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deejadabbles · 3 years

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The House of Anubis (Atem x Reader Halloween Special)

Part Two: The Shadows

One //// Two //// Three (coming soon) ///

Summary: The house was large, a manor, really. Imposing, yet striking more aw with every turn of a corner. You had never thought you’d be dragged back into the family business, but your brother needed you, and so too did his latest project. It stood alone among the trees, yet, you never felt alone when inside. Hairs prickle on the back of the neck, shivers run down spines, and hands fidget with every unoccupied moment. And the thing- or rather, person, who simultaneously eases and worsens these feelings? Atem, a man who was just as mercurial as the house itself, all smirks and light comments one moment, then lingering stares and strange musings the next. So the real question remains, will you uncover the secrets both the man and the manor are harboring?(A Halloween mini-series inspired by the show ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ and the movie 'The Frighteners’. The Reader x Atem themes are, admittedly, light as this mostly focuses on a spooky haunted house story, but the romantic undertones are there. Gender-neutral reader.)

A.N. HAHA look at me, actually getting this chapter done just in time to end Halloween on a good note! I can't believe I did it, but I'm proud of myself. We still have a chapter (maybe even two depending on how the ending goes) until we get to the end of the miniseries, but I hope this is creepy enough to spice up your Halloween! I also hope everyone had a good holiday in general, whether you stayed in watching movies, dressed up with a friend/loved one, or actually managed to get some treats! Also @ohyema and @itachified figured I’d tag you so you wouldn’t miss this <3

Happy Halloween!

You swiped at your forehead yet again, clearing off more sweat gathering there. Why exactly had you picked the last hot day of the season to do this?

Oh well, at least it was done now, you told yourself as you leaned back, stretching your muscles and looking over the work. It was only a temporary ramp, laid over the crumbling front steps, but it would serve its use: helping your brother get inside so you could both be in the house even before he was recovered. Just because he couldn’t lift anything didn’t mean he couldn’t help.

After weight testing the ramp to your satisfaction, you tucked the few tools you dug out for the job back into your belt. However, before heading into the house, you took a moment of respite, wandering over to the small wicker table that would likely need to be repaired or thrown out. You were surprised and lucky to find that the local gas station actually sold your favorite drink and took a long swig of it after sitting down in the equally disheveled wicker chair. With a long exhale you scanned the grounds around you, the forest, the forgotten flower beds that would need cleaned up as a bonus selling point, the weedy grass in between.

Despite the unkempt appearance, it was still peaceful. More peaceful than you felt inside the house anyway. Though, admittedly, the isolation that you disliked inside the manor persisted out here in some ways. Cars rarely passed on the road, not that you could see it from the house, the woods walling the grounds made an effective barrier, almost letting you wonder if there was anything beyond them at all. But there was, and out here you could tell that. Birds sang, squirrels and other critters nested in the trees, and there were houses somewhere in the distance. It was easy to shake aside any foreboding or negative musings out here.

Allowing yourself a few minutes more, you closed your eyes and took in the smell of the approaching autumn. It would only get chillier from here, but today the breeze felt nice and you only made yourself get up from the seat when you found yourself edging dangerously close to a nap.

With a sigh you grabbed your drink and headed inside, annoyingly aware of the work that still needed to be done today. You had left the doors open but shut them tight behind you since you would be occupied inside for the rest of your would-be work shift. The music you were playing from the boombox was louder now of course, but you didn’t bother turning the volume down since your next project was in the library.

As usual, you passed through the conservatory to get there and hoped that the room would wash a calming mood over you. The garden-like room was quickly becoming your favorite in the whole house. Perhaps it was how open the room was, easing the trapped effect big and old manors tended to have when you were alone in them. Or maybe it was just the peaceful sound of nature on the other side of the glass walls doing their job.

Either way, passing through the conservatory and even lingering there a moment didn’t help you. The moment you shut the door to the study behind you something seemed to tighten around your whole body, making you quite aware of the deeper breaths you had been taking since resuming the renovations.

You felt stupid for it, knew that your unease was the same unease you felt in any other large home. Having no one else around just made the wide and vast rooms feel more...void-like. Knowing that there was room beyond room around you just...empty, devoid of anything but chairs and paintings and figurines atop mantels; that you were the only living thing moving from room to room-

You shook your head, wanting to slap yourself. It wasn’t a new feeling, and you told yourself you should have gotten over it by now, this weird uneasiness of voids and empty spaces. Of being completely alone.

Of course, your next task surely wouldn’t help your discomfort.

It was only your second day of actually working on the house, but you told yourself you couldn’t put this next task off for the third day or the day after that. Surely the worst part would be cleaning up the blood, which you had done on the last visit. Surely climbing up that ladder and patching up that window wouldn’t be terrible.

So why did you find yourself standing at the bottom of the ladder, staring up at the cracked pane for nearly five whole minutes?

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, honestly, there was nothing to be scared of, it’s not like the ladder caused your brother’s heart attack. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you reached out, fingers closing around the metal step.

Something crawled up your spine.

Something so tangible your body jerked, but you knew nothing was behind you. No, no it was just cold. But why was it so intense? You shivered next, still paused in your act of climbing the ladder- why was it so cold all of the sudden. You forced yourself to look up, eyes crawling up the ladder toward the window, images of what might meet your gaze playing in your mind.

But there was nothing, just the cracked pane and the sunlight seeping in through the stained glass. Still, you were finding it hard to breathe even as you tried to ease the breaths out in a calming manner. You had just fought off another shiver, when something gave a shout somewhere behind you.

A gasp almost escaped as you wheeled towards the door that led to the study. Someone had called your name. Your heart was thundering in your ears now, breaths getting caught in your lungs. Another beat, your breath holding as you simply stared towards the door and the call from the other side. Then, the voice said something else.

And your lungs released their chokehold on you. It was just Atem. Or at least you thought you recognized that sultry baritone. Seriously why the hell were you so damn jumpy?

With a ragged sigh, you all but stormed towards the study, passed the room, and stepped out into the conservatory. Atem stood there, by the glass door that led out to the grounds, looking cautious as he peered into the home. He flashed you that small smile when he spotted you.

“I thought I would ask permission before entering this time, since I startled you so badly during our first meeting.”

You actually found yourself snorting at that, “Thanks, but you can always use the doorbell you know.”

“It’s broken. Has been for years.”

“Of course it has,” you sighed, actually vaguely remembering the note to fix it being way down at the bottom of your brother’s to-do list. Then, after realizing that he was still waiting for permission to enter (what was he, a vampire?) you waved for Atem to follow you. “Come on, you can help steady the ladder while I patch the window.”

He complied wordlessly, and as you slipped into the study, you remembered how you wanted to scold him about shutting doors properly. Just as you started to look over your shoulder though, you heard the soft click of a latch behind him. Satisfied, you just gave an approving nod without even turning as you both entered the library.

Perhaps it was still your own lingering apprehension, but you were acutely aware of the way Atem seemed to stiffen as you approached the spot. His eyes drifted up the wall beyond the ladder, as if he was taking stock of every inch of it, waiting for it to do something. Maybe brother was right, maybe Atem was a bit traumatized from finding him mid-heart attack. No one could blame the man, heck, just the knowledge that it happened here was freaking you out. Enough to make you a jumpy cat at every cold breeze and knock, at that.

“You okay?” the question was out before you even realized you wanted to ask it, but it felt right.

Atem’s eyes flicked away from the wall to gaze at you from their corners, “I will be. Just...promise me you’ll be careful.”

You gave a shrug, hoping to lighten the mood, “Come on, not like this spot in the house is a heart attack inducer or something, I’ll be fine.”

To further lighten, you stepped towards the ladder, facing your own hesitation head-on as you prepared to climb.

“That’s not what I meant, not exactly.”

Atem’s voice was low, and it almost seemed to tickle your ear despite the fact that he hadn’t moved closer. When you looked over your shoulder his gaze was steady, boring into you with something too gentle to be intensity, but too binding to be soft.

“Just be careful while you’re in this house,” he continued and you couldn’t break his gaze even if you wanted to. “This place...it has a bad habit of collecting accidents. Just...please be careful.”

Your throat was dry, so dry you didn’t bother trying for a verbal response. Instead, you just nodded after a moment, and something in your chest seemed to release when another smile lifted Atem’s lips at the agreement.

Despite how odd that moment might have been, you still took comfort in Atem’s presence as you turned back to the ladder and began climbing with care. Some part of you still expected something to happen with each step you took, but you were able to push the paranoia to the back of your mind.

After the hurdle of the climb was over, the actual patch job didn’t take more than a couple minutes, just gluing the cracks so they didn’t spread further and taping up plastic. The pane was a simple square, easily replaceable much to your relief. You were just about to climb back down when something else caught your eye.

Oh, you almost forgot about the odd tears you had seen on your first visit, but up here they were almost at eye level. Seeing them up close was even more odd. There were two tears in the wallpaper in the small space between the window and the bookshelves. They weren’t warped or bubbled enough to be moisture or water damage, besides that there weren’t any other signs of that on the walls. You ran your fingers over the tears, feeling the rough texture of the thick paper. The edges weren’t clean, they were frayed, stressed, like something had swelled underneath until the paper burst. Again your mind went to water damage, but you had never seen it do something quite like this, and surely it would have bubbled up further down the wall.

“Is everything alright?” Atem called from below, snapping you out of your baffled wondering.

You shook your head, “Uh, yeah, just trying to figure out what caused these marks. Always have to watch stuff like this, houses will give you signs of problems if they can.” Another motto your parents had left with you and your brother, though you supposed it was true in a way, you always had to look closer at these things, in case they were symptoms of a worse issue.

But, since you couldn’t find anything wrong besides the cosmetic damage, you opted to leave that for further investigation on another day. Besides, you were still a bit eager to get down.

You climbed back to the ground with ease and found Atem waiting patiently with his hands tucked in his pockets. It was only then that you took real notice of the man’s clothes: a plain black turtle-neck, and dark blue pants that weren’t as casual as jeans, but not dressy either, honestly you weren’t sure what kind of pants they were. He looked cozy in them at least, which, despite the heat of today, would be useful as fall continued.

“So, what’s next?” Atem asked with polite curiosity.

“I’m heading upstairs now, there’s a support beam in the attic I need to check on and a leak in a sink that should be taken care of before it gets worse.” You hefted a bag of tools over your shoulder.

He followed beside you as you headed towards the library door that led to the entry hall and the main staircase. At least the architect of this place had the common sense to make most rooms accessible from most parts of the house. You had been in several from the victorian era that were like mazes to get through, that had rooms you could only open after jogging through four other rooms.

The second floor of the house wasn’t as grand as the first in terms of decor or originality. In fact, most of the rooms were rather standard for a place built in the 20s, though still emulating the victorian style. The third floor wasn’t much either, though it had a nice loft above a den-like area that could definitely be the envy of any kid’s room. Heck, even you caught yourself daydreaming about how you would have decorated the space as a kid. Most of the third-floor rooms were cramped compared to the rest of the house, ceilings angled as the roofs neared their peak, spaces narrowing as the craftsman style made the rooms more haphazard than the first and even second floor.

The only access to the attic was via the second set of stairs in the house, the narrow servant’s stairs near the back. It was even more cramped up here, despite the fact that there was literally nothing but cobwebs, dust piles. and some minor debris from the house chipping and flaking away with age. Anyone on the tall end of the spectrum would have to crouch the whole time they were up here or risk banging their heads into the rafters and ceiling frames. You noted that Atem was short enough to avoid that problem altogether, though that wild hair of his was likely collecting some cobwebs.

He was rather quiet, another note made as you shuffled your way across the attic.

“I replaced this support beam the other day,” you started, if only to have some form of conversation, “it was the next pressing thing on the to-do list, but it’s been a while since I’ve done a repair that important so I want to keep checking on it.”

“You did such a thing by yourself? Isn’t that dangerous?” Atem asked, and though you couldn’t see his face as he walked behind you, you were sure his eyes were a bit narrowed in a silent scolding. “I never thought work like this should be done alone, yet you and your brother seemed determined to do so.”

You flashed him a rather flippant scowl over your shoulder, “We’re not stupid, yes, we do prefer to do things with minimal help, mostly because of cost, but we do hire other people when we need to.” You had reached the beam in question, and inspected it carefully as you continued, “There’s this kid- well, teenager, in town he had already agreed to help when it was needed, so he helped me with this.”

Atem apparently didn’t feel the need to reply and you took another minute to look your work over in silence. Then, satisfied, you looked back at your companion. He didn’t seem to be quite there, mentally speaking, he was gazing at nothing in particular and only blinked himself back into the moment once you gave a gentle call of his name.

“Sorry, I was just thinking. Well, at least you have help when you need it, I can’t imagine how upset he would be if you got injured while having over his project.”

You snorted at the thought, though you supposed your brother would be beside himself if you got hurt. Big brothers were always expected to be protectors, but that went double for yours. He had taken the role as your guardian very seriously after your parents were gone.

“Never mind him,” your tone was light again, still trying for that easy air, “ I’ll be beyond pissed if I have to join him in physical therapy.”

Moving on, you ducted past the beam, and Atem jerked out of your way as you headed towards the stairs.

“So, Atem, I really don’t know anything about you yet, mind if I ask some stereotypical questions?”

He made a small scuff of a laugh, “I don’t mind, ask away.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a historian. You made a joke the other day about me being an Egyptologist, I’m not, I simply know quite a bit about history in general.”

“So you, what, mostly do stuff online? There can’t be much call for a historian out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“I manage. You could say that I don’t need much to get by, and live a rather quiet life.”

As you two came to the door that opened to the stairwell, you took a moment to look back at Atem. He hadn’t really answered the question, though you supposed it wasn’t much of your business if he didn’t want to. Hell, for all you knew he wrote historical erotica and was too embarrassed to admit it. You had to hide your smirk at the thought as you turned to march down the stairs.

“Are you married? Seeing anyone in this teeny little town?” you asked next, though you were worried the loud creaking of the steps under your feet would drown out his answer.

“No, I don’t tend to get out enough to date. And you?”

If you hadn’t asked the single or taken question first, you’d be tempted to tease the way his voice went up a notch when he asked you. “Nope. Been single for over a year now, but that’s okay, he was an ass you made me seriously reconsider my dating priorities.”

“I see...”

You thought you heard Atem take a breath, ready to say something else, but a noise from your phone interrupted him.

“Right on time,” you said, taking a quick glance at the screen, then, seeing Atem's curiosity you waved the screen displaying your brother’s name and message, “He’s giving me a one-hour warning before his therapy is up so I know when to head that way. Should give me just enough time to fix that pipe.”

You notice a slight fall in Atem’s expression, “I did not realize you would be leaving so soon, I suppose I should have visited earlier.”

Though you weren’t sure why, something akin to guilt started itching at your chest, especially since he was seeming to avoid your gaze now, opting to look at the hallway walls instead.

“Well, if you’re free tomorrow, both of us will be here all day,” you suggested, even as you turned into the master suite. “Now that I put that ramp in, we can spend most of our free time here. Besides, I know big bro will be happy to see you, he’s pretty certain that he traumatized you last time you saw him.”

You were happy to hear Atem chuckle at the words. “You can assure him that it takes more than that to shake me, at least now that I know he’s alright.” Right when you reached the bathroom door, Atem stepped slightly in your way, making you halt. “I will be sure to visit you both tomorrow, until then, have a good day,” he ended the parting words with your name and a nod of his head, though his eyes lingered on you, trailing over your face for a long moment before he stepped back.

“You too…” the words lingered after him and his rather abrupt goodbye as he headed out of the room, only giving you a smirk over his shoulder as he went.

He had done that during your first meeting as well, suddenly taking his leave as if his time here had always been pressed. Then again the man had a life of his own, work or errands likely calling his attention.

Shaking it off as the man just being ‘a bit odd’ as your brother had said, you went ahead and stepped into the bath to wrap up the day’s chores. As you crouched near the sink and dug out the needed tools, you tried to listen for the front door, but there was only a soft thud somewhere in the distance. That made sense though, sound rarely traveled well through homes like this.

Much like the window patch, this was an easy fix, just replacing the gasket that had worn down in the past years, and you had bought the part in the city earlier that day. You hummed to yourself as you worked and barely more than ten minutes later you were done. You noticed a knot forming in your shoulder from the awkward position, and tried to stretch it out as you reached up to turn the faucet on. After letting it run for a bit you were sure the leak was fixed and climbed to your feet. Stretching again, you took in the bathroom’s design, hating how much it would cost to repair everything else in here.

Alexander Hawkins had apparently wanted to feel like the royalty he snatched treasures from, because his master bath was reminiscent of a pharaoh’s bathhouse- or at least what you imagined one looked like. Turquoise mosaics made up the sink, backsplash, and countertops, the walls were painted with a pattern resembling flower bundles, and decorative pillars flanked the bathtub. To top it all off the tub itself was large, with two steps leading up to it, golden faucets, and depictions of Isis and lotus flowers on the sides.

The problem was that time had not been kind to the delicate materials, and numerous cracks littered the tiles and mosaics making up the room. If big brother wanted to keep the design intact, it would cost. Still, the bathtub was in working order, and it was only the outside tiles that needed replaced, that was a plus.

Oh, the thought of a shower was inciting. your shirt was sticking to your back and you felt dirty from the sweat you had collected while working outside. You were going out to eat again tonight, and the thought of going out like this really did not appeal. The tub was clean, showing that your brother had probably used it several times after getting dirty himself. And besides all that, you did have a towel and spare shirt in your backpack downstairs.

You checked the time on your phone. If you hurried, you could get just clean enough and still only pick your brother up only a few minutes late. You at least had the decency to shoot him an “I’ll be late” text as you bolted for the stairs. You snatched your backpack up and headed back up the stairs in record time.

It was only when you reentered the master bedroom that the eerie emptiness of the house started to creep back upon you. It wasn’t so bad with Atem around, having another person made the whole house feel more...alive. But you forced the uneasiness to the back of your mind as you slipped the sticky clothing off, you only had to deal with it for a few more minutes, you could handle that.

The tub didn’t have a curtain, relying on the sheer size of the tub to catch all the falling water, so you just stepped in and turned the golden faucet on, instantly singing as the water hit your bare skin. You reveled in the rain-like droplets, closing your eyes and simply letting it wash over you. You let yourself have this for a while, long enough for steam to build up and cloud the mirror over the sink and then some. But, unfortunately, you couldn’t relax for long, time wasn’t on your side after all.

So with a final rinse, you turned the knob and let the water roll down your skin down the drain, before stepping out. You had to be wary of the time floors, now slick with the condensation of your hot water. After thoroughly patting yourself down with the towel, you walked to the vanity where your new shirt and the rest of your clothes lay.

Your fingers had just touched the fabric when something cold ran up your arms

You froze, just like in the library, something intense and unknowing wracked your senses. It made the hairs on the back of your next stand up, your skin shiver and crawl. Before you could even think as to why, your eyes were darting up to the foggy mirror- and your heart nearly stopped in your chest.

Something had clawed at the glass.

No- no. You took a step back, shaking your head as you clamped your eyes shut. Don’t be stupid, nothing had clawed at the glass! You took a calming breath before opening your eyes and looking at the streaks closer. You were thoroughly scolding yourself now, they were just finger marks, likely having been there for years since the glass hadn’t been cleaned in all that time.

Of course, that’s why they were, there was even a spot that looked like a palm below the streaks. It was the same as drawing on a mirror with water then blowing hot breath on it, it was bound to leave marks. Still, the fact that you were so jumpy was off-putting in of itself, why did this place have that effect on you.

“Christ, what’s wrong with me?” you snapped to yourself. Then, in an irritated move, you swiped your hand across the mirror to clean off the rest of the steam-made fog before snatching up your clothes.

Crack!

Something flashed just above your hand and you reared back with a cry just as a shard of glass shattered on the turquoise sink! You nearly slipped on the tile in your frantic move, but just managed to catch yourself on the counter. Heartbeats were thundering in your ears again as your eyes snapped back up to the mirror.

There, right across the middle in a jagged slash, the glass had cracked, leaving the top half to fall free and nearly impale your hand. You let out another curse under your breath, only then realizing that your breaths were coming out in something just short of frantic heaves. With another step back, slower this time, you closed your eyes, keeping your hand clamped over your heart as you calmed your breathing.

Your sense came back with every breath and once they were under control, you forced your mind to start thinking rationally again. Just like the ‘claw’ marks, the breaking had to have a logical cause. The glass was old, yes, that was it. It was just used to years of the temperature only changing slowly over the seasons. Your hot shower, the drastic temperature change, must have stressed it, and your irritated rubbing was the last straw. That had to be it. You told yourself as much even as you opened your eyes and looked at your jagged reflection.

“Just being jumpy,” you assured yourself in a whisper, the half-face in the mirror staring back at you just like any normal broken mirror would.

Still, once you tore your gaze away from it, you were practically tripping as you yanked your clothes back on, and didn’t look back as you sprinted out the door.

One of the only spots in the village of Hartstown was a mom and pop diner that had specials labeled things like “kettle-me hungry soup” and “sandwich supper surprise”, but the restaurant was decent enough despite its nonsensical wordplay on the menu. Though you had ordered something safer than a surprise sandwich stuffed with lord knew what, you were still picking at your plate with a disinterest that had little to do with the meal.

The scene of that glass shard falling kept replying in your mind, not only that, but your reaction to that and practically everything before it. Maybe it was just the AC unit near your booth, but you thought you even felt a phantom of the shivers that had crawled up your spine during those uneasy moments.

“So, as you might have guessed, I’ve definitely decided to head to LA and dance naked in front of Scarlet Johansson!” your brother proclaimed from the seat across from you, which promptly caused you to blink back into the moment.

“Wait-” you shook your head and finally looked back up at him, “what the heck are you going on about?”

With the good-grace of a toddler, he rolled his eyes at you, “Finally I get your attention, I’ve been rambling nonsense for the past two minutes!”

“Sorry,” your voice sounded more defeated, more tired than you meant it too, and you tried to give him an apologetic smile to strengthen the word.

At that, his brows actually drew together a bit, his eyes gaining a more serious look, “Are you okay?” he asked, tone low, gently nudging, “You’ve been off ever since you picked me up, you’re starting to worry me.”

You opened your mouth, intending to brush his worry off with a ‘yeah’ or ‘of course’, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you finally set your fork down and said, “I don’t know. I… can I ask you something, even if it sounds stupid or silly?”

“I think I got desensitized to silly questions that time you asked me why dragons aren’t real when you were four.” He was grinning now, obviously trying for an easy air, but it only lasted a second before he dropped the silly smile and leaned in. “Come on, you know you can tell me whatever. What’s wrong?”

“Have you...since you’ve been working on this house, have you noticed being more...uneasy, or jumpier? Like does the place make you unsettled at all?”

His brows were furrowed again as he thought the question over. He took his time, maybe looking over all the days spent there, or maybe just trying to figure out the best answer that wouldn’t upset you. “Well, not really. I don’t feel more jumpy necessarily, but… okay, this may sound stupid but, I actually started having these weird dreams about the house. I don’t remember my dreams a lot of the time but these were like...super intense. But I just figured I was stressing over getting the renovations done.”

He thought for a moment again, actually biting his lip before continuing.

“Actually, now that I think about it, I had the weird dreams not long before the heart attack. Maybe they were signs of my health taking a big drop, you know stress or whatever?” His eyes, which had been staring unfocused at the pine colored table, now snapped back up to you. “Why do you ask? Been getting weird vibes from the manor or something?”

Suddenly feeling more embarrassed than before, you picked up your fork again, only to resume batting your food around. “I’ve just been acting kinda jumpy and nervous when I’m in the house, that’s all.”

“Weird, that’s not like you,” concern and even a little interest was apparent in his voice, “heck whenever mom and dad moved us to a new project you were never afraid or skittish of exploring the old places. And I can’t remember how many times I woke up in the dead of night and had to drag you back to bed.”

“I know, it’s why I’m weirded out by the way I’ve felt while in the manor. Doesn’t make sense...” He didn’t say anything at first, and when the silence persisted for a few beats longer, you took a deep breath and put on your biggest smile for him. “Eh, doesn’t matter now, I’m sure it’ll get better now that you’ll keep me company while I work.”

He stared back at you for a bit, eyes narrowing some to show just how unconvinced he was. Still, he let it drop and gave a shrug. “Yup, thanks for putting in that ramp, I think making myself useful will help my recovering go by faster.” Then, obviously deciding to let you move on from the topic, he snatched up the dessert menu tucked between the salt and pepper shakers. “Anyway, if you aren’t going to finish your food, we have to get something in your stomach. You want some cake or ice cream?”

The next day began a repair project sure to be a lengthy one. After talking it over you and your brother decided that working on the grand staircase should be the next task and you were dreading the days upon days it would take to get everything he wanted regarding the staircase done. Well, at least you had help.

“Bring your end to the right just a tad, Max,” you said, making a slight motion with your hand so he wasn’t in doubt on if you meant your right or his. “That’s it, perfect!”

The son of the local hardware store owner was impressing you more and more as the day ticked on. He was a surprisingly capable and had good intuition on what needed to be done as you two worked together. Heck, when he helped you install that replacement beam you hardly had to coach him at all.

“Yes yes, you’re both doing an amazing job! Looks great!” your brother called from his lounged position in the entry hall.

Seeing as how you and Max were crouched in the cupboard space under the stairs, he had made camp on the other side of the opened door with a cup of coffee and some cookies Max’s mom had baked for the three of you. He had also made a habit of gloating for the past fifteen minutes. After screwing brackets to the planks you and Max cut to size, there wasn’t much work for your brother to do, something that he was all too willing to make comments on.

“Oh shut it, before I kick you in your bad leg,” you grumbled as you twisted to the side to screw in the wooden brace you and Max were holding under the step.

“That, kiddo, is sibling abuse and I will not have it from my servants,” he replied, doing a terrible impersonation of an English Lord.

He jumped in his chair when you kicked a stray L bracket at your foot through the door and towards him, promptly causing Max to stifle a snort.

After that “attack” he managed to remain silent as you and Max continued to work, at least for a while. Sometime later there was a knock on the front door, one that echoed so cacophonously, that poor Max gave a start, knocking his head into the underside of the stairs. Your brother called for whoever it was to come in, and the door creaked open with a groan.

“Atem!” he called to the visitor, and though you couldn’t see from your spot in the cupboard, you heard Atem give a warm hello in return.

“I see you’re doing well, I’m glad,” Atem went on and you could just see his figure as he stopped beside your brother’s seat.

“Yup, just have to get these limbs healed up,” he wiggled his cast-coated arm and leg, “after that I’ll be back on the job. And I hear you’ve met the kiddo,” he waved his good hand towards the cupboard, causing Atem to lean down a bit and peer through the door, “and the kid in the back is Max.”

“I have a name too, jackass,” you scolded, before drilling in another screw. He had always made a bad habit of introducing you with the nickname.

“The stairs needed to be repaired?” Atem stepped closer to look over your work with curiosity, though he didn’t enter the space for fear of getting in your way.

“Not dire ones, no, but we noticed some weak points in the wood and figured adding some braces to the steps would be a good call.” You turned to repeat the drilling process on Max’s side, but just managed to catch a glimpse of Atem’s face falling into a slight frown.

“This looks like it will take a while,” Atem muttered and you looked over your shoulder to find his eyes wandering up the many steps.

“It will, especially since the second flights will be harder to get to,” you waved a bit to indicate how the stairs split into two and turned opposite each other halfway up, indeed dreading the chore, “But I think it’ll be worth it, it pays to assure buyers that their grand lavish staircase won’t collapse on them.”

“You’re not going to work into the night, are you?”

At the question, you again looked over your shoulder, almost giving him a raised brow, “Uh, probably not, Max here has school in the morning and we actually like to have a thing called dinner. We’ll be here for a few hours though.”

Atem nodded after a pause of consideration, “Good, it wouldn’t be wise to work so late.”

That comment struck you as odd too, but you brushed it off and turned back to your work. There was silence behind you for a bit, but another glance at Atem showed that he was looking the stairway over with careful consideration. Then, as you and Max moved on to attaching the next plank, your brother decided to distract Atem by waving him back over. Judging by the low tones, you figured he was thanking Atem for saving him that day. Your suspicions were confirmed when Atem simply smiled at him and assured that he was happy he started stopping by the house so often.

You started to tune out the conversation a bit as they chattered, working to get the next brace up before the shake in Max’s arms started to get worse. Once that was done you gave the kid a sympathetic smile.

“Ready for a break?”

He nodded, obviously grateful you had noticed his need for one, poor kid must have wanted to avoid looking like a whiner. When you two stepped out of the cupboard you saw your brother chatting Atem’s ear off and, though he looked attentive to the conversation, you couldn’t help noticing that Atem was looking more worn than the previous time’s you’d seen him.

After tossing one of the homemade cookies to Max and biting into one yourself, you held the plate out to Atem, “Cookie? They’re fresh and super yummy.” You wiggle the plate to further entice him, earning a smirk in reply, despite that he seemed even more haggard now that you were looking at him up close.

“Thank you, but I’ll have to pass,” he actually took a step back then- and you almost dropped the plate when he stumbled a bit, your instinct to jump forward to help him taking over. He held up his hand the moment he straightened, a silent assurance that he was fine to pair with his thankful smile. “I’m actually feeling a bit under the weather all of the sudden,” he looked to each of you in turn, his eyes holding an apology, “I should be going, the last thing I want is to make anyone else ill.”

You took a step towards him even as he stepped back again, the man was practically worsening before your eyes! “I can walk you home, if you want, make sure you get there okay.”

“No, that’s alright,” his smile had fallen now, though you could tell he was still trying to put on a grateful air.

“Need medicine from town or anything? We can go pick some up for you,” your brother offered next, leaning forward in his chair and watching Atem just as carefully as you.

Again Atem shook his head, “I’ll be fine, but thank you.” He gave a look towards the sitting room, one that was a bit anxious. “Do you mind if I use the kitchen door?”

“Uh- yeah, yeah sure,” your brother insisted, waving Atem in that direction, “feel better soon, dude.”

Atem didn’t say any more to that, just nodded his head in thanks and ducked into the sitting room. You tried to listen to his footsteps as he retreated through the house, but rugs must have muffled his feet. At least you didn’t hear him collapse on the ground.

You and your brother exchanged a look and a shrug, before Max chimed in with, “That dude was weird.”

Again, your brother shrugged, “Wonder what made him feel sick all of the sudden,” his eyes flickered down to the cookies, “I mean, the cookies aren’t that bad.”

“I don’t know,” you signed, then set the plate back down on the end table beside him, “Sucks too, I think he was looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Well, at least we won’t stop coming around any time soon.”

You nodded at that, and the conversation seemed to move on as your brother asked Max to go refill his coffee cup. You quickly offered to do it instead, your mind still occupied with Atem’s odd demeanor and wanting to check on something. It wasn’t until you were turning towards the kitchen that you realized the path Atem had taken was an odd one, as there was a door beside the main stairs that led almost directly to the kitchens. He really must have been out of his head with his sudden illness.

That made you more concerned though and you found yourself double-checking the route he had taken to the kitchen just to make sure he hadn’t fallen on his way out. He hadn’t, but you still scanned the grounds through the kitchen windows as you poured your brother’s coffee, just to make sure. You didn’t see anything resembling a body out there either, thank goodness.

Despite having that assurance, however, you found yourself unable to shake him from your mind, even as you went back to work.

Several days passed, two of them spent at the manor, and not a word was heard from your repeat visitor. The previous day you were there, before you began the day’s work, you had even taken a walk in the forest bordering the manor to see if you could find his house and check on him. The search yielded nothing, and you had to tamp down the worry you felt for the rest of the day.

Honestly, the concern you felt for him was a little surprising, you barely knew the man but couldn’t seem to get him far from your mind. If it wasn’t mulling over how...mysterious he was, it was something else like this.

Now it was the third workday at the manor later, and you were hoping he’d show up today. If he just had a cold or felt bad from the changing seasons, surely he would be better by now. Even aside from your aforementioned worry, you felt his absence particularly bad today, as it was the first time all week that you were alone in the house again.

The stairs were all reinforced now, and today your brother had opted to stay at your shared airbnb seeing as how he couldn’t help much with your project today. You wanted to get all the work needed on the staircase done now, and that included sanding down every step and revarnishing them. It was a necessary task to recapture the manor’s original sparkle, but you didn’t relish how much time it would take.

At least the loudness of the sanding belt gave some form of distraction, you hardly ever had time to think about how empty the house was over the noise. No, instead you found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder and taking periodic breaks to check if the house really was empty. You were sure you were just expecting to find Atem leaning against the banister, waiting until you took notice of him before saying anything.

But no, time ticked away and no matter how many times you checked, Atem was nowhere to be found. You worked anyway and took a break to go get some food and check on your brother before going back to finish the job. You were thankful that the house had plenty of lighting because you noted the setting sun as you parked your car in the driveway again. Though you did want to groan at having to be here so late, you were determined to get it done.

There was still plenty of sunlight as you unlocked the front door, but even still, when you opened it you felt the urge to shiver.

Memories of the broken mirror in the bathroom came back to you and gave you pause, the door only half-open. You stood there on the stoop, staring at nothing and only able to register the shiver and those memories. This was ridiculous, the mirror was just a mirror, and nothing strange had happened in the manor that you couldn’t explain away.

Taking a calming breath, you pushed the door the rest of the way open. A vision of someone or something standing on the other side flashed in your mind, but you released a hard huff of air when nothing but the large entry hall greeted you.

You still fumbled a bit frantically for the light switch on the wall beside you, even as the day’s dying light filtered in through the window at the top of the stairs. Again you scolded yourself, rubbing a hand over your face as you all but slammed the door behind you and told yourself to stop being paranoid.

After that, you wasted no time in getting back to work, determined to get the varnishing done so it could dry overnight. This work was quieter than the sanding, but you played your favorite playlist on the boombox to keep distracted. The light outside the window slowly faded until only the lights on the chandelier lit your way, but you didn’t mind. The trees surrounding the house might be particularly foreboding at night, but in here you could easily put such things out of your mind.

At one point you found your eyes closing of their own accord and only snapped them open when your hand felt wet, a result of touching the still wet varnishing in your sleepy stupor. Thankfully two steps after that incident you were finally gloriously done!

With a stretch and a yawn, you took real notice of just how exhausted you were, though little else could be expected after considering how many hours you had worked. Just as you were hating the idea of the drive back to town through the pitch-black roads, your phone rang.

“Hey, how's it going, close to done yet?” big brother asked after you answered.

“Just finished, actually-” a yawn broke the words, causing him to chuckle on the other end.

“Sounds like a good thing too, you sure you’re okay to drive back? Those country roads can be dangerous at night.”

You almost shrugged before remembering that he couldn’t see it through the phone, “I mean, I don’t have much of a choice, not like I want to crash in one of the dust-filled mattresses upstairs.”

“Well, there’s one bed there suitable for human slumber,” he said with a hum, “I cleaned the mattress in the master suite and put spare blankets and pillows in the closet, in case there was ever a night like this and I just needed to crash.”

The sheer magnitude of your exhaustion showed in your cry of relief at the words, “I think I’ll do that, then, because I’m so tired, I could probably curl up on the stairs if I didn’t have a way home.”

“Go for it! Catch some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning, k?”

“Okay, goodnight.”

A tired brand of excitement took over at the promise of immediate sleep, so much so that you almost jumped on the still wet steps before remembering that you would have to take the servant's stairs. That wasn’t a far walk though, and just a couple of turns after the stairs you were in the master suite. Indeed there were blankets and pillows tucked away in the closet and you dug them out greedily before throwing them on the bed. You didn’t bother undressing, considering you didn’t have PJs anyway, and just crawled under the chilly covers, tucked in, and closed your eyes.

Warm took over soon, and with your music still playing downstairs, you were able to drift off rather quickly.

The night ticked on, your sleeping form peaceful from exhaustion even after your playlist came to an end and silence filled the halls. Silence, all except the old grandfather clock ticking in the entry hall. Nothing stirred in the lounge or the kitchen. Nothing shifted in the conservatory besides the crickets resting on the weeds outside the window.

Nothing within the halls of the House of Anubis moved. That is, until the shadows came.

Moonlight had bathed your sleeping form for over an hour, but once the moon crept higher and disappeared above the window, shadows slowly filled the room. You slept on peacefully, even as something scraped behind the walls- claws dragging, searching. Something whispered, something growled as it dragged itself closer to new flesh; a new victim.

The shadows were its paths and something shifted beneath the thick wallpaper of the master’s room. Its claws scraped just enough to make you stir for a moment, but it wasn’t enough to wake you, even as the wall above your headboard started breathing. A hiss, and the walls looked more like cloth as something that vaguely resembled a hand moved under it, and down closer to your peaceful form.

In slow, almost labored movements the hand- the boney claw tried to reach out, straining against the wall like rubber, desperate to reach you- desperate to tear and squeeze the life out! It growled again a beast fighting to grab hold of its meal-

Then it reared back and hissed as even darker shadows grabbed hold of it.

There, in the far corner of the room, something shifted in the dark, sharp eyes glowing as the darker shadows chained the creature, yanking it back from you even as it snapped and hissed and spat. Atem stepped out of the shadows then, hands tucked in his pockets as he glared at the thing hovering above you.

“You can’t have this one, I won’t allow it!” he said in a voice low and cold.

With nothing but a thought, more shadows crept into the room, spiraling out from his own shadow like tendrils until they wrapped around the creature. It fought even though it was no use, it was still too weak to stand up to him and Atem knew it. Soon enough with a snarling whine, it retreated, back to the dark hidden pit it came from, leaving Atem victorious.

He closed his eyes, their glowing irises fading as the shadows settled, blending into the natural shapes on the walls as if they were never there to begin with. He sighed as he opened his eyes again, gaze landing on your form. It wasn’t surprising that you didn’t wake, even if you did you’d find an empty room. Still, Atem almost wished you had, almost wished you had seen the creature hovering over you so you would finally have the damn good instincts to stay away from this place at night!

He bit back the bitter thoughts, he couldn’t blame you, not really, and he should just be thankful that you and your brother hadn’t decided to live in the house while restoring it. Even still, his worry simmered in his chest, causing him to step across the room until he was by the bedside. You looked so calm, tranquil, even...vulnerable.

He hadn’t realized he was reaching out to touch your cheek until his fingers were hovering just a hair away from your soft skin. He let it linger there for a bit, on the verge of touch, until he closed his fist and pulled it back with a shake of his head. He was such a fool sometimes. Even after all this heartache, he still found it hard not to get attached, not to cling to every positive force that he encountered.

Even still and even considering the fact that the creature wouldn’t dare return that night, Atem settled down in the armchair beside the bed, and watched over you until sunlight creped over the windowsill and filled the room.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh #Yu-Gi-Oh #yu-gi-oh reader insert #ygo #Atem #yami yugi #series: the house of anubis

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scriptureofashes · 6 years

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(Not) Guilty (Part 1/2)

So by popular demand, here it is, folks. The direct sequel to (Not) Sorry. This will be a two part piece (which will then be later posted in whole in my ao3) and as I tell you in the ao3 version, a winteriron fic.

Enjoy Part 1! (Enjoy about 5000 words written through blood and sweat lmao I need sleep)

Rhodey found him in the shop. Obviously.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

Tony muttered something in return, made unintelligible by the screwdriver in his mouth. He wasn’t in the mood for basic socialization. He never was, frankly.

“Tones.”

Tony kept working.

“Tony.”

“Are the legs acting up again? I’ve been working on something that can recalibrate—”

Rhodey sighed. “Tony, come on—”

“Come on what.”

The sound of the screwdriver slamming on the table echoed, loud and uncomfortable. Tony winced. He didn’t mean to be so dramatic. Well, he didn’t mean to be more dramatic than usual.

“Sorry. I—sorry.”

“What are you even apologizing for?”

Ruining your life? Ruining other people’s lives? Ruining the world as we know it?

“I ate your pancake share. I’d feel guilty, but Bruce’s cooking kind of counteracts any sort of negative emotion. I suspect Strange did something.”

Rhodey’s unimpressed eyebrow was enough to tell his bullshit had been called.

“First, you took my share right out of my hands and ran off with the most maniacal laugh I’ve ever heard from you. Second, you’re not working on anything even remotely related to what you just said, considering the Captain America shield is on full display.”

Tony blinked. Well, I never thought I’d see the day I’d bring this much stupid into my own workshop.

“Tony, what are you doing?”

He sighed. “Nothing. Fri, if you please.”

“Yes, boss.” The hologram immediately changed into Mark XLVII.

“Nothing? That didn’t look like nothing. You’re not giving them upgrades, are you?”

Tony’s silence was answer enough.

“I’m going to beat your ass.”

“That’s not nice.”

“God, Tony,” Rhodey sighed, again. He rounded the table and took the wrench right out of his hold. “Did you simply forget what happened? What Rogers said? What Barton said?”

“Of course I didn’t forget, but whether I like it or not the ‘gang’,” he did the air quotes and everything, “Is back at it again, and it’s my job to provide with what I can.”

“No, it’s not. You’re doing this out of the goodness in your heart, is what you’re doing. Don’t deny it, damn it,” he warned as Tony prepared to argue. “You’ve settled things so that they could return, for duty. For our home. For our world. You’ve signed the pardon, for duty. You’ve put on the suit once more, for duty. But this?”

Rhodey waved the wrench in his face.

“This isn’t an obligation. This is another attempt of yours at an apology, at reconciliation, with you being the one to put aside your pride and dignity, like always.”

“Did you maybe consider I wanted to see whether mine or Shuri’s tech would work best?”

“Right, because you haven’t already had 5-hour long Skype conversations with her and incorporated her methods into yours.”

Guilty.

It was Rhodey’s turn to slam his hand on the table.

“You’re already playing host. You’re already giving up your time, money and space to house them, when the government could’ve perfectly done that themselves without you having yet another mental breakdown over these assholes.”

“To be fair, the government would have given them atrocious installations and—”

“And it would have been well deserved.”

In his experience, Tony knew arguing with Rhodey when he was that riled up would be fruitless, so he said nothing. He hadn’t been about to disagree, per se. It would be a long-overdue lesson in humility. But he just… knew. He knew they would think he was behind the whole ordeal, that he would be the one to demand them placed in heinous lodging out of spite, sneering at him for it behind his back.

As if they don’t do that already.

Still. He wasn’t about to risk getting shot in the knee during the upcoming battle by what they all would claim was an alien, turning a blind eye to Barton’s suddenly emptier quiver.

“Look, Tones.” For a minute, Rhodey didn’t say anything. He had his ‘My best friend is an idiot and I don’t know how to deal with it’ brow on. “I’m not saying they shouldn’t be here. They’re the only ones that can help. But I’ve noticed something. Something that’s been happening since the very beginning of this whole Avengers business.”

“In my defense, I haven’t had much time to go to the dresser and cover them up—”

“It’s not your grey hairs. Though it might be related,” he said. He looked thoughtful, instead of defiant. “You compromise. A lot. You compromise with everyone in all senses of the word, even where the smallest of things is concerned.”

He paused.

“You compromise where you shouldn’t. Maybe it’s time you stopped that.”

“Fri?”

“It’s 3:42 in the am, boss. No one is in the kitchen.”

Tony would have fired a comeback about late night cravings for some leftover chinese, which was a real thing that afflicted everyone, but the relief at finally being able to wander around his own house without imminent risk swallowed it back. Granted, he was popping out because Bruce had apparently stress-baked blueberry muffins and those went divine with coffee, but it counted as leaving the shop.

After 36 hours. He could swear Pepper found a way to project herself into his mind to chide him at the proper occasion. His brain couldn’t sound so properly vexed at himself.

Friday turned on and dimmed the lights for him, despite the clear moonlight seeping through the slim panes of the windows. Tony could hear the clock ticking somewhere as he picked one of the two muffins left, cutting through the silence of the night like a reminder—a reminder of how little time they most likely had.

Thankfully, there was some remaining coffee in the mug, so he went without the usual ruckus of coffee machines (maybe he should give it another tweak). Bruce had probably known he would venture out and went to bed only after leaving him fresh coffee. He’d tried making Tony sleep in the past. He gave up the lost cause.

He knew about the nightmares, now.

“Fri, give me Princess Shuri’s drafts on the shield.”

His own voice made all of his hairs stand on end, even if whispered. He knew it was dangerous to display this in the middle of the kitchen, connected to the common area as it was, but there were details on the wakandan princess’s plans for a new shield that Tony was having a hard time figuring out, and damn him if he wasn’t going to spare every break on them.

Her ideas were complex and far more advanced than anything he’d ever come up with. Shuri worked in ways Tony only ever briefly considered and then dismissed, never quite knowing how to get there. He honestly never thought he’d see the day when someone smarter than him would make it possible, or that they’d be a sixteen-year-old girl. Bright, young minds indeed.

It made his blood rush with excitement. A challenge. Finally.

“Zoom in on—yes, exactly.” He took a bite out of the muffin—delicious, as expected—and gulped down some coffee. “Now, see, I don’t quite understand how she wants to…”

“Boss?”

“Brilliant, maybe too brilliant for me. I can’t—oh. Oh!”

Tony almost spilled coffee everywhere. He was going to mail this kid three dozen boxes of American candy and all the Coachella tickets she wanted.

“Ha, you clever kid, you!”

“Boss.”

Of course! Of freaking course, how did he not—

“Jesus Christ.”

The Winter Soldier blinked.

“No. Just me.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

Though the physical differences are slim to none.

Tony quickly swiped left before Barnes could see anything and backtracked to the sink, hackles raised. He suppressed the impulse to press his hand on his chest out of habit, or to call for a suit and blast himself far, far away from the compound. He remembered seeing a knife among the dishes in the sink, but he wasn’t stupid enough to glance at it.

The soldier remained on the couch, unperturbed. Too far away from the kitchen lights, he was almost a shadow, cloaked in light and dark both. The usual unkempt bird’s nest of a hair was tied up in a bun to keep it from his face, only to accentuate the sharpness of his jawline. He looked every bit a heartless assassin.

Tony scrutinized the area for a tactical retreat without having to turn his back to him. “Lover’s spat?”

Barnes looked like he’d almost frowned.

“What?”

“You and Rogers.” He slowly moved around the island. “Did he kick you out of the bed already?”

“I’m not going to put a knife to your throat, Stark.”

Tony really should have known better. One armed or not, it was the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier. Brief flashes of roadways and car crashes played behind his eyes, but Tony locked those images away in less than a split second.

“I distinctly remember the Accords stating you weren’t allowed near anything sharp without supervision until they deemed you able,” Tony stated simply. “So I suspect not.”

There didn’t seem to be a hint of resentment at those words. In fact, Barnes looked almost relieved.

“I don’t blame them.” He paused. Tony thought that was that, then, “Steve and I… we ain’t together.”

“Like I care.”

Even in the dark, Tony saw grey eyes peering at him.

“We aren’t together,” Barnes repeated, as if to make a point Tony was missing. “We never were and we never will be.”

A point Tony was now deliberately missing.

“Spare me your pathetic pining, Kristoff. If you’re looking for a pity party, you’d better look elsewhere.”

A crash—his father’s blood—his mother’s whimpers—a murderer’s cold eyes—

“I remember all of them.”

Tony retreated to the shop before Barnes could say anything.

The liquor stash he’d kept down at the workshop of the Avengers tower had never gained a twin for the new one once the team moved to the compound, thanks to Pepper and Rhodey, but as Tony sat on its couch and watched his former companions patter idly about the common area through his surveillance cameras, he felt that old thirst make its return in full force.

This is what my life has come to. Wary and confined to parts of his own home, reliant on Friday showing him if the coast was clear, lest he came face to face with yet another unpleasant, uncivil confrontation with the people poisoning his life. The people that accepted him with open arms and too wide smiles, only to break him into a thousand pieces.

You’d think he’d have learned his lesson by now.

They tried getting into the workshop. Of course they did. They came, high on entitlement and set on more degrading words with the arrogant and ungrateful Tony Stark. They came, and outside they stayed, in clear anger at being denied access by the smooth voice of a fuming AI.

Rogers was the one hardest to watch. He wouldn’t even come angry—determined, maybe, but never angry. Desperate suited him better, as well as… contrite. He wouldn’t demand, he would beg—in his own Captain America fashion—and he would stare straight at the eye of the beholder, very obviously aware of Tony watching, or at least in hopes of so. He would speak to Friday like he was speaking to Tony, always saying the same thing.

“I just want to talk.”

His face remained ever composed, but there was real pain in those blue eyes every time he was denied access, and Tony really, really didn’t know what to make of that.

They were trying to watch a movie of sorts now, it seemed. Tony once made the mistake of leaving the sound on when checking up on them. He’d pretended not to feel the stabs at his chest upon hearing the things they’d said about him.

“I can’t believe he’s bitter about that, what a selfish—”

“Still arrogant as ever, it seems—”

“He gets pissed when I give him a piece of his medicine, but I’m not allowed to get revenge for my family? He knows nothing of the pain I—”

No sound. Just video. It was safer that way.

“My ears tell me of you forging yet another offering of weapons for the very people who betrayed your trust.”

“Alright, you know what.” Tony took half a moment to bank back the heart attack, wiped down his greasy hands and reached for the drawer on his desk. “Here you go, Rudolph. A shiny bell to match your shiny nose.”

Loki caught the green collar with one hand and one eyebrow raised.

“I do not have a shiny nose.”

Tony quickly disabled Friday’s live display, but Loki wouldn’t be known as the Trickster if he weren’t smart enough to know what he’d been watching. His eyes narrowed.

“You fear them.”

“I don’t fear them.” Not exactly.

Loki contemplated him. It was still odd to see him in Earth clothing, but an all black suit was an unsurprisingly good fit on him. Completely out of place in a mechanic’s haven, but Tony wasn’t one to talk about donning expensive suits just because he could around the house, now was he?

“You do.”

“Was there a point to you coming here?”

“Ah, yes. We’re having one of those ‘movie-marathons’ tonight as you call them, per young Peter’s insistence. Banner even brought some of those dough and cheese based pies.”

Tony blinked. It’s Thursday already?

“There was no pizza in Asgard? No wonder it got blown up by Ghost Rider's evil grandfather.”

Tony went to check on his drafts, disconcerted by the sudden pass of time, but was halted by Loki’s hand on his shoulder. His expression was unreadable. It always was.

“Stop trying to appease them, Stark.”

Then he left without another word.

These damn Asgardians, I swear.

Due to circumstances, his team—minus Romanoff—took their business to the wing set opposite the one now occupied by Cap’s team, where another, slightly smaller common area was built. There was no kitchen or even a dining room, seeing as Tony’s plan had been to spare it for visitors, so it was more of a living room than anything. He certainly didn’t plan on using it, and he certainly didn’t plan on, you know, using it to avoid certain people. In his own property.

Yet if he so much as issued a part of the compound that wasn’t his workshop restricted, he’d be labelled the asshole again and the slowly steadying dynamic would tip again. So, he let things be.

Decorators had settled on a teal theme, turned dark green by the late afternoon sun. Thor was already sprawled out on a couch, his brother comfortable on the armchair beside him. Bruce and Rhodey engaged in casual conversation. Peter, to Tony’s amusement, sat on the Asgardian king’s belly and gobbled down a slice of pizza that looked legitimately bigger than his head.

“Slow it down, pygmy shrew. Leave some for me.”

“Mr. Stark!”

“Man of Iron!”

Thor actually sprung from the couch and to his side, all joy and smiles and paying no mind whatsoever to the kid he’d just sent spiraling over.

“We were beginning to think you would not join us in the merriment!”

“For God’s sake, just say fun, Thor.”

It was… weird, for lack of a better word, to see him short-haired and one-eyed. Sure, Tony had more time to adjust than some, seeing as Thor had gone to him upon hearing about the disbanded Avengers—he somehow remembered how Tony had predicted what was on its way—but he was like a literal reflection on how things had changed.

A literal reflection who hugged his lungs out.

“Okay, okay, let go, let go, let go.” Thor put him down with a godsworn pout. “Happy to see you too, big guy. But I don’t hug, that’s general knowledge.”

From his spot on the floor, Peter saluted. “General Knowledge.”

“You’re grounded.”

The kid had the nerve to cackle. Youths these days, so disrespectful.

“What have you been working on that’s got you so holed up in that lab?” Bruce asked, even if his voice tone implied he knew. And disapproved.

“Nothing too important.”

Bruce looked about ready to rebuffel, but Rhodey cut in. “He’s right, it’s not important. It’s not going for clearance. At all.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of what I do with my inventions.”

“You’re not a weapons manufacturer anymore, Tones. Legally, I could impeach your ass and confiscate whatever war tech you build.”

Tony gaped. “Now see here—”

“Of course I’m not gonna do it. Just know that I can, and I will if I must.”

“If you must? What exactly am I supposed to do here, then?”

Building and fixing things was what he did. If he wasn’t allowed to do that, then there was no purpose to him on the team whatsoever. And if—if—

“You’re supposed to be minding your own damn business, is exactly what. We are not having this argument, Tones,” he perfuncted. “Now sit back and watch Return of the Jedi.”

“Ugh, again?”

Tony woke up on the floor with a horrible back ache, a mouthful of Peter’s hair and a blanket of Avengers. And cold sweat on his temples. He weaseled out of the cocoon and back to work, popped tires and fiery, starry darkness a ghost in his mind.

“Jesus!”

“No, still me.”

Tony watched Barnes eat his cereal in complete disbelief. He had his hair down this time, and was still in dire need of a shave. Seriously, was it in now, for super soldiers to loathe razors?

“How are you doing that? Friday, what gives?”

“I’m sorry boss. He just seems to appear out of nowhere.”

“Out of—” Tony ran a hand down his face. Ex-assassins.

Barnes raised his brow at him, looking entirely unimpressed, as if being incognito had been his intention all along. Tony was reminded of the silent and efficient kill method of the Winter Soldier, the few reports he bothered to read of dead Hydra targets without a clue as to whom or what killed them.

Cold adrenaline burned then. Once is an anomaly, twice is a coincidence…

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Barnes blurted, immediately scrapping every conclusion Tony had drawn in that one half-moment.

Everything about this guy was… disorienting. Barnes stared at his bowl of Lucky Charms almost like he was afraid of looking Tony in the eye, which was ridiculous, really. If anything, Tony should be the one shrinking in on himself—or not, given what he just heard.

“How do you know that?” Tony asked and immediately winced. Shuri had made sure to send a mentally apt Barnes for the new Avengers cause, so there was no trigger-word concern anymore. In theory.

Barnes looked up, and the simple act seemed to bring him pain, clear and sharp in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to say to that.

I assaulted you. I almost killed you. I blasted your damn arm off. And you don’t want to hurt me.

He got his coffee and made to go back to the—

“I’m sorry.”

Tony froze mid-step and didn’t turn around.

“It’s worth nothin’. It won’t bring ‘em back and it doesn’t make up for it, not by a long shot,” and at this Barnes made a sound, that self-deprecating, pathetic laugh Tony was all too familiar with himself, “But know that I’m so, so sorry.”

There was a pause. Tony still didn’t dare glance at him, unwilling to see what expression matched the utter sincerity and regret in that rasp of a voice.

“And I understand why you don’t trust me. So I’ll say it again: I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tony wanted to scream. He wanted to hurl his coffee at the wall, he wanted to shake Barnes until sense came to him, he wanted to cry his stomach sick. A part of him wanted to assure the ex-assassin he couldn’t hurt him even if he tried. The other begged to let him, in hopes he’d succeed.

Tony did neither. He crept back to the shop, ignoring how violently his hands shook.

“You know, when I said ‘don’t make weapons for the Avengers’ and told you to focus on something else, this isn’t what I meant.”

“I’m sure that’s close to what Raza thought when he told me to build the Jericho and I blew up his base instead, but what’re we gonna do?”

Rhodey sighed, then a flashdrive and a huge stack of papers were deposited on the table. A nail rolled across them and onto the floor, but Tony’s attention was drawn to the Russian words peeking at the corner of an age-old folder. Bruce, previously focused on his own side of their current project, looked up in confusion.

“What’s all this?”

“Everything you need to know about Sergeant Barnes and more. From where USSR first took him to and when, to his stay on Wakanda.” Rhodey turned to Tony. “I thought you already went through the reports?”

“That’s right, you thought.”

Tony had been indeed given these same papers, post his disagreement with Cap and said man’s exile, right when he’d wanted absolutely nothing to do with Bucky Barnes. They were sent back in less than a day, spared nothing more at than a disturbed glance.

Now, though… Tony did a mental pause. Now what?

“Should I be concerned? I mean, last time you pulled something unexpected you became Iron Man,” Rhodey said. “And you taking a sudden interest in the man who murdered your parents is unexpected.”

Bruce took the liberty to flicker through the papers, already frowning.

“When said man is a guest in the compound, I’m going to take such an interest.”

Friday displayed the contents of the flashdrive. A myriad of information settled itself on screen, then the face of 1940’s James Buchanan Barnes was staring back at him. The contrast between this roguish man and the broken one Tony had actually met almost made him reel backwards. The eyes were the same, even through outdated, poor quality photos, yet the ghosts that now haunted them were nowhere to be seen.

“He fell off the train in 1945 and was found by the Russians. Not by Hydra, like most people think…”

Bruce kept reading aloud, words Tony’s brain didn’t process as he was too busy assimilating the absolute horror he was shown. He’d suspected some of what he read, but this—

Torture—brainwashing—violent punishment—

“Fuck.”

“Tones?”

Memory wipes—isolation as punishment—starvation as punishment—mind control—

His mind brought him back to Afghanistan before he could even process it, to cold heat of caves and metal and stale water, to—

“Ton—”

There were photos. Visuals to accompany the reports on progress, proof that proper discipline methods were being exercised—so it read. Depictions of red, yellow, black, blue. Bruises. Blood matted skin and hair. Countless lacerations. Protruding bones. Swellings from head traumas.

Utter gore.

“Oh my God.”

There were videos. The one playing was of not many, caught in very, very poor quality, but you could clearly see Barnes and the chair he was strapped to. And the electric flares on his head.

And you could hear the screaming. The screaming.

“Jesus fuck…”

Tony didn’t even admonish Bruce’s swearing. He was too busy throwing up his coffee.

Bruce’s tea was hot on his palms and burned going down his throat. All heads-up displays were disabled, all music muted. His shop was silent but for his bots’ whirrs and the disturbing sound of four human beings breathing.

“I’m sorry.”

Bruce frowned. Tony gestured to the coffee mug Dummy was currently replacing.

“Wasted your coffee.”

He was then on the receiving end of three varying expressions of disbelief. No, two—Rhodey actually looked exasperated instead.

“Tony. You had a completely acceptable reaction to what you just saw.”

“It was damn good coffee, though. I’m—”

“Stop apologizing.”

Tony stared at Strange. The wizard stared back. Didn’t so much as blink, eyes hard to read. Tony opened his mouth—

“Stop apologizing. And drink that.”

Strange then gestured open a portal back to the Sanctum and left with a twirl of that infuriating red cloak.

Tony shot his tea a haughty look. I knew it.

The lockdown mode lasted for five days. Well, the extra lockdown settings did. About five people in the compound had access codes to his shop. For five days, they didn’t.

For five days, Tony was AWOL. For five days, Tony processed what he’d learned. Sat shrouded in nothing but darkness and the cyan blue light of his monitors, Tony watched Bucky Barnes. He watched him do his work out routine. He watched him eat breakfast. He watched him eat lunch. He watched him eat dinner. He watched him skip movie night and go to bed.

For five days, Tony watched him. And he noticed. He noticed that Barnes’ work out routine ended when somebody else joined him. He noticed that Barnes always ate alone. He noticed that Barnes skipped his team’s bonding hour to sit in the gym and stare at nothing. Or the compound garden, or the compound roof, or anywhere that got him alone.

Or anywhere that got him away from his team.

Tony already knew what kind of shitstorm awaited him once he authorized the codes again. Rhodey was probably pissed. Bruce was probably concerned. Peter was probably hurt. Thor was probably sad, and Loki… well, Loki wasn’t probable, but Tony guessed he wasn’t pleased.

He wasn’t referring to the Avengers, no, currently enjoying their own movie night in their own common area, either oblivious or impervious to Tony’s lockdown mode. He could have fucked off to someplace, and they’d still sit and talk and laugh among each other as they watched Pulp Fiction. He could have up and left the planet, and they’d still plot behind his back.

Like they were now.

“Hey, not for nothin’ or nothin’,” Barton said, from his spot sprawled on Romanoff’s legs, “But have you talked to Rhodes yet?”

The question was apparently directed at Rogers, who sighed. Tony was quick to note Barnes next to him, looking for all he cared like he didn’t care to be there at all. He maintained enough proximity to his best friend for no risk of questions asked, yet he was too stiff and too focused on the screen while in fact not paying any attention to the movie. Tony was surprised, trained ex-assassins and ex-militaries as most of them were, at how nobody noticed this.

(Or maybe they did. And chose to ignore it.)

“He says it’s not in his place to give us the access codes. And neither is, uh, acting messenger boy.” Sam let out a cynical laugh. “He says if we want to talk to him, we’ll have to go to him ourselves.”

Barton raised his arms in the air. “He won’t let us talk to him! The stick in his ass got even deeper after what happened in Leipzig.”

“Clint—”

“Look, his fragile little ego got Hulk smashed, and Hulk wasn’t even there. We gotta handle this before shit hits the fan again, Cap.”

“Thor said—”

“I know what Thor said about this Thanos guy. That’s not the shit I was referring to.”

Rogers, for no change whatsoever, looked confused.

“We wounded his pride,” Romanoff clarified. “We wounded his pride, and we don’t know where he is or what he’s up to. He took Ross out of the Accords to be monitored by the Colonel instead, as we know, who won’t tell us if Tony’s even in the premises.”

She pushed Barton off her to sit up and stare straight at the Captain.

“Tony is dangerous and reckless when his pride is on the line, so we have to take control of the situation before it becomes one.”

Almost imperceptibly, Barnes shifted on the couch. Rogers didn’t see.

“What do you mean?”

“She means, maybe he’s finding a way to bench us before the big game,” Barton answered, looking at the ceiling. “Maybe this whole ‘welcome home’ thing is a ruse to keep us in the dark. Maybe we should get back on the run before he gets those arrest warrants ready. Maybe we should be gearing up for another Ultron situation. He’s too arrogant to trust us.”

Barton opened his mouth to continue, but what Tony and the others heard came in a voice that definitely wasn’t his.

“Maybe you’re all too arrogant to be trusted.”

Barnes didn’t even look away from the movie as he said it. Everybody stood stock still. It was like the tide receded at his words, the dead giveaway to an incoming tsunami.

Rogers was the sounding alarm. “What?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Barton asked, too taken aback to look insulted. Romanoff wore the exact same face he did. It was almost comical.

Barnes took his time replying. He was still ‘fixated’ on the movie.

“There ain’t no ‘welcome home’ ruse. Hell, there wasn’t even a ‘welcome home’, for starters, so I don’t know what you’re even on about,” he said, with an honest to God laugh. “And I really don’t know why you expected one.”

“We signed the Accords,” Rogers stated, a perceived cold fact. “We agreed to his terms—”

“No, he agreed to yours, punk.”

“Am I actually listening to this?” Lang asked, effectively voicing Tony’s thoughts.

“Buck, you of all people should know that we can’t trust the—”

“You ain’t above the law, Steve.” Barnes finally tore his eyes from the screen to stare at his best friend’s. His voice was ice. “You ain’t above 192 countries. If you can’t accept limitations, you’re no better than the bad guys.”

Tony’s sharp gasp synched with Team Cap’s.

“You’re defending Stark?” Barton asked, sounding as skeptical as Tony felt. “You, of all people?”

That’s it, no more tea from Strange. He was absolutely not witnessing this.

“Buck.”

“Steve,” Barnes mocked.

Rogers blinked, before his face contorted into something like anger. Tony wasn’t sure.

“Bucky, he tried to kill you!”

“I killed his parents!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Barton jumped off the couch. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, what?”

The rest of the team, including Maximoff but not Romanoff, reacted like this was big news.

“That wasn’t—!”

“Yes, it was. No, shut the fuck up, Steven Grant Rogers,” Barnes growled, and Tony couldn’t for the life of him believe his eyes and ears. “I killed his parents. I fuckin’ killed his parents, that was me, brainwashed or not. Their death is on my hands and I take full blame and responsibility for what I did.”

“Hold up a sec—” Wilson started, but Barnes wasn’t done.

“But you, Steve, didn’t take no fucking blame or responsibility. You knew it had been me, and you didn’t tell him. You knew it hadn’t been an accident from the start, and you didn’t tell him. Didn’t you say you were friends?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then what the hell, Steve—”

“How was I supposed to tell him?” Rogers finally snapped. “How could I say it? How do you say that to someone? Buck, you’re my friend—”

“So was he, damn it!”

Tony could feel his eyes growing progressively wider.

“You’re my friend, I was protecting you!” There was actual betrayal in Rogers’ face. “If I told him, he would have gone after you!”

“Would he?” Barnes gestured around vaguely. “I’m standin’ right here, in his house, per his invite, and not once has he tried to pick up where we left off.”

“Not yet,” Lang corrected. “He doesn’t because he’s smart enough not to mess with you, seeing as that would mean messing with us.”

And then Barnes’ face, ever so calculatingly blank, stretched in the most scornful smirk Tony had ever seen.

“Oh, he’s smart alright. But that ain’t why. Lord knows he could kick your asses on his own if he needed to. He certainly kicked mine and Steve’s.”

“Okay, what?” Wilson—it had been Wilson—repeated.

“When did this happen?” Maximoff asked, right back to Stark-Hate mode.

Both Rogers and Barnes fell into silence, one out of guilt and one out of sheer anger.

“You didn’t tell them about Siberia.” It wasn’t a question.

“Siberia?”

“What happened in Siberia?”

Tony could never be sure watching through video feed as he was, despite the fine quality of his installed surveillance, but the expression Barnes now had struck too close to the one he’d associated with the Winter Soldier.

Rogers did make an effort to explain, surprisingly. “Tony came to us after Leipzig. As a friend. He… he found out the truth. Lashed out, attacked Bucky. I stepped in and it… it just went downhill from there.”

“What do you mean, ‘downhill’?” It was Romanoff who asked, at a loss to make a difference.

Rogers took too long to come up with his response. Barnes beat him to it.

“He tried to kill him.” Perceived cold fact. “He crushed his arc reactor, then left him to die in the cold.”

He was met with silence, underlaid with the movie in the background. Barnes got up.

“I already watched Pulp Fiction last week,” he informed, then promptly left.

In his lab, Tony watched him go. The moment Barnes was out of frame, he turned off all monitors. Left himself in complete darkness.

What. The actual. Fuck.

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INSTAS

Time flies when you’re having fun.

Molly didn’t really believe that the first time she heard it. She’d been playing in her grandparents garden, running through the orchard and whacking apples from the tree’s with a large stick to feed to the horses in the field behind the small fence at the bottom. She was hidden by the tree’s so no one saw her or caught her out. But when her father came and found her to leave, it felt like she’d only been there ten minutes, how could it be time to go home for dinner already. Molly moaned about it, but her father just winked and told her how time flies when you’re having fun. It sounded like one of those stupid things parents say to Molly’s seven year old ears, like how carrots help you see in the dark, and bread crusts make your hair curl.

However, with age Molly discovered just how true it was. For a start, it felt like she’d blinked and first year had gone. It felt like only yesterday she’d arrived in halls for Freshers week, a shy Jimmy sat on the sofa in the living area of the flat, twiddling his thumbs pushing himself out of what Molly would discover later was his well developed comfort zone. Things changed, Jimmy’s comfort zone for one, Molly knew that, but she couldn’t help who she was, and she liked the safe, security of her normal, of what she knew like the back of her hand.

Recently though, everything felt like it was changing, and Molly hated it. Nothing felt stable or secure and that only added to Molly’s negative mindset that she just couldn’t shake.

The fact time flew when she was having fun was still as true as ever, but Molly was learning that the exact opposite was just as true and it wasn’t such an easy lesson to learn. Misery, in all its forms, made time pass like sludge through a sieve, and made nothing feel enjoyable, not even the tailoring project she should have been working on. Normally she’d jump out of bed in the morning with a menswear project on her to do list, but the past three days had been a struggle to even crawl out of bed let alone jump. The rollercoaster of emotions was draining, from anxious, to angry, to frustrated, to confused, to sad, it was a constant loop and her mind refused to focus on anything other than the thing keeping it that way. Consequently, the past three days felt more like three months to Molly.

It was a miserable Tuesday, it was pathetic fallacy at it’s finest. Rain was lashing at the windows, letting the world know the golden colours of Autumn couldn’t last forever, and winter was just around the corner. Gails were bending the trees over themselves like they were mere blades of grass, and Molly was sat at her desk, chin resting on the heel of her hand looking glumly out at the weather, rather than the laptop screen of research pages she couldn’t focus on. It was dark, she had all the lights on and candles lit, and if she didn’t know better she would have thought it was drawing into evening. But the fact she was still in her pyjamas, and her laptop clock was screaming eleven o six am at her, made sure she knew it wasn’t even lunchtime.

Nothing seemed to be able to keep her mind off her silent phone that sat on her desk, screen down, as if that made a difference. She turned it over every two minutes just in case, she even tried to bribe herself, two paragraphs and she’d let herself check it, but she barely even wrote one before she was reaching for it again. There was never anything there though, at least nothing she wanted to see. A snapchat, or facebook notification, a whatsapp from one of the various group chats she was in, but nothing from Harry.

Since she got in from her shift three nights ago, she hadn’t heard a word from him, not even a thank you when she let him know she was home. What she wanted was an apology, but she’d have taken at least some gratitude. There was a niggle at the back of her mind, that maybe she should call and check he was ok, but her stubbornness prevailed, as it always did. She ignored the niggle.

If there was a positive side, it made Ryan’s two texts a day feel like a lot in comparison and suddenly she didn’t find herself wishing for more from him. Though she knew she wasn’t meant to be comparing anything about them, she couldn’t help herself.

Molly knew she only had herself to blame. She’d told him to back off, and she supposed that’s what he was doing. Giving her the space she told him she needed, and maybe she did need it, but how she was feeling only proved she didn’t want it. If she was as head over heart as Ryan always said she was, then she didn’t want space at all. She wanted their lengthy chats, and private jokes, and the normality that Harry had become in her life. He was a good distraction from all the changes going on in the background of a blooming friendship and she missed that, maybe more than she missed the way things were before they started changing.

The sound of her bedroom door opening drew Molly’s attention from her daydream, hypnotised by the raindrops racing one another down her window pane. She twisted in her chair, the way her knees where drawn up to her chest making it hard for her to turn completely. Jimmy was stood in her room, the door open behind him, letting himself in the way he always did, no invitation necessary.

“Oh so miserable, what’s up?” Jimmy pouted, his voice mockingly, high pitched and slightly condescending. He didn’t look back to the door as he pushed it shut behind him and padded into Molly’s room bare chested, socked feet sliding along the wooden floor, his grey joggers hanging low on his hips, his black hair still mussed from sleep. If Molly looked at Jimmy as anything other than a brotherly friend, it would have been hard not to fancy him when he walked into her room looking like that. As it was she just admired the fact that his daily gym sessions were paying off.

“Nothing.” Molly mumbled, pulling at a piece of loose skin around her thumb. It dragged down her finger, going further than she’d expected, but it was somewhat satisfying once it was gone.

“It’s been nearly two years Mol, you’re a shit liar.” Jimmy reminded her as he perched on the end of her bed, and leaned forward a little, closer to Molly, looking up at her through the dark, thick eyelashes that Molly envied. “Come on you’ve been moping around like a homeless puppy for days, you’re beginning to depress me.” Jimmy went on, eyes wide, completely unamused. “Uni? Ryan? Harry?” Molly felt herself prickle at his name. If it would have been anyone else, it would have gone unnoticed, but it was Jimmy so it didn’t. “So Harry.” Jimmy sighed.

“No.” Molly bit a little too quickly and a little too aggressively to be convincing.

“Two years Mol.” Jimmy reminded her like it was second nature. “What’s he done? I don’t like my chances with that fella but I’ll hunt him down and try my best if he’s upset you.” Jimmy questioned. It might have been in jest, and it did make Molly smile, but his tone of voice mixed with the look on his face suggested that Jimmy was completely serious.

“That won’t be necessary.” Molly told him, still smiling a little.

“Good, cause the arms on that bloke could snap a tree in half, so god knows the mess he’d make of me.” Jimmy breathed, Molly giggling a little, an image of Harry’s toned, tanned arms, littered with artwork entering her mind for a brief moment, though still a moment too long to keep the blush off her cheeks, she was sure. “What happened then?” Jimmy asked, bringing her back to their conversation and away from Harry’s arms and what that could lead to when her mind was left unchecked. Molly thought about it for a moment, because when it came down to it, she wasn’t really sure if the reason she was so upset was because of how he’d reacted to her work, or how he’d let himself through doors she wasn’t wanting to be opening for him.

“He came into work on Saturday night and got all judgey.” Molly mumbled, looking down at her lap and finding another piece of skin to tug at. It didn’t come away so easily as the first piece, and it didn’t rip all the way down her finger, it stung a little more and Molly kept her eye on it in case it decided to bleed the way it felt like it might.

“But he was there.” Jimmy pointed out with a confused, yet smug look across his face. It mirrored the way Molly felt when Harry had aired his views and how hypocritical it had felt of him.

“Exactly.” Molly practically cried, thankful Jimmy saw it the same way she did. Every so often Molly had wondered if she’d been unjustified in her reaction to Harry’s words, or not seen it from his point of view enough, but Jimmy’s words reassured her that probably wasn’t the case.

“So you went all I’m a twenty first century woman, don’t be a dick, on him?” Molly nodded with half a smile, one side of her mouth lifted. Part of the reason that Harry had gotten under her skin so much, was because he was the only person in her life who had ever made her feel less for how she earned her money. The way he spoke and the way she felt he was looking at her made her feel dirty, when all she did was pour drinks in an outfit that left little to the imagination. No one had made her feel like that, and of all the people she thought might, Harry would have been at the bottom of that list. It frustrated her that it got to her so much, but she couldn’t help it. “Good.” Jimmy beamed produly. “Prick.” He hissed to which Molly smiled to herself. She could always rely on Jimmy to have her back, she was fairly certain, no matter what. “I guess there’s more to it than that though based on the fact normally you get over that shit within about twenty seconds.” And with that her smile fell again.

Yes Jimmy had her back, because yes Jimmy was her best friend, but that came with the fact that she was transparent when it came to him. She couldn’t keep anything a secret when it came to Jimmy, she couldn’t hide anything, not a feeling or a thought or a worry. He saw right through her every time. It was both a blessing and a curse, and Molly couldn’t quite decide what it was this time, but she knew there was no point trying to pretend like what had her so troubled was anything other than the truth, because she wouldn’t get away with it when it was the black haired, blue eyed boy she was talking to.

“He made out like Ryan should have a problem with it,” Molly sighed. “I dunno, I just felt like he was getting into things that have nothing to do with him but thought he had the right.” Molly tried to explain though she wasn’t sure she was doing a good job. Mainly because she wasn’t sure what she was actually trying to say, it was confusing her and saying it outloud made no difference to that. All she knew was that there was a part of her that wanted to let Harry in, but a bigger and braver part that didn’t think she should, not for all his knocking, and not for all of his letting himself in, and not even for how much it felt like he should be in all those parts as much as he clearly wanted to be.

“No one has the right Mol.” Jimmy told her, and Molly nodded. She knew that, and Harry didn’t have the right, she knew that too. What she couldn’t work out though was why until that moment, two doors down from Coyote, in the first hours of the day, with an atmosphere between her and Harry that she hated, she hadn’t been able to draw that line so clearly. “He does care about you though, a lot, any fool can see that, even me and I’m rubbish with that sort of stuff.” Jimmy’s voice was soft but stern, serious, like he knew what he was talking about, like it was an unarguable fact. Molly swallowed, truths normally hurt, but that one felt soft and warm like coming home to a roaring fire out of a raging storm. “I don’t know what he said, and I’m not excusing any kind of male supremacy shit that came out of his mouth, but I think it came from a good place.” Molly knew what Jimmy was getting at, but it was still hard to swallow, and she was sure it didn’t make it ok.

“I told him to fuck off.” Molly muttered with a roll of her eyes.

“You tell me to fuck off every other day, still here.” Jimmy shrugged, reaching for Molly’s hand before she could find the piece of skin she was searching for, and tugging her towards him.

“I haven’t heard from him since.” Molly mumbled, slumping on the bed and falling back into it, her legs dangling off the edge, feet not quite reaching the floor.

“Call him then.” Jimmy suggested, looking over his shoulder at her.

“No.” Molly frowned, offended that Jimmy would think she’d give in that easily. He chuckled falling back beside her. Their heads twisted to look at each other like it was habitual, staring back at one another.

“Well carry on being miserable until he thinks he should stop fucking off, which by the way, probably won’t be soon.” Jimmy told her, with the same factual tone of voice, and the same despondent shrug. It wasn’t his problem, or at least he’d make it look that way, though secretly they both knew Jimmy wouldn’t stop trying to fix it with Molly until she was back to herself again.

“Do you think we’re too close?” Molly asked quietly, her eyes narrowing like she might be able to make out the answer from Jimmy’s eyes if she looked close enough.

“I don’t think we’re close enough babe.” Jimmy smiled, reaching down for Molly’s hand and clasping it, intertwining their fingers instantly. Molly shook her head and rolled her eyes but didn’t pull her hand away.

“Oh fuck off don’t call me that,” Molly sneered as Jimmy cackled. “But I was talking about me and Harry.” Molly explained.

“Oh, no, you’re friends.” Jimmy told her with a creased brow. The certainty in Jimmy’s voice was reassuring, but not reassuring enough for Molly to be convinced he was right.

“So are we, but you don’t wanna walk me everywhere after dark, or drop me home after meals with other people, or get all possessive when you find out I work out in a, whatever you call that place and we’ve known each other far longer than Harry and I have.” Molly explained, looking between the ceiling and Jimmy as she listed all the things that made her question the relationship she had with Harry. Leaving out the part about the way her heart fluttered when he smiled at her, or the way she’d missed his calls recently, or how much it had hurt to walk away from him that night and leave things on such a sour note.

“Harry and I are very different though Molly.” Jimmy sighed. Molly could agree with that, and by the same token their friendships were very different. “Also I don’t have a crush on you.” Molly rolled her eyes, she was tired of people saying it and seemingly using it as an excuse. “And you don’t have a crush on me.” Molly fired her glare towards Jimmy, a look that could kill taking over every feature and making Jimmy snort a laugh.

“I do not-”

“Two years.” Jimmy bit in with a knowing, smug smile. Molly’s nostrils flared and she set her jaw tighter. She didn’t know what to say, but she couldn’t argue it, it would be pointless. “It’s a crush Mol, it’s not a big deal,” Jimmy told her, but it didn’t make Molly feel any better. “I’ve got a crush on Lauren, that’s not a secret, I’m not about to ask her to marry me though am I? She’s far too much of a princess for my liking.” Molly should have laughed, giggled, but she didn’t. Her heart was racing with nowhere to hide.

“I fancy him Jim, and it’s so fucking annoying cause I shouldn’t fancy him like that.” Molly agonized staring at the ceiling. Jimmy squeezed her hand, and chuckled again.

“I fancy him, have you seen him, anyone with eyes surely fancies him, don’t stress about it, you’re allowed to fancy people and think they’re fit or good looking or whatever you girls say nowadays.” Jimmy promised, squeezing her hand again. Molly sighed. It would be hard not to be endeared by Harry, she had to admit that. With that chiselled face, deep eyes that looked like they held all the secrets in the world, but more than the way he looked, the way he made her feel like she was unstoppable. Yes it was hard not to fancy him. It was even harder to stop the feelings that she kept pushing back down. “Call him, sort it out and cheer the fuck up or you’re gonna have to move out I’m afraid.” Jimmy insisted when Molly didn’t say anything else to counter his argument or diminish what she was feeling. Molly shook her head at that though.

“I’m not calling him.” She vowed, turning her head to Jimmy again, eyes wide and serious, full of promise that Jimmy knew she was about to break.

“I’ll make pancakes.” Jimmy bartered with a sweet smile.

“That’s blackmail.”

“Does it work?” Jimmy was full of innocence, pale blue eyes wide and childlike as he looked at Molly hopefully. She couldn’t help but feel Jimmy knew what was best for her, maybe better than she knew herself, or at least in this situation. It was foreign and new and she didn’t know what she was doing or where she was going. It was scary. It was terrifying. Nothing felt like it could be promised, because nothing felt like she was familiar with it. She was on the edge of something unknown, but she was also surrounded by it. It might suffocate her if she let it, but something in her knew she wouldn’t be drowned so easily if Harry was with her, and so she knew what she had to do, no matter how much she hated giving in and going back on herself.

“Eugh, I hate you.” Molly groaned, sitting up and letting her hand fall out of Jimmy’s as she did so.

“Two years, two long years, pancakes are your weakness, and you love me,” Jimmy beamed, standing from her bed and rounding it, back to the door. “I know you like the back of my hand Cecelia Molly Thomson.” Jimmy winked with a proud smile that Molly couldn’t help but return. She was glad he knew her like the back of her hand, she supposed someone had to, and she’d have chosen Jimmy if she could.

“Get out of my room James Henry Smith.” Jimmy shook his head, hating James as much as Molly hated Cecelia. They both knew it, but still they both used it against one another. WIthout another word, Jimmy opened the door and disappeared around it, closing it behind him again, leaving Molly alone with her thoughts and her phone.

With a strained groan, Molly leaned forward on the bed and reached for her phone. For a few moments she just stared at the black screen, wondering if she could make Jimmy believe Harry just never answered if she didn’t even try. The truth was, apart from the fact she’d set herself on not calling Harry first, she wasn’t sure what she was meant to say.

Without thinking too much, whilst trying to erase everything from her brain that was making it feel fuzzy, she unlocked her phone, pulled up Harry’s name and pressed the call button. She fell back on the bed and focused on it ringing. Once, twice, three times, four, five. It never took this long for Harry to answer and she started to panic she’d made the wrong decision, or she was too late, or something far worse that was so out of the realms of possibility it was ludicrous.

“Hello.” Eight rings and Harry’s voice finally sung down the phone, though it only sounded like it sung because it was better than having to hear the calling tone one more time. In reality it was as heavy as Molly felt, and she felt a little sick and very nervous.

“Hey.” Molly barely whispered. It felt like everything had suddenly gone from her mind, every word she’d thought about saying disappeared, replaced with the fact Harry had answered, that she could hear his voice, and that he was ok.

“You ok?” Harry asked strongly, his voice as gravelly as ever. The fact she’d been so quiet seemed to have no effect on him. It felt like he was distracted and Molly had no idea how to feel or how to play it.

“Yeah, are you ok?” She asked trying to match his voice and keep away from the homeless puppy image Jimmy had described her as.

“I’m fine.” Harry told her, but that was it.

“That’s good.” Molly tried to smile. It felt strained and it had never felt like that between them before. It made Molly’s heart sink, but it didn’t stop racing as it did so. Molly didn’t know what to say, even more so than in the first place, but what was making it worse was that Harry didn’t seem to either, and she knew that was her fault. “What are you up to?” Molly asked, rolling her eyes at herself. They couldn’t just have a normal conversation, not yet, but she was forcing them in that direction because she didn’t know what else to do.

“Currently leaving the gym.” Harry told her, the sounds of the street the backing track to his voice.

“Not at work?” Molly asked, staring at the ceiling, biting down on her lip as she waited for him to answer.

“Not today.”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Yes.” Harry almost hissed, of course he knew that. It was his tone of voice that forced Molly to face why she’d called.

“Do you want to talk?” Molly sighed, closing her eyes and praying he did.

“Yeah.” Harry breathed, seemingly softening. Perhaps he didn’t mean to sound so harsh or cold. Perhaps he was just as nervous as Molly was, perhaps he just handled that differently to Molly. Where Molly babbled and lost track of her thoughts, Harry shut off and closed down to the bare minimum. “Coffee?” Harry suggested.

“Perfect.” Molly smiled, because she couldn’t help herself despite the inevitable conversation they had to have before anything could go back to how it was.

“I’ll meet you at yours.” Harry told her, his voice once again warm and soft even with the gravel in it.

“Ok, see you in a bit.” Molly finished.

“Will do.” He sounded brighter, and Molly tried to revel in that, tried not to get anxious about what might be said, about what she might say, and about what she wanted to say. Molly laid on her bed for a few moments in silence her phone locked but clutched in her hand as she stared up at the ceiling, though she wasn’t really seeing, just looking. Her mind's eye was much more compelling, the imagining of seeing Harry far more interesting than her blank ceiling.

“Harry’s coming here.” Molly called out loudly to Jimmy, the only other person in the house, everyone gone off their separate ways.

“Ok there’ll be plenty of pancakes if he wants some.” She heard Jimmy call back and Molly frowned to herself. She hadn’t thought Jimmy would actually be making pancakes, she thought it was just a rouse to get her to call Harry, because she thought Jimmy knew as much as she did, that deep down she wanted to call Harry, but with the excuse of pancakes she could blame it on that rather than the fact she wanted to fix things with him more than anything.

All Molly did over the next twenty minutes was check her phone. Minutes passed agonisingly slowly and each time she looked at her phone she couldn’t believe it had only been another sixty seconds since she last checked it. Thoughts were racing through her mind like formula one cars, whizzing past so quickly she could barely make sense of them. There was no doubt Molly wouldn’t remember everything she wanted to say to Harry, everything that had been cropping up in her mind since they last spoke, and as her thoughts raced it only felt harder to pinpoint anything at all.

When the doorbell did eventually ring, Molly’s stomach lurched up to her throat. A sick feeling bubbled up in her stomach and her appetite for pancakes disappeared with it. As much as she wanted to see Harry and fix what had happened between them, she still felt nervous. Molly padded through to the hallway tying her hair up on her head as she went, trying to look less like someone who had barely made it out of bed that day. Molly took a deep settling breath before she reached for the door catch, though it didn’t do anything settling really.

“Hi.” Molly smiled weakly, looking up at Harry who looked, thankfully to her, just as tense as she felt. It was all over his face.

“Hi.” Harry breathed, a little stiffly for Molly’s liking. She’d never really known him nervous or anxious, not in that way anyway, not in the way that made him seem like less than his normal self, still as endearing but not as bright.

“Erm do you want to come in? Jimmy’s making pancakes, he said there’s enough for you, or we can just go for coffee like you said, I don’t mind, we can do-”

“Pancakes sound great.” Harry cut in, stopping Molly from her bubbling, nervous, spiel, dragging her eyes back from the floor where they’d fallen as she got lost in her words. Molly sighed moving an inch closer to contentment as Harry accepted her information so positively.

“Come in.” Molly moved aside as she said it, letting Harry into the house. “How are you?” She asked once he was in, and closing the door behind him, finally taking him in.

“Not so bad.” Harry mused, wobbling his head from side to side, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, though if he was trying to hide the bandage around his hand, sliding up under the sleeve of his jumper, the swift movement had the opposite effect. The stark white of the strap against the black of his clothes, caught Molly’s eye, snatching her gaze quickly, though it was back on his eyes in a second. He looked tired, worn out, maybe even a little fed up. His skin was lack lustre, like he’d missed some hours of sleep recently, and his hair was scraped back so harshly Molly could almost make out the shape of his skull. He didn’t look dissimilar to the morning he’d found her in Clive’s, eating a cheese scone and sipping on tea.

“What did you do to your hand?” Molly asked, a little quitely, sure Jimmy was eavesdropping and deciding that wasn’t part of their conversation he needed to hear.

“Rugby.” Harry muttered, moving his hands in his pocket so the jumper stretched towards Molly. He didn’t take it back out though.

“Anything to do with the reason you’re not at work?” Molly quizzed cautiously.

“No it’s fine, just bruised, just didn’t book in any work for today, worked quite a few weekends and it’s catching up with me.” Harry explained with a few nods of his head and a lopsided smile. Molly believed him, she had no reason not to, but she did notice how his injury rate seemed to have gone up since they first met.

“So you went to the gym to unwind and relax with a bruised wrist.” Molly jested with a smirk.

“As crazy as that is to you, yes.” Harry chuckled. It felt nice to joke with him, it felt like maybe what had happened could just be forgotten and they could just carry on from that point like nothing had even happened. Unfortunately, Molly knew the consequences of things left unsolved, they festered and grew to something much darker. Maybe the disagreement between her and Harry was inconsequential, but there were things that needed to be said. And it seemed she wasn’t the only one who knew that. “I’m guessing this isn’t the conversation you had in mind when you asked if I wanted to talk though.”

“No.” Molly sighed, as a creak of the kitchen floorboards sounded behind her. Molly looked over her shoulder, there was nothing to be seen, but no doubt Jimmy was lurking. “Come through.” Molly nodded down the hallway and led the way to her bedroom. Harry followed silently, kicking his trainers off in the hallway before he did so, his socks slipping against the false wooden floor. Once in her bedroom Molly closed the door behind them both. Harry looked awkward, lingering in the opening space, glancing over the room though making an obvious point of not looking too hard. “You didn’t text me back.” Molly started taking a seat on the end of her bed.

“You told me to back off.” Harry retaliated, his hands finally leaving his pocket, though his damaged hand didn’t catch Molly’s attention now.

“You coulda text me back though, I thought something might have happened.” Molly explained.

“You obviously weren’t that concerned, you never called either.”

“You really upset me the other night Harry.” Molly asserted strongly, not wanting there to be any confusion about how she’d felt as she walked away from him and left him alone on the street that night.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, I never meant to, I just-” Harry hesitated for a few seconds. “Just how I feel.” He sighed as he finished, his whole frame deflating slightly, chewing the inside of his cheeks as he looked at Molly with slightly heavy eyes.

“You get why it’s got nothing to do with you though right?” Molly asked.

“Yeah I get that, but I’m not about to pretend I’m ok with something if I’m not Molly.” Molly shirked, even though she remembered clearly telling him not to call her Lolly it still sounded harsh and strange when he called her anything but.

“Don’t call me that.” Molly sighed, shaking her head.

“You said-”

“I was angry, Molly sounds weird when you say it, please don’t.” Molly insisted, staring up to Harry through her lashes from where she sat on her bed, the heels of her hands pushed deep into the duvet.

“You’re not angry anymore?” Harry asked, shifting his weight around a little and taking a careful step closer to Molly.

“Not really.” Molly shrugged, for a second Harry smiled and seemed to straighten as he moved closer, deftly, and perched beside Molly. “Well, not so long as you can keep your sexist views to yourself.” Molly warned with raised eyebrows, twisting her head to look at Harry.

“They’re not sexist.” Harry groaned with an eye roll.

“If it was one of your bloke friends doing the same for a bunch of women would you have reacted the way you did?” Molly questioned, certain she knew the answer.

“That’s different.” Harry told her and Molly huffed a sort of laugh, baffled he couldn’t hear how much of a hole that put in his argument.

“That’s sexist.”

“You don’t understand.” Harry sighed, shaking his head and dropping his eyes to his knees.

“I understand perfectly, you think, because I’m a girl-”

“No see, you’re wrong already,” Harry interrupted, biting a little and firing his eyes back to Molly who recoiled under his tone. Harry noticed, but just lowered his voice before continuing. “Because I care about you, because you’re a friend, because I don’t want to see you get hurt, and because I don’t like the thought that the only reason some of those men weren’t putting their hands on you was because they wouldn’t be allowed back again if they did.” Harry explained surely, he wasn’t a sexist, strong women had played far too greater role in his life for him to think they weren’t capable of anything. Literally, anything.

“So why would it be ok if it was one of your guy mates?” Molly asked tilting her head and widening her eyes at him.

“I never said it would be ok, I said it would be different.”

“Exactly!” Molly all but screeched throwing her arms wide and shaking her head as his words only sunk in further.

“Not different in that I would be ok with it, different as in I wouldn’t feel so bloody anxious watching it.” Harry argued.

“Cause I can’t handle myself?”

“No.” Harry told her honestly with a little puff of air.

“Thanks.” Molly mumbled letting her tongue hang from her canine tooth to ensure Harry knew just how offended she was.

“So you’re telling me, for instance, if Shane wanted to do something to you that you didn’t like you’d be able to stop him?” Molly didn’t like the example. Shane’s name slithered up her spine like a snake, the same way the looks he threw around did. That man did not sink into Molly’s skin so easily, rather sat on top of it and irked her, like a rash.

“Would have a fair go.” Molly rebuked confidently.

“The answer is no Lolly, not because you’re a woman, not because you’re weak, because you just wouldn’t be able to.” Harry told her, and it sounded like it was more than a good guess. Molly couldn’t decide if the example of Shane made it that way, or if there was something else in Harry’s mind that made him so sure, maybe the fact she’d struggled with her books the day they’d first met, or her bag that hadn’t bothered his strength at all when they left the cafe and walked around the park. “Trust me.” Harry finished with a curt nod.

Their eyes were locked on one another and searching. Molly couldn’t drop Harry’s gaze even if she’d wanted to. There was something lingering in the shadows of green that she wished would make its way into the light. There was more to Harry’s defiance that he wasn’t letting her into, she knew he had every right to keep things from her, it would be hypocritical of her to call him out on it, but she’d never wanted every part of someone as much as she did in that moment as she stared back into Harry’s eyes.

“Ryan does know about it by the way.” Molly blurted before her desire to ask what else he wasn’t saying got too much. The conversation changed and the tone with it, in an instant. Harry seemed to unfreeze as Molly’s words processed.

“And he’s ok with it?” Harry asked without a glimmer of surprise, dully.

“Supportive actually.”

“Has he been in there?” Harry questioned almost wincing as he did so.

“Yes.” Molly practically hissed. “It’s what I want to do, it’s how I get through university unsupported by my parents and that’s what I wanted so he backs me, I don’t need you to do the same, but I would like it if you could at least stop being so judgemental.” Molly explained emphatically, her tone getting slightly higher with each word.

“I’m not being judgemental.” Harry told her, though the single raised eyebrow Molly threw back at him told him she didn’t believe him. “I’m not!” Harry insisted a little petulantly. “It’s not you, or what you do, trust me,” Harry started, sighing a little, not sure how to make her see, without divulging every detail he fought to keep hidden from the world. “It’s men, I know men, I know how gross men can be and how vile they can be, and I saw how they looked at you and I just, it’s just,” Again Harry hesitated, he didn’t know the words, he couldn’t explain himself, he didn’t know what to say or even where to begin and he growled quietly to himself, shaking his head. “Eugh it doesn’t matter.” Harry mumbled quietly through frustration.

“No come on say it, you may as well, you’ve said everything else you’ve wanted to say why stop now?” Molly insisted, pushing for the words Harry was avoiding.

“No it doesn’t matter we’re just going round and round in circles.” Harry told her defiantly, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna be ok with it cause that’s just me and I’m not about to change, so let’s just leave it as agree to disagree on this one.” Harry shrugged, not seeing an ending where either could agree with the other.

“But it’s important to me, what if I say something about work?”

“Well we talk about it I guess, I’m not a child, I can tolerate things I don’t like.” Harry told her with half a smile.

“Ryan’s shoulders and the wall in the Haunt say different.” Molly reminded him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yeah well, I can’t throw your job against a wall can I?” Harry jested, smirking as he did so. Molly’s face cracked into a smile, her lips curling at the corners and lifting her cheeks as well as her spirits. Harry couldn’t help but follow suit. “There’s that smile.” Harry cooed, nudging Molly’s arm gently as he did so. “We don’t have to agree on everything to be good friends.” Harry told her with a certainty.

“You’re right.” Molly nodded admitting defeat, though she couldn’t deny that she’d rather hear Harry come around to her point of view and admit his views were wrong, but she wasn’t about to do that either, so she supposed she had to admit defeat.

“I think so.” Harry beamed happily, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yeah well, we can disagree about that as well so I’d quit while you’re ahead.” Molly warned facetiously. Harry just laughed, Molly’s smile and giggle not far behind, it was hard to stay anything like mad at him and it was far easier to feel like nothing had even happened.

“Is it weird I missed you?” Harry asked quietly as his laughter wore off leaving him a touch breathless. “Considering we’re ‘just friends’ and stuff.” Harry added, with air quotes for emphasis, for clarification.

“You don’t need the air quote, we are just friends, but if it makes you feel better I missed you a bit too.” Molly admitted, because there was no point lying.

“Just a bit?”

“Yes a very, very little bit.” Molly told him pinching her fingers tightly over thin air and squinting her eyes as if looking for a needle in a haystack Harry pushed her arm away and scoffed at her.

“I don’t believe you.” Harry leered, leaning a little closer and smirking annoyingly. Harry’s hand fell easily to land over Molly’s shrunken by comparison one. It rested gently there for a few seconds.

“We’re about to have another argument if you don’t shut up.”Molly warned, pulling her hand from Harry’s and pushing him back gently, both of them smiling throughout.

“PANCAKES.” Jimmy’s call sounded through the flat and both Molly and Harry turned sharply to his voice. The bedroom door was still shut and it seemed they’d both forgotten they weren’t alone, the company they shared fading from their minds as they became engrossed in each other and their conversation.

“Cor good timing, put a cork in that one for us.” Harry joked with a wink, pushing himself up from the bed. Molly shook her head following suit and skirting past Harry to leave the room. He followed quickly though, keeping up with Molly and watching from behind as she wandered down the hallway to the kitchen.

Jimmy was famous for his pancakes, at least amongst their friendship group. They were a rare Saturday morning treat, so Molly felt beyond grateful to be eating them on a dreary Tuesday morning, alone with Jimmy and Harry, not having to go easy on the syrup of the berries in case there wasn’t enough for whoever was yet to make it from their bedroom the kitchen. Jimmy didn’t miss the opportunity to let Harry know how great his pancakes were before Harry had even managed to take one from the stack and put it on his plate. Luckily for Jimmy the pancakes didn’t let him down, and Harry had to compliment him on them. They went down a treat the way they always did, only normally they were reserved for housemates who already knew the sweet treats would be great.

It was strange, Molly never asked Harry to stay the day, but after Jimmy left for university, it seemed to be an unspoken certainty that Harry would stay the day. And he did. All day.

They watched movies on the sofa, Molly rustled up cheese toasties around mid afternoon and they devoured them in front of Toy Story 3, Molly trying not to cry, though ultimately failing. Harry chuckled and pulled her in close, holding her tight to his body to comfort her. It worked, instantly, and Molly couldn’t help, or get rid of the butterflies that erupted from being that close to him. Despite it all, it was still confusing, only now with no bad blood between her and Harry there was nothing to hide behind when he made her feel the way she wished he wouldn’t. But then she wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it, he just did it. It didn’t seem like an effort for him to be the kind, sweet, charming man that made her feel weak at the knees and put an unprecedented smile on her face.

Molly was falling out of love with Ryan. It was clear as day. It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though. Molly couldn’t have anticipated how much falling out of love would hurt. It was hard to forget how deeply she’d been in love with Ryan once, and it made her sad how easy it had been to fall out of love with him. It had taken her some time to realise that was what was happening, but it hadn’t been hard to fall out of love with him. It was harder realising how easily it had happened, how the change had moved past her largely unnoticed. Falling in love had felt like endless moments of breathless, heart skipping, joy, but falling out of love was a blur of tears and arguments. It was so unexpected, she was so in love that she’d thought that was just how it would always be. It didn’t make sense that she could be that invested in someone and suddenly just not be anymore. But that’s how it was. Her heart didn’t skip for Ryan anymore, it didn’t feel joyful with him around, and the only time she was breathless was because she’d been crying so.

She couldn’t even try to hide it anymore, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still terrify her. The potential consequences felt like rot in her mind, and the thought of life without the constancy of Ryan made her feel sick. But she couldn’t ignore the way she was beginning to feel for Harry and continue to pretend that it didn’t come from the way things had changed in her for Ryan. It didn’t feel nice, but it felt better than running from it all the time and feeling constantly exhausted. All she’d been doing for weeks was trying not to compare them, but it was hard not to do when Harry was at a her door in a heartbeat to fix things, yet Ryan didn’t even seem to realise things needed fixing. It wasn’t even that she thought she wanted something more with Harry, she hadn’t got that far yet, it was just that she didn’t want it with Ryan anymore either.

In the contented comfort of their day, neither seemed to realise the room get dark as she sun set again. It wasn’t until the credits rolled up the screen on yet another Pixar film that Molly realised just how late it had begun to get. Evening was surrounding them, she sat up, though all she really wanted to do was pull up a blanket, put on another movie and curl up a little tighter. She’d face a new reality later, but their cocoon would do for now.

“Did you want to stay for dinner, I think I’ve got some chicken and pasta and stuff.” Molly yawned, the comfort and warmth of the sofa taking its toll.

“As delicious as chicken and pasta and stuff sounds, I told my nan I’d go there for dinner, sorry.” Harry lamented, sitting up to join Molly and rolling his shoulders, shaking off a little of the satisfied weariness he was feeling.

“Don’t be it’s fine, I’d take a nan’s cooking over mine any day.” Molly smiled looking back over her shoulder at him. The thought came to Harry instantly but it took him a fair while longer to perk up the confidence to actually voice it.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Harry asked with a confidence in his voice that masked how anxious he felt as the words spilled from his mouth.

“Don’t be daft I can’t do that.” Molly laughed frowning a little.

“Why not?”

“You can’t just invite me to your nans for dinner.” Molly pointed out shaking her head and tuning back to the TV, picking up the controls to turn it off as if the idea drifted from her mind that easily, though it didn’t at all. Molly was dreaming up the scenario in her head, sitting around a dinner table with Harry and his nan, the right kind of nervous in her tummy.

“I just did, it would be rude to say no now.” Harry told her and she could hear the suggestiveness in his tone.

“Your Nan isn’t expecting me and doesn’t know me.” Molly reminded him, glancing over her shoulder, though the smile on Harry’s face was telling her it wasn’t going to be that easy to get out of it.

“She won’t mind honestly, she loves having people.” Harry insisted. “Come on whatever Nana Nancy has on the table will be far better than that chicken and pasta and stuff you offered me, and you get to hang out with me some more.” Harry winked with a smirk.

“You’re such a jerk.” Molly berated, though the smile on her face didn’t match up with that as she tapped his arm playfully. “I just don’t know how I feel about turning up uninvited.” Molly admitted with a small shrug her hand lingering on his bare forearm, covering the black ink of it.

“You’re not uninvited.” Harry told her without even a drop of irony. “You go change I'll call her let you know you’re coming trust me it will be fine.” Harry insisted. Molly stared back at Harry for a few moments waiting for him to pull the carpet from under her and tell her that he was only pulling her leg, but all he did was stare back, seemingly waiting for Molly to get up from the couch.

So she did just that. She got up from the couch and left Harry alone in her living room to get changed into something more suitable to have dinner with his grandmother. Jeans and a jumper seemed like a good option and the approving smile on Harry’s face when he saw her again told her it was indeed, a good option.

The drive out to Harry’s nan’s house wasn’t particularly long, though Molly had never been so far from the city centre. She didn’t really realise she was surrounded by so much greenery in such close proximity. Of course she knew the countryside was there, but in the same way she knew about the mole on her back. It was there constantly, but she rarely caught sight of it. The country lanes weren’t long and winding like the songs suggested, and they reminded her of home. They were unlit, but every so often another chocolate box house, warm and cosy and lived in, would throw an orange glow out from the side of the road as people lived their lives inside.

It had probably been half an hour when Harry started to slow down. They’d driven into a village that Molly had missed the sign for so she had no idea where she was, but it was a rabbits warren of closes, each holding five or six cottages, each with perfectly decorated front lawns, with wooden gates and fences keeping them tied in and seperate. Molly didn’t know anything about Harry’s family, not even his parents names, and she knew she shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but she knew enough about the world to know they weren’t in a run of the mill area.

Harry turned the car off and looked to Molly giving her a reassuring smile as he unclipped his seatbelt. Molly followed his lead and swung herself out of the car. It was cold outside, but that wasn’t the only reason she wrapped her arms around herself. Harry joined her on the pavement and slung his arm over her shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

“Don’t be nervous, she’ll love you.” Harry sounded as certain as he did about most things. Molly smiled like she was reassured, but she was beginning to wonder if she’d made the right decision by agreeing to join Harry for dinner at his grandmother’s.

It didn’t shock Molly particularly when Harry let himself in with a key on the overstuffed chain he carried, but she also noted how she was sure she didn’t know anyone else who had a key to their grandparents houses. Molly followed close behind Harry, but was almost instantly comforted by the warmth she walked into and the scent of a home cooked meal. She hadn’t smelt one of those in a long time. It smelt like cosy winter nights, fires burning, ready to warm from the chill of an afternoon walk and a stop in the pub. It smelt like home and it didn’t feel much different either.

“Hello,” Harry called out as he kicked off his trainers. Molly did the same with her boots, her arms by her side now though her hands were curled up in her sleeves. “Where are ya?”

“Kitchen, love, cooking your dinner aren’t I?” Molly heard a voice call back. It was clearly a woman’s voice, though it was a little shaky from age. Harry looked over his shoulder for Molly and offered another small smile. Molly wished he’d reach back and take her hand, she felt like she needed it, and he looked like he might be thinking of doing it, but they both knew better. Instead Harry just nodded up the hallway towards the room at the end, lights on and clattering sounding from it. Molly couldn’t help but glance into the two rooms they passed. A living room first, photos on all the walls, lamps on and the tele off. The second door was closed and the room was bathed in darkness so Molly turned her eyes back to where they were going.

The kitchen was huge and traditional, but that came second to the plump old lady stood by the hob, an apron tied around her middle as she fussed over the pans she had on the side.

“Hi Nan.” Harry beamed, taking two large steps over to his grandmother, reaching her before she turned but waiting until she’d done so and throwing his arms around her, placing a kiss on her cheek which was returned quickly. The love there was unbelievably readable, it sung from every part of them as they embraced and Molly couldn’t help but smile as she looked on.

“Hello love, how are you? Look tired.” The lady frowned as Harry stepped back and she stroked his hair back.

“I’m fine nan.” Harry assured taking her hand and gripping it tightly. “Nan this is-”

“Molly,” She grinned stepping away from Harry who let her hand slip from his as Nancy took tiny fragile steps over to Molly who was stood nearer to the doorway than the love in the kitchen. “Hello love, I’m Nancy, it’s nice to meet you, aren’t you pretty, look at your hair, I knew a girl with hair like that once, gosh, takes me back, it’ll be grey now I suppose.” Molly giggled as Nancy lifted her arms to embrace her.

“Nice to meet you too.” Molly bent into the hug, nerves filtering out as Nancy gave Molly a little squeeze. “Thank you for having me.”

“Oh not a problem at all, do you like chicken casserole?” Nancy asked as she stepped back looking up at Molly.

“I do, sounds delicious.” Nancy smiled and wandered back to the pans, Molly’s eyes raising back to Harry, finding him looking over with a thoughtful smile pulling at his lips. It grew when Molly’s eyes met his, a little reassurance still, but something extra added in as well.

Harry and Molly lingered in the kitchen as Nancy finished cooking, chatting with her as she did so. It was mainly Nancy finding out all she could about Molly, and how she knew Harry, little nuggets of her own life sprinkled in every now and again. Nancy seemed fascinating and Molly was sure she had many stories, more than enough to fill one evening.

“Why don’t you two go and lay the table?” Nancy suggested after having a taste of the casserole bubbling away in the oven.

“The table!?” Harry quizzed surprised.

“Harry we have guests, you can’t eat on your lap all the time, take Molly and lay the table please.” Nancy instructed with a wag of the spoon clutched in her fingers. Molly chuckled silently as Harry’s crest fell and he turned out of the kitchen, Molly following again.

“I think she forgets I’m not still five sometimes.” Harry grumbled, turning on the light in the closed room.

“It’s sweet.” Molly informed him, though her eyes were glancing over the room and all the trinkets the dining room was home to. A polished ebony table sat in the middle, chairs to match with royal red cushions embedded in them and golden casters under it all. There were photos on the walls and Molly couldn’t help herself, glancing over them. One of two small boys, she could see Harry in one of them, a little around the eyes so she assumed they were Nancy’s children and Harry’s father and uncle. A couple on their wedding day in black and white, the lady was clearly Nancy and the man looked strikingly like Harry. Like someone had dragged him back to the past, cut his hair to something more suitable to the times (though not ridden of the signature curls completely) and painted him black and white.

“Is that your grandfather?” Molly asked, peering over to Harry who was fetching mats from a drawer in a cabinet that matched the table.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled with a hint of sadness. Molly deflated her arm dropping, she regretted asking. “It’s ok, he died when I was little, I’m named after him, middle name and all.”

“That’s lovely.” Molly smiled. “You look like him.”

“Yeah, Nan says that’s not the only way I’m like him, she’s not keen on that I don’t mind though, worse people to be like.” Molly chuckled and moved to help Harry with the mats forgetting about the photographs with the information Harry so readily provided for her.

They laid the table over chat about their grandparents, though Molly didn’t ask why Nancy wasn’t keen on the similarities between Harry and his grandfather, and Harry didn’t try to say anymore on the matter. The food came in and they all took a seat. They ate slowly, the food second to conversation. Molly had doubted how happily she’d be received, though Harry hadn't for a second. As she sat at the table with Harry and Nancy, she wondered why she’d been so concerned, they got along just fine, and Nancy couldn’t have been more welcoming.

The evening passed happily and easily. Hours drifting by in the blink of an eye. Dinner was followed by pudding of apple crumble and pudding, in case Molly didn’t feel at home enough already. When Harry stood up and told Nancy they should get moving, it was getting late, Molly wished that wasn’t the case. She could have sat there all week listening to Nancy’s stories about Harry as a child and further back. She knew him so well, as if he were her own.

“Yes of course, I don’t like you driving in this dark.” Nancy announced with a folded brow, standing from her seat. Molly moved to help clear the table but Nancy batted her hands away insisting that it wasn’t necessary. “Go on, you two make a move.” She smiled and Molly nodded, heading back to the hallway with Harry, Nancy following to say goodbye.

“Thank you so much for having me Nancy, and thank you for the dinner it was lovely.” Molly smiled as she put her boots back on her feet.

“It’s not a problem my love, you are welcome anytime.” It was sincere, Molly could tell and she thanked Nancy as she stepped forward to give her a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye.

“Thanks Nan, see you Saturday morning, love you.” Harry said, giving his grandmother a similar embrace to the one he’d offered when they arrived. Molly smiled again, it was infectious. Something about Harry made Molly think he’d had a hard childhood, troubled maybe, but when she saw Harry with Nancy it made her doubt that assumption. Love like that didn’t lend itself to trouble.

The drive back to Molly’s flat was as uneventful as the drive out. They chatted, Molly told Harry how lovely his Nan was and how fun she seemed. Harry just agreed and chuckled, moving the conversation on though. The radio was on but quiet, their talking the main sound as Harry drove Molly back home. Eventually street lights made their way back onto the roads again and Molly began to get her bearings back. Eventually she knew where she was again but it didn’t feel as homely as the little village in the middle of nowhere.

Molly’s street was quiet and Harry pulled up in the same space he’d left earlier that night.

“No one’s home.” Harry commented looking to Molly’s flat, complete darkness through the ground floor windows. Molly nodded, she’d expected as much. “Will you be alright here on your own?” Harry asked.

“Yeah I’ll be fine, I’m on my own here all the time.” Molly told him with a lopsided smile.

“Really?” Molly just nodded again. “You should say, I’d come over and hang out with you so it’s not just you.” Harry told her and Molly didn’t doubt that for a second. “I can come in if you want.”

“It’s ok, I’ve got project work to get on with.” Molly told him, though she appreciated the offer and she hoped he knew that. “Thank you though, I appreciate it.” She said, to make sure.

“Well I’ll get going then, back to work tomorrow.” Molly chuckled and nodded.

“Thanks for putting up with me all day.”

“Don’t be silly, I had a really good day.” Harry told her.

“So did I.” Molly smiled. “Let’s not fall out again.”

“Good plan, I like it.” Harry grinned and Molly giggled, glad to agree on that at least.

“I’ll text you later or something.” Molly nodded as she unclipped her seatbelt. There was a thought in her mind and it had been there all day, ever since Jimmy had left for university and put it there, but she’d been continuously putting it off. It made her hesitate over the door handle.

“Harry.” Molly started, and immediately blushed both from how out of place the sound was and as anxiety rose over what she was about to ask. “Erm, just wondering, and you can say no, I’m having drinks here on Saturday for my birthday, I was just wondering if you wanted to come.” She blurted, but didn’t stop there, classic Molly getting ahead of herself and not being able to stop the nervous bumbling talk. “You can say no, I won’t be offended, I get it, hanging out with uni kids is-”

“Lolly.” Harry interrupted strongly and quickly, reaching for one of the hands she was flailing around. “I’d like to come, I want to come, sounds great.” He smiled taking her hand out of the air with his own and letting them rest together in between them.

“Cool.” Molly breathed and Harry chuckled mostly at the turn of phrase Molly thought. “You can bring a friend or friends if you want, I don’t mind, whatever’s good.”

“Ok cool.” Harry mimicked and Molly rolled her eyes.

“Goodnight then.” She smiled leaning forward and offering a hug. Harry wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could for the gear stick and hand break in between them.

“Goodnight, talk later.” Harry mumbled into the hug.

“Can’t wait.” Molly beamed, pulling back and sliding from the car, no irony in her admission and, warmth creeping through her as she unlocked the door, waved to Harry and heard him pull away only once the door was shut and the light inside flicked on.

____________________________

So the first new chapter.......!

Who’s excited? Who enjoyed it? What did you think? Let me know, this is personally one of my faves so I’d love to hear your thoughts and theories.

Thanks for all the love on this so far and thanks to my bae @harrysmeadow for being the best proof reader ever.

Enjoy, love I xx

#Dive #new fic #new chapter #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #1dff #rugby harry

21 notes · View notes

suzanneshannon · 3 years

Text

Scott Hanselman's 2021 Ultimate Developer and Power Users Tool List for Windows

Can you believe it's been 6 years since my last Tools list? Tools have changed, a lot are online, but honestly, it's just a LOT OF WORK to do the tools list. But here's one for 2020-2021. These are the tools in my Utils folder. I made a d:\dropbox\utils folder and I added it to my PATH. That way it's on all my computers and in my path on all my computers and I can get to any of them instantly.

This is the Updated for 2020-21 Version of my 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2011, and 2014 List, and currently subsumes all my other lists. I’ve been doing this for over 17 years. Wow. I need to do better, I guess.

Everyone collects utilities, and most folks have a list of a few that they feel are indispensable. Here's mine. Each has a distinct purpose, and I probably touch each at least a few times a week. For me, "util" means utilitarian and it means don't clutter my tray. If it saves me time, and seamlessly integrates with my life, it's the bomb. Many/most are free some aren't. Those that aren't free are very likely worth your 30-day trial, and very likely worth your money.

These are all well loved and oft-used utilities. I wouldn't recommend them if I didn't use them constantly. Things on this list are here because I dig them. No one paid money to be on this list and no money is accepted to be on this list.

Personal Plug: If this list is the first time you and I have met, you should subscribe to my blog, and check out my podcasts, and sign up for my newsletter of Wonderful Things.

Please Link to http://hanselman.com/tools when referencing the latest Hanselman Ultimate Tools List. Feel free to get involved here in the comments, post corrections, or suggestions for future submissions. I very likely made mistakes, and probably forgot a few utilities that I use often.

THE LIFE AND WORK-CHANGING UTILITIES

"If everything was perfect, you would never learn and you would never grow." - Beyoncé

Windows Subsystem for Linux - It really can't be overstated how WSL/WSL2 has put the cherry on top of Windows 10. It runs on any build 20262 or higher as it was recently backported and it's integration with Windows is fantastic. It's also WAY faster than running a VM. Go learn more on my YouTube

Windows Terminal - Finally Windows has a modern terminal. You can run shells like Command Prompt, PowerShell, and Windows Subsystem for Linux (WSL). Its main features include multiple tabs, panes, Unicode and UTF-8 character support, a GPU accelerated text rendering engine, and the ability to create your own themes and customize text, colors, backgrounds, and shortcuts. It also includes a pseudo-console so 3rd party Terminals like hyper, conemu, terminus and more work better!

Windows PowerToys - They are back and they should be built into Windows. Install them here and get a color picker, fancy zones, file explorer addons, image resizers, keyboard manager and remapper, an Apple Spotlight-like running in the form of PowerToyrs Run, the Shortcut Guide and more!

Also check out Ueli as a great launcher/spotlight for Windows!

VS Code - Visual Studio Code is hella fast and is my goto text and code editor. I still use notepad sometimes and I'm in full Visual Studio a lot, but VS Code is like the Tesla of code editors. Check out my Favorite VS Code Extensions below.

PowerShell/OhMyPosh/PoshGit/Cascadia Code - I've had a blast this year taking my console prompt to the next level. Try these out but also look at Starship. Whatever you do, play! Don't accept the defaults!

ZoomIt - A true classic but also the answer to the #1 question I'm asked. How do you draw on the screen when you're sharing your screen? ZoomIt has been THAT TOOL in my toolbox. Really take some time and learn how to do boxes, arrows, colors and more and you'll be a more effective screen-sharer. In fact, just go get the whole SysInternals suite and put it all in your PATH.

Winget - It's apt-get for Windows. Similar to choco which I've used in the past, WinGet is going to be included in Windows 10 and has a ton of nice features. I use it to setup a machine in an hour from the command line, versus a day before doing it manually. Just add your MSA (Microsoft login) to the Package Manager Insiders Program and get it from the Store. It's bundled with the Windows App Installer. Then just "winget search <tool>" and winget install whatever!

QuickLook - Free in the Windows Store, just highlight a file in Explorer and press Space to get a preview!

Amazing .NET and Developer utilities

"Power means happiness; power means hard work and sacrifice." - Beyoncé

CodeTrack - CodeTrack is a free .NET Performance Profiler and Execution Analyzer. It works on basically every version of .NET and will give you massive insight into how your code is running! The flamegraph view is fantastic. It's free but you should donate as it's a one-person amazing app!

LINQPad - Interactively query your databases with LINQ with this tool from Joseph Albahari. A fantastic learning tool for those who are just getting into LINQ or for those who want a code snippet IDE to execute any C# or VB expression. Free and wonderful.

WinMerge - WinMerge just gets better and better. It's free, it's open source and it'll compare files and folders and help you merge your conflicted source code files like a champ. Also see Perforce Visual Merge which free and also can diff images, which is pretty amazing.

WinDbg - Low-level and classic but also new and fresh! WinDbg (Wind-bag?) is now in the Windows Store with ALL NEW VISUALS and more!

Insomnia and Nightingale are great alternatives to Postman for doing REST APIs!

NuGet Package Explorer - This app allows browsing NuGet packages from an online feed and viewing contents of the packages

WireShark - What's happening on the wire! WireShark knows!

GitHub Desktop - Gits, ahem, out of the way! Watch my Git 101 on YouTube!

Useful Windows Utilities that should be built in

"I love my job, but it’s more than that: I need it" - Beyoncé

Ear Trumpet - Fantastic advanced volume control for Windows! If you have ever wished that volume on Windows could turn their UI up to 11, Ear Trumpet is that app.

Teracopy - While I use the excellent built in copy features of Windows 10 the most, when I want to move a LOT of files as FAST as possible, nothing beats TeraCopy, an app that does just that - move stuff fast. The queue control is excellent.

AutoHotKey - This little gem is bananas. It's a tiny, amazingly fast free open-source utility for Windows. It lets you automate everything from keystrokes to mice. Programming for non-programmers. It's a complete automation system for Windows without the frustration of VBScript. This is the Windows equivalent of AppleScript for Windows. (That's a very good thing.

7-Zip - It's over and 7zip won. Time to get on board. The 7z format is fast becoming the compression format that choosey hardcore users choose. You'll typically get between 2% and 10% better compression than ZIP. This app integrates into Windows Explorer nicely and opens basically EVERYTHING you could ever want to open from TARs to ISOs, from RARs to CABs.

Paint.NET - The Paint Program that Microsoft forgot, written in .NET. It's 80% of Photoshop and it's free. Pay to support the author by getting the Windows Store version AND it will auto-update! It's only $7, which is an unreal value.

NimbleText - Regular Expressions are hard and I'm not very smart. NimbleText lets me do crazy stuff with large amounts of text without it hurting so much.

Markdown Monster - While I love VSCode, Markdown Monster does one thing incredibly well. Markdown.

Fiddler - The easy, clean, and powerful debugging proxy for checking out HTTP between here and there. It even supports sniffing SSL traffic.

NirSoft Utilities Collection - Nearly everything NirSoft does is worth looking at. My favorites are MyUninstaller, a replacement for Remove Programs, and WhoIsThisDomain.

Ditto Clipboard Manager - WindowsKey+V is amazing and close but Ditto keeps pushing clipboard management forward on Windows.

TaskbarX - It literally centers your Taskbar buttons. I love it. Open Source but also $1 in the Windows Store.

If you really want to mess with your Taskbar, try Taskbar Tweaker.

ShellEx View - Your Explorer's right click menu is cluttered, this can help you unclutter it!

OneCommander and Midnight Commander and Altap Salamander - As a long time Norton Commander user (google that!) there's a lot of great "reimaginings" of the Windows File Explorer. OneCommander and Altap Salamander does that, and Midnight Commander does it for the command line/CLI.

WinDirStat - A classic but still essential. What's taking up all that space? Spoiler - It's Call of Duty.

Also try SpaceSniffer!

FileSeek and Everything - Search it all, instantly!

I like Win+Share+S for Screenshots but also check out ShareX, Greenshot, and Lightshot

For animated Gifs, try screen2gif or LICEcap!

Alt-Tab Terminator - Takes your Alt-Tab to the next level with massive previews and search

PureText - PureText pastes plain text, purely, plainly. Free and glorious. Thanks Steve Miller

I still FTP and SCP and SFTP and I use WinSCP to do it! It's free or just $10 to get it from the Windows Store and support the author!

VLC Player - The best and still the best. Plays everything, everywhere.

PSReadline - Makes PowerShell more Bashy in the best way.

Yori and all Malcolm Smith's Utilities - Yori is a reimagning of cmd.exe!

Visual Studio Code Extensions

"I use the negativity to fuel the transformation into a better me." – Beyoncé

There's a million great Visual Studio Extensions. The ones I like won't be the that ones you like. But, go explore.

GitLens - Glorious. Just makes Git and VS a joy and adds a thousand tiny lovely features that will make you smile. You'll wonder why this isn't built in.

Version Lens - Do you have the latest package versions? Now you know

CodeSnap - Screenshots specifically tailored to make your code look nice.

.NET Core Test Explorer - Makes unit testing with .NET on VS Code so much nicer

Arduino for VS Code - The Arduino extension makes it easy to develop, build, deploy and debug your Arduino sketches in Visual Studio Code! So nice.

Coverage Gutters - This amazing extension highlights what code is covered with Unit Test and what's not. Ryan is looking for help, so go see if this is a great OSS project YOU can get started with!

Docker for VS Code - Container explorer and manager and deployer, directly from VS

GitHistory - Another nice add-on for Git that shows your Git Log

HexDump - I need this more than I would like to admit

LiveShare - Stop screen-sharing and start code and context sharing!

PowerShell for VS - A great replacement for the PowerShell ISE

Remote Containers - This is an AMAZING EXTENSION you have to try if you have Docker but it has a horrible non-descriptive name. But must be seen to be believed. Perhaps it's "Visual Studio Development Containers," I'm not sure. Open a folder and attach to a development container. No installs, just you debugging Rust, Go, C#, whatever whilst installing NOTHING. Amazing.

Remote SSH - Another in the VS Remote Family of Extensions, this one lets you use any remote SSH Server as your development environment.

Remote WSL - Edit and debug and build code from Windows...using Linux!

And finally, Yoncé, my current VS Code theme. Beyoncé inspired.

Things I enjoy

“We all have our purpose, we all have our strengths.” – Beyoncé

RescueTime - Are you productive? Are you spending time on what you need to be spending time on? RescueTime keeps track of what you are doing and tells you just that with fantastic reports. Very good stuff if you're trying to GTD and TCB. ;

Carnac - This wonderful little open source utility shows the hotkey's you're pressing as you press them, showing up as little overlays in the corner. I use it during coding presentations.

DOSBox - When you're off floating in 64-bit super-Windows-10-Pro land, sometimes you forget that there ARE some old programs you can't run anymore now that DOS isn't really there. Enter DOSBox, an x86 DOS Emulator! Whew, now I can play Bard's Tale from 1988 on Windows 10 in 2021! Check out Gog.com for lots of DOSBox powered classics

Oh yes, and finally Windows Sandbox - You already have this and didn't even know it! You can fire up in SECONDS a copy of your Windows 10 machine in a safe sandbox and when you close it, it's gone. Poof. Great for testing weird tools and utilities that some rando on a blog asks you to download.

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Scott Hanselman's 2021 Ultimate Developer and Power Users Tool List for Windows published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/

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philipholt · 3 years