbott, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall calls the first name.

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbles out of line, puts on the hat, but before the hat falls over her eyes, (Y/n) shoots her a smile, and Hannah smiles thankfully back. The hat falls over Hannah's eyes, and after a moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouts the hat.

The table on the right cheers and claps as Hannah goes to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. (Y/n) sees ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouts the hat again, and Susan moves to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" shouts the hat and the table second from the left claps this time; several Ravenclaws stand up to shake hands with Terry as he joins them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" becomes the first Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could wee Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent," then becomes a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they look like an unpleasant lot.

Harry definitely looks sick, (Y/n) thinks. Harry remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. Harry had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Finch – Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, (Y/n) noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy that was standing next to harry in line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

(Y/n) smiles warmly at her sister as she runs to the stool and jams the hat eagerly onto her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouts the hat, and Ron groans.

A horrible thought strikes Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon" . . . , "Nott" . . . , "Parkinson" . . . , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" . . . , then "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . . , and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. . . . So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you're sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

"Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his finger under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry.

There were only two people left to be sorted, (Y/N), and a tall boy with black hair.

"Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin, and at last, (Y/n)'s name was called.

"(L/n)-Granger, (Y/n)!" Professor McGonagall shouts, and the (H/l), (H/c) steps up to the stool. She turns around, and nervously looks around, Hermione meets her gaze from across the hall, and Hermione smiles at her sister softly.

(Y/N)'s POV

I sit on the stool, and the hat falls over my eyes.

I jump a little as I hear the Sorting Hat starts talking in my head. "Well, your ambitious, and a strong leader, I see, qualities of Slytherins, ah, but there is something else here, patience and loyalty, also qualities of a Hufflepuff. But there's something else here, wisdom, wit, and a lot of creativity, all qualities of Ravenclaw. But also courage, bravery, and daring, so where to put you?" The hat asks. "Brilliantly smart father, daringly brave mother."

"You know my dad?" (Y/n) thinks. Though she knew little about her mother, she knew absolutely nothing about her father.

"Your father was a famous muggle," the Sorting Hat says softly, only loud enough for (Y/n) to hear. "Extremely witty and intelligent beyond his years."

"So he wasn't a wizard," (Y/n) comes to this conclusion.

"No," the Sorting Hat confirms.

"What about my mother?" (Y/n) thinks.

"She was a Gryffindor, a muggle-born like yourself."

Hermione's POV

"She's been on that stool for like ten minutes," Harry murmurs to Hermione, who was sitting Percy, across from Harry.

"She's a hat stall," Percy Weasley says softly. "The first since Peter Pettigrew about twenty years ago."

There's a silence for another five minutes before the hat finally shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!"

(Y/n) takes off the hat off her head, then grins.

(Y/n) jogs over to sit beside her sister.

Hermione smiles widely at (Y/n).

"Can't get rid of me that easily," (Y/n) teases.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, and he was beaming at the students, his arms open wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he says. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" Professor Dumbledore finishes, sitting down.

Everyone claps and cheers, (Y/n) and Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or not. Sitting beside Percy Weasley, Harry was thinking the same thing.

"Is he - a bit mad?" Harry asks Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" Percy answers airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes."

"Potatoes, Harry?" Percy asks.

Harry's mouth falls open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he had wanted. Dudley had always take anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piles his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and begins to eat. It was delicious.

"That does look good," says the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Cant you -?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," says the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" Ron says suddenly. "My brothers told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but Hermione interrupts, (Y/N) looking over her shoulder.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

"Now, Hermione dear, that's not polite," (Y/N) says, and Hermione grins at her sister before turning her attention back to the ghost.

Sir Nicholas looks extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he had wanted.

"Like this," he says irritably. He seizes his left ear and pulls; his whole head swings off his neck and falls onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had clearly tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking very pleased at the stunned looks on the first year Gryffindors' faces, Nearly Headless Nick flips his head back onto his neck, coughs, and says, "So – new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable – he's the Slytherin ghost."

(Y/N) and Harry look over at the Slytherin table and see a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank starting eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was sitting right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look very pleased with the seating arrangement.

"How did he get covered in blood?" Thora and Seamus Finnigan ask with great interest.

"I've never asked," says Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food fades from the plates, leaving hem sparkling clean as before, then, a moment later the deserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, Jell-O, rice pudding, and an assortment of fresh fruits.

As (Y/N) helps herself to a couple of strawberries and some chocolate éclairs, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," explains Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of nasty shock for him."

The others laugh, and Ron turns to Neville.

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asks.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," Neville begins, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

"What about you?" asks Seamus Finnegan.

(Y/n) looks up, startled, but then speaks. "My mother, that I know of, was Muggleborn. My father was a muggle. I grew up with Hermione here for my whole life. My real parents are dead, well, that I know of."

Harry glances at the (H/c) haired girl as she turns back to Hermione and Percy Weasley, who were talking about lessons.

"I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult –" Hermione rambles.

"You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing –" Percy says.

"What about Charms?" Hermione asks. "What's that like?"

"Well, in Charms, you learn to cast spells that alter an object without changing it's nature." Percy says.

"Wait," (Y/N) interrupts, "so if we were given, like, a teapot, would we have to make it dance across the desk?"

"Yes, exactly (Y/N), that doesn't change how it looks, if you wanted to turn it into a tortoise, that spell would be taught in Transfiguration." Percy explains.

Harry, who is beginning to feel warm and sleepy, looks up at the High Table again. Hagrid is drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall is talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happens very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looks past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pan shoots across the scars imprinted into (Y/n)'s and Harry's skin.

(Y/n) slaps her hand to the hourglass shaped scar on her neck. Harry does the same, letting out an "Ouch!"

"What is it?" Percy asks, Hermione turning to study her sister.

"N-nothing," Harry mumbles.

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off for Harry was the feeling he had gotten from teh teacher's look - a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asks, and (Y/n) and Percy's gazes turn to the Head Table.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape." Percy says.

(Y/n) and Hermione turn their attentions back onto each other and start up a quiet conversation. (Y/n) notices, out of the corner of her eye, Harry watching Snape for a while, but Snape never looked back at Harry.

At last, the desserts disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore gets to his feet, the hall falling silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." He begins.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashes in the direction of the Weasley twins, as he says the last part. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Hermione's and (Y/N)'s eyes meet at Dumbledore's last few words, while Harry laughs, but he was one of the few that did.

"He's not serious?" Harry mutters to Percy.

"Must be," says Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere – the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cries Dumbledore. Harry notices that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twists itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the whole school bellows:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please, Whether we be old and bald Or young with scabby knees, Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff, So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we've forgot, Just do your best, we'll do the rest, And learn until our brains all rot."

Everyone finishes the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins are left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducts their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who claps the loudest.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore says, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years follow Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was to sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climb up more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and (Y/N) was just wondering how much farther thy had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and (Y/N)'s eyes narrow in suspicion. Percy takes a step toward them as they start throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispers to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raises his voice, "Peeves – show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answers.

"Do you want me to get the Bloody Baron?" Percy asks.

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appears, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he says, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swoops suddenly at them, and they all duck.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barks Percy.

Peeves sticks out his tongue and vanishes, dropping the walking sticks above (Y/n)'s head. (Y/n) slides instinctively out of the way, catching the walking sticks in one hand.

Harry and Ron look slightly impressed as (Y/n) sets the sticks on the ground silently, then walks over to stand beside Hermione.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," says Percy as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, and he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hangs a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?" she asks.

"Caput Draconis," answers Percy, and the portrait swings forwards to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scramble through - Neville needing a leg up - and find themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directs the girls rough one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase - (Y/n) figured they were in one of the towers - they find their beads at last: four four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up and, too tired to talk much, (Y/n) pulls on a pair of emerald green pajamas, the color matching (Y/n)'s eyes.

Marvel jumps out of her basket, eyeing Hermione then (Y/n) then hopping up into Hermione's bed, curling up onto Hermione's stomach.

Word Count: 8327 words

Bye!

Love y'all! Kaitlynn❤️😍

#hermione granger #hermione granger x sister reader #harry potter #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter various x reader

29 notes · View notes

lovelystarlings · 4 years

Text

Chapter One - Goin’ back to Hogwarts, Hogwarts

——————————————————————————

The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was a beautiful chateau located in the north of France, surrounded by majestic gardens, and crystal fountains that were filled with water as clear as the ice sculptures that surrounded them. The place practically oozed elegance, perhaps that's why the Delacour parents had insisted Camille's sister's attend.

The Delacour's had been attending the school for centuries, right up to their grandmother, Dominique Delacour-who had been a full veela in her time. Dominique had married a man by the name of Lancelot Delacour, the father of their mother, Apolline Delacour. Both their father, Monsieur Delacour and their mother had attended Beauxbatons, their father only for a short while before it became an all-girls school. Due to Fleur, Gabrielle and Camille's grandmother being a full veela, the two were ¼ veela; giving them a full scholarship to Beauxbatons as the school had a strict student body of only veela's or veela blooded students, other witches needing to pay a large amount of money to attend.

However, Camille despised the school with a passion. It wasn't the students that went there, or the teachers. Nor was it the headmistress, who she had visited many times on account of helping her learn certain essential spells before she started her schooling at Hogwarts, a school in Britain that her parents had decided to send her to instead of Beauxbaton's. The school just wasn't her type of place, she wasn't fond of all the perfection and balls and girliness, she just hated it. Hence why Camille was so glad her parents were the way they are, she was glad they were understanding and allowed to her to switch.

That lead to her to where she was now, stood at the entrance of Kings Cross train station in London, crying her eyes out with her arms wrapped round her sister, who was sobbing just as much.

"I'll see you soon, ok? Summer's only like what, seven months away? And I might come home for Christmas, who knows?" Her sister sniffled, and Camille was stricken by the realization that she wouldn't see her family for over half a year, which was a long period of time considering they would be in completely different countries as well. Parting from Fleur gently, Camille took a hold of her trolley which held her case and her snowy owl, who she had named Persephone, after one of her favourite Greek myths. Looking down at her ticket and up at the platforms surrounding her, her eyebrows furrowed, and her lips tilted. There wasn't a Platform 9 ¾ in sight. Hearing the ramble of a large family behind her, she turned her head and was reassured to see a group of red heads who looked slightly welcoming and had 'Hogwarts' written on their many cases.

"Excuse me," she spoke gently, her soft French accent showing as she tapped the woman on the shoulder and gestured to the trunk on her trolley.

"D-do you happen to know how to get to Platform 9 ¾ ?" She questioned, the woman who she had tapped jumping round, a wide smile on her face.

"Of course, dear! I was just about to explain it to Harry here," The lady spoke, her hand grasping Camille's hand in a comforting manner as she noticed the tear stains on her cheeks. A black-haired boy stood next to her waved, clearly out of place with the family. "You're a first year too I presume? So are Ron and Harry here." She pointed to the youngest ginger boy, who was staring at the brunette, almost entranced; Camille assumed it was her veela charm.

"Hi. I'm Camille." Camille spoke, her hand reaching out to shake Ron's, who shakily took the hand and shook it, his cheeks now blushing red. Cute, she thought, It matches his hair. "I'm Weasley-I mean Ron, Ron Weasley but you already knew that." Camille giggled slightly, letting the poor boy's hand go and grabbing her trolley as Mrs Weasley began to walk off, gesturing for her to follow.

"All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, Harry, you can go before Ron, and Camille you can go through with Harry."

Camille pushed her trolley round and started to walk towards the barrier, Harry by her side. Fear struck inside the young girl, she and the boy next to her were going to smash into the wall and get scolded by the muggles and then they'd be in trouble. Camille pushed harder on her trolley and ran faster, the barrier coming closer and closer and the trolley wheels wobbling as she began to lose control of it, her feet somehow still solid on the ground as she closed her eyes, ready to smash into the wall-yet the crash didn't come and she slowly opened her eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with families and children with trolleys. A sign overhead read Hogwarts Express in bold black writing and Camille let out a sigh of relief. She locked eyes with the boy beside her, both smiling widely. Peering behind her, Camille spotted another sign that read Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

They had made it.

Camille and Harry made their way through the thick crowd until they eventually found an empty carriage near the very end of the train. Both had agreed that they should stay together as the two were new to Hogwarts, and Camille had begun to inform on the Wizarding World, shocked that he had lived with muggles for so long.

"Hey, do you need a hand with that?" One of the redheaded twins from earlier spoke as he followed through the wall.

"Please," Camille panted, sending a look to Harry who was simply watching her struggle, having already loaded his trunk into the carriage and was waiting for her to load hers up so they could enter.

"Oi, Freddy! Come over here and help the pretty lady!" He yelped over to 'Fred', leading Camille to assume that he was George. With the two's help, Camille's trunk was finally tucked away in the farthest corner of the compartment; she didn't want to risk her personal belongings being stolen.

"Thanks," she spoke as she grabbed Harry's hand and began to pull him up from his slouched position on the nearby bench, when one of the twin's began to point at the boy's forehead.

"Blimey," he spoke, as he leaned closer to Harry, who seemed uncomfortable with the lack of personal space the older boy seemed to have. "Are you-?"

"He is," said George, "Aren't you?" he added, nodding Harry's way, and giving a strange look to Camille, who had no idea what either of them were on about. The French didn't pay much attention to the British wizarding world, even during the Wizarding War they kept to themselves, only fighting in their own country.

"What?"

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins, the name ringing a bell in Camille's mind.

"Oh, him," Harry spoke, nonchalantly shrugging at the statement, "I guess I am."

The two boys stared at him in shock for a few minutes, only leaving reluctantly when they were called by their mother, who gave the other two children a kind smile and wave. Harry took a seat next to the window, Camille flopping herself on the chair opposite, ensuring no one else would be able to sit next to her. The two watched as Mrs Weasley said goodbye to her children, the twins still whispering and glancing occasionally at Harry.

The door to the compartment slid open and the young red headed boy from earlier stepped in.

"Is anyone sitting there?" He pointed at the seat next to Harry, "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and looked over to Camille, who had now tucked herself into the corner with a book, the title reading 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. It wasn't that Camille was anti-social or an introvert, she just felt that the two boys would connect more without her input, and who was she to get in the way of a budding friendship. All she was interested in was her book and the food trolley, the latter of which she hoped would be there soon, as she had skipped breakfast and was dying for some chocolate.

Ridding herself of her cardigan, she tucked her legs underneath her and continued reading, ignoring the twins who had once again popped up.

"Hey Harry, Camille," They spoke simultaneously, ignoring their brother who simply shook his head at the pair.

"We didn't introduce ourselves earlier. Fred and George Weasley. Budding bachelors," They gave a joking wink at Camille, who simply flipped them the bird as they laughed, "And this is Ron, our brother." They gestured to Ron, who also looked fed up with their antics. "Well, we'll see you happy people later, then." And with that they left, a pretty meaningless visit Camille thought, but who was she to question the actions of people she didn't know, especially when she herself could be strange at times.

"So, is it true what they said then?" The ginger boy spoke, and it was only then Camille noticed the grey rat that sat in his lap, its beady eyes seemingly glaring straight through the French girl, like the eyes of a predator would its prey. Reaching above her she draped her cardigan back over her shoulders, which at the moment were only covered by the thin straps of her dress, as she hadn't changed into her school robes just yet.

"Are you Harry Potter?"

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #series #hogwarts #veela #fluff #the philosophers stone #fleur delacour

26 notes · View notes

harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

In This Here, Beautiful World... (Part 1)

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Pairings: Medic X Heavy / Scout X Miss Pauling / Scout’s Ma X Spy / Soldier X Zhanna / Engineer X Original Character / Saxton Hale X Maggie

Warnings: - Swearing - Physical Abuse and Violence - Verbal Abuse - Minor Gore - Implied Death

Words: 1913

Summary: When the world goes to shit, in order to survive, you need to be ruthless, and you need to be prepared to do whatever it takes. When nine strangers and their families come together to fight back the zombie plague, tensions will rise between them all, threatening to pull them apart and kill them from the inside-out. It’s a shitty summary, I know. ^^

Enjoy!

‘Hey! Yo! I got a delivery here for a Mister Brookes!’

Jeremy hammered his fist against the door, louder than the first time. He had been standing out here for a good twenty minutes, waiting for this douchebag to open the door. The boss would kill him if he returned with cold pizza or if he got a call from the tenant saying he never received the order.

Jeremy shifted from foot to foot, his sneakers squeaking lightly against the cracked linoleum floor. He couldn’t just wait here forever! He was already running behind schedule and he needed the money!

He pounded his fist against the door again; a neighbour poked her careworn face out her door to peer at the disturbance.

‘D-Do you mind keeping it down, young man?’

‘I wouldn’t have to be loud if this guy would just open the door!’ He continued to pound his fist, hearing how the hinges whined under his abuse.

The old lady shut her door when it became obvious he wouldn’t stop. For a moment, the thought came to Jeremy’s mind that she might be calling the cops. He wouldn’t stay here anymore if that was the case, and he sure as shit wasn’t leaving a perfectly good pizza on this ungrateful dick’s doorstep.

He stomped down the hall, passing by the old lady’s door. He could hear her speaking to someone on the inside, but he didn’t stop to wait for the sound of sirens. It wasn’t like he was trying to disturb the peace; he just wanted some fucking tips!

He leapt onto the railing of the stairwell, letting his weight skirt him down the metal of the banister. He whipped down one flight, and then another, until his feet planted themselves firmly on the first floor. He pushed the glass doors out of his way, the frame cracking loudly against the brick of the building.

He trotted down the stairs, looking about left and right for some dumpster. Instead, the sight of an older man pushing a small trolley of garbage bags and raggedy clothes caught his eye. Jeremy felt the anger lessen, if only a little. He hated seeing people roaming the streets like this, without a home or place to go to. Filthy rich dickheads and politicians wouldn’t spare a single coin to them and it made him sick.

He approached and simply cleared his throat to get the scraggly man’s attention. He couldn’t see his eyes beneath the unwashed hair, but as he offered the pizza pie to him, those hands shook excitedly, reaching out and taking it with hesitance. Those tanned hands opened up the box, the smell of melted cheese and cooked meat wafting into the air.

‘T-Thank you…’ Jeremy just nodded, offering him a lazy wave of ‘don’t worry about it’. He took off at full sprint down the street, leaving behind the apartment and the man in his dust. He had to be quick back to the restaurant, so his manager wouldn’t get pissy.

He ran at great speed down the bustling city streets, dodging about those that got in his path. Families, businessmen and construction workers had little time to part ways for him. He compensated for their lack of awareness by leaping over the guard railings, jumping the hoods of stationary traffic and racing through the wavering legs of scaffolding. He got the odd call from some of the workers, but it had become a common enough practice, Jeremy was almost ignored by bystanders.

The wind whipped his hair and face, threatening to throw the delivery cap off his head. Finally, he rounded a corner and into the shop, in time to see his boss glowering from across the counter.

‘You’re late.’

‘Yeah.’ He muttered, replacing the empty pack onto the shelf. He threw himself into compiling the list of orders and strangling his waist with a rubber apron. ‘I know. I know. Guy wasn’t home or was ignorin’ me. I tried!’

‘So what happened to the order?’

He hated the shakedown. This was not the first time that Jeremy had arrived back to the store, hands empty of payment.

‘I just left it on the doorstep.’

‘Are you kidding me, Jeremy?’ The boy rolled his eyes, roughly taking the pizza cutter and beginning his work on dividing the pie apart. A fly buzzed in his ear, which he swatted away in disgust. ‘You know to wait for the customer to open the door!’

‘I woulda been there the whole fuckin’ afternoon!’ He barked back, cutting into the pizza harder than he meant to. The box splintered beneath the pressure and the blade near sliced his fingers. He slammed the lid down, and started upon the next one.

‘Did you call them?’

‘The phone’s been broke’ for a while now! I can’t call them with that garbage!’ He was lucky that this place had been so lax with language. He and the manager often shared bouts of abuse, but it made it easier to adapt. Instead of shutting his lips, he could hurl curses back at the useless prick behind the counter. He knew it tested the man’s patience, and certainly didn’t encourage the man to keep him around, but he put in the effort. And the man couldn’t deny that he was the best delivery boy he had, not to mention the only one.

‘You keep this shit up, Jeremy, and you’ll be outta here faster than your mother can pump out another brat!’

Oh, now that was too far!

Jeremy could take this shit when it was aimed at him, but at his family, at his ma specifically, he wouldn’t stand for it. He didn’t even want to work at this shitty pizza place anyway!

He threw off the smock, tossing the prepared pizzas across the steel table and at his ex-manager. He leapt over it, and with hands clenched, hit him once across the nose. There was the spatter of blood and the satisfying crack of cartilage, as the man was sent reeling back and into the tubs of sauce.

Barbecue, crème fraiche and tomato sauce went flying all about, coating the man head to toe in the expired spreads. Jeremy tore his shirt as he ripped his nametag off and tossed it into the dickhead’s shocked face. Guess he hadn’t been expecting someone like Jeremy to fight back.

Jeremy may have been scrawnier than his brothers, but he was fast, and more than a little anger fuelled his strength. He leaned down on the tile, gripping the man’s collar tight and lifting up the mess just enough that they nearly met nose-to-nose.

‘Don’t you ever talk about my ma again! You even look in her direction, even get one whiff of her perfume, and you’ll lose those nuts of yours, you got that?!’ He dropped the shaking mess of a manager back into the sea of red, white and brown.

Then Jeremy stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

He didn’t run off like he had done to get to the restaurant. He took his time, instead, to simmer down. He didn’t want his ma to see him like this. He knew she’d be disappointed that he lost another job, and he couldn’t just tell her what that dickhead had said. He just hoped she would forgive him for being so brash.

He passed by a number of stores, all at various points of shutting down for the afternoon or for good. Graffiti created a continuous line for him to follow along; signatures, doodles and even grand pieces of street art provided a guide as to his location, wherever he was in the city. An electronics store was still playing the local news as he passed it by, detailing some local flu hotspots, and an old music shop had been packed up into several wooden boxes.

The townhouse he lived in with his ma was at the end of a long street, between two apartment buildings that crammed it tightly between them. It appeared as if squashed by the neighbouring buildings; three storeys tall, with a pair of windows to each floor. It was an icky cream colour, with a small rooftop garden that had two lines of wet clothes waving about in the breeze.

Jeremy plucked a key from beneath the mat and entered inside. The lights were on, and he could hear in the room to his left their old, junk box playing some fitness program. He sighed, feeling his shoulders sag as he attempted to release his fuming breath and calm himself before he met his ma.

She spoke first when he entered the living room.

‘You’re home early.’

She pulled herself back up from a stretch, turning to offer him the warmest smile he ever did see. He stuttered with apologies, attempting to tell her what happened without mentioning what that asshole had said. She just fluttered her hand, as if shooing away his discomfort and his excuses, rounding the old couch and bringing him into a hug.

He relaxed immediately, returning the affection with a tight squeeze.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. You can always find another job; one much more suitable for the fine, young man you are.’ She said. His ma always knew exactly what to say. ‘I couldn’t be more proud of my boy. You held out for six months, Jeremy. You blew your last record right out of the water!’

He huffed a breath of laughter, the only sound he could manage with all this praise. He knew, through the smile and the gentle words, that his ma was a little bit upset. He needed a job; just so he could support her as his brothers did, if not just himself. Her work as a pre-school teacher had been able to keep them all above water, but the old townhouse was falling apart without the necessary care.

His two eldest brothers, Mark and Kieran, had left about a year ago; both of them attempting to pursue some apprenticeships in engineering and hospitality. The third oldest, his brother Blake, had been talking with their ma recently about moving in with his girlfriend out of state.

Lucas, Julien and Oliver had stayed in school, but hadn’t gotten the grades to gain any kind of scholarship. They were still at work, no doubt, doing more than Jeremy ever could. They could put up with the bullshit demands of customers, and the abuse from their managers. But this was the third job that Jeremy had left behind this year alone.

‘Why don’t you come sit down, and you can tell me what really happened?’ She kissed his cheek and guided him to the lounge. The fitness program was switched to the news, but turned down until the broadcast was a mere mutter.

Jeremy felt embarrassed to say much to her, but he knew that his ma wanted to hear what he had to say. As he spoke, detailing the list of demands he had suffered through that day, the news station switched headlines. Unbeknownst to Jeremy or his ma, a fast-acting viral infection was rapidly spreading through several different hotspots across the city. If they had been paying any mind, they would have seen the havoc being caused from the crappy cellphone footage.

They only noticed when a scream radiated from the television, the one recording the chaos suddenly on the ground.

Another, sickly man, had his face buried deep into his intestines.

#Team Fortress 2 #TF2 #TF2 Fanfiction #Heavy X Medic #Scout X Miss Pauling #Spy X Scout's Ma #Saxton Hale X Maggie #Engineer X OC #Soldier X Zhanna #Fanfiction #TF2 Fanfic #HarcourtHolmesII

8 notes · View notes

bimboamyrose · 4 years

Text

Unfamiliar (Ch. 11)

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic

First two chapters

Previous (Ch.10)

Chapter 11: Thoughtful *Check end notes for a bit of extra content!

It had been some years since Amy seriously studied and read the cards. There was a time when she would perform daily tarot pulls first thing each morning, reflecting on a goal for the day and reading a single card for guidance. It was rare that her insights led her astray, but the entire practice had fallen to the wayside in the past two years. Her friends found her uncanny predictions too eerie and refused to indulge her any further. Without anyone to share her talents with, Amy became dispirited with fortune-telling, and her interest faded over time. Now, ever since she’d taken the opportunity to recount her earliest readings with her house guest, Amy began to doubt her ability to interpret the cards at all. After years of convincing herself that patience and perseverance would manifest her romantic intentions to no avail, she decided it was finally time to revisit and reinterpret that faithful hand.

Though she’d never gone, Amy knew of a semi-annual gathering of fortune-tellers and spiritualists that occurred on the equinox. Spring equinox was just around the corner and it was there, Amy hoped, she could find some additional wisdom and guidance. But first, it was time to get reacquainted with her favorite deck.

Amy looked at her nightstand. A sunny tulip rested in a jar over a ceramic coaster. She pulled a deck box from the drawer, clearing a thin film of dust from atop its wooden frame. She set off on the ritual of cleansing and charging that had so long been neglected before finally preparing for her daily pull. A shuffle and an affirmation later, Amy picked the top card from her deck with a nervous breath. The Page of Cups. Creativity, intuition, and the inner child.

A nostalgic smile spread across Amy’s cheeks as memories of her earliest studies and readings danced across her mind. So many years were spent faithfully cultivating her understanding of the practice and training her abilities. It used to be therapeutic- fun, even. She remembered feeling optimistic and prepared for each opportunity. But after so many hardships, predicting the next challenge began to feel tactful, stressful. At what point did she stop looking forward to the day ahead?

Amy decided that it was high time she reconnected with that childish enthusiasm. If nothing else, it would help her understand her reading better. She looked back on all her time spent at the library reading every tome and pamphlet she could find on tarot and resolved to visit her local branch that very day. After a short while getting ready, she emerged from her bedroom much later than intended.

It was close to noon. Amy had skipped breakfast and there was hardly a thing to eat in her fridge. “Guess I neglected the groceries again,” she sighed to herself. Another errand to run for the day. Metal wasn’t in the living room, so she stepped out through the backdoor to find him crouching close to the shore some ways away. He turned to look at her when she called out to him, beckoning her over.

“Good morning.” Amy joined her friend near the seashore, leaning over his shoulder. “Whatcha looking at?” Metal lifted his hand. A hermit crab crawled over his fingers slowly, a smaller shell sitting in Metal’s palm. The smaller one was long and prickly while the crab wore a much smoother and opalescent shell as it crawled around Metal’s hand. “Made a new friend?” Amy giggled. She crouched next to him but the sudden movement scared the critter into hiding. “Oh, oops… sorry.”

Metal handed Amy the crab’s old shell. She examined its ridges and dull spines. “Did it just molt?” Metal nodded as the crab began to stir in his hand again. He turned back to watch it. “It’s so cute,” she sighed. “You’ve been out here a while, huh? It really warmed up to you.” Metal emitted a soft mechanical ring and slowly lowered his hand onto the beach. The crab scuttled around his palm for another moment before hesitantly climbing down onto the sand. He observed as it burrowed down through the sand and disappeared, leaving its tiny footprints in the damp ground.

Amy couldn’t keep her eyes off Metal. A dreamy expression made its way onto her face as she watched his gentle interaction with the little creature, the heartwarming sight inviting a soft flush into her cheeks. So sweet, she thought, once again noticing his careful demeanor. Their feuding seemed so far away now.

The tide nipping at their feet soon brought Amy out of her trance. “Don’t get too wet,” she cautioned as she straightened herself and took some steps back from the chilly water.

It took Metal another moment to get up. He’d spent the last hour crouched there, keeping the vulnerable critter company as it hesitantly came out of its shell, exposing itself to the harsh world for the opportunity to grow in its new home. Metal had pushed the new shell closer to the crab and stood over it like a scarecrow ready to fend off any stray predators. When it was finally settled in its new home, Metal continued to sit still as it scuttled across the sand slowly, like a child breaking in a new pair of shoes. Finally, the crab thanked Metal by climbing onto his outstretched hand and entertaining him for a short while. Then it simply went about continuing its day. Melancholy made its presence aware as Metal thought about how incredibly temporary the interaction was. He lifted himself off the wet sand and stood back near Amy, listening to the gentle waves coming ashore. She tapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you gonna keep it?” She held the spiny shell out in her hand.

He looked at it briefly before placing an uncertain hand on the shell. Amy met his eyes with an encouraging smile. Taking it in his hand, Metal examined the crab’s former home and committed its many ridges to memory before placing it back in the sand.

“Oh, good call. It’ll be useful for the next crab that comes along, huh?” Amy breathed the salty air in deeply, thinking about the day ahead. “I’m heading to the library, then I need to do a little shopping. Wanna come?”

----

The friends made their way into town after a quick stop to get Amy some breakfast. She’d brought a wheeled shopping trolley along to carry her groceries back and suggested they walk. “It’s so nice out,” she’d insisted. But Amy had neglected to mention the very uncomfortable bus ride that came along with that suggestion. All eyes were on them as they rode- or more accurately, on Metal. Perhaps they recognized him, or perhaps the sight alone was just strange enough to incite a reaction. Amy continued jabbering to him, attempting to make a pointy unblinking robot casually riding the bus with his companion seem more normal. Unfortunately, it only served to draw more attention to the pair. They couldn’t arrive at their stop fast enough.

They seemed to attract just as many stares inside the library, though some apparent social norms kept strangers from ogling or whispering too obviously once they were inside. Amy practically dragged Metal by the arm from section to section, mumbling “Sorry,” to him between forced waves and smiles to anyone that recognized her. “They’ll get used to it, don’t worry.”

Amy picked up several volumes as they traversed the building: A sewing guide for a project she’d hit a snag on, a cookbook whose instructions she would likely ignore in favor of preparing meals her own way, and a couple of novels to keep her entertained at bedtime. All the while, people stopped to look at Metal, some whispering to their companions when he walked past. As his irritation grew, so did the constant whirring of his engine. The buzzing became painfully apparent and worried glances in his direction shifted to those of annoyance. A particularly stern-looking librarian shushed him as they walked past her. Metal shot a glare back at the brave woman who returned with a sour look. Amy whispered an apology and dragged him away before the woman could give them a verbal warning.

Amy then spent longer than she’d wanted browsing the occult section. There wasn’t even a large collection- but she felt so out of practice as she skimmed through each of the newer books individually, looking for answers to her questions. She nearly brought half a dozen back with her before realizing they took up a third of the space in her trolley. Settling for the two that seemed the most promising, she placed the last of the books in her basket while ignoring one librarians’ concerned stares. “Anything you want me to check out for you, Metal?” she whispered.

He’d been browsing along with her, though none of the topics she’d looked at were interesting to him. She eventually convinced him to give a pair of her favorite novels a shot before continuing to the checkout counter and transacting with a very distressed clerk. Amy tried making her usual small talk with the man as he was regularly quite chatty, but he clammed up as Metal loomed behind her through the process. The annoyance was becoming harder for Amy to disguise.

Several more bystanders took a double-take at Amy and Metal on their short walk to the market, someone narrowly avoiding crashing their bike into a fence pole while gaping at the pair. Amy’s face held an unusually irritable expression as she completed her shopping in record time with Metal trailing restlessly behind. Most people turned and hid away the moment he made eye contact with them, but he couldn’t help having his guard up in such an unfriendly environment.

As they checked out, the two women that queued behind them stood far away. They clicked their tongues and whispered spitefully. Metal had heard every breath and murmur that had been uttered around him all day, but Amy could just barely pick up pieces of the womens’ conversation. “Dangerous,” and “appalling” made their way to her ears as she paid for the groceries. Metal’s discomfort may have been apparent only to her, but it was no excuse for the harsh words. Livid was an understatement.

She turned to them with a sudden glare, raising her voice. “Do you two have something to say?”

Taken aback, the women turned away somewhat shamefully. They continued to side-eye Metal as Amy finished her transaction with a rather alarmed cashier, putting away the rest of her purchase. Once they assumed Amy was out of earshot, however, they continued their hushed conversation. “It’s an absolute monster,” one of them remarked.

Metal froze momentarily. Countless thoughts ran across his mind. Remembering his frightening appearance in Amy’s mirror some days ago stood out. The unwelcome feeling he’d had during the team meeting came rushing back. He also recalled how it took nothing to lose his cool when Sonic showed up and how crucial it was to keep it from happening again. Then, he noticed the pure rage in Amy’s face as she whipped her head back around, eyes blazing at the women queued behind them.

“How dare you!” Amy took a menacing step toward the women as they gasped and scrambled backward some paces. “How could you possibly be this rude? Apologize!” The ladies turned to the cashier, stammering something about calling security. “Did you hear me? Apologize to my friend right now!”

By that time, a small crowd had formed around the queue. Amy didn’t back down, taking further steps toward the gossiping crones, causing them to scutter back into the throng of customers. “Ma’am,” the cashier began nervously, “I’m- uh- I’m going to have to ask you to leave, please.”

“Are you serious?” she scoffed back at him. “Did you hear what those hags said about my friend? I’m not leaving until- hey!”

Amy was staring at the floor from above before she knew what was happening. Metal had scooped her up by the waist, dragging her trolley behind as he shuffled toward the exit with Amy under his arm. She squirmed and groaned at him to let her go until they were well past the shop’s main entrance. He set her down in a small alley with a huff. At least there they were away from prying eyes.

“Why’d you do that? They should’ve said they were sorry!” Metal stepped in front of Amy to prevent her from making the rash decision to run back in and continue threatening the pair of pearl-clutchers. “Ugh! Get out of my way!” She just managed to slip past him when he grabbed her by the wrist. She wasn’t able to stifle a pained yell as Metal’s iron grip tightened around her- He let go just as suddenly, recoiling with guilt as she held her sore wrist.

In a moment of clarity, Amy gasped at the realization that she’d let her temper get the better of her. Worse, the way Metal remorsefully turned away sent her own guilt skyrocketing. “Metal…” He refused to look at her. “I’m sorry! Please don’t be upset.”

Even at his most careful, even stripped of his weapons, Metal couldn’t help how dangerous his body was - how dangerous he was. For however much he enjoyed Amy’s company and appreciated her support, he couldn’t seem to subvert the expectation that he could cause her harm at any moment. He could cause anyone harm- it’s what he was made for, after all. Those women were right about him; perhaps monster was an apt description. It seemed that every little shred of comfort and normalcy he experienced was fleeting, a temporary feeling punctuated with anger or sadness or guilt. It felt wrong. What was he supposed to do in between those positive moments, anyway? The deep discomfort of the moment made him want to fly far away, rush home- but there wasn’t one to run to.

“Metal, I’m fine! I was just surprised.” She held her wrist up to him as proof. “See? Please don’t feel bad.” He wanted to swat her hand from in front of his nose in annoyance but stopped himself- why was his first instinct so aggressive? Instead, taking a gentle hold of her hand, Metal examined her wrist. It did look fine- but her earlier yell had caught him so off guard.

His soft hold over her hand was also a surprise. Amy stammered bashfully. “I-It’s those old crones! I can’t stand that they said that about you. I just- ugh!” she had to consciously stop herself from getting steamed up again. “I hate when people judge others like that. They’ll never know how wrong they are about you...” she trailed off, somewhat embarrassed and particularly flushed.

Amy’s kind words and willingness to stick up for him stunned Metal. Not knowing how else to respond, he emitted a low, apologetic tone and slipped his hand away from hers.

“Don’t apologize,” she sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong; Actually, I would’ve done something stupid if you hadn’t stopped me.”

It was gratifying that Amy would defend him so earnestly- not only from cruel bystanders but from her own indiscretion as well. Still, he’d already told himself he wouldn’t rely on her to come to his aid. So then, why was it so endearing? He shrugged and rubbed his arm with some chagrin, unsure how he should feel about… everything.

“It’s annoying, isn’t it? I was in such good spirits this morning. Crazy how fast something can sour your mood.” She pouted pensively, remembering her draw from that morning. The Page of Cups stood as a positive reminder to embrace her intuition- to have fun. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to town with a friend. Then, an idea popped into her mind and Amy’s face softened, her sweet smile returning. It would be foolish to ignore it.

“Metal, I know we’re carrying a lot of stuff, but do you mind if we make one more stop?”

His shoulders slumped. Dragging the rolling case full of books and groceries around didn’t bother him, but Metal was reluctant to visit yet another place full of people gawking at him. He would need time to get used to it.

“Please? Consider it a favor. It won’t take long.”

Amy’s eyes were suddenly twinkling with enthusiasm. He couldn’t tell if he was being manipulated or if anything that could come from denying her request would genuinely please him more than seeing her that way. It didn’t matter for long, as he gave in, taking hold of the trolley and flashing her a hesitant thumbs-up.

“Yes!” she beamed. “You won’t regret it, come on.” Amy led him by the hand excitedly, cutting through alleys and back streets. If anyone had stopped to ogle at them along the way, Metal didn’t notice- he was too enraptured with the instant delight that seemed to spill from Amy as she pulled him along.

Soon, the pair had arrived at a tall building with an open ground floor. Claw machines and brightly-colored lights filled the inside. “Bet you’ve never been to an arcade,” Amy grinned. “It’s nicer to see at night I guess, but the games are fun whenever. Here,” she skipped over to a row of skill games. “It’s probably cheating, but…” Amy took a quick glance around, scanning for attendants. “Ah, who cares, not like they give out prizes for these here. Try this one!”

Metal had soon been thrust in front of a tall machine that glittered with multicolored lights. A shiny metal handle stuck out from the lower part of it. The top read “TRUE GRIP” in bold font. He looked back at Amy with some confusion.

“It’s a grip tester. The harder you hold the handle, the better your score.” She placed a coin in the machine and it chimed a playful tune. “I know you can beat the high score,” she winked. “Try it!”

So this was her game- Amy wanted to put on a positive spin over grabbing her too roughly earlier. He had to admit, it was clever. Even though he could see through her plan, Metal was heartened by her attempt to cheer him up with such an obvious ruse; The least he could do now was indulge her. He confidently took hold of the handle with his usual grip strength, resting his other hand squarely on his hip. The lights on the machine danced around the “strength-o-meter” as it sang a cheery tune. After a few moments of this, the machine decided that on a scale of “meek” to “super grip,” Metal landed squarely in the middle. “KINDA WIMPY,” the game announced. Amy burst into laughter the moment it stopped.

Metal’s engine buzzed incessantly as he let out a series of indignant beeps. He then glared at Amy, who was doubled over and cackling. “Oh man,” she managed to splurt out between fits of laughter, “that was too good! Got a little cocky, huh?” He was far less amused. Metal stuck out his hand to her, making a grabbing gesture with his claws. “Oh? Another round?” she giggled. “Alright, don’t waste my quarter this time, you wimp.”

He shoved the coin into its slot the second she dropped it in his palm. As soon as the lights flickered, Metal grabbed the handle. It seemed simple enough- he got halfway up with his first round, so using twice as much force should be enough. He took hold of it with several times more power just to be safe, staring directly at the tip of the game’s meter with anticipation. Much to his chagrin, the lights stopped just below the top spot. “KINDA TOUGH,” it sang out this time.

Amy was reeling. Metal turned to her angrily and shoved his hand in front of her face, once more gesturing for another coin. She pushed it away between giggles. “Pfft, no way, you’re gonna break the thing!” Metal stomped his foot on the ground angrily in response. “Don’t worry,” Amy placed a hand on his shoulder with a grin. “These things are rigged. You won’t get the high score even if you rip that handle out,” she chuckled.

Metal crossed his arms in annoyance. Not only was he embarrassed at losing a silly arcade game, but he was surprised to learn that he’d misread Amy somewhat. He assumed she brought him there for an easy win, but she was well aware that it was unlikely to happen. Admittedly, he didn’t feel very guilty anymore, and he supposed it was rather amusing… Was that her intent? Metal turned back to Amy, who was wiping at her eyes happily. She really just wanted to ease the tension and have some fun together- and Amy even knew he’d be a little irritated. She was just being... playful. Like friends are.

A giddy smile filled her face as she came out of her laughing fit. “Sorry, just wanted to tease you a little. I don’t want you to feel so bad about being strong- I’m tough, I can handle it,” she assured.

Metal rolled his eyes, his stance softening significantly. Once he realized how silly the whole situation was, he may have even found it somewhat humorous himself. Still, it would be far more amusing if he could get her back. He gestured toward the machine that stood beside the grip tester, inviting her to try it. It was a similar test of strength, this time with a punching bag.

Amy grinned coyly. “I get it, you wanna see me fail, too. I’ll indulge you,” she shrugged. “But only ‘cause I feel bad that you’re such a wimp.”

As Metal bobbed his head mockingly, Amy rolled a quarter into the coin slot. She stretched her arms casually, giving the game a moment to warm up. Once all of its many lights were on and the screen read “PUNCH,” she pulled back her fist and went for a forceful hook, knocking the punching bag up into the sensor. The lights flickered up and down the meter for just a second until the optics at the very top of the machine exploded with colors. “SUPER STRONG!” the game rang out.

If Metal had a jaw to drop it would be on the floor. So much for the games being rigged- Amy knew exactly what she was doing. He would have been vexed if it wasn’t so impressive. He watched as she shook her fingers off and turned back with her beaming smile. “I’m doing that to the next person who calls you a nasty name,” she giggled.

She was nothing short of incredible. Metal recalled her old file in his memory. Weak. That was certainly no longer the case. He took a snap of her then, looking cheerful and victorious, and logged it as the main photo in his memory. The word weak no longer applied and was promptly crossed out. Before he could alter the file any more, Amy had taken hold of his hand in her tender way, gazing into him with her soft eyes.

“You know, you’re one of the most thoughtful people I’ve ever met. I think it’s really admirable how willing you are to be gentle even when it’s a challenge. Don’t ever believe otherwise.”

Metal was stunned by her kindness yet again. What was it that Amy saw in him that others did not? Surely it wasn’t just naivete, given her willingness to be combative in his defense- no, she was no doormat. And Amy didn’t see Metal as fiendish, at least not anymore. But it still took her some time, however less than it would have taken anyone else. Strangers, on the other hand, are temporary, there wouldn’t always be time to show them his true self. Metal did not know how he could possibly appear less menacing to bystanders, nor did the idea of trying to do so appeal to him. He wanted to understand, to calculate if creating an existence as a regular person, grasping at a fleeting sense of belonging, would even be worth it should he succeed. But it was unpredictable. Incalculable.

Amy had said it herself: “Crazy how fast something can sour your mood.” But it worked conversely as well- on any day, at any given moment, Metal could be more elated than he ever remembered feeling. And there was something so sweet about feeling that way after having his mood soured. It was endlessly more rewarding. So what, then, was the point of lamenting over the impermanence of those moments? There would always be rude strangers, always challenges ahead. No one would ever know him fully. All the more reason, then, for Metal to get to know himself as intimately as possible. Thoughtful was a good place to start.

...................................................................................

(notes contain chapter spoilers)

hello babesss i hope you enjoyed this chapter.

i like to think that amy has some latent magical powers and her being able to beat the ever loving shit out of a rigged arcade game is just part of her magic. also, she’s stronk.

also! i’ve been working on a small playlist with songs that remind me of each chapter, but i’ve drawn a blank for a few. if anyone has any songs they associate with the fic (or with metal/amy in general), please dm me your suggestions! i love hearing your thoughts and i’m a geezer that is too stubborn to listen to new music unless someone shoves it in front of me.

here’s the playlist so far!

#metamy #metal sonic #amy rose #metal sonic x amy rose #sth fanfiction #unfamiliar #ch 11 #the playlist is unlisted by the way so hang onto the link or check back if you want to hear it again!

39 notes · View notes

finnyboywolfhard · 4 years

Text

Song That The Morning Brings (Chapter Twenty Two)

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

catch up here

summary: the gang hatch a plan to escape the russian base and a secret is let out.

warnings: cursing, fluff, angst, violence, spoilers ig

word count: 4.4k

Y/N climbed her way out first, glancing around the room. Glass cases surround the room, all of which are brimming with canisters of the green liquid. She kept muttering to herself, wondering what the hell it was and cursing some obscenities for the situation she was in. She helped Erica and Dustin out a bit, watching as their eyes looked at everything around them. They all took a moment to look around the room a few times over, scanning for something that would help them. Dustin starts to chuckle a bit, and scurries over to a nearby wall. Both Erica and Y/N follow him over to where one of the little red carts was.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Erica asked Dustin.

“No, he doesn’t. But I do.” Y/N watched as Dustin attempted to turn the key and start the engine.

“You seriously thought they’d just leave keys in there?” Erica pointedly asked Dustin. Y/N agreed with the young girls dumbfounded tone. It was a naïve idea on Dustin’s behalf.

“There’s gotta be a spare.” Dustin said started to search around the cart looking for it. Y/N stays with Dustin at the cart, however she starts to examine it. She looks in the back of the cart and then she looks at some of the walls, shelves and floors around her. She was searching desperately for anything that would help them. Realistically, she had no idea what she was looking for. Maybe a way out, maybe a weapon, maybe the keys to get the hell out.

“Hey guys?”

“Yeah?” Dustin replied for the two.

“How big did you say that Demogorgon was?” Y/N felt her stomach drop. She stood straight up and could only vaguely hear what the other two were saying.

“Big, nine feet or so. Why?” Dustin replied to Erica’s question. All he got was silence in return, this freaked Y/N out a bit, why didn’t she answer? The sound of something unlocking shook her from her daze.

“Holy shit, Dustin.” She said as she saw him opening up a vault where multiple keys were stored, specifically for the cart. “Erica, He found them…” her words trailed off as she turned to look at Erica and she wasn’t there. “Erica?” A loud zapping noise came from behind them, causing the two to leap around in fright.

“What the hell is that?” Dustin screamed toward the smaller girl.

“A deadly weapon, could be useful.” She pressed the button to bring the zap back once more.

“For what?”

“What do you think? Taking down commies, saving your friends.”

“Thought you were more realistic than that, nerd.” Y/N replied, “Besides, we don’t even know where they are.”

“I mean, even if we did, there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that.” Dustin continued off of his sisters thought. “The best thing we can do for them is get out of here and find help.” This broke Y/N's heart. What if they went and got help, but it was entirely too late? “Our chance of surviving and theirs, rises substantially. Just trust me on this, please?” he pleaded with Erica, and also his sister in a way. He looked to his sister to start and drive the cart. She hesitantly did so, scared for what they might run into.

They drove for a bit, trying desperately to navigate where to go, with each turn Y/N took she felt more and more helpless. Until she heard shouts in the distance. She turned the engine off and sat for a moment, hearing an ear piercing scream come from Steve. She turned the key back and pressed the pedal to the metal.

“Y/N! What are you doing? We need to get them help, not to get them.”

“Dustin, I love you but you just heard that too. That could not have been good, and if I lose him because I went to get help…” She started saying before tears threatened to spill.

“Let’s go.” Dustin said from next to her. She continued to drive near where the screams and shouts were coming from. On quick thinking, she turned around and went back to the room filled with the mysterious green substance. She had each of them grab a few.

“Listen to me, we’re gonna go near an entrance and we’re gonna smash them all, create a distraction. Then, we’ll go grab them and get the hell out.”

“Are you sure that’s gonna work?” Erica piped in for the first time in a bit.

“No, but I think it’s worth a shot.” They loaded up the goo and she went to where she could hear the most voices. She had them all toss them out onto the floor, making sure that they shattered. Once one did, a chain reaction started. Guards started to notice the ruckus, and she got out of there as quick as she could. Once back inside the maze of hallways, she listened for the familiar voices of Steve and Robin, and tried desperately to remember where the sound came from. She heard Steve’s chuckle a few rooms down. She didn’t know what took over but she whipped around a corner once the alarm started blaring, signaling all of the men to the source of the alarm. She saw the room ahead. She stopped the cart and turned the engine off, rushing to get out and into the room. Dustin takes the weapon from Erica’s hands and charges into the room with it already turned out. He lets the weapon shock the man in front of Steve for a long time before eventually stopping as the man was seizing on the floor. Y/N immediately got to work on the ropes that were tying them together. She could barely see either of their faces, but she knew she needed to get them out of these first. Once the knots were undone, she looked up at Steve.

“Stevie, your face.” It was the worst it’s been after a fight yet. Blood was stained against his face, with fresh blood coating the top. There was blood soaked into the uniform across his chest.

“Hey! Y/N! I was just talking about you.”

“Get ready to run. Both of you” Y/N said looking up at the two sitting in front of her. She got them completely undone and reached out her hand to help him up. He was stumbling a bit, but she thought he might just be concussed. “Come on! We gotta get out of here.” She helped Dustin and Erica load the two gangly teenagers into the back of the cart. Y/N got into the driver’s seat once again, and began maneuvering her way out immediately.

“Jesus! Slow down!” Steve yelled from the back.

“Yeah! What is this? Is it the Indy 500?” Robin quipped up alongside Steve.

“It’s the Indy 300.” Steve corrected her.

“No dingus! It’s 500!”

“It’s 300!”

“Let’s say a million!” Robin responded once more. The two both started uproariously laughing at that mediocre joke. Y/N couldn’t help but turn around to peer through the grate at the two in the back. Something was up with them.

“What is wrong with them?” Erica yelled.

“I don’t know!” Y/N responded in a scared voice.

“Y/N, watch out!” Y/N let her worry get the better of her as she crashed the cart into a bunch of the same metal barrels Steve knocked guards over with earlier. Everyone slammed forward, the two in the back causing the metal grate to reverberate sound. Groans filled the stale air.

“You guys alright back there?” Dustin asked nonchalantly. The three upfront grabbed the two from the back despite their desperate protests to stay back there. Y/N was attempting to stabilize them as they were walking. Dustin walked over and used the keycard to open the elevator. They all climbed aboard, except Y/N was worried about her two coworkers. With one more swipe, the elevator began hoisting itself upwards to the surface once again. Robin and Steve were goofing around on some of the trolleys that were in the elevator. They couldn’t stop laughing.

“You look like you’re surfing!” Robin shouted directly to Steve.

“Woah! Yeah!” He said, trying to emulate the motions of surfing more extravagantly.

“They seem drunk.” Erica said.

“Why would they be drunk?” Dustin asked in response.

“This certainly isn’t as simple as drunk.” Y/N said dismissing both of their responses. She gets cut off by Steve falling off the trolley into a bunch of boxes. She immediately ran over to him, her brother following closely behind.

“Stevie, oh my god.” Y/N let the words fall from her mouth. Dustin laid his hand across Steve’s forehead.

“He’s burning up.”

“You’re burning up.” Steve slurred back. Dustin started examining other parts of Steve’s face, especially looking deep into his eyes. Steve kept trying to squirm away and whispered no, but Dustin just proceeded.

“His pupils are super dilated.” Dustin exclaimed towards both Y/N and Erica.

“Maybe he’s drugged.” Erica responded out. Steve’s hand came forward towards Y/N’s face.

“Boop!” Steve said after touching his finger to her nose.

“Stevie, are you and Robin drugged?”

“How many times dad? Y/N and I don’t do drugs, it’s only marijuana.” Steve let out in response. The girl cringed at the fact that he just said that aloud. Dustin took quick glances to both Steve and Y/N, while her shoulders tensed up and her face became scrunched.

“This isn’t funny okay, We need to know what they did to you.” Dustin demanded Steve. “Are you gonna die on us?”

“Boop!” Steve once again tapped Y/N’s nose, ignoring Dustin’s question completely. From the other corner, Robin finally spoke again.

“We all die, my strange little child friend. It’s just a matter of how and when.” She smiled towards Dustin, twirling her hair while she said it.

“They’re gonna be looking for us up there, so I need you to tell me where you parked your car.”

“Oh, can we make a pit stop at the food court?” Steve and Robin discussed food for a second.

“Wait! My car! Um, the keys are in Scoops I think.”

“We’re not gonna have time to go there and get out, we need his keys.” He turned away from Y/N and back to Steve. “yes, you can have as much food as you want, but only if you tell where your car is parked.”

“Uh-Oh!” Steve said in a sad manner.

“What do you mean uh-Oh?” Y/N asked gently.

“The car’s off the board.” Dustin responded with a what and Steve continued, “they took the keys. The Russians, they took the keys.” Steve started messing around with his pockets, showing how empty they were. Both Steve and Robin start laughing at the misfortune once again. “That’s a bummer right?”

Erica, Dustin and Y/N share a few looks before attempting to get the other two off of the floor so they can get the hell out of the elevator. The only problem was the next course of action. As they walked into the fresh air, robin began cheering out.

“Oh my god! That tastes so good!” The girl began to lap up the air with her tongue. “Steve, can you taste the air?” Not long after the boy joined her in eating the air. They start walking towards the exit gate when multiple armed men start walking into it. Dustin turns everyone around, and they wrangle the two drugged ones. They race into the mall, once inside Dustin leads them all into the movie theater to hide.

“Where are we going?” Erica yells to him.

“Just trust me!” The group sneaks into the complex and then into a theater showing Back to The Future. No one even noticed when Steve grabbed a bag of popcorn right from the trash can. The movie is playing on the big screen, just as Dustin drags Steve and Robin to open seats in the front row. He turns to his sister and says,

“You sit here with them, make sure nothing happens.” She takes on the job with her complete energy. Him and Erica disappear to the other side of the theater. Y/N watched as the two stared at the screen with glazed over eyes and open mouthed smiles. They were transfixed. Even all bloodied up and bruised, Steve was still the most attractive man she had ever seen. However, the rush of having to pee came into her system fast and hard. She hadn’t even noticed that she hasn’t peed in nearly two days. She turned to the two beside her.

“Do not move. I will be right back, I have to pee.”

“Okay, Y/N/N we won’t.” Steve replied with an overbearing softness.

“Yeah Y/N/N, we won’t!” Robin repeated Steve.

The girl found her way out of the theater without being seen and ran right to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet and let it all out. She put her uniform back on, and then sat down again. She needed a moment of peace. A break from the hecticness of the evening. She took a few deep breaths before she heard the door slam against the walls and multiple footsteps running in. Soon enough she heard retching in the stalls beside her. She ran out of her stall and saw both Steve and Robin throwing up. She ran beside Robin to hold her hair back. The two puked for a bit before both of their nausea dissipated. She stayed silent, letting them have a few moments to breath and relax from what just happened. She stood up and walked to sit against the wall outside of the stall. Robin sprawled herself out on the floor and Steve sat comfortably against the toilet.

“The ceiling stopped spinning for me.” Robin broke the silence. “Is it still spinning for you?”

“Holy shit, no.” Steve replied out.

“Do you guys think you puked it all up?” Y/N asked them, gauging how they were doing.

“Maybe, ask me something.” Robin said in a calm tone. “Interrogate me.”

“Okay, interrogate you, sure.” Steve said, sounding more like him by the second. “When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today.” She let out blankly.

“What?”

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw.” They both started giggling, and Y/N joined in as well without even realizing it. “It was just a little bit though!” Robin said through laughter.

“Yeah, it’s definitely still in her system.” Steve said rubbing his eyes.

“Alright! My turn!”

“Okay, hit me.”

“Have you…” Robin pulls in a harsh breath, “Ever been in love?” Y/N’s whole body tensed. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to hear that he had only ever loved Nancy and that he didn’t love her as well. Even if he did, he wouldn’t say it right now would he? Y/N adjusted the way she was sitting, in case she had to get up and leave in the middle of his answer.

“Uhh, yeah, I have. Twice.”

“Twice?” Y/N spoke back.

“First, Nancy Wheeler, first semester, senior year.” He fakes a gun shot sound as he points his hand to his chest. This is what she was waiting for. This was the pain she knew she would feel.

“Oh, my god. She’s such a priss.”

“Turns out, not really.” Steve added dully.

“She’s actually kinda badass.” Y/N adds in.

“Are you still in love with Nancy?” Robin asked. ‘Yes.’ Y/N thought to herself.

“No. I’m not.” Y/N felt her whole body tense. No?

“Why not?”

“I realized that I’ve been in love with someone longer. It just took me too long to realize it. You see, there’s this girl. And we had a falling out for a bit. But then, she came back in my life full swing. She’s so smart, and funny, and strong. She’s so gorgeous. Dustin keeps telling me to find my Suzie.”

“Who is Suzie?”

“This girl from camp, I guess she’s his girlfriend. Anyway, I don’t think I need to find her. I already did. She just…She’s different and I fucked it up the first time. But there was this night back in December where it just clicked. She’s the only one who has ever believed in me, and I love her so much.”

Y/N thought back to the night of the snowball. She thought back to the moments they were talking about what happened between the two of them, and how they reconnected.

“I’ve apologized for what I said. I don’t even know why I said it. Maybe I thought that it would snap you back to reality. Even then, I didn’t hate you. I don’t think I’ll ever hate you. I believe in you too much.” Y/N wrapped her arms around herself and waited for his response.

“You’re the only one who ever has.” Steve said quietly.

It didn’t take a genius to realize who Steve was talking about, but rather than face it now, Steve instead said, “What about you Robin?” She didn’t answer Steve at first, rather she tucked her face between her legs. “Robin? Did you just OD in there?” Steve said from the other side of the stall. Steve slid down under the stall to sit across from her and Y/N moved closer to the stall.

“The floors disgusting.” Robin finally spoke again.

“Yeah, well, I’ve already got a bunch of blood and puke on me so.”

“Rob? Have you ever been in love?” Y/N asked, setting her hand on Robin’s shoulder.

“Maybe not love, but really strong like.” She spoke quietly.

“Who is it?”

“Do you remember what I said about Clicks class? About me being jealous and like, obsessed?” Y/N looked between Robin and Steve, clearly missing a piece of the puzzle. She knew that they had had that class with one another, but she couldn’t figure out where this was going. Steve shakes his head.

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you.” Robin takes a breath, trying to calm down her nerves which were clearly skyrocketing. “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.” Y/N felt her whole body go still, Robin was coming out to them. She was endlessly proud and happy for Robin that she was letting it all out.

“Mrs. Click?” Steve asked, almost causing Y/N to laugh, but she stopped herself and let Robin take over once more.

“Tammy Thompson.” Robin let out in a hushed sentence. Y/N let her hand go to grab Robin’s, giving it a soft squeeze, to show that she was there for her. “I wanted her to look at me. But she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair.” This caused Y/N to let out a soft laugh. “And I didn’t understand because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions. And you were a douchebag! And you didn’t even like her and … I would go home and just scream into my pillow.” Robin finally concluded her story. Steve still had a confused look on his face.

“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.” He said in return.

“Steve.” Robin whispered and looked into his eyes, yet he still looked confused.

“Yeah?”

“Stevie…” Y/N said at the same whisper and inflection. That’s when it clicked for him.

“Oh…” He sat for a second, as she repeated the word. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, holy shit.” The three sat in awkward silence for a moment, all thinking about the confessions that were left on the table.

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin asked, reciting his joke from earlier.

“No, I just, uh- just thinking.”

“What’re you thinking about?” Y/N asked him.

“I mean, yeah. Tammy Thompson, you know, she’s cute and all, but…I mean…she’s a total dud.” Steve spoke out. Y/N cracked a smile for that one, noticing Robin’s quick defenses.

“She is not.”

“Yes she is! She wants to be like a singer. She wants to move to like Nashville and shit.”

“She has dreams!” Robin said in attempts to defend her again.

“Except she can’t even hold a tune! She’s basically tone deaf. She can barely sing without sounding like…like…” Y/N said, trying desperately to think of what she sounded like. Steve began mocking how she sings, Y/N joining in. Robin started laughing telling both of them to shut up.

“She doesn’t sound like that!”

“She sounds exactly like that.”

“We were doing a great impression of her.” Y/N said applauding her and Steve’s imitation.

“You both sounded like muppets!”

“That’s it! She sounds like a muppet!” Y/N said, finally completing her thought from earlier.

“She sounds like a muppet giving birth!” Steve exclaimed as well. The three all started laughing before Steve started the song once again to mock Tammy’s awful voice. They were cut off from their laughter and singing by Dustin slamming the door open and storming into the bathroom.

“Okay! What the hell!” Dustin shouted at them. All three of them started laughing once more, unable to take Dustin seriously after what just happened.

“Calm down Dusty, I went pee and then they came in and threw up. I have been taking care of them and I made sure I wasn’t seen. It’s okay, I promise.”

“Well we need to get out of here and fast or else they will find us.”

“The movie is probably almost over, let’s just get out then.” Robin said, trying to calm Dustin down a bit.

They surrounded the door, leaning against one another in attempts to see when the crowd was leaving the theater. A swarm of people started to exit the theater doors.

“And…blend.” Dustin said leaving the bathroom. The rest of the group immersed themselves in the crowd, trying to look as normal as possible. They kept up the pace of the rest of the crowd her were swiftly approaching the exit.

“Well, shit. That worked.” Erica stated, clearly not thinking it was going to.

“Of course it worked.” Dustin’s voice was laced with confidence. “We just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and home sweet home here we come.” Y/N was excited at the thought of all of this being over, at least for a night. She knew that it was never gonna be fully over seeing as they were opening the gate, but that was a problem for tomorrow. A problem for after sleep.

“Uh, Dustin?” Steve said just as Y/N was about to say something.

“What?”

“We might not want to go to your guys’ house.”

“And why is that?” Y/N said voice laced with concerns.

“Well, I might have told them Dustin’s full name.”

“You did what?” Y/N said, voice rising a bit higher than she should’ve.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Dude! I was drugged.” Steve said in attempts to find some innocence.

“So?”

“So?” “SO you resist! You tough it out. You tough it out like a man.” Dustin claimed.

“Dusty, how would you even know how to tough it out like a man?” Y/N mocked her little brother.

“Seriously, that’s easy for you to say.” Steve said trying to defend himself. Y/N could tell that he was getting a little worked up. He had the tendency to do that with Dustin, they would bicker and get heated. Y/N was usually the mediator, and more than likely in charge of calming them both down.

“Guys?” Robin spoke up from the other side of the pack, her voice filled with concern. She grabbed Dustin and Erica and pulled them back gently. Y/N and Steve stopped in their tracks as they noticed what she did. Standing only a few feet in front of them there was a few of the Russian men checking ID’s and asking people questions as they were leaving. There would be no way that they could get past them.

“Abort.” Dustin spoke, slightly too loud. The man looked over and noticed the group standing there. Fear flooded through each and every single one of their bodies. The group started to slowly back away from the crowd, in attempts to get themselves away from the Russian guards blocking the exit.

“Abort! Abort!” Dustin kept yelling to the group. Robin led the way, weaving through all of the people trying to find somewhere to go. They all ran to the escalators, thinking maybe they could find a way out from down there.

“Shit.” Steve whispered yelled right behind Y/N. They got to the escalators and they were turned off and roped off.

“Uh, okay.” Robin said in a fearful tone. Her language was becoming sparse and scared, something none of them had heard from Robin yet. Steve looked back and saw the men finding their way through the crowd just the same as they had. Y/N looked over to him, seeing it in his face how truly scared her was. But her attention was pulled away by Robin going down the center of the escalator like a slide.

“Okay, come on, let’s go!” Steve said, rushing everyone to do the same. One by one they flung themselves down the makeshift slide. They all rushed to hide behind the counter of The Great Cookie. Once hidden, they could hear the guards speaking thick Russian into their walkies. Every second felt like it was one second closer to death. The men’s footsteps were very prominent. The thick black boots they were wearing essentially pounded against the floor. Suddenly, one of the men’s voice was heard far closer than it had yet.

Y/N instinctively grabbed for both Steve and Dustin’s hands, clutching them both as if it was the last time she was doing so. Her breathing became unsteady and inconsistent. They had been found and there was no way that they could escape this. The guards footsteps took on a synchronized pattern as they stepped closer and closer to the counter they were behind. Everyone jumped as the sound of a car alarm started wailing in the court. It was going crazy, drawing the attention away from the hidden group. The car was bouncing and honking, it was uncontrollable and an out of this world phenomenon. The car flew across the food court, knocking down the guards as it flung across. All of the men, knocked cold and presumably dead. The group rises up slowly from behind the counter, Y/N still clutching one of Steve’s hands. Their eyes slowly panned around to look at the men on the floor, the still rattling, yet torn off cap, to the car that was now overturned and finally up to the balcony where the party was standing as well as Jonathan and Nancy. Smiles of relief took over Dustin and Y/N’s face.

taglist: @mochminnie @queen1054 @prettysbliss @voidnarnia

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n

27 notes · View notes

wackapedia · 4 years

Text

Lucky Star

Soulmate au! Yoongi x idol reader where corporations fuck things over as usual. slightly dystopian warnings: mentions of blood, murder but not so graphic, angst 1.7k You were leaning upright inside a containment in the middle of the ridiculously bright room of the facility. The rough material of medical scrubs rubbing against your skin while several wires and tubes are connected to your body. As the containment tilts to make you lie horizontally. "Commencing cryogenic stasis" The gentle robotic voice alerts. you close your eyes and remember the events of the past week. "ProtoGen Inc. has been the world's leading resource developer for modern technology. From Smartphones, Appliances, Transportation, and Medical Technology. ProtoGen is also partnering with Yong-Soon Farms to create Genetically-modified livestock, to fill the global supply. Today, ProtoGen takes on the entertainment industry as we launch the world's first Artificially-Enhanced girl group. Please welcome, Lucky Star!" The curtains rise to reveal three girls standing with perfect posture. The crowd jumbles to get a clear view, flashing their cameras boldly to the three girls. The camera flashes would blind a normal person, but the Lucky Star Girls were nowhere near normal. You and your groupmates bow simultaneously. "Hello! We are Lucky Star!"

---------- "'ProtoGen Inc., debuts world's first AI-Enhanced girl group' whatever the fuck that means," Taehyung reads the headline of an article as he scrolls through his pad, slurping his soggy cereal. "Are they aliens?" Jungkook asks, peeling his third hard-boiled egg for the day. "I'm pretty sure we haven't discovered alien life yet, Kook..." Jimin sighs from the kitchen. "That's what they want you to think!" Namjoon continues to read the article, squinting over Taehyung's shoulder while unknowingly spilling his orange juice down the younger's Gucci trousers as Jimin talks Jungkook out of the thought of meeting aliens in the near future. This was the scene that greets Yoongi as he descends the stairs. "What's going on?" He asks, heading straight to the coffee machine. "Aliens!" Jungkook enthusiastically answers. Too enthusiastic at 8am. "That AI girl group just debuted." Namjoon fills in. "Called Lucky Star". "Okay, what does that have to do with aliens?" "Nothing! Jungkook here was just being imaginative!" Jimin continues to buzz with Jungkook talking over him. Yoongi sighs as he finishes preparing his coffee and heads back upstairs to his home office. "Whatever." He mutters, leaving them to continue reading the article and discuss alien life. "Local K-Pop fans continue to protest for the girls' human rights despite- AHH HYUNG! YOUR JUICE!!" Taehyung finally realizes the coldness seeping through his thigh, seeing a large orange stain on his outfit. ---------- Immediately after your first live performance in a music awards show, you meet other idol groups queueing up for the stage. A girl you know as Jennie glares at Yue who glares back at her with hostility. You were escorted to your private dressing rooms where the CEO of ProtoGen himself waited. "How did we do, chief?" May, the main dancer asks as soon as she enters. "It was good..." Chairman Han answers, putting down the tablet after scrolling through the articles about Lucky Star. "But not good enough." "Excuse me? You programmed us to perfection and you think we weren't good enough?" Yue, the leader and the most developed speaks up. Her android programming allowed her to quickly learn from her surroundings, allowing her to have some form of a freewill. "Leave us." Chairman Han addresses the group of wardrobe and makeup assistants, leaving you three with him and the programming director of the Lucky Star project. The door opens just as you caught a glance of the group of men marching toward the backstage. One of them stops and makes eye contact with you, his cat-like eyes freezes you in place and the familiar mark on top of his wrist causes your heart to skip a beat. And then the door shuts again. A robotic freewill is considered as a paradoxical flaw in programming. A resultant factor of several integral aspects that can not be substituted without compromising the quality of the output. You learned this during your time at the facility at a young age, picking up IT jargon while they infused the enhancement serum into your system. Contrary to what most believe, the Lucky Star girls are actually part human. May was human, farmed and fertilized in a test tube. Yue was the least human. You witnessed how she was constructed in the facility for over 20 years. She was considered as the most developed among all humanoid robots in existence. You were a normal human, born 25 years ago, injected with all sorts of chemical enhancements, but still human enough to don a soulmate mark on the top side of your wrist. You are witnessing how technologically advanced Yue is when she sharply talks back to Chairman Han who was verbally abusing her about her lack of energy during the performance. "You were created to entertain, and yet here you are, presenting a mediocre performance, shaming my company in a pitiful excuse of a performance!" The chairman's heavy hand lands on Yue's artificially manufactured cheek. There was an awkward silence before Yue pushes the chairman against the mirrored wall of the dressing room, cracking it against the Chairman's skull. The programming director moves to stop her but his efforts are futile when Yue drives the narrow edge of a contour brush through the chairman's head. Blood stains Yue's glittery costume. ---------------- Hoseok animatedly reviews their performance as he leads the group to their assigned dressing rooms. Jin laughs at how Jimin almost slipped at the stage. All seven of them are halted in their steps when a crowd of paramedics gather at one of the dressing rooms. "What happened?" Namjoon asks a personnel of ProtoGen Medical as a mortuary trolley gets dragged out of the room. "Oh my god did someone die?" Jungkook loudly questions, earning him a 'Shut up' from his hyungs. Namjoon gets ignored by the personnel as they were escorted away from the crime scene. Yoongi clearly remembers seeing you in the room minutes before their performance and wonders if you're okay. "ProtoGen Ceo Han Sung-Hoon dies of Heart Attack" Jimin reads the headline of an online article the morning after the music awards. "We all know that's not what happened." Taehyung replies. "We shouldn't speculate..." Namjoon comments. "Big Hit warned us not to get involved." "What? We were the only ones who saw the medics last night!" Yoongi answers, scrolling through the pictures from last night's event, trying to spot anything peculiar. He pauses at the group photo of that AI-enhanced girl group, his eyes zero-ing in on a familiar mark on your wrist. "Which is why they asked us not to get involved." Namjoon stresses again. "We wont get involved if they tell us what happened!" Jungkook states. Just then, their manager walks up to the dining area, overhearing the maknae's sentiments. "Sit down. I'll tell you what happened." The manager declares, causing all seven to settle down. ------------ "Commencing cryogenic stasis" The gentle robotic voice alerts. White smokes of gas fill the chamber, causing your eyes to water despite tightly shutting them. Your panicked heartbeat erratically rattles your chest, feeling the sense of claustrophobia despite being in the spacious chamber. ProtoGen has decided to put down the Lucky Star project after last night's event. Yue has been dismantled into particles the moment she arrived in a crate in the facility. Her programming became too much to control, causing her to go on a murder spree at the dressing room last night. She annihilated Chairman Han and May. Before she choked the air out of you, she asked you to join her in taking the fame and be the most popular artist. This was her only motivation as she was programmed to be an artist. You politely declined, explaining to her that you were not a humanoid like her, to which she did not understand. She tightens her grip on your neck before she was shut down by the programming director who eventually bled out and died. The ProtoGen staff immediately answered to the situation, cleared up the place and dealt with the media. You were brought to the facility to where the board of directors decided to have you placed in cryogenic freeze until they found a way to separate the flawed formula of the serum in your system. The glass window of the chamber fogs up. Your vision becomes blurry and the engine noises become muffled as you sink into cryo-stasis. and then it stops. The Cryo chamber tilts to an upright position but doesn't unlock. a group of people in labcoats enter the room, escorting a group of men who gather around you. One of them immediately positions himself directly in front of the glass window. ---------- "You have two minutes." Doctor Sharp lets all seven of them in the room. Yoongi immediately knocks on the closed chamber, desperate to see you awake. "Hey y/n.. Its me.." He shows you his soulmate mark through the fogged up glass. He notices a spark of recognition in your eyes, encouraging him to go on. "I'm sorry there's no way for me to get you out of here. But when you come out, I'll find you. I may have to take up another form in the next life, but you'll still be you. So I'll come find you, okay?" Yoongi stutters but continues to make the most out of his last minute, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry it had to end this way. But it isn't really the end..." "Your time is up. Please leave the room peacefully while you can." ---------- You look up to the man who you remember to be one of the idols from last night's event. He tries to tell you something but all you can hear is his muffled unintelligible voice through layers of metal and plexiglass. He shows you his soulmate mark which was identical to yours. You smile. He continues to talk with tears in his eyes and all you could do was to wander your eyes on his face, hoping to dream of him for the next 50 years of cryo-stasis. He is eventually escorted out of the room, and the chamber tilts back to continue the process. You peacefully close your eyes and inhale the sleeping gas as years of sleep take over you. ---------- "BTS Spotted leaving ProtoGen facility after Lucky Star project shutdown" Taehyung quietly reads the headline as Namjoon reads over his shoulder. "Such a shame Yoongi-hyung found and lost her in such a short time..." Namjoon sighs.

#yoongi x reader #fic #bts #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi angst

15 notes · View notes

jaxsteamblog · 4 years

Text

Comfort

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

The last week of her summer, Katara stopped working at the Ice Blossom. Her days would be spent packing everything up and getting her new apartment ready. The cable and internet needed to be switched over, and there was a problem moving over her electric bill. A Katara paced around her apartment - her steps confounded by partially filled boxes - she waited on hold with the electric company.

Stubbing her toe on the coffee table she had pushed out of the way of her cable box, Katara tried to keep her swearing under her breath.

When she heard knocking at her door, Katara wordlessly walked to it. Opening the door, she waved Zuko in before turning back toward her living room.

“Hello?” Katara asked when the hold music cut off. “Ah great, thanks.”

Zuko raised his eyebrow at her and Katara shook her head, gesturing to the living room. She watched him close the door, crossing one arm over her chest and nodded as she listened to the man on the phone.

“Mmh hmm. Mmmh hmm. Yes I-.” Katara rubbed her eyes. “Yes, I understand that. But I’m not, yes, I’m not cancelling my services. I’m just trying to remove one address and add another to my account.”

Zuko walked to the living room and peered into a couple of boxes.

“No, that’s where I live now. I need my account to be moved to the second street address.” Katara said. Zuko watched her as she paced and she turned her back to him.

“Yes, exactly. Now wait.” Katara said in a rush. “I don’t need the switch made until the end of the month.”

She listened intently, not turning as she felt Zuko walk up to stand next to her.

“That’s perfect, thank you.” She said and clicked her phone off.

“UGGGHHHHH.” She groaned and rubbed her face vigorously.

“I am really glad I never have to deal with stuff like that.” Zuko said. Katara blew a raspberry and walked over to a box in the living room.

“It’s not always a pain. I can usually do it online, but they were having a problem with this move for some reason.” She said.

“Well, what do you need me to do?” Zuko asked.

“I need to pack up a lot of the non-essentials, like my books, and start dismantling the furniture.” Katara replied.

“Okay. Where should I start?”

Katara set him to work on the living room while she packed up her bedroom. In the South Pole and during the war, there was never a reason to accumulate a lot of stuff, so her packing was usually done fairly quickly. She left out a week’s worth of clothes and folded everything else up into a box. Everything else was categorized as miscellaneous and she wrapped them if needed. Otherwise, she tossed everything into a box and moved on.

After a while, she went out and helped Zuko dismantle her bookshelf. As she started to vacuum up the formerly hidden dust, Zuko headed into her kitchen. She followed him and they started wrapping up her dishes in old newspaper.

“I really appreciate the help. This would normally take me all week and then we’d have to rush the move in one day so Sokka wouldn’t take too much time.” Katara said as she moved a stack of wrapped plates into a box.

“Not a problem. And if you wanted, I did bring the van. We could take some stuff over tonight if you wanted.” Zuko said.

“We can’t take the trolley through the center of the rings, we’d have to take the highway.” Katara remarked.

“That’s only a three hour drive to the opposite side of the ring.” Zuko said. “I mean, we’d only be able to take one trip, but that’s one less to do on the weekend.”

Katara looked at her watch; it was five-thirty and she was starting to get hungry.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” She rolled her head and stretched her arms out behind her. “Let’s pause here and load up.”

“Did you want to do any of the furniture?” Zuko asked hesitantly.

“The furniture is the easiest.” Katara said with a smile. “Don’t you remember the factory?”

Confused, Zuko watched as Katara turned on her sink. As the faucet opened, she pulled the thin rope of water. More and more pooled in the air, enough to easily fill a bathtub, and Zuko stepped back. When she judged she had enough, Katara used the water to shut off the faucet.

“You might want to head down first and open the van.” She said. Zuko nodded and made a quick dash to the door. He looked back in time to see Katara envelope the couch in water.

In the parking lot, Zuko laughed quietly as Katara used her bending to slide the couch into the back of the van. When it was settled, she recalled the water and sent it shooting down a sewer drain. In awe, Zuko ran a hand over the back of the couch, feeling the dry fabric.

“We can’t do that with the boxes because the initial grab would ruin some things.” Katara said with a sigh.

“Guess we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way.” Zuko said.

The van was a delivery vehicle and so they weren’t able to fit much more in the back. Zuko and Katara stepped up into the cabin of the van and she pulled up a map on her phone.

“Where do you want to eat?” He asked, turning over the engine.

“I don’t care. Somewhere quick.” Katara replied, fitting her phone into the holder on the dash.

“Fast food?” Zuko asked, sounding offended.

“Okay rich boy, calm down.” Katara replied. Zuko smiled but didn’t say anything. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed onto the main street.

They got food through the worst drive-thru Katara could find and Zuko demanded that she feed him his fries so he could keep both hands on the wheel. The interstate itself was fine, but they hit construction traffic about forty-five minutes in that made it a slog.

Zuko swore a blue streak under his breath as he flipped his turn signal on aggressively. He was trying to merge in front of a blue car for the third time since they had seen the orange construction signs.

“You’re in a van,” Katara said. “You’re only just above semi-trucks in car hierarchy.”

“So I just have to go for it?” Zuko asked. He shoved the front of the van into the tiny space the blue car was just about to lurch into and Zuko smiled triumphantly.

“I wanted to ask, how to manage to get around so freely as the crown prince?” Katara asked as Zuko straightened out the van and let out a breath.

“I have a security detail, of course. But a lot of it just comes down to the fact that I live a very mundane life here. I’m a Firebender, so I can take care of myself in close quarters, and any larger attempt on my life is most likely going to get picked up by my babysitters.” Zuko explained.

They drove for a time in silence and Katara watched the cars sway like fish in front of them.

“What about you?” Zuko asked.

Katara looked at him, curious.

“Me?” She questioned.

“Where are your babysitters?”

“Why didn’t the crown prince of the Fire Nation know about Arnook’s new heir?”

“Hmm.” Zuko nodded, looking intently through the windshield. “Fair.”

“People had no idea who I was at the end of the war. And it’s not like the Fire Nation wanted to talk about the Waterbender that…” Katara trailed off and Zuko didn’t move. “Anyway, I was easy to hide.”

“Probably not for much longer.” He said softly.

“Do you think I’ll be able to finish medical school after my coronation then? I mean, it’s pretty mundane.” Katara asked. Zuko glanced over at her quickly, but she was able to see his pained face.

“Katara, again, you’re going to be a ruling monarch. I doubt they’re going to let you do anything other than that.” He said. Katara huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and sinking down in her seat.

“I don’t even know what being a queen means.” She muttered.

“Well,” Zuko paused as traffic started to clear up and he changed lanes again. “You’re going to have a lot of ministers, and I’m sure Arnook is going to stick around.”

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. All of the tribes have been self-governing for a very long time, and I don’t see them unifying just because I’m a Waterbender.” Katara said.

“Sure, but the tribes are small, and the war wasn’t that long ago. Being united might seem pretty attractive right now, and with the Avatar being born in the Swamp, it might be that Arnook is trying to keep power in the North Pole.” Zuko replied.

“So what?”

“So nothing. Really, it’s because the Water Tribe will look bad if the head is some random person for a literal backwater place.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Katara jerked herself upright but Zuko stayed firm.

“You know I don’t mean anything by that. Only that no one knows anything about the Swamp Tribe, and two nations are going to be sniffing out their loyalty.” He said.

He looked at her and Katara turned her face away to look out the window. The sun was sinking behind the wall of the middle ring and the sky seemed brighter on that side.

“Does it actually bother you?” He asked. Katara sighed and rested her forehead against the glass.

“No. I know what people say. I just don’t want to be queen.” Katara said. “This wasn’t supposed to be my reward.”

“Reward?”

Katara closed her eyes, listening to the road underneath the tires. She could conjure the image in perfect detail, right down to the smell. The ocean spray was metallic; the sunken ships blooming like tea leaves under the waves. The sky was a blinding orange. Sozin’s Comet ripped through the sky and burned up the oxygen, leaving Katara to gasp as she ran over the howling water.

Sky Pirates clashed overhead and sent more ships tumbling down, their hulls ablaze. Sokka and Suki had infiltrated the Fire Nation air force and Katara watched with her heart in her throat as the flagship went down.

She had to trust them, had to trust that they would be able to get out safely.

And so she ran, waves pushing her up over rocks that pierced the depths. It was after one massive swell that Katara found herself airborne. Flipping around, she dove into the water. It covered her and became her. La rose with her and they ripped ships out of the sky, dragging the seabound ones downward as they did.

The Firebenders were more powerful at that moment, but a fire could always be put out with a big enough wave.

When she landed on a boat, she ran over the deck, sheering it apart with her bending. The sailors that got in her way were forced to kneel when she used her knowledge from Hama. At the prow, Katara would jump again, and La would receive her.

It was only by chance that they were at the invasion site. They had just been trying to get home when Sokka had noticed the fleet.

“What do you know about the final battle?” Katara asked, opening her eyes and watching the reflective lines pass underneath the window.

“Only that two-thirds of our air force and navy was sunk.” Zuko said. “I actually almost lost my father then.”

“Yeah,” Katara croaked. “Sorry about that.”

“Were you,” Zuko paused and Katara looked away. “There?”

“I was.” She said.

“And La?”

Katara didn’t answer and Zuko didn’t say anything further. Silently, Katara rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky through the windshield.

“They only want me to use my power.” She said.

“No one else knows about your connection to La though.” Zuko pointed out. Katara groaned and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“Can’t you be upset?” She demanded.

“Why would I be upset?” Zuko asked.

Sitting up, Katara slammed her hands on the edge of her seat.

“You literally just told me that I almost killed your father in the war. It didn’t bother you when I told you I drowned Zhao, but this? He’s your father Zuko!” She said.

Zuko sighed, but he looked sad.

“What happened to your mother, Katara?” He asked. Shocked, Katara sat up.

“What?”

“She died in prison right? Protecting a horrible woman, or so Sokka told me.” Zuko said. Katara faced forward again, her hands gripping her arms.

“My father ordered that the Water Tribe forces be captured and sent to POW camps. It’s his fault she was there.” Zuko said. Katara lowered her face as tears welled up hot in her eyes.

“He took my mother away too.” He said.

With a gasp, Katara’s head snapped up.

“What?” She asked.

“I don’t know why, but my father is behind her disappearance. He told me as much. He also told me that I will never see her again.” Zuko said. He turned his face to steer the van onto an exit ramp. His jaw was set but he still only looked sad.

“So, we have something in common.” He added gently.

Katara started to cry and Zuko flipped up the center console, yanking a tissue out of a box and handing it to her. She took it and he kept his eyes on the road, occasionally looking at her phone for directions.

“Katara, you are an amazing woman and I think you’ll be an amazing queen.” Zuko said. He finally looked at her as they stopped at a stop sign and he smiled. “Want to get some ice cream?”

Sniffling, Katara nodded.

“I’m going to need you to find a place because I have never been here before.” He said, pulling the van through the intersection. Katara chuckled and grabbed her phone.

“So, we should probably find out what else we have in common besides the mom thing.” She said as she looked up an ice cream place.

“What kind of flavor do you like?” Zuko asked.

“Butter pecan.”

“Well it’s certainly not that.”

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #modern au #zutara month 2020 #the fic that prompts built

52 notes · View notes