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missania · 1 year

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Modern Day AU: Haunted Mansion

Anna decides to drag a reluctant Elsa to an allegedly haunted mansion. Surely there is no better way to spend Halloween than to try out her newly acquired ghost-hunting devices, right? Needless to say things don't go exactly as expected...

AO3

" This is such a bad idea, Anna," Elsa said for the hundredth time since the beginning of the evening.

She hung behind, taking cautious steps on frozen leaves. Anna could imagine her eyes darting around the darkness, looking out for any possible danger hidden behind the dense foliage surrounding them.

She herself was skipping ahead, trying not to think about how the shadows seemed to stretch after them wherever they went.

" Oh, come on, relax! If the ghosts - and yes, I say ghosts because there might be several in there - even show a hint of bad intentions, we're out of there, I swear!" She looked back at Elsa and tried giving a reassuring smile. She ended up grimacing instead.

Of course, Elsa's apprehension was understandable. Heck, she already halfway regretted her decision to go to this place at midnight. Especially on Halloween, when the veil between the living and dead was said to be the thinnest. But they've already come so far. If they were to turn around and leave now, Elsa wouldn't let her hear the end of it.

Besides, it's been so long since they'd gone out and done something together. Elsa was too busy with her work, and Anna had her own problems to sort through. It's been more than a year since they'd last seen each other. Now that Elsa had finally taken some time off, it would be a waste to stay inside and watch the same old horror movies as they'd done before.

So why not try something new? Something way more exciting?

That was why they were currently making their way down a hidden pathway.

After a couple of twists and turns, they finally reached their destination.

" I'm more worried about breaking into this property without a permit than supposed ghosts." Elsa clarified. She then levelled a sceptical look at Anna's shaking hand, which was holding the flashlight." And it seems to me that you are the one who is scared of ghosts, not me. Are you sure you want to do this?" She gestured to the foreboding building in front of them.

Said building was the old, abandoned mansion located on the outskirts of Burgess - the little town Anna had moved to a month prior. With everything going on at the time, it was only recently that she had overheard a group of children talking about this place. They had spent the night there as a dare, and apparently, something had happened because they were absolutely convinced that the mansion was haunted. They were also very adamant about never going there again.

Standing in front of it, it was not that hard to see why they had been so spooked. The dark house towered over them, and from close up, it looked even more unwelcoming than from afar. It was apparent there hadn't been any renovations in a long time because the colour was peeling off the old wooden structure. One of the windows had cracks stretching like spiderwebs over its glass. White curtains were blocking the view from the inside. All was completely silent around them. Only the full moon made it possible to see anything.

And their flashlights.

" Sure! It was my idea, after all! And you know I never go back on my word!" To demonstrate her sincerity, Anna marched up the stairs, ignoring their groaning. Once she reached the top, she turned around and stood proud right in front of the door. " Are you coming?"

"Only if you stop shining the light into my eyes."

" Oh, sorry!"

Anna redirected the light to the door. She was about to reach for the door handle but froze mid-movement.

It was already open.

For a moment, she just stood there staring at it. Then she giggled. " Seems the kids forgot to lock it last time they were here." Shaking her head, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. She heard Elsa following right behind.

The inside of the mansion looked even creepier than the exterior. It felt like entering a completely different time, seeing as nothing had been touched for decades - possibly even more than a century. There were thick layers of dust and cobwebs everywhere. The once beautiful tapestry was partially torn down, leaving the wall behind it bare. Some of the furniture was lying on the floor, overturned, making it hard to navigate the rooms.

The only sound they could hear was the creaking floor under their footsteps.

Anna let out a shaky breath as she took in their surroundings. The smell of old wood permeated her senses and left her lightheaded. All of a sudden, her backpack weighed heavily on her shoulders. Not for the first time did she question her sanity in compulsively buying some ghost-hunting equipment on Eway for this particular night. It had seemed like a stellar idea at the time, but now that they were here, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to use them anymore. The deeper they went into the mansion, the more insistent a little voice inside of her whispered to leave and never come back.

Her sister's quiet cursing startled her. " There's no signal here!"

When she checked her own phone, she got the same result. No signal. What a coincidence.

" Ah well, I'm sure everyone's busy anyway, so there won't be any messages," she said airily.

" This is not good... What if someone from work contacts me?"

Anna raised her eyebrows. " This late? And on Halloween? I know your superiors are crazy, but surely not to this degree!"

"You'd be surprised...," muttered Elsa, frowning at her screen.

Anna pursed her lips. She knew too well, in fact, how much of her sister's time was monopolised by her work.

But instead of a reply, she just continued her trek through the old mansion. After a moment, she heard Elsa's footsteps following her again.

Once they reached the living room, Anna's eyes lit up with an idea. She went straight to the middle with no hesitation. " Right! Before we begin, it is important to know the history of this mansion! Have you heard of it?"

" No, I haven't." Elsa still looked a bit irritated, but Anna deliberately ignored that.

Instead, she continued: "Perfect! Let me tell it to you then!" She cleared her throat dramatically, and shone her flashlight so it would illuminate her face from beneath. All humour left her expression.

" So apparently, this mansion was built in 1857 and home to the Pitchiner family, " she began with a sombre tone. " For someone so wealthy, they were open and kind to the townspeople and thus very much liked by them. All was well until Kozmotis Pitchiner was called away to war. Seraphina Pitchiner and their daughter, Emily Jane Pitchiner, were on their own for several years before the war ended. Or at least they were supposed to." Here Anna lowered her voice. " A month before Kozmotis Pitchiner returned home, the neighbours noticed the mansion was empty. There was no sign of either the family or the servants. Allegedly everything was left behind, and nobody ever returned to retrieve anything. It's as if they had vanished into thin air."

Elsa raised her eyebrows at that part but did not interrupt her.

" When Mr Pitchiner finally came home, he was dismayed upon discovering this and promptly started looking for them. He searched for them tirelessly, day and night, but to no avail."

A faraway look settled over Anna's eyes. She could envision the desperation Mr Pitchiner must've felt with each day that passed without any results. But still, he had refused to give up despite the bleak outlook. Slowly she lowered the flashlight away from her face and back to her side.

She continued, her voice strained. " Another month passed. That was when Mr Pitchiner stopped leaving the house. Remembering the strange disappearance of the rest of the family, the neighbours immediately grew concerned over him. And for a good reason. Because the next day, they found him lying in the middle of the floor in this very room. Dead." She cleared her throat when her voice failed her at the last word. " Some said it was from a heart attack. Others were sure it was of heartbreak." She trailed off as she reached the end. " And that was the dark tale of this mansion's very first owners."

For a moment, all was silent. Anna looked to the side toward where Mr Pitchiner had been found dead. A shiver ran up her spine when thinking about how close she probably stood next to that exact same spot. But there was also a sudden deep sadness tugging at her heart. Yes, it was an unsettling story about the first family that had lived here. But it was also a sad one. Until his very last moments, Mr Pitchiner had never found out where his family was or what had happened to them. He had died alone in his empty home.

Suddenly she heard a whisper right next to her ear. She spun around and shone her light around the room.

" Hello?" she called out.

" What is it?" asked Elsa, shining her light in the same direction as her.

" I thought I just heard something."

"I didn't hear anything..."

They spent the next few minutes in complete silence, listening for anything else, but nothing happened. No matter where they looked, there was no indication of what could've caused that noise. Everything looked the same.

" Maybe it was just a mouse," suggested Elsa. " There's probably quite a few here."

Anna shook her head. " No, no, it was very close to my ear. Almost like someone whispered something."

Elsa raised an eyebrow. " Someone? What, you mean a ghost?"

Her eyes widened. Of course! Why did I not think of that? Another shiver raced up her spine at the possibility of a ghostly presence near her.

She hesitated.

There was no way, was there? They had just entered the house. Maybe this was just her imagination playing tricks on her. She could admit that she was a bit jumpy this night. Maybe, it was just a mouse. Or maybe, it wasn't.

There was only one way to find out.

That was, after all, why she had spent all that money on her little ghost-hunting devices. That was also why she had spent so much time convincing Elsa to come here with her. To find out whether this was a haunted mansion or not. And to have a good time. Though, that last one was pretty much out the window now.

Slowly she sat her backpack down and started rummaging around inside it.

" What are you doing?"

" Trying to find- Aha!" She procured something that looked a lot like a flashlight. Something Elsa was quick to observe.

" Oh, it is! But you can also use it to communicate with spirits!" Anna placed it carefully on the edge of a nearby table. "You pose a yes or no question, and the ghost can answer by turning the light on and off." Stepping away from it, she came to stand next to her sister.

She took a breath to calm herself. Okay, you've seen how this works. You ask a few questions, and it may or may not give a reaction. No biggie. When she opened her mouth to speak, Elsa interrupted her: " This is a Maglite, Anna. It is known to turn on and off at random."

" Well, this is why the answers should be on time to our questions," she explained. "There's only so often the light can turn on and off for it to be a mere coincidence."

"Hm..."

It was apparent that Elsa did not buy any of this, but there was no use in convincing her with words only. So instead, Anna refocused her attention on the Maglite.

" Alright. Uh, hello! Good evening! I am Anna, and this is my sister, Elsa. We only came here to visit and maybe even chat for a bit? I-if you would like to, of course." It felt weird addressing the empty room, but she did not let this deter her. " That is if there is someone actually here with us. If you are, could you turn on that light, please?"

A minute passed, and nothing happened. Elsa shifted next to her. Anna waited just a bit longer before she cleared her throat.

" Or maybe you don't want to talk? If you don't want to talk to us, turn the light on then, please."

The light turned on so quickly it startled Anna. She couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh. " Oh wow, okay, I see. Do you want us to leave as well? If so-"

The light turned off before she could finish giving instructions.

"I-is that a yes?"

The light did not turn on again.

" Could you turn on the light, please, if you want us to leave?"

No reaction.

Anna shared a look with her sister. " Guess we're free to stay here for a bit longer, right?"

Before Elsa could answer, the light turned on again.

" Oh! T-thank you, that's very kind of you!" Anna's heart was beating fast still after her initial surprise, but she did her best to calm herself. Instead, she tried to smile at whoever - whatever - was in the room with them.

Being polite was probably the best way to go about this. They did break into this house, after all.

She was about to take back the Maglite when something occurred to her. Yes, the light gave a distinct "no" to any possible conversation, but her curiosity was a relentless beast. How could she just let such an opportunity go to waste? She had watched countless videos about ghost hunting, and the Maglite did not always provide such a ready answer.

Just one more time.

She would ask one more thing to be sure this was not a fluke.

" If I may ask one more question..." She watched the Maglite with bated breath. Would it answer without any instructions?

Sure enough, the light slowly dimmed until it turned off completely. Almost as if whoever was communicating with Anna yielded to her request reluctantly.

She couldn't help but smile at that mental image. " We did introduce ourselves before, and I would really like to know who you are. I have a guess - and I'm sorry if I'm wrong - but I want to be sure I got it right-" Oh God, Anna, stop rambling before you aggravate the ghost! You only have to ask! " A-are you Mr Pitchiner by chance? If yes, then, please, one last time, turn on-"

The light was on before she could finish her sentence.

Mr Pitchiner. The original owner of this mansion. The one who had died in this very room.

She swallowed. " Nice to meet you, Mr Pitchiner! And I won't bother you any longer. Thank you again for letting us stay here!" Even to her own ears, her voice sounded unusually high-pitched.

She then quickly took the Maglite and turned it off. Once she put it away safely into her backpack, she turned toward her sister. " Okay! Do you want to go upstairs?" It was then that she noticed Elsa looking at her strangely. " What?"

Her sister shook her head. " Nothing. You sure you want to stay here?"

She gave an emphatic nod. " Yes." There was no way they were leaving after getting permission to stay - and from the original owner, no less. So what if she was a bit spooked? She would be a fool to give up now!

Elsa sighed when she saw the look of determination in Anna's eyes. " Fine. Let's go. But we will be quick about it, alright?"

"Sure."

Once they left the living room, Anna felt like she could breathe again, though that tight feeling in her stomach didn't leave her. And on top of that, she felt like someone was watching her. Maybe it was Mr Pitchiner making sure they weren't up to no good.

They soon reached a dark, wooden staircase. One after another, they went up, the stairs creaking under their weight. The noise was so loud that it almost echoed.

" So, what do you think?" asked Anna.

" About what?"

" Well, with what happened in the living room. That was pretty exciting, wasn't it?"

" Anna...," Elsa sighed. " I admit, it was a bit strange, but that was most likely a lucky coincidence. You do remember what I told you about the Maglite."

" Yes, and you probably remember what I said. The answers were clearly on time with my questions. I can't believe we actually got to meet Mr Pitchiner!" Her hands were still slightly shaking from that encounter, in fact. " It's a shame he didn't really want to speak to us..."

Elsa gave her a sidelong glance. " The flickers weren't always on time."

Anna only rolled her eyes. " Sure, it was all very random with no pattern to it. The conversation didn't make any sense at all," she drawled.

" You can't possibly call that a "conversation" back there."

Anna only gave her an annoyed look but didn't press the matter. It was impossible to prove something to her sister when she believed she was right. Stubbornness was a trait both of them shared, which wasn't always a good thing - especially not when they were at odds with one another. But something inside her told her that Elsa might change her mind this night. Maybe.

Once they reached the top, a long, narrow hallway greeted them. Ghostly rays of moonlight shone through the window at the very end of it, making everything look unreal - almost like a dark painting. There were doors on each side of the wall, each one closed. The one near the window was especially noticeable because of its peculiar shape. Upon a closer look, it became apparent why: several wooden planks were blocking anyone from opening it.

Anna hummed. " I wonder what could be behind this..."

Before she could reach for one of the planks, a sudden loud creak echoed through the hallway. There was movement out of the corner of her eye, and she spun around to face it. What she saw made her blanch.

A door had opened. Eyes wide open, both sisters watched as it moved a little more before coming to a halt.

Several seconds passed, but it didn't move again.

" So, how do you explain this?" asked Anna breezily.

Elsa gave a shaky exhale. "Probably a draft. I'm sure the door was already open." Despite the logical explanation, she sounded unsure.

Anna cleared her throat. " Mr Pitchiner, is that you? D-do you want us to go in there?"

The door creaked again, opening a bit more.

That's insane! That is so insane! He is actually responding to everything I ask of him!

She took one step forward before a vice grip on her arm held her back.

" Wait. What if someone is behind that door? " hissed Elsa.

" You mean we would be able to see Mr Pitchiner?" asked Anna. Usually, people could see ghosts only through photographs or special ghost-hunting equipment. But Mr Pitchiner was very present. He didn't seem to have trouble manipulating the Maglite, and now he's even able to push doors open. Would it be too far-fetched to believe he could manifest his physical form?

" No, I'm not talking about some ghost but an actual human being!" Elsa continued with a harsh whisper. " What if there's a homeless person in here? Or someone else? We're completely on our own! We can't call the police because there's no signal here!"

" Oh." Anna's cheeks burned with embarrassment. She hadn't even considered this possibility. " W-well, we still need to go past it if we want to leave, so... might as well investigate."

" Anna..."

" Don't worry! You know, I've got a mean right hook in case someone tries to attack us!" She winked, then freed herself from Elsa's grip.

Together they approached the open door with cautious steps. One look inside revealed an empty bedroom. They both checked for a possible attacker but found nothing. There was no sign of anyone else - besides them - being there.

Anna slowly walked around, taking in her surroundings. She noticed immediately how tidy everything was, compared to the chaos downstairs. There seemed to be even less dust here, and she had yet to see a single cobweb.

Elsa noticed it, too. " This room is too well-preserved. Someone must've been looking after it."

She agreed. There was no way it could have stayed in such good condition without help.

When she passed the dresser, which stood opposite the bed, she heard a faint scraping sound. She stopped short, wondering if that had been her imagination. Elsa didn't seem to have heard anything and wasn't paying attention to what Anna was doing. She was too preoccupied with studying the book collection at the other end of the room. But no, there it was again. Anna shined her light towards the source and found a framed photograph. It was standing right next to her on the dresser. Curious, she stepped closer, reaching for the frame to get a better look at the picture.

It was the portrait of a young girl - maybe around twelve years old. Her beautiful raven locks cascaded down her back like a waterfall forming a sharp contrast to her pale skin. She almost looked like a porcelain doll if it weren't for her eyes, which twinkled mischievously at Anna as if she was really looking at her.

" That must be Emily Jane," whispered Anna. Her heart sank thinking about how, after all those years, it was still unclear what had happened to her. How there was no trace of her and how much her father must have grieved for her. " She's so lovely." Her voice sounded all choked up when she said that.

Something ice cold passed the back of her hand, and her flashlight flickered. Her breath hitched.

After a moment, she continued gently:" You must've loved her very much."

Again, the light flickered, almost turning off in the process.

Anna bit her lip in contemplation. He was very responsive for someone who claimed he didn't want to speak to them. No matter what she asked of him, he would try to give a clear answer.

And then there's the way he had guided them into his daughter's room. As if he had wanted them to see it. Now that she thought about it, the scraping sound that she had heard must've come from the portrait. Maybe he had moved it so she would see the picture of Emily Jane.

Would it be too far-fetched to think he might want to speak about his daughter?

She decided to take a chance. After putting the portrait back where she had found it, she sat her backpack down to search for a different device. One she had been eager to use back when it had arrived in a package. It didn't take her long to find it.

" This is what we call an Ovilus," she explained softly. "I know you didn't want to speak to us, and I won't force you to. I just thought-" She faltered for a moment, searching for the right words.

She didn't get to finish her sentence.

" What is that? " asked Elsa.

Anna startled. She hadn't even heard Elsa approach. " Oh, this?" She showed her the device. " This is called the Ovilus. I read that spirits can control the temperature or electromagnetic fields. And this device takes environmental readings and converts them into actual words! I have it on Dictionary Mode right now, so the words should show on the screen."

Elsa studied it with furrowed brows. " Where did you find this? And how many devices did you buy, anyway?"

" Ah well... I found it on Eway. And there's just one more device in my backpack. But I didn't want to use it because it's rather loud."

" How much did all of this cost?"

" Oh, definitely less than what they usually cost! Don't worry about it!"

Elsa gave her a doubtful look, not at all calmed by her assurances. Anna sensed she was about to scold her for the reckless spending of money, so she decided to change the subject quickly.

" Here, " she thrust the Ovilus into Elsa's hands. " Try it."

" Wha-!" Bewildered, Elsa grasped at the device before it could fall to the ground. " What do you want me to do with this?"

" Ask a question."

" I thought your ghost didn't intend to speak to us."

Anna shrugged. " I wanted to give Mr Pitchiner another chance to speak, but this time with words." She glanced briefly at the portrait of Emily Jane, and her expression softened. " I feel like he might want to tell us something."

Elsa sighed. " Fine. How do I use this?"

Anna gave her a quick rundown of the essential functions. Afterwards, she stepped slightly behind her sister, watching the screen in anticipation.

" Alright... Mr Pitchiner? Do you want to speak to us?" began Elsa with a clear voice. She held the device out to the empty room, waiting for a reply.

Seconds passed by with no words showing.

" Ask him about his daughter," whispered Anna. " Ask whether he wants to tell us something about her."

" Do you want to speak to us about your daughter?" she asked, following her sister's advice.

Another minute and still nothing.

Irritation seeped into her voice at her next question: " Are you even here with us?"

Anna pressed her lips into a thin line. Strange. By now, there should've been at least two or three words, even if they would've been nonsensical ones. She had had a test run back at home, and it had worked to a degree. Yes, the words hadn't made sense, but that was because there were no ghosts where she lived. She'd read that that was normal because the device needed some time to get accustomed to the environment once turned on. But here, it did absolutely nothing. No matter how long they waited, the screen stayed empty.

She got goosebumps, only thinking of the possible implications.

" Well, " Elsa turned sharply towards Anna, " seems like Mr Pitchiner doesn't want to talk to us after all. Or maybe he's not even here with us. Or most likely," she raised her eyebrows pointedly, " this whole thing is a scam, and you should've known better than to waste your money on this."

Ah, there she went, scolding her about how she was spending her money. Anna rolled her eyes as she took back the device. " It's my hard-earned money, and I do with it whatever I want. You can worry about your own money."

" There's not much to worry about because I don't spend it carelessly."

Anna ignored her. Instead, she studied the device with her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She turned it this way and that, trying to see what might be wrong with it. Maybe there had been a good reason why it had been so cheap. She couldn't help but feel disappointed. How could it have broken so quickly after being used only once?

" Oh no! No, no, no!"

Anna blinked at the sudden interruption. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elsa fumbling with her phone.

" What is it?"

" My phone died! Which doesn't make any sense because I had it fully charged before we went here!" Elsa pressed several buttons but to no avail. It would not turn on. She scowled as if its unresponsiveness had caused a personal offence to her. " We should really go, Anna, " she said with a tight voice. " Nothing good will come out of us staying here any longer, especially if we get caught."

" But we've only been here for a short while! And so far, we haven't seen anyone patrolling the perimeters!"

" Oh, come on, you've also noticed that this room is far too clean, which means someone does come here. Besides, we're just wasting our time. I'd rather we stay at your home and relax instead of sneaking around inside a creepy house."

Anna averted her eyes and bit her lip. " I just thought you might want to do something different...," she began hesitantly. " And it's Halloween, so I thought coming here would be at least interesting."

"I know, and I appreciate your effort, " Elsa responded, her voice more gentle this time. " But I enjoy a calm evening way more. Especially since I need a good rest before I have to get up early in the morning."

She stilled. " Why would you want to get up early?" she asked, confused. They had planned to go sightseeing around her new little town tomorrow. There was no need to get up early for that. It was supposed to be a calm and enjoyable walk where they would finally catch up on all that had happened after the last time they had seen each other.

" Because I need to go back to my place."

Anna looked up sharply. " That's the first time I hear about this..., " she said slowly. Confusion transformed into a whirlwind of emotions, making it hard for her to keep a straight face. Of course. Why hadn't she realised this sooner? All the signs had been there from the very beginning. It now made sense why Elsa had been so reluctant to go out with her, why she had wanted to leave even before they entered the mansion.

Elsa sighed. " I'm sorry. I know I promised to stay this week, but-"

" But something came up," Anna finished tonelessly. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather herself. She should've known better. After all, this hadn't been the first time it had happened. Elsa's job in the corporate world was incredibly demanding, and more often than not, there would be a problem that she had to help solve. Her hard-working nature wouldn't let her rest. Of course, Anna understood the importance of what Elsa did and that she didn't mean to hurt her in any way. She cared for her in her own way and to the best of her abilities.

Still, Anna couldn't help but feel dejected. She felt like they had been drifting apart from one another ever since Elsa had left for college. Even more so after their parents' sudden deaths. Try as she might, she had no idea how to bridge this rift between them. That never stopped her from trying, though. No matter how difficult it turned out to be.

Elsa cleared her throat. " Right. " She opened her mouth, hesitated, then slightly shook her head. She tried again. " Look, I'll do my best to deal with this as fast as possible. Then we can meet up again, and this time, I'll really stay for a week, alright?"

" That sounds great, " Anna said with no enthusiasm. " You told me so the past three times, and one of them had been on my birthday. Who's to say you won't have to leave again?"

" And I told you that I am sorry for that. I really am." Elsa sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose. "But understand that I also can't ignore my superiors. That would be a sure way to lose my job."

" You could take a vacation for a change. Surely there's nothing criminal about that? When was the last time you had one, anyway? And I mean one where you didn't even look at all those emails from work?"

" It's not that easy, Anna."

" What the hell is not that easy about it?" Anna clapped a hand over her mouth. She had not intended to react so harshly. " I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that."

" Then how did you mean it? " asked Elsa, a disapproving frown making it clear what she thought of her little outburst.

" I mean... whenever I talk to you, you seem to be in the middle of something. When we meet, your thoughts always circle back to work, even on your supposed days off. One email is enough to make you go back, forgetting about your free time. That can't be healthy."

Elsa crossed her arms. " I can look after my own health. But this is not about my well-being. It's about our meetings."

Meetings. As if they were attending business meetings and not spending time together as sisters. " Well... yes, " admitted Anna. " That, too. I can't even remember when you stayed as long as you said you would. It always ends with you having to leave for something work-related."

" Look, I'm sorry, but as I've told you, I can't exactly ignore it when I am needed. You could also visit me for a change. Then I wouldn't have to go back and forth so much, and we could spend more time together."

" But I did!" protested Anna. " And you know why this didn't work out? Because it seemed like I always arrived at an inopportune moment, despite you inviting me. Either you're working home-office and don't want to be disturbed, or you need to pull some extra hours at work and don't come back until late. And I'm left to sit in your flat, not knowing what to do. It's not any different from me sitting alone at home." But at least there, I don't feel like I'm intruding, she added silently.

She didn't like fighting with her sister. They didn't get to spend much time together, and it seemed like a waste not to treasure those moments. But over the years, all those empty promises started to pile up. She couldn't help but feel treated like an insistent distraction rather than a beloved sister. It felt freeing to voice what had been eating away at her for years.

Even if it was at the risk of them fighting.

" Why didn't you say something then?" asked Elsa, exasperated. "I can't read your mind, you know! I won't know how to do better if you don't tell me what's wrong!"

" Don't you think I tried to? But it's always "I'm tired, Anna" or "I'm busy, Anna, can't it wait until later?" and "later" you're too tired for it. Rinse and repeat. There's simply no chance to say anything! I kept quiet every time because I didn't want to add this to your never-ending list of problems. But it's hard to ignore at this point because I hardly get to see you anymore!" Anna's voice rose with each word. " Last year, we didn't see each other at all! Not once!"

" You know exactly why!" cried Elsa. " Back then, we had trouble meeting any deadlines for our elaborate project, and it was hell! I even texted you about it! I wouldn't have had the time to focus on anything else, and it would've been unfair to you! That's why I kept declining!"

"Yes, I know! But my point is: there's always something that comes up! We hardly ever talk to one another because of it. And text messages aren't helping! Either you turn off your phone because you're working, or it's turned on because you're working off the clock. And when you finally get around to answering my texts, it's always in such a curt manner-!"

" What are you even talking about? My text messages are fine! I text like that with everyone!" protested Elsa. " Maybe it sounded rude at the time because I was tired, but it's never intentional!"

"But it makes me feel like a bother to you! Sometimes I wonder if you dislike me because I annoy you so much! That's why I keep my texts at the bare minimum nowadays! That's also why I think twice about asking you to meet up again!"

" That's ridiculous! Why would you even think that? Of course, I do not dislike you!" shouted Elsa. She made an exasperated hand gesture. "Don't you think it's also hard for me? With how much work I have to do, I still try to make time for you! Sure, it's unfortunate how our meet-ups get interrupted sometimes, but I thought you understood! Apparently, I was wrong! From what I hear from you, I'm beginning to think that no matter what I do, it will never be enough for you! You will always take it personally!"

Anna's mouth hung open. The last two sentences ran through her head on repeat like a broken record. She could not believe what she had just heard. She didn't even know what to say. The only thing she knew was that it stung. Badly.

Wordlessly she turned around and stormed out of the room. She did not know where she was going, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was to get away from Elsa as quickly as possible.

" Anna!"

Anna picked up her pace, quickly descending the stairs. Her surroundings began to blur until she could hardly see anything.

" Anna, come back!"

" Please, leave me alone, " she whispered, blindly stumbling into the next best room she found and quietly shutting the door behind her. Elsa would surely think she had left the house and no doubt go after her. That is why she, on a whim, decided to hide inside the house. She wanted to be left alone until she could calm herself.

In her distracted state, she did not notice the additional clicks coming from the door she had just shut.

Slowly, she sank to the ground, resting her arms on her knees and burying her face in the soft material of her coat. Her body shuddered with suppressed sobs. Outside, she heard her sister's hurried steps rushing down the stairs. They passed the room where she was hiding.

" Anna, wait!" called Elsa again, her voice growing fainter. A few seconds later, a loud slam echoed through the house - probably the front door.

Anna continued to listen with bated breath, straining to hear whether her sister would return to the house. But nothing happened. All of a sudden, it was deathly quiet.

Probably for the best.

Angrily, she wiped away some of the tears that had managed to escape.

Great. Only then did Anna notice the absence of her backpack. In her hurry, she must've left it upstairs. But instead of going back to retrieve it, she remained sitting on the ground.

She didn't have the energy to get up right now.

The only thing she had taken with her was the Ovilus she was still holding in one hand. The Ovilus that didn't seem to work anymore. She grimaced, thinking of all the money she had spent on all those devices. Maybe, Elsa was right. Maybe, this had been a waste.

She was about to put it down next to her, but a quick glance at the screen made her freeze.

» Selfish. «

One word. One word which seemed to glow incredibly bright in this permeating darkness. Anna stared at it for so long the letters started to lose shape. They seemed to almost dance as if they were mocking her.

For a moment, she felt a spark of anger return. " Selfish? Me? After all those years of her brushing me off no matter what I did? I-"

" Don't you think it's also hard for me? With how much work I have to do, I still try to make time for you!"

"...no matter what I do, it will never be enough for you! You will always take it personally!"

" I mean..., " she faltered. " Yes, maybe I could've brought this up later. But to be completely honest, it's never a good time because she's always so busy. O-or maybe I shouldn't have said anything at all in the first place- "

One look at the Ovilus made her go quiet.

» No. «

» Selfish. «

» Her. «

» Not. «

» You. «

One after another, the words appeared, almost forming a coherent sentence. In all the videos about ghost hunters she had watched, this was something she had never seen happen before. That was too much of a coincidence - as were so many other things that had happened tonight.

She became very conscious of what had transpired in this house and what kind of a commotion she and her sister must've caused. She swallowed. " I'm sorry I snapped at you, " she began quietly. " And I'm sorry I caused such a scene in your house. I will understand if you want me to leave."

It answered immediately.

» You.«

» May.«

» Stay.«

" T-thank you, " she breathed.

Dizziness overcame her, making it hard to form a coherent thought. She realised only then she was alone in an abandoned, haunted house.

Her eyes darted around the room, trying to make out her surroundings. There wasn't much she could see. The full moon must've been overcast because scarcely any light reached the inside, despite the curtains being open. She could vaguely make out the shapes of the table near the window and the bookshelves looming near the walls. Nothing was out of the ordinary, yet she felt this prickling sensation as if someone was watching her.

He was here somewhere with her.

She drew an arm around herself, feeling cold all of a sudden.

" Mr Pitchiner?" she addressed him with a small voice. " W-was I wrong? Upstairs? Did you want to speak to us again? I didn't want to force you, but I did it anyway..."

» Only.«

» You.«

Crap. " O-oh, so it was only me who had wanted to talk..." She let out a nervous giggle. " I'm sorry, I tend to be very talkative-"

» No. «

» Talk. «

» To. «

» You. «

» Only. «

Her throat ran dry when she finally understood. Mr Pitchiner had wanted to speak to her specifically. Not Elsa.

She didn't know what to make of that.

Why her?

She must've thought out loud because the answer was immediate.

» Because.«

» You.«

» Care. «

It quickly added:

» Because.«

» You.«

» Are. «

» Polite. «

As if he had wanted to drive away the previous words before she could read them. It was too late, though.

A quiet laugh escaped her. She couldn't help but picture the way he quickly tried to backtrack after disclosing more than he had wanted to.

" I do try my best, " she admitted, a bit of tension leaving her.

So it hadn't been her imagination. Mr Pitchiner had truly wanted to speak to her back then. But why not Elsa? Not that she minded communicating with him. However, she wondered at his rather decisive refusal to acknowledge Elsa in any way. Was it really because of politeness - or lack thereof? Or was there a different reason?

Anna decided against asking him. Now that they could speak to one another undisturbed, she could finally find out more about him. Ask about his past, maybe even the afterlife.

There were so many possible ways to start she had no idea where to begin.

In the end, she settled on his family.

" Mr Pitchiner, I wanted to ask... are you alone? Or are your wife and your daughter here with you?"

For a while, nothing happened. Anna began to worry whether she had been too forward, but then Mr Pitchiner answered:

» No.«

» Gone.«

» I. «

» Remain. «

" Oh." There it was again, that heaviness in her heart. " I am so sorry. I can't imagine how much you must miss them..."

She was about to change the subject but paused. " So, they moved on, but... why didn't you? Why didn't you go with them?"

» Do.«

» Not.«

» Know. «

» Where. «

She furrowed her eyebrows. "You don't know where they went? But didn't you see each other after... a-after you... well..." She took a deep breath. " I mean, didn't you find them?"

» No.«

» Never.«

He never saw them again. Not even after he had died. Until this day, he still didn't know where they had disappeared to.

" That's why you're still here," she whispered in realisation.

He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

She leaned slightly forward, eyes searching the room for an indication of his presence, trying to find out where he might be. For the first time, she felt frustrated not being able to see him.

" I wish I could help somehow, " she said, her voice laced with regret. " When I researched the history of this manor, I also looked into what might've happened to Mrs Pitchiner and your daughter. But from what I've read, there are many theories and no definite answers. Nobody knows what is true."

She felt terrible not being able to give him any more than that. Worse yet, she probably just took away his last hope of finding his family ever again.

" Anna?"

She froze.

No, it couldn't be. Not right now.

Somewhere in the house, a door opened. Quick footsteps followed soon after, going from room to room, judging by the sound. As if someone was frantically searching for her.

Anna slowly stood up, her free hand reluctantly dusting off her clothes.

The footsteps drew nearer.

" Anna? Anna, are you in here?" Elsa called out. This time her voice sounded more desperate than angry. Clearly, she had been searching for a while now.

Anna bit her lip. Despite their fight, she felt slightly guilty for hiding away like that. She had no idea how much time had passed, but had the roles been reversed, she would've been out of her mind with worry. Hopefully, Elsa hadn't called the police yet.

» You.«

» Want.«

» To. «

» Leave. «

She sighed, defeated. " Not really, to be honest. But I can't hide away forever. It would be unfair to make Elsa worry so much. I need to talk to her and settle this argument once and for all. It would be childish of me to avoid this any further." Besides, she usually didn't shy away from something difficult.

" Very well then."

The soft and decidedly masculine voice startled her. She whirled around, eyes wide and searching for the source. There. In the middle of the room stood the dark figure of a man. The edges of his silhouette kept shifting around, and the moonlight streaming in from the window made his body look almost translucent. It was hard to make out his face except for his golden eyes, which glinted at her from the darkness.

Her lips parted at the unexpected sight, her body frozen in uncertainty.

She couldn't move.

Not even when he slowly approached her. There was something elegant about the way he moved toward her. Something captivating about the way he was watching her. And she, in turn, watched him, not averting her eyes even for a moment.

He stopped right in front of her, and she had to tilt her face upwards to meet his gaze.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him raising his hand and reaching passed her. Breathlessly, she watched him lean closer - so close, she could feel the temperature drop. His cold breath brushed her cheek, and she couldn't help but shiver.

Absentmindedly, she noted the few clicks as if someone was turning a key. It was only when the door opened that she broke away from her trance and turned around.

There stood Elsa, swinging her flashlight around at the sudden noise. Anna had to shield her eyes against the blinding light.

" Oh, Anna!"

Before she knew it, she found herself enveloped in a tight hug.

" Thank God, I found you!" Then she leaned back and grasped at Anna's shoulders. Her expression turned thunderous. " Don't you ever do something like that again! I thought something had happened to you!"

" I'm so sorry, Elsa. I-" She glanced back into the room and stiffened. There was nobody there.

That couldn't be right.

She could've sworn-

" Let's just get out of here. I've had quite enough of this house." Elsa was already guiding her towards the entrance when Anna remembered something.

" Wait! My backpack!"

" Alright, I'll get it, " Elsa assured her. " You stay here. Don't move!" she added emphatically. After one last warning look, she hurried upstairs.

Despite her sister's order, Anna quickly returned to the room where she had stayed. She frantically searched for him in the darkness, but there was no trace of Mr Pitchiner's ghost. Nothing to indicate that he had been there at all.

" Mr Pitchiner?" she called out softly.

No response.

There was no way she had imagined it all. Right?

When she heard her sister come down the stairs, she quickly whispered: " I know, you're here. And I will come back here, like it or not." She paused. " Of course, I'll leave right away if you don't want me to-"

" Anna! What did I tell you?!" Elsa shouted once she found her missing. Again.

"- stay." She finished. Then she spun around to rejoin her sister quickly.

Once the sisters had walked quite a distance away from the house, Anna chanced one last look back at it. It still looked eerie in the moonlit night, but somehow it felt less intimidating than it did before.

Some movement caught her eye, and she squinted, wondering whether it had been a trick of the light. But no, the front door was definitely moving!

And there he was, standing at the entrance like a shadow, watching them leave.

So she wasn't crazy! He'd really been there with her!

Making sure her sister couldn't see, she tentatively raised her hand - the one still holding the Ovilus - and gave a small wave. It was only then she noticed new words appearing on the screen.

» Farewell. «

» Until. «

» We. «

» Meet. «

» Again. «

She smiled.

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j0kers-light · 8 months

Note

I HAVE A THEORY: so you might not tell me this until next chapter but I think in readers closet she does like either drugs, a gun, or blades for cutting( but joker would have seen them if that was the case🧐) my girl stay running to that closet. girl I really don’t know🤣🤣 I’m SO curious to know what’s up in her room ALSO could you give a image as to what her room and home looks like when u have the time. If none of these is closer as to what I thought then girl I will just shut up😩😭😂😂 I stay over thinking shit😂😂😂

Love ya 🫶🏽

Hey hi anon!! I love the theories omg!

🤭

You’re right. With how much attention Joker’s gives your body, he would’ve seen any cuts or marks on your skin. But I won’t say anything further on that.

I WILL TALK ALL DAY ABOUT Y/N’S PENTHOUSE!

The Simmer in me wants to build it but I’ll just paint a picture in your mind instead 🤭

Rent in Old Gotham is cheap and rather spend an arm and a leg on a fancy high rise in New Gotham or in the newly restored Burnley, Y/n is smart and found a place with the same amenities, if not more, in the old Grant Row building. You gutted the place out and renovated it to your liking.

I don’t think y’all hear me when I say Y/n has the entire top floor. You walk off the elevator and there’s a short hallway that leads to the front door.

Step inside and you have a huge foyer. A decorative table that always holds a bouquet of Morgana’s fresh flowers is front and center. There’s two closets here (for coats and things) and a half bath/powder room that Y/n rarely uses.

Walk a bit further and you arrive into the open living room and dining area. This space is huge so you never feel claustrophobic.

Gorgeous original hardwood floors and lots of sunlight pouring in from the vaulted ceiling and windows really make the room feel larger than life.

Off of the living room, you have a sunroom which you converted into your greenhouse. It’s the famous glass roof that the Grant Row building is known for. Past another set of sliding glass doors and you’re out on one of the two balconies within the penthouse.

It has a platform level that holds a outdoor dining table and grill area— lots of space to entertain.

Dip back inside and past a dining room table that seats twelve, and you enter the kitchen.

It’s straight out of a magazine with its own walk-in pantry and stainless steel features. You cook a lot and spared no expense in here. You have all the space and amenities you need. Not to mention the kitchen has gorgeous countertops that Joker loves to toss you on um 👀 moving on.

An archway separates the main common area from the private rooms in the apartment.

Have you ever seen those ridiculous long hallways in celebrity homes? The ones that stretch on for absolutely no reason? It’s space show off all the artwork and other media you love! Your personal museum if you will.

There are a total of four bedrooms and two bathrooms in the apartment. You also have a laundry room and the storage room with the secret maintenance hatch. (I love that so much)

Joker is staying in your guest bedroom (described in detail in Two Steps Forward) that has a small sitting area in front of a electric fireplace. You can see the Fashion District in the distance out of the floor length windows that are standard throughout the apartment.

His room connects to the main bathroom and I explained it in detail along with your private bath in the High Risk chapter.

Which leaves us with the most important room. Your sanctuary.

The rest of your apartment is eccentric, bursting with color and life with plants in every corner. Nothing matches but everything comes together in a beautiful way. Your bedroom is the exact opposite.

It’s closed off from everything else and devoid of color. The walls are pitch black and your extensive book collection is the only pop of color therein. That giant Alaskan King bed is all black and the view from the windows overlooks Grant Park and Gotham City in the horizon. You have a private balcony through a set of doors as well as your connecting custom bathroom.

Barbara joked once that you never have to leave your apartment and she’s not wrong. You have everything you need for a hermit lifestyle on your own floor.

I am rambling like a real estate agent 🙃 did I answer the question?

#thanks anon!#thanks for the ask!#his lighthouse #I guess I’m a real estate agent now lol #i hope that answers the question

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ledenews · 1 year

Link

#belmontcounty #eastohiohospitalllc #EORH #martinsferry #ohiovalley #OVMC #UpperOhioValley

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sambvcks · 3 years

Text

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’.

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

[ NEXT ]

Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor.

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her.

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #crawl home to her #sab writes

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xanthippe74 · 3 years

Text

Drarry ficlet: Momento mei

2399 words | general audiences | angst with a happy ending

Thanks to @glittering-git for the beta!

Read below or on AO3 here.

Memento mei

It seemed like a blessing at first.

In the months after the war ended, the articles chronicling Harry’s deeds in the Prophet slowly waned from full pages of lavish words and photographs, to barely a mention of his name. Harry felt lighter for it, free. By the time the first term back at Hogwarts was almost over, he could go to Hogsmeade without worrying about flash bulbs startling him every time he stepped out of a shop.

“They finally got tired of you, mate,” Ron said with a laugh as they trudged back to the school after a morning of Christmas shopping. Harry scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it, none too gently, into Ron’s grinning face.

Harry and Ginny’s break-up didn’t get so much as a mention, even in Rita Skeeter’s gossip column, which had been relegated to an ignominious corner ten pages back from the front page. When he came out as bisexual and briefly dated Terry Boot that spring, he braced himself for a fresh round of publicity. It never materialised.

Harry looked in the mirror of the eighth-year boys’ bathroom and found he was truly comfortable in his own skin for the first time. His life wasn’t going to be scrutinised and dissected for public consumption anymore. The people around him didn’t think he was a freak or a waste of space.

One year after the war, with a handful of NEWTs to his name, Harry was at a loss for what to do next. There was no particular career he felt inclined to pursue, so he put his energy into renovating Grimmauld Place and spending time with his godson. He wondered at times why no one had offered him a job—Ron and Hermione had been deluged with letters—but he never mentioned it to anyone. It would have sounded awfully big-headed to expect anything to be handed to him like that, much less complain about it. While his friends began training programmes and apprenticeships, Harry Vanished broken furniture and stripped mildewy wallpaper off the walls. On the weekends, he met the usual Hogwarts gang for pub night or a party in someone’s cramped flat.

Harry looked in the mirror on his way out to meet his friends, giving his hair one last check. Maybe he’d meet someone new tonight. He winked at his reflection before leaving his newly-renovated bedroom.

Two years after the war, Harry didn’t think twice about walking through Diagon Alley on a busy Saturday. There were no stares or requests for autographs, no whispers when he paused to look into a shop window. He met friends for leisurely lunches. He ate ice cream at a table in front of Fortescue’s and watched people strolling by in the summer sunshine. Once, Harry walked the entire length of Diagon without realising that George had flicked a spell at the back of his head as he’d left the joke shop.

Harry looked in the mirror when he got home and was bemused by the things that didn’t warrant a second glance in the magical world, like hair that shifted between purple and orange every five seconds. He went over to Andromeda’s house to show Teddy, who laughed to see his godfather’s hair change colours like his did.

Three years after the war, Harry’s friends started forgetting to invite him to things. At first, they laughed it off as absentmindedness or a simple oversight. “I’m sorry, Harry! It must have slipped my mind,” was an excuse he began to hear more and more often. And then they began to look confused when he confronted them, like it was strange for Harry to expect to be included at all. As the months went by, the hosts of the get-togethers weren’t the only offenders—not a single person seemed to notice when Harry didn’t show up for something. When he mentioned it later, they would only lament all the fun he’d missed out on. His frustration curdled into self-pity.

Harry looked in the mirror the day he found out he’d missed Lavender’s engagement party, studying his unremarkable features and the unremarkable haircut he’d had since he was eighteen. Was he really so boring and unimportant that nobody thought about him much anymore? He didn’t mind in the least that the wizarding world wasn’t fawning over him, but it cut deeply that the people dearest to him no longer seemed to want or need his company.

It was only when his closest friends stopped recognising him that Harry began to suspect that something was terribly wrong. The first one was Luna, but she was often so lost in her own thoughts that it didn’t strike him as odd that she’d drifted past him in Diagon without saying hello. Then Molly looked at him blankly one day when he arrived at the Burrow for Sunday roast, as if Harry were a stranger who’d wandered in by accident. Thankfully, Ron was passing through the kitchen and greeted him as he usually did. Molly gave herself a little shake and ushered them both into the lounge.

Four years after the war ended, Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt didn’t mention Harry’s name in his speech commemorating the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hagrid didn’t invite Harry to tea for his birthday, as he did every year.

And when Harry popped into Neville’s flower shop to wish him happy birthday, Neville responded to his greeting with a baffled look. Harry watched in horror as he turned to Hannah and mouthed the words, “Who’s that?”

Harry spun on his heel and went right back out the door.

Either he was going mad or everyone else was. He walked around London for half the night, unable to think straight. The city was a vast ocean, and Harry felt like a small boat that had been set adrift, tossed around by waves of panic. When he was calmer, he decided to turn to the two people he knew he could always count on for help.

On his twenty-second birthday, Harry woke up on his sofa and rushed to the Floo to call Hermione before she left for work. He was flooded with relief when he heard footsteps approaching the fireplace. Ron’s face appeared in the flames—and immediately twisted into anger when he saw Harry.

“How did you get this address? Who let you into our wards? Get out!”

Harry sat on the floor for a long time after Ron had slammed the Floo connection closed.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

Oh, god—Teddy. Harry scrambled to his feet. Would Teddy shy away from Harry as he would from a stranger, the next time they saw each other? He stumbled up the stairs and dry heaved over the toilet.

Harry looked in the mirror and prodded his chalky face with his forefinger. Did he look unrecognisable to everyone but himself now? Did they see a different face, a different person when they looked at him? Or were they all under some kind of spell that erased their memories?

How had he been forgotten by everyone who loved him?

Forgotten.

You will be forgotten.

The phrase echoed in Harry’s head, causing him to sink down onto the bathroom floor. Over four years ago he’d heard those very words, snarled by a Death Eater as she’d been dragged out of the Great Hall by Aurors after the final battle. Harry had been so exhausted that the dank weight of her magic settling upon him had immediately vanished from his mind.

“The Dark Lord will always be remembered! But you will not, Harry Potter. You are nothing compared to him—utterly insignificant! You will be forgotten!”

Harry went to St Mungo’s to see the Healers, who shook their heads at the young man who insisted he was supposed to be famous. When they couldn’t fix him, they called in an Unspeakable who specialised in breaking obscure curses. After an hour of waiting, a man in hooded grey robes swept into the examining room. He didn’t show the slightest sign of recognition when he introduced himself to Harry as Unspeakable Malfoy.

Harry looked in the mirror above the sink while Malfoy cast diagnostic spells at him. He tried not to cry.

Malfoy didn’t make any promises when he was done with his spells, the results of which he recorded in a small notebook. He promised to send an owl if he found anything and asked for Harry’s name again so he could write it down.

If Malfoy couldn’t fix this, Harry decided on his walk home, he’d have to leave England. If he went someplace where no one had heard of him, they couldn’t forget him, right? The tears he’d held back at St Mungo’s slid down his cheeks as he thought about how much he’d gained, and now lost, since his eleventh birthday. Maybe he didn’t have the most exciting life or a career to boast about, but there were people who loved him. There were happy times and an old house that he’d turned into a home with his own hands.

Harry went back to Grimmauld Place and waited for word from Malfoy. He paced through the high-ceilinged rooms and climbed the long flights of stairs until his legs ached. He caught himself holding his breath, listening for a knock on the door or the roar of the Floo. When they never came, he went out to the back garden instead and lay on its small rectangle of grass. He considered where he might go—California or New Zealand. Or maybe some South Pacific island where it never got cold.

At last, Malfoy’s owl arrived four days after he had examined Harry. He’d identified the curse and, more importantly, found the countercurse.

Back at St Mungo’s, Malfoy greeted Harry coolly and ordered him into a chair. The countercurse was a droning chant in a language that Harry didn’t recognise, accompanied by complex wand motions that made him dizzy to watch. He closed his eyes until it was over, hardly able to breathe.

When the casting was finished and the room silent again, Harry opened his eyes and found Malfoy gaping at him.

“Potter? What the hell?” Malfoy looked over at his notes on the table, then back at Harry, his eyes widening even further. Then he said, faintly, “Well, Scarhead, that was quite the predicament you got yourself—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish. Harry launched himself out of the chair and crushed Malfoy in a hug, laughing tearfully into the shoulder of his Unspeakable robes.

“Gracious, Potter, a simple thank-you would suffice.” Malfoy wriggled out of Harry’s arms and stepped back to cast a diagnostic spell at him. “Do you feel any different?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “Not really. Lighter, maybe?”

“You’re probably just relieved to be famous again,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. “It must have been terrible not to see your own picture in the newspaper every day.”

“No, that part was actually nice. It was having my friends not even recognise me anymore…”

The rest of the words got caught in Harry’s throat. Malfoy’s expression turned sympathetic, and when he spoke again, it was with surprising gentleness.

“Well, then. I suppose you’d better go see them now, hmm?”

He accompanied Harry to the Floo in the reception area. Harry tried to glance at him as they walked, but he’d pulled up his hood to hide his face from the other people in the corridor. No wonder Harry hadn’t heard anything about Malfoy in the past few years—he’d buried himself in the depths of the Ministry, learning to undo Dark curses.

And letting the wizarding world forget him, Harry thought with a pang.

Harry shook Malfoy’s hand and thanked him. Whatever happened next, he knew he wouldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy, with his sharp gaze and clever mind, anytime soon. Malfoy, too, seemed to consider Harry for a few long moments before he stepped into the Floo.

This time, the only reason why Hermione and Ron were surprised to see Harry was because they weren’t expecting him on a Thursday evening as they were squabbling over what to make for dinner. He almost started crying again when Ron cuffed him on the shoulder and asked him if he wanted a beer.

Hermione noticed that he was upset first, of course. When Harry explained the curse, she blamed herself for not catching that something was wrong. Ron looked towards the pictures on the mantelpiece and swore under his breath. There weren’t any pictures of Harry there.

The good parts of Harry’s life returned to normal after that, and he was almost bursting with renewed gratitude for the people around him. Diagon was off limits again, since the vultures at the Prophet remembered to hound him, but that was a small price to pay. Harry threw himself a belated birthday party in Grimmauld Place, and the rooms were filled with music and laughter and shouted toasts in his honour. He never wanted the night to end.

Harry looked in the mirror before going to bed in the wee small hours, and he smiled with contentment at his bleary eyes and the glitter caught in his hair.

He’d invited Malfoy to the party on a whim, but received a polite note declining. Harry tried again and again—a Seekers game? Lunch in Muggle London? Tea at Grimmauld Place?—until Malfoy finally gave in. He showed up on Harry’s doorstep in jeans and a soft, well-fitted jumper. Harry found himself staring.

“Did you forget that you asked me to dinner, Potter?” Malfoy smirked.

“Oh, no,” Harry breathed. “How could I forget you?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Five years after the war ended, Harry spends his Saturdays teaching Teddy how to fly on his first broom and Sundays being climbed on by two or three small Weasleys who know he keeps sweets in pockets. He orders Christmas gifts by owl post to avoid star-struck witches in the Diagon shops. He slips into the Leaky Cauldron under his invisibility cloak to meet his friends for drinks.

And when Draco reads out the ridiculous articles about him from the Daily Prophet, Harry chucks the crusts of his toast across the breakfast table at his boyfriend and says he almost forgot how much of a prat he could be.

“You didn’t forget anything,” Draco says pointedly.

And Harry has to agree. He didn’t.

#my writing #drarry #drarry ficlet #now with AO3 link and header!

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Misread Details, Part One

CW: Death talk, BBU, dehumanizing language about Box Boys

A Box Boy Serial Killer On the Loose? Part 1 of 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee 1 month ago

Hello, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime!

I’ve posted this write-up in a couple other reddits, but someone pointed me to this one as being a good place for discussion, and this is a really weird set of three unsolved murders (well, one death and two murders? Maybe?) and I wanted to see if any of you have some thoughts or maybe more info on these cases.

Three men died within two years in three different cities.

While each death is unique, all of them have one thing in common - fingerprints and DNA from a single human pet was found in every single location.

Let’s start with the first death.

Nathaniel Matthew Benson, who went by “Nanda” (a childhood nickname given to him by a younger brother who couldn’t pronounce his full name as a toddler, apparently), was forty-one years old at the time of his death.

He was born and raised in North Dakota by very strict religious parents, and had three younger brothers and one younger sister. There is some disagreement here about whether his home life was peaceful or not. His younger sister claims that the environment at home was strict but fair, and the family was mostly happy. Two of his three younger brothers tell a different story, about a father who put too much on their shoulders, especially “Nanda” as the eldest, and the pressure they felt to be perfect.

His other brother, the youngest of the family, has never given a public interview beyond a short statement that he and Nanda were not close, and he did not feel able to speak about his character. There were nearly fifteen years between the oldest and youngest childrens’ births, and Nathaniel had moved out of the house by the time the youngest was four years old, so this makes sense.

By all accounts, Nathaniel was an excellent student, getting all A’s throughout his years of education. He was considered quiet and shy, and most of his high school classmates don’t have many standout memories of him. He graduated valedictorian of his high school class, then surprised everyone by stating he wouldn’t be attending college, and instead would be taking a “gap year” to travel the United States using money from his graduation party and also some he’d saved up from working part-time retail and restaurant jobs.

Between ages 18 and 19, he took his small secondhand four-door vehicle around the nation, calling home every week or so to give his family updates, sending postcards, etc. After about six months, though, the phone calls and postcards became fewer and fewer, and eventually he told everyone he had gotten a new job and decided to forgo college entirely.

His family was shocked - and by all accounts his father was furious - but Nathaniel refused to budge.

There was apparently a very hostile phone conversation about one year after this decision which was the last time Nathaniel Benson spoke to his father directly until his death.

After this, his family received only sporadic communications sent from a P.O. Box located in central California, in a mid-sized city known as Dosaba. He never did give anyone an actual home address.

He occasionally called them, mostly his sister and one of his brothers, but surviving family states that the phone number he called from was different every single time, and usually didn’t have a California area code.

“He used burner phones for everything,” Nathaniel’s sister Samantha told WNDR, a local news station, shortly after his mysterious death. “And he would never tell us what job he did. We asked and asked and Nanda would just say ‘oh, this and that’, or ‘I do contractor work’. Just answers that don’t tell you anything. It was all very mysterious, very secretive. You know, we talked about how maybe he’d gotten into drugs or something, but my brother wasn’t a drug user, ever. It just seems so out of character for the brother I knew.”

“He was always reading his Bible when we knew him,” Younger brother Timothy stated. “But you know, I asked him once if he had found a home church wherever he was living, and he laughed and laughed. Then he just said, ‘they’d have a lot of opinions on how I live my life if I did that’, and changed the subject. So I knew whatever he was doing, it probably wasn’t good.”

There has been a lot of speculation by investigators that “Nanda” had indeed picked up employment within some kind of drug smuggling group at this time. Evidence found after his death has even opened the possibility that he worked as a high-end hitman.

There’s a lot of international travel during this time period, far more than can be accounted for unless travel was part of his workplace responsibilities. Employment records show him working as a sales manager for a company called Sunrise Investments, but this is believed by many to be a shell corporation hiding something much, much darker.

However, all of this remains speculative, and there’s never been any proof that Nathaniel Benson did anything but the financial sales the company claims. No one ever did much work with him, and other employees at the company stated contact with him occurred entirely by phone and fax (and then e-mail) at this time.

When investigators pored over the documents after getting a warrant, they weren’t able to find anything suspicious - and that in and of itself seems suspicious to some.

For years, Benson seemed to simply drop off the map entirely when it comes to local information - investigators did find that he owned a vintage Corvette that he fixed up himself (found via vehicle registry and taxes listings, which is public knowledge), and that about two years before his death he bought a large five-bedroom house with a basement in Dosaba, which he renovated in total secrecy. I was able to find records of him paying home taxes through his mortgage company, and that he spoke to local contractors and building companies, paying for consultations about the renovations he undertook.

None of the companies he spoke to kept any kind of detailed notes about these consultations, but you’ll see why it’s relevant when I discuss what was found after his death.

Nathaniel Benson’s life came to an abrupt end on August 16th, 20XX, but nobody would find his body for more than two days.

On August 18th, his cleaning lady arrived for her usual weekly visit to discover him crumpled at the foot of the stairs, face-up. She called 911 immediately and first responders arrived within twenty minutes to her white-faced and nearly silent.

First responders noted that Nathaniel’s eyes were closed, unusual for a violent death. A wet cloth had been laid over them to help them stay that way. The medical examiner stated later that this would have to have been done within the first hour after he died, before rigor mortis could stiffen muscles and lead to them opening again.

That whoever witnessed his death knew to do this is deeply unusual, and may be a sign of affection or grief.

The autopsy found that Nathaniel had met his end approximately 36 hours before he was found, and had died due to an undiagnosed heart defect that had resulted in cardiac arrest.

Sounds like any sudden death that can simply be written off as sad but natural, right? Well, there’s a few details that make things a little murkier than that, and have led to his death being listed as “undetermined” officially, and possibly including foul play.

For one thing, Nathaniel hadn’t simply collapsed next to the stairs - he had fallen, or been pushed, and showed evidence of bone fractures and head trauma consistent with the fall. A bit of blood was found on one step that came from his injuries. This head trauma would likely not have been fatal if he had received medical attention, but cardiac arrest ensured death even if head trauma didn’t.

Did Nathaniel Benson suffer a heart attack and fall down the stairs, dying only when he reached the bottom? Maybe.

Or maybe he really was pushed, the shock of it is the reason he went into cardiac arrest.

There’s one more unusual fact that makes foul play a possibility in this mysterious death.

Nathaniel Benson owned a legally purchased Box Boy, no known legal name, who went by his original purchase number: 334235. The Box Boy was a Romantic designation, and was purchased from Facility 001 in Berras, a city in Southern California, where the WRU headquarters is located.

WRU, when contacted by investigators, easily agreed to meet and provide detectives with information regarding the Box Boy’s purchase, as well as the DNA and fingerprint samples the company keeps on file.

According to WRU’s internal records, this Boxie was not only a designated Romantic, but a specialty Romantic, trained for ‘masochism’. This tracks with multiple books on, shall we say, somewhat salacious interests that Benson had for his love life.

As Benson never seemed to date anyone or maintain a relationship, it’s theorized that the Boxie was his way of dealing with the stress of his work. WRU noted that Benson had contacted them after the purchase was complete to give his compliments on the Boxie’s training and note that he was ‘perfect’ and they ‘got along just fine’.

The Box Boy’s fingerprints were found all over the house, which is totally normal. He was living there full-time, after all. But investigators also located something a bit more unusual: a secret room within the home that the cleaning lady had never seen before, hidden behind a carefully camouflaged door.

This is what Benson had been working on when he ‘renovated’ his newly purchased home: He built a secret dungeon room with stone walls and a concrete floor, outfitted with a dip and a “drain”, plus a garden hose hooked up on one wall.

The room also had rows upon rows of cabinets full of various tools consistent with a ‘hard BDSM lifestyle’, according to one detective. I wasn’t able to get ahold of the actual list of items found, but was able to determine that whips, knives, ‘unspecified implements purchased from adult stores’, and other things were found.

Tests done on the walls and floor showed that blood had been spilled nearly everywhere in the room at one time or another, and large amounts of it. There was also evidence of blood found in Nathaniel Benson’s bedroom, primarily on the floor and in the bed. A small faded stain was found on the headboard just below a set of cuffs hooked into it.

A few small dried bloodstains were also found around the master bathroom sink, and investigators were able to determine the blood matched the DNA of the Box Boy, and was left there much more recently than the rest of the blood in the house, possibly even on the day of Benson’s death.

Here’s the thing, though: the Box Boy himself was nowhere to be found.

Was this Box Boy tired of being used as a human pincushion? Did he take matters into his own hands and commit the ultimate crime a pet can do, killing his owner? If he did, he no doubt knew what happens to pets who kill their owners, usually either being ‘put down’ or wiped clean to be resold.

Is our Boxie a killer right from the start? Or was he only a witness to a natural death who panicked and ran away?

Without locating the Boxie himself, it’s impossible to know.

The cleaning lady remembered him, and gave a description: Somewhere between 5’8” and 5’11”, wiry but with some muscle, usually dressed in just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt when she was in the house. He has short dark hair, brown eyes, and an angular face. She mentioned visible scars on his arms, but none on his face. She was told to call him only “pet” if she needed to speak to him. She stated his voice was slightly hoarse and rough, as if he had a sore throat all the time.

They had only one significant interaction, where the cleaning lady inquired about a large bruise on the Boxie’s face and bandages on his arms. He apparently told her, at the time, that he ‘liked the reminer’, but thanked her for asking after his health. They never spoke directly again.

The detail about his face being unscarred will become incredibly relevant in parts 2 and 3.

Neighbors, when asked, mentioned that they had seen someone matching that description walking away from the house somewhere around 4 and 5 pm on August 16th. The medical examiner believes Benson died around noon, so this leaves about four or five hours between the death and the Boxie leaving.

He appeared to be walking very quickly and one neighbor noticed he was holding what looked like crumpled cash in one hand and a plastic shopping bag in another.

He was spotted waiting at a nearby bus stop, and footage from a camera mounted inside the bus shows someone matching the Box Boy’s description riding the bus all the way into Dosaba’s historic, artsy downtown. There, he was again captured on CCTV purchasing a one-way train ticket with cash. The train station employee who sold him the ticket remembers offering him a round-trip ticket for a discount, which she always did anyone who asked for a ticket to another city, only to have him “nervously” say he wouldn’t need to come back. She mentioned that he scratched at the side of his neck, and that when he walked away, he looked like his shoes were a little too big for his feet.

It is believed, as Nathaniel Benson was found barefoot but wearing clothing that suggested he had been outside doing yard work just before his death, that the Box Boy stole his shoes.

The fleeing Box Boy is captured one more time on camera as he arrived at his destination, Red Hills, approximately a two-hour train ride to the south. He walks past the CCTV quickly, hunched over as if trying to hide his face.

After that, he disappears.

Red Hills is a significantly larger city than Dosaba, with nearly a million residents within city limits and another 600,000 filling its suburbs and outer neighborhoods. Red Hills is a city that has seen better days, and it would be easy for a runaway Box Boy to simply fade away into its seedier districts. While Red Hills has had more than a dozen runaway Boxies picked up over the years, mostly Romantics who engaged in prostitution to make ends meet, it’s not believed that Benson’s Box Boy knew this when he chose the location.

As Romantic Boxies usually can’t read, it’s believed he simply chose a location he’d overheard someone else say, knowing nothing about what he would find when he got there.

Two days after his death, Nathaniel Benson’s debit and credit cards, Driver’s License, and a folded-up note he had written to himself about buying toothpaste were found in a plastic shopping bag tied-off at the top, were found inside the bus the Boxie had ridden, stuffed between the edge of a seat and the wall. The Boxie’s fingerprints were on everything.

But the Boxie himself wouldn’t be seen again until more than a year later.

Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson’s death for a time remained a one-off unsolved mystery. A little on the unusual side, but entirely possible that no foul play occurred, just some details that need filling in.

The shocking murder of a Red Hills man known locally as “Brute” would bring this Box Boy back into law enforcement’s line of sight, and open up questions about whether the Box Boy had simply been running away from Nathaniel Benson’s death… or leaving to find a new victim.

I’ll post Part 2, about “Brute”, shortly! Then Part 3 will be about a third murder, in which our potential Box Boy serial killer takes out… another serial killer.

I told you this one gets interesting.

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

Flower Pedals Hisoka x reader Part 2

Part 1

❤️♣️❤️♣️

As the day went on, Hisoka volunteered as a chaperone to your younger cousins. They wanted to play in the water while Hisoka sat under a coconut tree, sipping on a strawberry margarita. It would be pointless for an intoxicated man to be a chaperone but he is quite immune to heavy alcohol. Somehow, the sun’s beautiful reflection made Hisoka look like the man you slowly fell for. His job as a bodyguard for the most dangerous mafia in the country, his ability to speak French like a flipped switch, and of course his bulging muscles. Seeing him interact well with your cousins made him seem father-like. But why did he have to act so egotistical? Why couldn’t he be like the guys you saw on the Hallmark channel? Is being loved that hard to ask for? Then the hurtful incident earlier that day entered your mind once again. You didn’t want to break up with Hisoka but it was the only choice.

A tear ran down your face, something you hadn’t done in a while. A silent weep is something everyone needs to do once in a while but weeping in front of others can feel humiliating. Suddenly, you hear a knock on your door and someone enters without your permission. You quickly wiped your tears away and turned around quickly expecting it to be Hisoka. Instead, it was your beloved uncle smiling with a DVD in one hand and popcorn in the other but once he got a quick glimpse of your sad face, his smile disappeared. This time he didn’t run to your rescue but rather asked what’s wrong from a distance. He already knew it had to do with Hisoka but he was curious to hear more.

“Is it about your boyfriend?”

“Yes…”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Physically, no. Emotionally, yes. He has flirted with many people and disregards that I am there. He used to be all over me and now he acts as if I do not exist!”

“That’s horrible. But I have to break it to you. Some men like it when their significant others are jealous. It’s thrilling to them. If you dislike that, you should tell him.”

“I have! He will not listen to me!”

Your uncle grunted in anger and shook his head. He placed his index finger and thumb under his chin, thinking hard about something. Tears rolled from your eyes and felt like they could not stop.

“Come with me, darling.”

Following behind your uncle like a 5-year-old, he led the way to his newly renovated basement, and in that basement stood something that mimicked a lab. He removed a large blanket that covered a table full of glass test tubes and pink liquid. You were hopelessly confused as to why your uncle was smiling at his little creation.

“Uncle…what is all this?”

“Can you guess?”

“Sorry. I have no idea what it is.”

“It’s a love potion!”

You gasp and step back rather far from him. You frowned, not believing what your uncle has told you. Love potions were depicted and always fictional; they simply don’t exist. Hell, Cupid DOES NOT exist and yet he claims that he has made a love potion?! You have always known your uncle to be a wacky man but NOT THIS wacky! Not only did he have a small test tube of this love potion but he had at least 100 small bottles of it too!

“Uncle….don’t tell me…”

“Maybe Hisoka can take a shot of this…”

“U/N! No! That’s wrong!”

“Huh?”

“If he doesn’t love me anymore, I’ll break up with him. Plain and simple.”

“But y/n!-“

“No buts!”

Gosh, you sound like your aunt!

“Why do you have that anyway? I could have sworn you and auntie madly in love anyway.”

“We are….” He stopped talking for a brief moment as he made his way to the door. He did not want your aunt to overhear him speak or else she’d have his head.

“We’ve had a few tiffs lately and she is being distant. I was thinking of giving her this potion.”

“You can’t just…give her that! What if she’s allergic to any ingredient you put in there?”

“SHHH! It’s not a drug, ok darling? It’s essentially a cupid’s arrow in liquid form.”

“Oh yeah! And Santa Claus is real, right? Come on Unc. I’m going to sleep now.”

“Y/N wait! Wait!” Your uncle ran up the stairs after you to try and have an actual heart-to-heart conversation with you. In reality, The love potion wasn’t anything that would harm Hisoka or your auntie; it was something that everyone had. This “love potion” has many variants in the market already. It has its own juice, pop, and merchandise line. When people gave testimonies about them falling madly in love with their partners, you thought it was an absolute joke!

The day had reached 11 PM. The sun had set for the day and the bright stars shined brightly against the beach. Chrollo and the others had left hours ago probably forgetting that you and Hisoka had tagged along. As you cleared the dinner table, the love potion sat there, in its small slender glass frame. This had been extracted so it could be digested but still, you didn’t go anywhere near it.

“Don’t leave this unattended. If a person drinks too much, they’ll become a fool for you and as romantic as that sounds, it can be VERY overwhelming.”

As you turned the lights off downstairs, the front door barreled open. Your eyes had been adjusted to light for the last few hours; seeing in the dark was nearly impossible. But one thing is for sure, that infamous bubble gum small dashed towards your nostrils.

Hisoka.

The lights turned on once again and this time, they began to flicker a little. Hisoka’s piercing golden eyes were able to grab a hold of yours instantly. It felt like you were paralyzed with sudden fear and anger. So many emotions raged throughout your body; your brain sending many signals to the various parts of your body. Both of your cousins come running in, arms stuck out like airplanes zooming all through the living room. One flew underneath Hisoka’s legs and the other flew many times around you. Their sudden joy made you smile a little; they were so full of joy and hope…that is until they grow up.

“I like your boyfriend, y/n!”

“Yeah! He’s so fun! He taught me how to play Poker!”

“You what?!”

“Hey! She needs to know in case she needs to make some cash.”

“Ok, you two. Up to bed. Mom and Dad are waiting for you.”

Both of your cousins zoom into their rooms making loud airplane noises.

“I must admit, I see potential in those kids. They made their own marshmallows, mingled amongst people their age, and even reminded me when their bedtime was.”

He looked from the staircase to you. “Thank you for—“ he stopped as he looked at your angry face.

“—Are you still mad about earlier?”

“What do you think, jerk?”

“Would you stop playing hard to get? You haven’t given me a kiss today.” He bent down and puckered his lips, expecting you to respond. Instead, you turn the lights off leaving a kiss-less Hisoka in the dark. Hisoka stood in the middle of the dark living room beyond confused at your actions.

Finally! Alone at last. No one to interrupt your thoughts or sleep, just you in your auntie’s guest room. The bed was extra comfy! It was so fluffy that it almost made you get up and inside Hisoka to sleep with you.

“No. He needs to learn his lesson,” you thought to yourself. Besides, a non-married couple sleeping in the same bed together was NOT going to fly in this house. Before you knew it, your eyes were closed for what felt like 20 minutes but were actually 8 hours. The sun beamed through the curtains acting as your silent alarm clock. Stretching your muscles and yawing felt amazing after a good night’s sleep. Checking your phone was a reflex but feeling an odd source of shadows made you freeze. As you slowly turned around, Hisoka was laying in your bed, with his boxers on, smiling, and gawking at you; something he’d never done. You thought rubbing your eyes twice would make him go away, but he was still there in the flesh. Still angry about yesterday's encounter, you stare at him plainly.

“What in the world are you doing here, Hisoka?”

“To be with you, of course, my dear.” His tone was much softer; it felt as if he was barely moving his tongue. His lips slightly puckered as he spoke. Your boyfriend was always mysterious but it can be said that he was never predictable.

“What are you talking about?”

He scoots closer to you; his bare chest rubbing against your right arm. He places his left arm around your neck pulling you closer. So close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He took his index knuckle, placed it under your chin, and lifted.

“Oh, how I missed your face…the sound of your voice…my heart aches for you.”

You blink twice.

Am I dreaming? What is going on here?!

“Hisoka—“

He placed his index finger over your lips; his long nail gently scratches the top part. “Shhh….” Quickly but softly, Hisoka gives you a kiss but not just an ordinary kiss, one that is very breathtaking. His lips were much softer than you remember and a lot moister. He didn’t force anything; he gently moved his lips to make you more comfortable. What felt like a lifetime was truly only 10 seconds and on the 11th, he parted. Gazing into his golden eyes this time made your heart skip a beat. You remained silent, slightly afraid to say a word as he stared into your eyes deeply. This was not his blood-lust look at all but awfully similar. His eyes were half-lidded but they were soft, much softer than you had seen before. Just as you were about to say something, he gently grabs your face and begins to kiss you all around without remorse. This overwhelming amount of affection not only made you bluff but be utterly embarrassed if your aunt and uncle caught you two in this state. It’s more of the family “aww’ ing” than anything else.

“How did Hisoka suddenly do a 360 from last night?”

“Might as well enjoy this while it lasts.”

Hisoka continued to place soft kisses. He began to pepper your lower jaw with them, earning a slightly satisfied grunt from yourself. He then professed his love for you as he kissed you in between phrases. The magician himself was as red as an apple while you were a giggling mess. He moved his lips to another part of your body. His hand kisses felt amazing once more. He moved his way up your arm and to your shoulder.

“You smell terrific, kitten,” he said in a lower huskier voice.

You growl in response; something so embarrassing that you are happy your nosy little cousins did not hear.

“You’re so adorable, kitten. So delicate that I’d be afraid to touch. So beautiful like the colors and aroma omitting from a blossom tree.”

“I love you to the moon and back.”

Before Hisoka said another word, he placed his right hand where the bottom of your head and neck met. He gently caressed it as he pressed his forehead against yours. The soft feeling of his nose moving swiftly against yours felt like ecstasy. Nothing could ruin this moment.

“Hisoka’s a simp!”

Both of you jerked your heads to the door. Through the crack, you could see two curious pairs of eyes, staring into your room. Before Hisoka could leave the bed, you jump over him and march to the door.

“You know, it’s rude to stalk people in their bedrooms.”

“And? It’s rude for you to be staying the night in my beach house and not giving us any money. Hand it over sis.”

You close the door and jump back into bed with your new boyfriend. Hisoka practically had hearts in his eyes. It’s as if he saw no one but you.

Maybe he has changed….

Your uncle’s voice could be heard a distance away and that’s when it hit you.

“Don’t leave this unattended. If a person drinks too much, they’ll become a fool for you and as romantic as that sounds, it can be VERY overwhelming.”

Oh shit! Where is the potion?! No! It was left on the table last night!”

"Really, Unc? I think I can deal with this. After all, he is less insufferable. I’ve always wanted my beau back and I hope he remains this way…falling on his knees before me."

To be continued....

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poptod · 3 years

Text

Pretty, Little Doll (Merriel Shelton x Reader)

Description: Merriel makes friends with the pretty little doll serving ice cream.

Notes: jus thinking about ice cream. implied female reader, but this.. is too much. theres just too much here. youve been warned. edit: wait no u havent. the warning is that theres suggestive themes and such WC: 2.3k

After working long hours in the broiling sun of the south, what felt best down his parched throat was a beer––a bar where many of his friends and coworkers drank at, and the waitresses wore low-cut dresses with short hems and long stockings. That sight went down wonderfully with several drinks, but what drew his attention today was a newly opened shop.

There was no sign, but the large, pristine windows gave a good view of the inside. Clean, white walls with several tables and chairs to the left, and a counter to order at on the right. Behind it stood you, dressed to the nines in ruffles and bows as you opened up the shop, displaying buckets of ice cream.

Merriel grinned. Lopsided and toothy, and he jogged inside, sweat and dirt still trailing down his skin and clothes. With his shirt slung over his bare shoulder, he met your eye and his cocky smile returned as his chin tilted high.

"Afternoon," he drawled as he approached the counter, barely grazing over the different flavors before returning to you.

"Good afternoon," you said in a much quieter voice, though you did mimic his smile, just more politely. "How may I help you?"

"You new here?" He asked, gesturing generally to the shop.

"Oh, yes," you said. "My grandmother always wanted an ice cream parlor, so.. I thought I could help her."

"That's awful sweet of ya," he said as he leant on the counter, tilting ever closer to you. "This ice cream sweet as you, boo?"

Your mouth fell open, eyes widening as you did a double take. For a moment you were at a loss for words, but you quickly attempted to stammer out a response, a blush burning your face.

"Well, um, we have, uh, strawberry, and um.. chocolate, vanilla, cherry, and uh, banana. And bourbon."

"Bourbon?" He said, a single brow kinked upwards.

"It's my grandma's favorite," you said with a sheepish chuckle.

"Damn, girl. Grandma knows how to have fun," he laughed.

"Would you like to try it?"

Only if I can lick it off you, he thought, his attention drifting to the soft skin of your neck. The thought of it melting down and pooling in your clavicle. While usually he didn't bother to censor himself for anyone, you seemed a little fainthearted. His chances with you would probably be ruined after one too-strange comment.

"Sure," was what he said instead. "Long as it's cold I don't care."

"I understand that. I moved here recently and it's certainly something to try and adapt to the heat," you rambled as you stuck a tiny plastic spoon in the bourbon ice cream, giving him the single bite. "Are you a local?"

"Been here long's I remember," he said, taking the spoon. "What time do ya get off today?"

"Oh, um," you fixed the ruffles on your collar, "I won't be finished till late. We're not all set up yet."

"If y' need some help, I'd be happy to offer my expertise. I do a hell of a lot a' nailin' things ta the wall."

You stared at him again, once more losing your words. He hadn't quite meant what he said, but the fluster he left you in had him grinning, humored by the connotation you'd incorrectly understood.

"That – that'd be very nice of you," you said, wringing your hands. "I don't want to bother you. You look.. busy."

He didn't miss how your eyes raked up his body, from his wrinkled, dusty pants up his bare waist and chest still gleaming with the sweat of morning work. His jaw could cut hearts and he knew that very well; accented it whenever he could as he cocked his chin upwards, watching carefully as your breath froze.

"I won't be busy tonight. How 'bout this." He walked up right to the counter, pressing his hips into the edge of it. "I come after I finish up ma' own job, and I'll give ya' a hand. Don't even gotta pay me."

"Really? But –"

"Don't worry 'bout it. 'S nothin' for a pretty doll like you."

"At least let me get you a cone? It's hot out today," you offered, reaching for the largest waffle cones you had.

The guys wouldn't really take well to him eating ice cream instead of drinking, but he figured they'd eat their words when they saw you.

"Won't say no to that."

As much as he wanted to boast about you, how pretty and sweet you were and how he so easily slid his way into your life, he didn't want his friends finding your shop and vandalizing it with their own dirty boots and flirtatious looks. Only he could do that.

In the evening he returned as promised, having walked from his house on the outskirts of town to your shop on the main street. The build, decorum, and location of the shop screamed rich family to him. No one in his state would be able to afford a business on main street, much less fully renovated and repainted. He could ask you, he decided, about your family, your grandmother, and of course you.

Inside, you were closing up the tubs of ice cream, hauling them out of the display case and into a back storage room. He knocked before he entered, earning a muffled 'come in!' from you.

Before either of you could speak, both the buckets in your arms began to slip, and he ran round to the other side of the counter to help. He took one from you to ease the load.

"Careful, cher," he said, grabbing another bucket in his other arm. "Don't wanna break yaself."

"Thank you," you said, mostly ignoring his comment. "My grandma is in the other room, so just, um.. be polite and proper."

Fat fuckin' chance, he thought in his head, but fortunately did not say aloud as he followed you.

The door swung open into a freezer room, where an old lady stood in the corner, covered head to toe in coats as she stirred.

"I keep telling you to let me do that," you sighed, setting down your container before rushing to her side.

"I can do it quite well myself. I'm not useless, you know," your grandmother said, staring you down with a glare. You hesitated, gauging her carefully, before you relented with another exasperated sigh.

"Fine, alright," you said quietly. "I'll go work on hanging up all the paintings and such."

"Thank you, dear."

You motioned to him as you passed by, pushing open the door and heading out of the freezer. He once again followed you, watching your ass with a grin you never saw.

"We need to hang up these," you said as you brought him to one of the circular tables, each of which carried a small pile of paintings, license plates, or tin posters.

"You got a ladder?" He asked, glancing to the high walls.

"Yes sir," you said, sorting through the different posters. He quirked a brow, intrigued by the possibility of that nickname.

"I neva did get ya name," he said as he leant on one of the tables.

"(Y/N). What's yours?"

"Pretty name for a pretty doll," he half sung, the same, one-sided smile stretched lazily across his face. "My name's Merriel."

"Also a pretty name," you said, picking the largest poster to start with. A pin-up girl in a sailor's suit. "Our ladder isn't all that steady. Will you hold it for me?"

He opened his mouth to offer himself up, but with one look to the ruffled skirt you wore, he shut himself up.

"'Course," was what he said instead.

Everything was a bit of a game––one you were unwittingly a part of, and one where you played your role rather well. A sweet, unassuming little thing, essentially a toy for him, accepting his help and letting him in. He hated to act the predator, but when it came to you he couldn't help it.

That was how he saw it. Hunting you down and taking you for his own at the end of a long chase. However, to any outsider, it appeared in a much simpler way; a young man doing anything for someone he'd developed a crush on. That was how it truly was, though the innocence of his crush was abruptly stripped away as he held the ladder, staring shamelessly up your skirt.

"Merriel?"

"Huh?" He said, broken out of his dreamy trance.

"I said could you hand me another nail," you said, pointing towards the package of nails with your hammer.

"Oh. You sure ya ain't gonna fall if I leave?" He asked with a grin. You chuckled, shaking your head.

"I'll be alright."

"If you say so, boo."

After a little while he supposed he ought to offer some more help than holding a rickety ladder, and took your place at the top with a hammer in his hand and nails in his mouth. As promised, his experience with nailing things to the wall (nails specifically, not women) made him much faster than you, and the entirety of the wall behind the counter was covered within fifty minutes.

"Thank you for your help, again," you said as you put away the hammer and nails.

"My pleasure," he said, the image of your thighs still fresh in his mind. "If y' ever need help.. I'm happy t' to be of service."

"Well, thank you. Come stop by again soon. On the house," you said as he left, peeking your head out the door and giggling.

"You know I'm stoppin' by again, get two things done in one trip. Some'in sweet for th' eyes and the tongue," he laughed, watching your face light up with a blush.

And it ain't just the ice cream, he thought.

Over the course of the coming summer, he left drinking for the evening, and instead visited your shop over his lunch break. You insisted on giving his cones for free considering he continued to help you out, but he usually found ways to sneak you the money anyway. You were not, as he assumed earlier, a very rich family.

His favorite activity, which he found rather early on, was to sit outside on burning hot days, his shirt draped over the back of his chair as he ate. Through the pristine glass, he spied you watching him often.

You couldn't help it either. Most of your life was spent in your family cabin, cutting you off from many teen and early adulthood experiences. People flirting with you was a lot to deal with, especially when it came from someone as pretty as him, the smooth dips and ripples of his lean muscles shining with sweat and dirt from his construction site.

His tongue. Ever since he made that comment on that first evening you met, you hadn't been able to get it out of your mind. How it rolled and drawled between his puffy lips drawn backwards with his teeth, in a very specific method you'd pinned down to 'the Tongue Thing'.

Your heated, embarrassed blush only worsened as ice cream dripped down his fingers from the heat, cleaned up by a sharp and precise tongue. You could hardly breathe watching him like that, but as he caught your eye you turned quickly away.

His bravado had clearly earned a huge boost from catching you mid-drool, prevalent in his step as he waltzed back into your store. You hardly met his eye, pretending to clean up the counter, but that didn't stop him. He walked right up to you, leaning down with his elbows on the stone, forcing you to stop and look at him, which you did with incredible reluctance.

"You been watchin' me, cher?" He asked, close enough to see his reflection in your wide eyes.

"No," you said quietly.

"A' think you're lyin'," he said, leaning in closer yet. "Betta' not do that. Could land you in some trouble."

You raised your brows.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not with anythin' ya can't take," he said as he raked his eyes purposefully slow down your body. When you appeared to be at a loss for words, he said, "I'll ask ya again. Were you watching me?"

"... and if I don't answer?" You tested carefully.

"Well then, I think there's too much space between us," he said, grinning cockily as he jumped the counter, crowding you suddenly.

You drew in a sharp breath, backing up as he continued to step forwards till he pinned you to the wall with his hips.

"Tell the truth, baby." he drawled, carefully setting his hands on your hips and pulling you in. Something hard poked you.

"I – I wasn't staring, I –"

He half-grinded into you, pressing you tighter against the wall as his hands drew upwards, resting at your waist.

"Such a pretty thing," he mumbled beneath his breath, watching your stumbling reaction closely.

By pinning you with his hips, he had free roam to move his hands, one of which toyed with the hem of your skirt. It was wrong, certainly, and it was also illegal since you were in plain view of main street, but he lost control the minute his fingertips brushed the soft, supple skin of your thigh.

Your breathing hastened, hips yearning for something, though you didn't know what. When the rough skin of his fingers suddenly brushed inbetween your thighs your hands shot up to steady yourself on Merriel's shoulders. He laughed, running a finger through your lips, finding you already soaked and not wearing underwear. Instantly his laugh faded, devolving into a long, needy moan as his hips once more pushed up into you.

"Th – there's someone – someone coming," you said, eyes darting to the front door.

Immediately he was off you, stepping to the side as you straightened yourself out. You walked forward with shaky legs, which he most definitely noticed, and took the mother and son's orders as usual. When you finished you glanced to him, your heart stopping at the sight of him licking your slick from his fingers.

"I guess your ice cream is as sweet as you, boo," he murmured in your ear, giving you no chance to react before rushing back out to return to his construction job.

#snafu x reader #merriel snafu shelton #the pacific hbo #rami malek #rami malek character

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ritualmichael · 3 years

Text

house hunting with duncan (female reader)

hgtv but make it nsfw. honestly i got this idea and wrote it in like 30 minutes so idek what it is.

warnings: fingering, language, public sexual acts

“And here we have the newly renovated kitchen,” the realtor said as she led the two of you through another doorway. “Brand new stainless steel appliances and flooring.”

Honestly, your feet were starting to hurt and the realtor's high pitched voice was getting on your nerves. This was the third condo you and Duncan had toured today and they were all starting to blend into one boring, white-granite-countertop, open-floor-plan mess in your head.

Duncan could tell you were getting tired when you didn’t have anything to say. The kitchen was the one place in your future home that you weren’t going to settle on. It had to be perfect, but you were starting not to care anymore.

“Can we have a moment?” Duncan asked the realtor, his hand going to your back.

“Yes, of course! I’ll be right outside,” she said with a big, fake smile before walking out, leaving the front door slightly open.

“What’s wrong? Do you not like it?” He asked, turning to you.

You reached out, pulling yourself to him and resting your forehead on his chest. “I’m just over these tours. I’m tired of looking for places. I want to have a place of our own already.”

Duncan raked his fingers through your hair, his other arm wrapping around you. “I know, baby. We just have to find the right place.”

“This place is fine,” you said, lifting your head and looking around.

“You deserve more than fine.” He reached out, hooking a finger under your chin and lifting your head to look at him. “Right?”

“Right,” you sighed, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. You meant for it to be brief, just a quick peck, but his arm tightened around you and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into him and his warmth. Kissing Duncan was comforting. It never got old, no matter how many times you did it.

You felt his fingers run through your hair again, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin below your ear. He knew that spot always made you shiver.

“Mm,” you said between kisses, your hands moving to his chest but not applying any pressure. “We should probably stop.”

“Probably,” he breathed out, kissing you even harder. You could feel him smirking against your lips when you groaned, both out of annoyance and satisfaction.

Then his hands were on your hips as he slowly walked you backwards until you hit the counter, one of his legs slotting between yours.

“Duncan,” you warned against his lips. “Seriously.”

“What?” He asked, pulling away just enough to look down at you. “I’m just checking that the kitchen is up to my standards.”

“What standards do you have?” You laughed.

One of his hands went to your neck, his thumb running over your jaw. “The counters have to be good enough for me to fuck you on them,” his words being punctuated by his thigh pressing between your legs.

Your eyes fluttered at the pressure and his words, an unsteady breath leaving your lips. “Well?” You said, leaning in closer to his lips. “Are they?”

“Let’s see,” Duncan said as he roughly pressed his lips to yours, one hand still on your neck and the other reaching between your bodies, popping open the button of your jeans.

You knew this was a stupid idea. It was reckless and immature and you didn’t care. The last thing you were worried about was the annoying realtor or the mind-numbing tour you were supposed to be on.

All you could really think about was Duncan, especially when you felt his fingers press against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear.

“As much as I’d love to bend you over these countertops, we don’t have time,” he mumbled against your lips as his fingers worked in circles. You let out a small gasp as you nodded, pressing further into his touch.

“This is just a trial run,” you breathed out, making Duncan laugh quietly.

“That’s my girl,” he said as he pulled your underwear aside and nudged your legs further apart with his knee before pressing two fingers into you.

You groaned at the sudden stretch, his mouth swallowing it as he kissed you. One of your hands went to his hair, giving it a tug when you felt his fingers curl and hit that spot that he never missed. He had you familiarized head to toe and his hands always knew the right places to touch.

“Shhh,” he whispered as you let out a whimper when his fingers started to quickly curl, pressing on that spot roughly and repeatedly. Your knees felt weak and you probably would’ve dropped if it wasn’t for his hand on your hip, pressing you into the counter.

His fingers kept a steady, quick pace as he kissed you. You tried to keep up with the kisses but you couldn’t catch your breath, the warmth and tension between your legs creeping up to your chest and making it harder to breathe. Instead, Duncan pressed kisses to the corner of your mouth and over your jaw, reaching the place below your ear that he had caressed earlier, starting this whole thing.

The combination of his warm mouth against your skin, his rugged breathing in your ear, and his fingers that were getting quicker was starting to become overwhelming. Then his thumb started rubbing circles against your clit and you knew you were done for.

“Fuck,” you moaned, causing Duncan’s free hand to come up to cover your mouth.

“Save those pretty little sounds just for me,” Duncan mumbled against your skin, nipping at your ear.

You nodded, breathing heavily through your nose and rocking your hips as you felt that familiar tension starting to build and build until it felt like it was going to snap.

And when it did you had to use what little energy you had left to fight back to sounds that wanted to spill from your chest, Duncan’s hand still over your mouth.

“There we go,” he cooed in your ear. “Good girl.”

Your head was spinning as Duncan worked you through the rest of your orgasm, your head eventually dropping to his shoulder and his fingers slowly easing out of you when he felt the way your walls tiredly pulsed against them, signaling that you we’re finished.

He pulled his hand away from your mouth as soon as it was safe to, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Jesus christ,” you breathed out, your body heavy and weak against his.

“I’d give the kitchen an 8 out of 10,” he said, reaching for the hand towel that hung from the oven handle. It was meant for display but Duncan didn’t care as he wiped his messy hand off on it.

You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head. “Just an 8?”

“I could do much better than an 8,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Reaching between your bodies, you adjusted your jeans around your hips and buttoned them back up, earning a groan when your hands knocked against the bulge in Duncan’s pants. You lifted your head from his shoulder, giving him a devious look.

“Want to show me what a 10 is like at your place?”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, leaning and giving you a quick but rough kiss before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the kitchen, your legs still a little weak and causing you to stumble on your first few steps.

When you both walked out of the apartment in a hurry, the realtor quickly looked up from her phone and gave you a big, somewhat annoyed, smile.

“So? Thoughts?”

You and Duncan paused, but only for a moment.

“We’ll call you!” he said before you both took off down the hallway, laughing and practically running to the car.

You were probably going to be too busy to call her.

#me: i wouldn't mind if duncan did this #my brain: write it idc that its 2am #duncan shepherd #smut #duncan shepherd x female reader #idk how to tag this shit anymore

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 3 years

Text

Relationship Stahl ~ Charlie Conway x Adam Banks

A/N: Hi all, I'm on my Mighty Ducks bullshit, so sorry not sorry. This is just for fun. It's postcanon - could be canon with the show. I don't specifically go against anything. But yeah. Enjoy this fic for a movie that came out over 25 years ago. *Posts fic and runs away*

Summary: Charlie and Adam are idiots. And they finally figure that out thanks to Charlie's pen pal.

Characters/Pairings: Charlie Conway/Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Adam Banks, Connie Moreau, Guy Germaine, Fulton Reed, Gunnar Stahl

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800

Warnings: Language ( I think that's it)

^True love if I ever saw it ;)

Charlie grinned at his laptop as he fired off his enthusiastic response to the latest email from his pen pal before flipping open his phone. Instead of scrolling through his contacts, he dialed the number he knew by heart.

“I literally just dropped you off,” his best friend laughed when he picked up on the third ring.

“And I couldn’t bear to be without you,” Charlie quipped back.

“What do you want, Charlie?”

Adam’s voice was undeniably fond and it made Charlie’s stomach flutter.

“How do you feel about going to the Wilds game on Saturday?”

“How’d you swing those tickets?”

Charlie shrugged even though Adam couldn’t see him. “I know a guy. So are you in? We can grab drinks with some of the ducks afterwards.”

He could practically hear Adam shaking his head and it made Charlie’s smile widen. He knew what his answer would be.

“Yeah, I’m in. Of course I’m in. I’ll pick you up at 5?”

“Sounds good.”

“Are the other ducks coming?

“I’m gonna see who’s around.”

“Alright. Can’t wait. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Charlie smiled at the question in his voice.

“Of course. I’ll call you after work.”

“Good night, Charlie.”

“Night. Banksy. Text me when you get home, alright?”

“Will do.”

Adam was wearing a Minnesota Wilds Jersey and a pair of tight-fitting jeans, when he knocked on the door of Charlie’s house.

He checked his watch. He was early.

He was always early.

Charlie probably wouldn’t be ready for another half hour, so he was surprised when the door swung open – at least until he saw Casey Conway’s smiling face.

“Adam, honey, how are you?” she cooed as she pulled him inside and into a tight hug.

“I’m great, Mrs. Conway. You’re looking lovely this evening.”

She swatted at him, but he saw her genuine smile. “Always a charmer.”

“How are you? How’s the diner?”

“I’m great. The diner is doing well. Business has really increased since we reopened after the renovations. We still have our regulars, but we’re getting more of a younger crowd too.”

“That’s awesome. And so well deserved.”

Adam could still remember when Charlie had sprinted into their college dorm room talking a mile a minute. He’d gleaned that there was a long lost uncle who’d passed and left his mother a rather large inheritance, and she was going to use that to buy out the diner that she’d been helping run for years.

Charlie had been so excited he’d nearly fell over because he forgot to breathe. Adam had spent the summer helping to paint and decorate the newly renovated diner.

“It’s been way too long since you’ve come over for dinner. Are you free next week?”

“Would Tuesday work?”

“Perfect. That’s my early night. And I’ll make your favorite pot pie.”

Adam grinned at the ceiling as he rocked back on his heels.

“You’re the best, Mrs. C.”

“Well, I won’t hold you up. I’m afraid I’ve already made Charlie late. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“See you then.”

She gave him another quick hug before scurrying out the door.

Adam sighed as he checked his watch.

“Hey, Spazaway. Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!” he yelled up the stairs.

“I’m coming! Relax, cake-eater!”

There were several thumps as Charlie hopped on one foot to get his shoe on and then a slam of his bedroom door, but by the time he made it downstairs he looked perfectly disheveled in a cool way instead of a sloppy way. Classic Charlie. It’d be irritating if it wasn’t so attractive.

“Hey, Banksy. See, 5:15 right on time.”

“I told you I’d pick you up at 5,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but we both know that at this point you tell me you’ll pick me up 30 minutes before we actually have to leave. So technically, I’m 15 minutes early,” Charlie grinned and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Adam huffed but couldn’t argue. Charlie was right. He’d learned a long time ago never to trust Charlie to be punctual, so he had started telling him earlier times in the hope that they’d actually arrive places before the events were over.

“It’s gonna be a great night.”

“Are any of the others coming?”

“Connie, Guy, and Fulton. Everyone else was busy.”

“That’ll be fun,” Adam admitted as he climbed into the car.

Secretly, he’d kind of been hoping that it would just be him and Charlie, but he shoved that thought away. It would be good to go out with some of his oldest friends.

“Yeah. It will.”

The five ducks were happily chatting and catching up, laden down with food as they waited for the game to start.

Guy was the first to notice the name after the national anthem.

“Do you think Stahl is the same one we faced from Iceland?”

“I don’t know,” Adam shrugged. “How common of a name do you think it is?”

“Remember when you had that massive crush on Gunnar, Charlie?” Connie teased before taking a sip of her soda.

“I didn’t have a crush on Gunnar.”

“You so did,” Fulton laughed, nudging. “How many hours did you spend watching tapes of his signature shot?”

“That was research,” Charlie insisted, though his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Yeah, you definitely needed to spend all that time on just Gunnar Stahl and not the rest of Iceland,” Guy faux agreed with an exaggerated wink.

Adam remained quiet. He remembered Charlie’s “not a crush” all too well. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he’d been jealous at the time.

At first it had been, look at this shot. Or look at this play.

And then after the games it was, he’s so nice and cool. He called me ‘Captain Duck’.

Charlie hadn’t shut up about him until they were on the plane home and he promptly knocked out on Adam’s shoulder. Number ninety-nine didn’t have it in him to be jealous when he got to have a sleeping Charlie Conway on top of him.

Tuning back into the conversation after his quick jaunt down memory lane, Adam realized they were still ribbing Charlie.

“Okay, fine. I might have had a little crush on him. I was young. I was still figuring myself out,” Charlie admitted.

“Figures your first crush would be on a hockey player,” Fulton pointed out.

“Who said he was my first crush?”

Adam swore Charlie’s gaze darted to him, and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“Well you literally never talked about anybody else like that before him,” Guy said.

“Except Banks,” Fulton added.

The three of them looked at Adam and he knew he was bright red. They all knew he’d had a crush on Charlie when they were kids. And that he still sort of had a crush on him. He could kick Fulton right now, and he would have if Charlie wasn’t sitting in between them.

“I still talk about Banksy all the time.”

“I’m right here,” Adam finally managed to grumble.

Charlie grinned and nudged him with his shoulder, before throwing an arm around him.

“Are we really gonna sit here and argue over who I did or did not have a crush on twenty something years ago?”

“Yes.” The other three nodded emphatically.

Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Alright fine. Yes, I had a crush on him. But laugh all you want. You have that crush to thank for these seats,” Charlie reminded them smugly.

“What do you mean?” Adam choked out as the others gasped.

Charlie looked at the four flabbergasted ducks in confusion.

“Gunnar got me the tickets. I thought you guys knew.”

“We didn’t know that,” Guy nearly shouted.

“You kept in touch with him all these years?” Connie asked softly.

Their captain shrugged.

“We were pen pals. And now we email every few weeks.”

Adam’s heart clenched in something that felt a lot like jealousy – a lot like when he was 14. He turned his attention to the game, Stahl was on the ice. Adam couldn’t help but track his movements. It had been years since he moved like that. Another squeeze.

It was going to be a long night.

Charlie noticed the instant Adam went rigid, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, he was the one being teased for a 20 year old crush that only lasted for a minute.

He tried to nudge his best friend and get a response, but Adam’s eyes were glued to the game. That wouldn’t have worried Charlie, but the tight set of his jaw was nothing like his usual relaxed joy at the games. That was one of the reason Charlie had made it a point to go to as many hockey games with Adam as he could. He loved to observe him while he watched the game. But right now, his expression was stony.

When Gunnar managed a hat trick early in the third, Adam abruptly excused himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom.

“What’s up with Banks?” Fulton voiced Charlie’s question aloud.

Charlie shrugged. “No clue.”

Connie rolled her eyes.

“Boys. He’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“God, Charlie, are you that oblivious?”

His brow furrowed and he stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

She huffed and shook her head.

“Nope. If you can’t figure it out after 25 years, you’re on your own.”

Adam was less grumpy, but still pretty sedate when he returned with only a few minutes left to go.

“You alright?” Charlie asked in a low voice as he settled back into his seat.

“Yeah. All good. Long line for the bathroom.”

Charlie didn’t believe him, but shrugged it off as the Wilds managed a late game comeback and beat the Anaheim Mighty Ducks and they were all on their feet cheering.

The five of them waited outside the side exit where the players would come out for Gunnar. The former Iceland captain signed a few autographs before he caught sight of Charlie and waved, flashing him a big smile.

“Good to see you, Captain Duck!” he shouted as he pulled Charlie into a tight hug.

“Good to see you too, Gunnar. Nice playing tonight.”

“Thank you.” Gunnar turned his attention to the rest of the Ducks. “It’s good to see you all too.”

There were various murmurs of agreement, before an awkward silence fell.

“Drinks?” Charlie finally suggested.

“Definitely.”

Drinks helped. Everyone loosened up by the second round. Even Adam, though he was not that talkative. He could see why Charlie would have kept in touch with the Icelander. He really was quite charming.

That did not help.

When Charlie stepped away from the table to get another pitcher, Gunnar slid into his vacated seat. Adam panicked for a moment. Guy and Connie were deep in conversation and Fulton had gone to the bathroom, it was just the two of them.

“You know, Captain Duck still never shuts up about you.”

“Still?” Adam asked, fixated on the word.

“At the Goodwill Games, when we spoke for the first time at the closing ceremony, Charlie wouldn’t stop raving about you. How he’d been worried about you being hurt. He even glared at Sanderson. And in his letters, he always talked about you. In every single one. I think I knew more about how you were doing than I did about him.”

“Sorry?”

Adam had no idea how to respond. Gunnar chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s sweet. I’m glad the two of you have made it this far. You’re a good pair.”

Adam’s jaw dropped and he floundered for an answer.

“Thanks?”

“Thanks what?”

Of course Guy chose that moment to resurface from his conversation.

“For saying I played well back in ’94,” Adam lied unconvincingly.

Charlie’s return halted the conversation, and Adam couldn’t help but think about what Gunnar had said. Why would Charlie be talking about him? Did Gunnar think they were together? Why did Gunnar think they were together?

His head was spinning. And it definitely wasn’t the alcohol. Per usual, it was all Charlie Conway’s fault.

Charlie was playing with the edge of his jersey when Adam pulled up to his house.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” he offered.

“Yeah, sure,” Adam agreed.

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

Charlie had been expecting him to bail. That was what Adam did when things got tense between them, so his easy agreement caught him off guard.

He pulled two beers from the fridge and took a moment to steel himself before rejoining Adam in the living room.

“It was a great game.”

“Yeah. Ducks were smart when they got Gunnar.”

“Definitely.”

“So, why didn’t you tell any of us that you were still talking to him?”

The former captain tried to gauge Adam’s mood, but he was surprisingly nonchalant.

“I didn’t really think about it. When we were writing actual letters, I’d get one maybe three times a year. So it just never came up. And then we started emailing and it was just something I did. It never seemed like a big deal.”

“So it’s not because you’ve been carrying a torch for him all these years?” Adam asked shyly.

The laughter that bubbled out of Charlie was loud and somewhat alarming.

“Of course not, Banksy. I mean, yes, I had a crush on him. For what seems like five seconds at this point in our lives. He’s just someone I liked to keep in touch with. Another person to talk hockey with. Honestly, I thought we’d last like two letters and then never talk again.”

“Have you seen him before?”

“No. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen him since we left the games. This isn’t some big torrid affair I’ve been hiding. It’s a pen pal. Who got us tickets to a Wilds game.”

“That was pretty cool.”

“Are we good?”

Adam nodded. “We’re good. Sorry, it was just unexpected.”

“That’s fair. I really thought I had told you guys at some point over the years. Sorry I sprang it on you… unintentionally.”

“No worries.”

It was comfortable for a bit. Charlie put on ESPN and they caught the highlights from the other games that had been played. Somehow he ended up leaning heavily into Adam’s side.

“Was he your first?” He asked as the commentators went over the same play for the third time.

“Was who my first what?” Charlie asked, letting his head loll to the side so he could look at Adam without pulling away.

“Was Gunnar your first crush?”

It came out in a sigh.

“No. He wasn’t.”

“Who was it?”

“Guess.”

“Charlie.”

“I’m serious. Guess. I’ll even give you 5 questions to try and figure it out.”

Charlie wasn’t going to admit it without a fight, and Adam knew it. Curiosity got the better of him.

“Fine. Was your first crush a hockey player?”

“Yes.”

“Someone on our team?”

Charlie nodded, sitting up so he could watch him more closely.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Peewees or Goodwill Games?”

“Met him in Peewees. Realized I had a crush on him during the Goodwill Games.”

“Did he go to Eden Hall?”

“Yes. I even roomed with him at one point. That’s five. Time to guess.”

He was certain he’d know now.

“Fulton?” Adam asked innocently.

Charlie hung his head.

“You cannot possibly be this obtuse, Banksy.”

“What? You met him in Peewees, he was with us at the games and at Eden hall and you roomed with him sophomore year.”

“Christ,” he huffed. “It’s you, Banksy. Not Fulton. God, definitely not Fulton. He’s like my brother. It’s you.”

“Me? You had a crush on me?”

“I mean, can you call it a crush if it lasts 25 years?”

Adam’s jaw hit the floor.

“You still have a crush on me?” His voice was small, so much like that 10 year old who’d been forced to leave the Hawks. But there was hope.

Charlie, momentarily panicked before resigning himself to his fate. It had to come out.

“No, Adam. I don’t have a crush on you now.”

His best friend deflated slightly.

“I’m in love with you now. I have been for as long as I can remember. Even if I didn’t realize it. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way –“

“I do. Feel the same way. God, Charlie. I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

“Seriously?”

Adam nodded once, resolutely before Charlie’s lips were on his.

The kiss was quick and hungry and it left them both wanting more.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Charlie demanded in a whisper as he pulled back, touching their foreheads together.

“Why didn’t you?” Adam sniped back.

“Touche. God so much lost time.”

“We didn’t lose anything, Charlie. We were together. That’s never a loss.”

“I love you, Banksy.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

A/N: Yeah so I love them. I hope you enjoyed this. I stand by my theory that Charlie had a brief infatuation with Gunnar Stahl. Thanks for reading!

#Charlie Conway x Adam Banks #Charlie Conway #Adam Banks #Chadam #Mighty Ducks #d2 the mighty ducks #d3 the mighty ducks #the mighty ducks

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laadgovernorandsankadevi · 3 years

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OS: Eventful Endings [NSFW . 16+]

I haven’t been able to catch up with the recaps but as consolation for myself, I ended up writing this. It’s been quite some time since I’ve attempted writing something mature, so if you’re able to leave reviews or comments, please do so! I can use the criticism. Thought to share it here as well. It’s currently available on my wordpress blog and India-forums. You can check out all my fan fictions here.

Arnav took a deep sigh before walking into the room where the women of the house had congregated. He was tired, and all he wanted was to go to bed with his wife next to him.

The plush seats of the newly renovated home theatre found its pristine leather littered with popcorn, empty soda cans, and empty packets of salty lays. Anjali and Payal were silently wiping their tears, while Mami ji was hiccuping alongside his wife, who was sitting with her legs crossed whilst stuffing samosas into her mouth. Behind the ladies, NK was seated next to confused Babli who had been visiting her Mr. A for ten days of her summer holidays. It was Babli who shook Khushi’s shoulder, diverting her attention from the family breaking up in Hum Saath Saath Hain on-screen to Arnav standing at the door, with his arms crossed.

Jolting out from her fixed trance, Khushi blew out her nose into the napkin in her hand which had seen better days. She looked towards Babli and then towards the person she was pointing her finger at. Arnav ji was standing looking a little more annoyed than usual with his arms folded across the chest. He walked up towards them, blocking their view to the screen just as Mamta ji’s three titaliyas appeared.

“Why do you all insist on watching this film over and over again when all of you end up in..” he gestured towards their collective faces, “..a state like this.”

“Chotte, we don’t invite you for a reason.” Anjali retorted while craning her neck to get a good view of the blocked screen.

Payal chuckled through her silent sobs which earned her a glare from Arnav.

“Arnav ji!—“ Khushi started hoping to say something along the lines of what her sister-in-law had just said but gulped seeing that the glare earned by sister two seconds ago was now directed at her. “—why are you here? I thought you were going to sleep?”

“oh really, then go to sleep Nanav. don’t block the screen.” NK said through a mouthful of chips which Arnav chose to ignore.

The commotion caused by Arnav’s arrival had caused Aaksh to wake up. He had fallen asleep in one of the back seats. As much as he loved watching old films, he didn’t know how to tell his mother and sister-in-law that Hum Saath Saath Hain isn’t good enough to watch for the third time in one week alone. Like many other events occurring throughout the day, him abruptly popping from behind Payal was ignored by everyone around him.

“—I’ll move if Khushi comes with me.” he declared.

“oh okay, go phati sari. bye bye!” Manorama attempted to push Khushi from her place to continue watching the remaining hour and half of the film peacefully.

Khushi looked at Arnav who was still standing in front of the screen. She wasn’t a fan of his smug expressions and after everyone telling her she’s allowed to be excused, she found herself begrudgingly getting up.

“I don’t understand why Khushi ji keeps making plans with us when she knows that Chotte isn’t going to let her out of his sight after midnight,” Anjali remarked just as Khushi and Arnav left the room.

“there was a time when your mama ji was exactly like Arnav bitwa.” Manorama interjected somberly. “and now, he’s peacefully snoring upstairs, instead of sitting here”

Khushi quickened her pace as they both left the room refusing to let him catch up to her.

“Khushi,” he called out seeing her silently muttering ahead of him. “Khushi!”

“God, come on Khushi!”

She headed towards the cupboards to change into her night shalwar ignoring him calling her out. She knew that one look at him was going to break her completely and Laad Governor needed consistent reminders that she likes watching films with people who also enjoy watching the same films.

Arnav closed and locked the door behind them and laid down. He knew Khushi was going to try to take as much time as she could to show her displeasure. She stepped out of the bathroom in about fifteen minutes with her hair plaited. He had his arm covering his eyes when she pulled the covers over herself. She had unconsciously ended up turning towards him but just as he turned to face her, she turned her back towards him. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at her.

"Khushi," he whispered.

"Didn't you want to sleep?" she bit back while shrugging her shoulders to push his hand off. Offended at the gesture, he pulled himself closer to her.

"You're not gonna let me touch you?"

"go to sleep Arnav ji." He pursued his lips at the 'ji' she added. She knew how much he disliked the ji making an appearance while they were in bed. He trailed his fingers down her neck, and over her spine. Her back stiffened as his hands trailed further and further. She turned around and bunched up the blanket to put in between them, without sparing him a glance, and pushing away his hand.

Adamant at getting what he wants, Arnav went in for one of the worst things he could think of to do in bed. He tickled her, and in about two minutes she was panting from laughter while trying to push his hands away, instead he pulled her hands towards him. She didn't realize how despite laying next to him, he could pull her close enough that she could feel like she had fallen on him, again. Her breathing hitched in response to their proximity. She was still shying away from looking into his eyes but his grip on her hands was strong enough that she couldn't let herself be quiet.

"I am mad at you." she breathed.

"I know," he smiled. "I don't want you to be mad at me."

"but,.."

"I miss you." his voice was so low she thought he was whispering. He leaned in and stopped short seeing her eyes close. He smiled allowing the joy of seeing how she has always failed in trying to resist him. She opened her eyes to see the smile plastered on his face. She scowled in response to the teasing, and tried turning away again. "—suno" [listen]

"ji?" there was something in the way she would say it while being this close to him that melted him. Her voice was soft, hushed, and her tone felt so readily accepting of anything he would ask of her.

He cupped her face, his fingers trying to get tangled in the tresses fallen out from her plait in the brief push and pull. His thumb lightly grazed over her lips and her eyes finally met his. He let go of her hand and rested his arm over her waist pulling her as close he possibly could. He leaned in, taking in her lips into a gentle kiss. Her body loosened at the touch of his lips, her hands slowly making their way to hold on to his shirt and find their way to the back of his neck. He pulled her hand up behind them and then pushing his underneath her shirt. The tip of her tongue slowly traced the edge of lips allowing him to thrust his tongue inside.

Her mouth let out a small moan at the dancing of their tongues, and she held onto his shoulder just as his hands moved to cup her breasts. She could feel her body getting warmer, and tingle in response. Her hand slipped from his shoulder to lie against his chest. He bit the bottom of her lip before unexpectedly breaking away and breaking her trance. Their eyes met. He was looking at her intently, his eyes unable to look past hers.

"Arnav—"

He pulled the scrunchie tying her hair, unhooked her bra, and unzipped her kameez in response. "Take it off." His voice had turned lower than usual, the raspiness making the request sounds more like an order. In minutes their clothes were off and her hair scattered as he pinned her underneath him and started trailing kisses down her neck and shoulders. Her hands were holding onto his, their fingers intertwined. Her breathing becomes more irregular and her face appeared flushed as his mouth moved further down, licking her nipples before pushing the blanket off them and pulling her salwar down. He murmured a 'good' at the absence of panties making her blush and look away. She could feel fire and butterflies mingle and flutter in the pits of her stomach as his tongue found to her womanhood, his hands leaving hers and tracing down the side of her hips and waist while letting his thumb draw circles.

He couldn't help but smile at her soft moans as he continued. Her breathing found itself getting hitched as he pulled away and let his fingers slide inside her. Her hands found their way to him, holding onto his forearms as he continued to slide his fingers in and out, and tried pulling him up. His name kept slipping out of her mouth as she found her entire being quiver and shiver with pleasure. He slowed down seeing how much she was trying to hold onto him to control herself from withering more than she already was. Seeing the indent from biting on her bottom lip throughout, he slowly pulled out his fingers, and lifted his mouth, and watched her eyes open in a daze.

He pulled himself up and smiled looking at her. 'hi'

"huh," she murmured through the high her brain hadn't come off of.

He laid next to her, pulling the blanket on both of them. He turned towards her and leaned in, to kiss her again.

"This isn't fair." she breathed through the kiss, pouting.

"What?"

"You never let me stay angry at you!"

"I don't like it when you're angry at me," he whispered in her ear, kissing her collarbone.

"Then just let me finish watching the film next time," she started, her tone echoing a bit of whining. His hand moved towards her lips again, his thumb tracing the outline of them.

"and you know that I don't like going to bed without you," he spoke more quietly than earlier. "watch your movies earlier," his fingers moved to drawing circles on shoulders and tracing her arms. "—not to mention that you didn't come to our room after I came home."

"I...," she slid her hand over his torso as he pulled her closer, and she could feel him being hard. "I was eating." she spoke, barely able to get the words out as she became more aware of his proximity to her. "—I thought you wanted to sleep," she murmured.

"do you want to go to sleep?" he asked.

She blinked blankly at first and then blushed at the question. She dipped her head to kiss him, and then slipped inside the covers to return the favor leaving him groaning at her soft touches.

Arnav woke up earlier than usual the next morning, to find her snoring next to him, appearing at peace. Their clothes were scattered all around the floor which reawakened the memories of last night. He pressed a kiss into her cheek before letting her hog the remaining covers and step out of the bed into the shower.

#ipkknd ff #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon fan fiction #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd #arnav and khushi #arnav singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch25: All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go

Summary: The team work hard to put the events of Sokovia behind them, whilst Steve and Katie set a date for their wedding. But as the Avengers get to grips with their new base upstate, with Tony retired from active service, Steve finds his time stretched perilously thin between his leadership responsibilities and his soon to be wife…and tempers boil over.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, HARD Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: More super edits from @angrybirdcr . And this chapter was always one where I was a little bit ambivalent about the flashbacks and ending, so I kinda changed it up a bit...

Chapter 24 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

July 2015

“You’re up early.” Steve said as he dropped onto the swinging chair besides his girl. It wasn’t even 6 am yet but she was sat outside on their patio “You ok?”

“Yeah.” she smiled at him, as he pecked her cheek, looking out over the dimly lit lawn area of the Newly Opened Avengers Facility which swept down to the banks of the Hudson. The Facility had been the product of one of Tony’s crazy brain farts not long after they had come back from Sokovia and had been remodelled in record time. Whilst some areas were still undergoing renovations, over 80% of it was complete. There had also been changes to their team too. Clint had headed home, the birth of his baby son- Nathaniel Pietro- prompting him to take indefinite paternity leave, all of them fully accepting this was his way of leaving everything behind for good. Thor had left earlier that morning, promising he would return for the Wedding, whenever they finally got round to setting a date. But they still hadn’t heard a thing from Banner and the jet was proving impossible to track. On the plus side, they invited Sam and Rhodey to join the team officially and both had gleefully accepted, along with Vision and Wanda. Lawson was now their chief Technician and Evans had joined the team too, which made Katie happy as she enjoyed their company.

It was starting to grow light, the first rays of sunlight were bouncing off the water to the West. He turned to look at his girl and watched her as she surveyed the river, feet tucked underneath her on the seat.

“No regrets?” he asked, and Katie could feel him studying her face as her mind wandered back to the conversation they’d had when Tony had first mentioned moving to a new base.

Look, Cap, we’re like a trouble magnet,“ Tony explained animatedly, "Wherever the Avengers are, trouble follows.”

“So - you’re suggesting we build another building?” Steve rubbed his neck and looked up at the blueprints Tony had now blown up against the wall.

“I’m suggesting we relocate, completely, leave the Tower to Stark Industries and build our own facility and expand.” Tony said, flipping through pictures with a sweep of his finger. “We have this this old warehouse upstate, good location, middle of nowhere.”

"Less chance of civilian damage.” Steve’s hands fell to the buckle on his belt.

“Full medical wing, Living quarters, as well as a bunch of extra spare apartments, for all the strays we keep accumulating, training arena, kitchen, cafeteria- satellite links- you name it, you got it.”

"How long will it take?” Steve asked and Katie tried not to sigh at the fact that her dream of a quiet life in a nice house in Brooklyn had just blown up in front of her face.

Tony looked affronted. “I’m a billionaire cap, it’ll take however long we say.”

Steve looked at Katie who simply shrugged at him, keeping her face passive.

“Have you two eaten?” she asked, changing the subject.

Tony shook his head as did Steve.

“I’ll fix you both something.” she turned and started moving towards the kitchen area.

“Not for me…” Tony said. “I’ve got a dinner reservation with Pepper at 8…” “Yeah, you might wanna get a move on then, seeing as its 7:30.” She shot over her shoulder as she turned and began pulling stuff out of the fridge to prepare dinner.

“What?” Tony glanced at his watch and frowned “Shit…fuck…”

“You kiss Pepper with that mouth?” Steve quipped back as Tony collected up his laptop and the blue-prints disappeared off the wall.

“FRIDAY why didn’t you remind me?” Tony groaned. “You never asked Boss…” The Irish lilt came back.

“I miss JARVIS…” Tony grumbled, the door clicking shut as he left.

Steve headed into the kitchen and stood for a moment watching his wife as she moved around, before he he headed over to her, his arms wrapping round her from behind.

“Are you okay, you know, with the idea of moving to a new facility?” Steve asked. “I know it’s not exactly the home you had in mind.”

“We’ll be together. That’s all that matters.” Katie shrugged, concentrating on her task- chopping a pepper up for the couscous salad she was making.

“I know but, I just worry sometimes. You deserve better, a quiet life.”

“Not sure we have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek. “You got out of SHIELD, you could get out of this.”

“You know for a moment in Sokovia… “Katie placed her knife down and turned to face him. “I thought… well I thought we weren’t getting out of it alive. And It frightened me, I’m not gonna lie…”

She looked up at him and met his eyes. He knew the whole thing with Ultron and the final show down in Sokovia had shaken her, more than any other mission she’d been involved in. It served as a reminder exactly what is achievable with technology, how fragile humans are, how easily life and peace could be shattered. For that split second, when on that floating city she hadn’t seen a way out, she had genuinely thought their time was up. And her life with Steve cut short before it had even started.

“We stood there, on that rock and in that split second when it seemed everything was lost you know what I felt?” she looked at him and he waited for her answer “Relief. Relief that if we both went down, we did it together and I didn’t have to spend a single day without you…”

“Sweetheart…” Steve began but she carried on.

“I can’t sit by and simply wave you off on a mission wondering to myself if it’s the last time I ever see you. I hated doing that when I left SHIELD and I can’t do it anymore. You fight, I fight.” “So what if I quit?” Steve looked at her. “What if I gave you the life you deserve?” “You can’t quit, and I wouldn’t ask you to.” Katie shook her head, smiling a little. “The world needs The Avengers, and the Avengers need their Captain…” “And their Captain needs his girl.” Steve took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with something that looked to her a lot like worry. She sighed and ran her hands up his arms, bringing them to rest on his shoulders.

“And she’s not going anywhere…” Katie she assured him gently, standing on her toes to give him a peck

She knew the Avengers depended on Steve as their leader even more so now that Tony had said he was hanging up his Iron Man suits for good, choosing to manage and see over the running of the practical side of things instead of active combat. Ultron had really hit her brother hard, but whilst his way of dealing with it was to call it quits, Steve was the opposite. He wasn’t ready to leave this behind for a quiet suburban life. And if being with him meant Katie had to stay too, then so be it.

So, regrets?

“No” she said, taking his hand in hers as she lay her head against his shoulder. “None at all.”

He smiled to himself as her hand began to play with his, the fingers of her left hand gently tracing across his knuckles, the only evidence of her brutal beating last year was the slightly bent pinkie that no matter how much physio she had, she couldn’t extend it fully. He still got a cold shiver when he thought about how close he had come to losing her. She sighed softly, and he looked down to see she was looking at their intertwined hands and then it struck him just how much he couldn’t wait to tie himself to her for the rest of his life.

“Let’s get married.” He whispered gently into her ear.

“I thought we already were.” She chuckled.

“No, I mean let’s do it. Let’s get a date set, the sooner the better. We were supposed to set one months ago and I don’t want to wait any longer.” “Is that what you want?” She looked up at him smiling.

He nodded “More than anything, Doll.”

“Alright. Let’s do it.” He grinned before his lips met hers, the kiss gentle and soft.

“Any ideas on where?” She asked. As a matter of fact Steve did, the idea had come to him a few days ago, but he wasn’t sure if she was going to go for it.

“Well…I errr…thought, maybe, perhaps we could look at the church my mom used to take me to when I was a kid.” He ran a hand through his hair “That is, if you wanted to.” “Steve that’s a lovely idea.” She smiled and he beamed down at her

“You think?” “Yeah. And I’ve been thinking, maybe, we could have the reception here, in the grounds.” she said, looking at him.

“Here?” Steve frowned, he’d assumed she’d want some kind of hotel booking downtown. But as she spoke, he soon realised that what she was saying made perfect sense, and was more them than any flash place they could hire.

“Think about it.” she said, “No security issues, no press, just us, our friends, family… we can get a marquee by the lake…” Katie paused. As a girl she’d always envisaged a huge, fairy tale wedding with hundreds of guests, in The Rainbow Rooms no less. But now, all she wanted was for those people who meant the world to them to be there to celebrate with them.

“Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded. “Never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“Then I’m fine with that.” He smiled, gently kissing her again.

“So you wanna go see this church?” she asked.

“What now? It’s barely light…” “So?” she sat up “I’ll take you to IHOP on the way…” “Now you’re talking…”he grinned.

By the time they had showered, which Steve had suggested they do together, to save water and time (although by the time they had finished there was a lot more water and time used up than if they showered alone) and finally dressed it was gone eight, meaning they hit IHOP at just after half past. As they both stuffed their faces, excitedly talking about their clandestine wedding planning Katie was struck with just how young Steve looked. He was dressed casually in a Dodgers T-shirt, jeans, trainers and a baseball cap, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. He was excited.

The church was in a small neighbourhood in Brooklyn and Katie instantly fell in love with the place. St Augustine’s was an old red stone and brick built church with a tall spire. Very Gothic chic, which caught her attention instantly. As Steve climbed out of the car, a rush of memories hit him, the smells, the noises, the sights, everything. It was like he had stepped back in time as he saw his mother grasping his hand softly as she led him up the steps and through the heavy wooden doors. The last time he had set foot in this church, however, had been his mother’s funeral. But now, it was time for something happier.

Steve slipped his arm round Katie.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” Katie said.

Before Steve had chance to reply, a voice with a faint Irish lilt spoke, causing them both to stand and turn to see the Priest walking towards them.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi…” Steve smiled, shaking the priest’s hand “I’m Steve…”

“Rogers, yes I recognised you.” the Priest smiled “Pleasure to meet you Captain.”

Steve shook his hand before the Priest reached out to Katie

“So this would make you Miss Stark?”

“Hi.” she smiled, shaking his hand.

“Charmed…” The Priest smiled, his eyes twinkled as he looked at Katie and she instantly warmed to the man. He wasn’t as old as she had expected, maybe a few years older than Tony, the hair around his temples was greying and his eyes were lined but he had a kind smile.

“So what can I do for you?”

“Well, we…” Steve smiled at Katie before he looked at the Priest. “We’d like to get married here. As soon as we can.” The dark haired man smiled and beckoning for them to follow him to the back of the church “I’m sure we can manage that, let’s see what date’s we have free…”

After chatting to the priest, and settling on a date, Steve was taken by a wave of nostalgia and convinced Katie to drop into the small cemetery on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Weaving their way through the stones he finally stopped in between two well weathered ones, which contained the names of his parents. Crouching down he gently wiped away decades worth of grime and he bowed his head, his eyes wet.

“Hey ma.” He said softly, “brought someone to meet you.”

Katie felt the tears springing into her eyes as she crouched next to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“She’d be so proud of you, Stevie” She said gently, “They both would”

“I hope so.” he said softly and she reached out to turn his head so he was looking at her.

“Baby, how could they not be?”

She gently kissed him before she stood up and made her way to the car, leaving him alone with his thoughts for 10 minutes or so before he came striding out of the yard, and climbed into the driver’s side.

“Could we, maybe update the stones?” he asked after a moments pause “I mean I didn’t have much money back then and I’d like them to have something a bit more, I dunno…” “Of course we can.” she said, tangling her fingers with his, bringing his hand up to her lips so she could kiss his knuckles “Of course we can.”

******

“31st August?” Natasha frowned. She was the first person after Tony who they told they had set a date.

Katie nodded.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s like…well, it’s weeks away!”

“Look, just be grateful it wasn’t sooner. The priest originally offered us a date two weeks off which Steve was all for taking until I persuaded him to give us a bit more time.”

“You know you could have set this date months ago.” Natasha rolled her eyes “Yeah, I know. I mean it’s gonna be a bitch to organise. If only I had a really good almost sister-in-law and a best friend with amazing military like planning skills that could also double up as bridesmaids…” Katie said, eyeing her as they walked. Natasha stopped and turned to face her friend. “You mean…” Katie smiled at her and nodded “If you’re up for the job…”

“I’d be honoured…” she stuttered, before pulling her into a hug, which surprised her slightly but she returned it gladly. “I’ve never been a bridesmaid before.” “There is one condition…” Katie said looking at her “Can you get Wanda involved in the organisation too? Help her with something other than training or whatever…”

Nat smiled “Sure I can handle that.” Natasha’s response was nothing to the one she got from Tony when she asked him to give her away.

“You know you’re my dad in every way other than actually being my dad…” she said, her fingers on one hand playing with those on the other as she felt her eyes misting “There’s no other person I’d want to walk me up the aisle…” He instantly teared over and pulled her into a hug, not finding his voice for a good 30 seconds as he silently shed his tears over her shoulder.

“I’d be honoured…”he whispered softly, kissing her cheek.

Steve, however wasn’t having as much luck. Rhody, Clint and Sam all accepted his invitations to be Groomsmen (he sent one to Thor via Jane, who also accepted gleefully with a loud, booming phone call) but he was struggling really to decide who to ask as his best man.

His initial thought had been Tony, despite the fact the two of them bitched and bickered at one another, they were close, almost brotherly close. However, given that Tony was giving Katie away in his role as Father/Brother of the Bride that was out. The next obvious choice was Sam, but it all just felt wrong. He was struggling, coming to terms with the fact that his lifelong best friend wouldn’t be the one to do the job.

“I always thought it would be Buck by my side.” he said, looking out over the lawn as he was sat on the patio one evening with Katie, the pair of them with a beer in hand. “He was, is, my oldest friend.”

“Friendship isn’t about who you’ve known for the longest Steve.” Katie said, shrugging “It’s about who came into your life and never left your side.”

Those words had resonated within him, and he realised they made perfect sense. So in the end he did ask Sam, who accepted gleefully. Although when he caught him and Natasha huddled in a corner, looking at something on his phone one afternoon, the pair of them sniggering like a couple of naughty kids he started to wonder what on Earth he had started.

***** Katie sat in front of her mirror and did her hair and make-up before she shrugged on the pale pink jumpsuit she’d bought especially for that evening, slipped her feet into her heels and headed to the living room. It was now 6:30, but knowing Steve as she did, he would no doubt barrel through the door in the next 10 minutes, swearing the way he always did when no one else but she could hear him, shower and be ready to go in 15 minutes flat.

She sighed to herself, she’d had the best day today in a long time. It was the first day in ages she’d had off work and she’d managed to buy her wedding dress. Or should that be Tony had bought her wedding dress courtesy of Pepper and a black Amex. Wanda and Nat had cruised down to Manhatten with he in the Champagne stocked limo, stopping to pick Pepper up on the way. Once in the boutique, it had taken them a while but Katie had finally settled on one, a gorgeous, sweetheart neckline Ivory A-line with lace detailing all-over the bodice which was decorated with crystals. The skirt flared into layer upon layer of tulle decorated with the same lace detailing and beading with the skirt extending into a layered train at the back.

Steve had also had a reasonably productive day. Given that he, Sam and Rhodey were planning on wearing their Military Uniforms for the wedding and that Thor was going to be in his best Asgardian dress gear this only left Clint and Tony to organise for the suits. Katie had already picked them, simple charcoal pinstripes with ivory and gold waistcoats and light blue ties (light blue, pale red and gold were their colours, being a less gaudy variation of red, white and blue which they had agreed on) so this meant all he had to do was sort a fitting for Clint and Tony.

It had been a lot easier than he had imagined, the store already having Tony’s measurements, (because of course he got all his suits from there) and they also had a sister branch about 30 miles from where Clint lived who could sort it for him. So with that done and completed by lunch time his attention had turned to the meetings he had with General Ross and Rhodey about a potential collaboration programme with some of the Armed Forces Specialists. Now he had one final stop to see how the New Recruits for the support team were getting on.

“Hey,“ Steve said as he strode into the training facility before he smirked and nodded over Sam’s shoulder "I’m assuming you told them to take five?”

A confused frown spread over Sam’s face as he turned to look behind him. Every single one of the recruits was standing right staring wide eyed at the Captain.

“Drills!“ Sam shouted “Or you’ll get another 10 laps of the compound!”

“You’ve taken to this training role far too easily.” Steve grinned at him.

“What can I say, I’m a natural born leader.” he grinned “S’up?”

“I’ve been going through the intel on the Cambodia job.” Steve said. “I know the authorities are insisting its some low times arms dealer thinking he can muscle in on someone else’s patch but something smells off.”

“That’s because it is.” Nat said, walking into the gym, tablet in her hand.

“You got something?” Steve asked and she nodded, handing him the item.

“Cross referenced the MO. Matches an attack on an Army Munitions factory in Calcutta. And one in Tayshet, Russia” she said “And this is the culprit.” Steve looked down at the photo up of a man in what looked like a White Hockey Mask.

“He’s calling himself Crossbones.” Nat said as Sam moved to look at the photo.

“Great…another rogue arms dealer.” Steve rolled his eyes.

Sam snorted “What kind of dumbass name is Crossbones?”

Steve sighed and looked at Natasha “We got any info on who he might be?”

“I contacted a few people.” Nat said vaguely. “One of my contacts came through and says he has something but will only speak in person.”

“How soon can we go?” Steve looked at her.

“I’ll talk to them, see what they say.” She said.

Steve nodded “Ok, well I don’t think it needs the full team so me and you will go, Sam you can hold the fort here. We should only be away for a day or two.”

Sam shrugged “You’re the boss.” “I’ll make a few calls, tell them to expect us.” Nat said. Steve nodded and she straightened up. “You talked to Katie?”

“Not since this morning why?” Steve looked at Nat.

“She got a wedding dress today.”

“She did?” Steve’s face softened just the way it did anytime someone referred to their wedding. “Hang on, am I allowed to know that?” “Think it’s pretty safe to know your future wife’s bought a wedding dress, you know, on account of the fact you’ll be getting married soon.” Sam snorted “You’re just not supposed to see it before hand.”

“How long did she take to pick it?” Steve looked at Natasha, a grin on his face. Natasha smirked back at him.

“Not that long, because I’d already rung and told them the type of thing she like so nothing she tried on was hideous to her. We were in there a couple of hours, then went for some lunch and did a bit more shopping.”

“Good.” Steve nodded. “She’s been working really hard recently so she deserved a day off. I feel like I’ve hardly seen her over the past few weeks with everything that’s been going on.”

Which reminded him, he couldn’t wait to take her out that night for a well overdue evening together. They’d both been so busy with setting up the compound, her business and he was looking forward to them both escaping the hustle and bustle. Which reminded him, he needed to go.

Nodding to the pair of them, smiling as Sam barked another order, he wandered into the corridor. It seemed a lot less busy than usual. Maybe everyone had taken an early finish for some reason, although he couldn’t think why for a Tuesday. He glanced at his watch and gave a start. “Shit…”

They weren’t taking an early dart, he was taking a late finish.

Katie was sat on the couch, shoes long since abandoned along with any hope that they were actually going anywhere, and was half way through a bottle of very expensive Pinot Grigio that she had bought for them to have once they got home by the time Steve blustered into the apartment.

“Shit, shit…baby I am so sorry!” he said, as Katie looked up, not even able to bring herself to be pissed off anymore, she’d been angry about half an hour ago. Now she was just disappointed. “The meeting with Ross and Rhodey took a bit longer and then something came up on the Cambodia thing” he continued, sighing “Time just got away from me.” he stopped as he drew level with the couch “You look gorgeous.” “Shame it was for nothing” She said, rolling her eyes, turning her attention back to the TV and the re-run of Friends she’d been watching but not paying attention to.

“We can still go…”

“There’s no way we’ll make it.” she said, pointing to the clock with her eyes “Its forty minutes into Manhatten and you need to change.” “I’ll call, push it back…” he said after a moment’s pause. “Just forget it.” she sighed “Honey…” he dropped to his knees in front of her “Don’t be like that…we can go for a drink or something.” “I’m not being like anything.” she snapped back. “You’re the one that told me to ready by seven, well I was…you on the other hand-”

“I know and I’m really sorry.” “I know.” she said, standing up “You said. Look, it doesn’t matter. Not like I had anything special to talk to you about or anything…”

“What do you mean?” He frowned, “What-“

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

“Katie…” he sighed as he rose to his feet too.

“I’m going to get changed and take a dip in the hot-tub with the rest of this bottle of wine and a manuscript, might as well make the most of my spare time” she said, grabbing the ice bucket as she headed to the hallway “Your presence is not required.”

*****

“Uh oh, what you done?” Natasha asked as she walked into Steve’s office the next morning, finding him browsing delivery sites for flowers.

“Last night was supposed to be Date night.” He muttered with a sigh “I was late, and we missed our reservation. First time I’ve ever done that. Katie was not happy.” “So I suppose now isn’t a good time to as if you’re up for a trip to Russia tomorrow.” Nat said, and he let out a groan. Katie had hardly spoken two words to him all evening and this morning before she had left for her office at the other end of the compound. Today was Wednesday, one of the 2 days out of 5 she worked on SIP stuff during the morning, then trained in the afternoon, a way for her to keep her toes in with the Avengers training.

“You’re right, it’s not.” he said, “But she’s pissed at me anyway so…”

“You sure it’s just about date night?” Nat asked, “Not like her to get so annoyed over something like that, especially if, as you say, you’ve never done it before.” “Well like I said yesterday, this place has been taking up a lot of my time” He shrugged. “She’s probably feeling a bit neglected. It’s my fault completely.”

“Well instead of wasting money on flowers…” Nat said, nodding to his screen. “Go and find her now, take her somewhere for the afternoon. I’m supposed to be sparring with her in 15 minutes, we can reschedule.”

Steve hesitated. “What about…” “I can handle the arrangements for Russia.” Nat said, “Just go.”

Katie’s bad mood hadn’t got any better by the time she finished her work for the morning and it got even worse when she reached the door of the main gym area and paused as one of the new recruits, a girl called Jenny Allen, was midway through a full on bitch rant.

“Who the hell does she think she is anyway? I mean…” “She’s a damned good agent.” Evan’s voice cut her off “One of the best I worked with, one of the most outstanding snipers I know so…” “Yeah well she still shouldn’t just be allowed to dip into missions as and when? I mean, we all train our asses off and she just walks around, like she’s hot shit just because she was trained by some SHIELD legend when we all know the real reason she was pulled into SHIELD and the Avengers in the first place is because of her name…” “You’re out of line…” “And let’s face it, she’s only here now because she’s engaged to Cap, and owns half the gaff…”

“I mean, they are two pretty good reasons” Katie said, pushing the doors open and walking into the gym. She had to give Allen credit, she started bit but then recovered and stood tall.

“Katie, I…” Evans started but Katie cut him off. “It’s ok…she has an opinion, she’s entitled to it. Say what’s on your mind Allen.” “I just…” she took a deep breath “I don’t like the way you seemingly get to swan into missions, with little to no training like the rest of us. It’s dangerous.” “Dangerous?” Katie folded her arms over her chest.

“Yes, dangerous. You don’t know how we operate as a team, I mean are you still versed in hand to hand?” Versed? What the fuck?

Katie raised her eyebrow and smirked at Evans who instantly spotted the look on her face. Fuck this, she’d been waiting to give Allen a smack since she had caught her batting her eyelids at Steve, practically trying to climb him when he’d been running over a report with her. What better way was there to fix a bad mood?

“I tell you what.” Katie said “why don’t we find out? I’m due to spar with Widow but you’ll do.” “I err…” Allen hesitated slightly. “Nova I don’t think that’s a good idea?” Evans cut int. “I mean…” “No.” Allen said, straightening up. “It’s fine…I’m game.” Katie turned to drop her water on a bench and started to wrap her hands in the bandages she had.

“Go easy on her…” Evans whispered in Katie’s ear. She looked at him innocently.

The pair of them started to circle and Katie waited, waited like she always did for her opponent to make the first move. She watched, quickly noting that the woman favoured her right, so she was right handed. She was also a bit taller than Katie, and stockier but that wasn’t an issue, she’d floored Sam before and Evans come to think of it.

As Allen came in with a right lead, Katie ducked and aimed a harsh left jab at her mid-section, causing the woman to let out a gasp of air. She recovered fast, coming in again and Katie moved to the right so the blow glanced off her ribs and aimed a kick to her right knee, causing her to stumble slightly. As she straightened Katie was waiting and landed a hard jab straight to her face, causing her to reel as her nose began billowing crimson. There were hisses from the watching recruits and she vaguely registered Evans to tell her to take it easy but she wasn’t listening. Allen wiped at her face and came at Katie, full on, which was what she had wanted, she’d riled her enough to make her want to fight fierce but as she came Katie threw herself to the left and swept both legs from under her. She crashed to the mat and in an instant Katie had her on her front, knee in her back as she yanked her arms back.

“You’re right…” Katie bent over, lips close to her ear as she struggled, making Katie pull even more “I do own half this gaff, and my brother owns the other half. Something you need to remember when shooting your mouth off, and trying to climb my fiancée in his office…” “I wasn’t-.” she protested and Katie cut her off with another yank.

“If you so much as utter another word commenting on my fighting skills again. I will rip your arms out of your sockets, right before I have you escorted out of my compound, you got that?” “Yeah I got it.”

Steve paused at the sight in front of him. Following Natasha’s advice he’d headed to the gym, ready to take his girl out for the afternoon, only to find her pinning Allen to the floor, the woman’s arms yanked behind her back and her nose bleeding on the mat.

“I tried to stop them…” Evans looked up at Steve who made a noise in his throat and strode towards the two women. “Katie that’s enough!” his voice rang out loud across the gym. “What the hell is going on?” “Allen had some worries I wasn’t field ready.” Katie let go and easily got to her feet, looking at him, a flash of anger in her eyes, the fact he had used his Captain’s voice on her hadn’t gone unnoticed. “So I offered to show her, put her mind at ease.”

“Yeah well I think you’ve made your point.” he said, looking at Allen as she stood up holding tight to her nose, pressing firmly to either side to try and staunch the flow of blood from the single quick right straight Katie had hit her with before the take down.

“Do you need medical Allen?” Steve asked. She shook her head. He turned his attention to Katie, and glared at her “I don’t know what the hell is going on here…” “I just told you.” she shot back. “I was showing how field versed I was…” “By punching her in the face?” he said, his hands falling to his belt. Katie folded her arms and glared back at him.

“We were sparring.” “You were trying to rip her arms out of the sockets…”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Katie rolled her eyes earning herself a glower, a look which would quell anyone else but not her, she wasn’t scared of him. “Maybe now she’ll think twice about making shitty comments.” “If someone punched you every time you made a shitty comment you’d never get up.” he said back, no trace of humour in his voice, because he didn’t find the issue funny at all. He eyed her again before he nodded to the door “Go.” Was he serious? One look in his eyes told Katie he was.

“Fine.” she shrugged, picking up her water bottle before she left. Natasha, who noticed the tears in her eyes went to stop her but Katie waved her away. Steve watched her back before he turned to Evans, pointing to Allen

“Patch her up and then I’ll see both of you in my office. AND GET BACK TO WORK!” he bellowed round the room.

Evans and Allen both nodded and left.

Steve noticed Natasha was looking at him from the doorway, arms folded.

“Got something to say, Romanoff?” he asked, snappily.

“What could I possibly have say when you handled that so well?” she asked sarcastically. “FYI, you might want to take your shield back home with you later, I can’t expect Nova’s gonna take to being stripped down in front of people so well…” She levelled Steve with another look before she left and he let out a groan of frustration. Could this get any worse?

By the time he got back to his office both Evans and Allen were waiting. And when Evans explained what Allen had been saying, Steve was even more frustrated as he wasn’t surprised Katie had reacted the way she did, not that it made it right, just a little more understandable. He unloaded on the woman, gave her a verbal warning and then dismissed them both. Then, deciding it was time to face the music at home he headed to their apartment.

Katie had made it back to their quarters before she had burst into tears. She knew she was being unreasonable in a lot of ways. The Compound was still finding its feet, so of course it wasn’t going to run like clockwork and obviously Steve was going to be working long hours. She was too, she wasn’t completely innocent in that respect. The issue was him missing date night was something he had never done before and it had surprised her a lot. Was she getting less important to him as the time went on?

Angrily she stripped off, changed into her bikini top and her denim shorts before she grabbed her book intending on heading out to the patio area to top up her tan in the August sun.

She was in the kitchen, grabbing herself a beer when Steve came back.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No.” Her tone was clipped, “But thanks for asking.”

He rolled his eyes “Katie…”

“Excuse me.” She went towards the door, but he didn’t move.

“Steve, get out of my way.”

He still didn’t move. “No, you’re not going anywhere until we sort this out.”

She groaned and looked up to the ceiling.

“Wanna tell me what your problem is?” he asked

“Right now, you, not letting me out of this fucking room.” she sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“Look, I know you’re pissed at me for last night and I get that, but..”

“That is not the problem!”

“Then what is?” He shot back, somewhat exasperatedly. “Honey, I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what I’m supposed to be fixing…”

” That!” she looked at him, her voice loud “That is the problem! That you have no fucking idea what the matter is! You’re so wrapped up in running this place I hardly get a look in. You don’t ask for my input, you don’t involve me in anything…”

“Woah, now hang on.” He stepped forward. “When we moved here you said you didn’t want to run anything…”

“And then you order me out of the fucking room in front of the damned trainees!”

“Yeah well you can’t just kick the crap out of one of my team members like that”

“Yeah well your team member is an asshole.” Katie rolled her eyes. “She deserved it for being a dick…”

She took the opportunity to dodge round him and out of the doorway he had vacated when he stepped into the kitchen and made her way to the doors at the back.

“Right now you’re being a dick”

“I’m not. I just don’t want to play second fiddle to your fucking Army Camp anymore.” “Army Camp?” he let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Yes Army Camp” she said, spinning round.

“You’re being ridiculous.” he shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “Absolutely ridiculous.” “And that doesn’t help!” she glowered at him “When I’m pissed off or upset, you telling me I’m being ridiculous…” “Well you are…” A chuckle escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

“Stop fucking laughing at me!” She yelled, the heat rising up her neck and to my ears. He was really, really pissing her off, her could see it on her face he took a deep breath as she continued. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me this whole thing isn’t about reclaiming some of that time and life that was stolen from you?”

“You think…” He stopped and cocked his head to one side, trying to make sense of what she was saying “You think that this, all of this…” he waved his arms around “Is some kind of trip down memory lane?” “Well isn’t it?” He shook his head, snorting, giving her comment the contempt it deserved. “You couldn’t be further off the mark if you tried.”

“Well from what I see it looks like you’re simply trying to re-live your Howling Commando days.” She snapped back “And I have news for you Steve, I’m not Peggy, no matter how much you wish I was.”

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them and they felt like a slap to his face. But instead of it upsetting him, he found himself boiling over with anger at how fucking ridiculous she was being. They had been through this time and time again, he’d shown her and told her at Clint’s she as the most important thing in his life, hell, they were getting married in less than three weeks for fucks sake, what else did he need to do?

“That’s out of order and you know it.” His voice was low. What do I have to do to make you realise you are what I want? Not Peggy, you…”

Suddenly the shitty nature of her words began to sink in and Katie found herself unable to look at him anymore, so she turned her head to the side. So he crossed the room and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing her to look at him. As she looked back his jaw twitched slightly, a mixture of hurt and anger in his eyes, the furious energy radiating off him and then that ridiculous part of Katie’s brain that controlled her libido piped up, this was fucking hot. Her breathing hitched slightly and he felt it too.

“Fine, if that’s what you want…” he practically growled as his lips crashed onto hers and before she could even think to kiss him back, he pulled away - leaving her wanting and moving toward him to try and catch his lips again. Her hands reached for his face, desperately trying to bring him back to her. At the motion, his hands grabbed her wrists and forced them back to her sides, clearly, but wordlessly telling her who was in charge.

There was a slight pause between them, both trying to catch their breath from the row that had just occurred and from the searing kiss he had just delivered. Then their lips found one another again, his hands moving to her waist to both pull her closer and he began to tug at her clothes. Getting the hint, she acted in tandem, hands falling to the clip on his utility belt, fumbling with it for a second in her rush before successfully releasing it and then going for the flies on his uniform pants. Steve popped the button on her denim shorts and in a quick swoop shoved them and her bikini bottoms down as they both stumbled around the room.

He took hold of her hips again so to manoeuvre her wherever he wanted. They continued to stumble around the room for a moment before he took control and roughly picked her up. Her bare legs immediately wrapped around his still fully uniformed waist and her arms went around his neck as he slammed her up against the wall at the far side of the lounge and, using it as support he shifted his grip from under her ass. One hand went to her hip while the other pried her hands from the back of his neck. He was able to hold both of her wrists together with one of his hands, placing them up above her head and holding them there tightly.

This was angry sex, not make up sex, this was utter ‘I’m so fucking angry at you so I’m gonna show you.’ sex. Well, she was angry too so there was no way he was having this all his own way.

She rolled her hips, hard against him which was enough to get his attention but he simply used his free hand to shove her legs off of him. Katie managed to catch herself on her feet, only slightly bumping against the wall but before she had chance to think his lips found hers again, hungrily kissing her while his hand skated over her bare stomach. She arched into the touch, wanting him to move a bit south, but his hand stopped an inch away from where she wanted it to be.

“Say you’re sorry.” his voice was right by her ear, rougher than she could ever remember it being before. Rough enough to make a shiver go down her spine and for her to try and thrust into his hand, desperate for any sense of relief. But he pulled even further away from her, making her whine a bit. “You’re sorry and you believe me…”

“I’m sorry.” she breathed out, stumbling over her words “And I believe you…”

He surged forward, kissing her desperately and she openly moaned into his mouth as two of his fingers slipped inside of her. His motions were fast and aggressive and he brought her to the brink, and then stopped.

“Do you still believe me?” he breathed out, voice ragged. “Tell me you do and you want this.” The fucker was still making a point but by now Katie really didn’t care.

“Stevie, please.” she thrust her hips out toward him, gasping “I still believe you, I want you.”

It was want, not need. And that didn’t escape his notice. He knew which one he would prefer to hear, to be wanted over needed any day.

He couldn’t help the soft smirk on his face as he braced one hand on the wall beside her head, the other harshly yanked one of her legs up so that it wrapped around his waist. Reaching into his pants he freed his now painfully hard erection from them and didn’t even pause before slamming into her, making her cry out sharply, one hand going to grip his bicep, the other against the wall to steady herself. He slammed into her over and over with such force that she was sure she was about to go through the wall itself and into the hall.

Desperate to be both closer to him and not to actually go through the wall, because that would be awkward to explain, not mention painful, Katie tried to lean in more to him. The motion made him go deeper inside of her, which caused her to moan at the feeling. At that point Steve quickly removed his hand from the wall and lifted her off her feet. Their chests pressed together, the bare skin of her stomach rubbing against the harsh Kevlar of his uniform, both messily kissing each other as Steve stumbled around the main area of the lounge before toppling over the arm of the couch where Katie ended up on top. Even then he continued his aggressive thrusts, his hands on her hips, pulling her down as he drove upwards.

She let out a small groan, the roughness of his pants was grinding against her clit along with the fact he was bottoming out inside her, hitting her spot again and again.

“Shit, Captain…” she hissed and the noise made him slam up even harder, fuck he loved it when she said that when he was being tough. She let out a loud scream and tightened around him and at the feel of her walls clamping down, which was fucking bliss as always, his thrusts upwards became desperate as he chased his own end, before he gave a loud “fuck…” and he came, hard as she collapsed on top of him.

The pair of them lay, utterly spent and his hands gently ran up her spine as her face pushed into his neck.

“Still pissed at me?” he murmured.

“In a fashion.” she responded as she picked her head from her shoulder and rolled to the side so she was between him and the back of the couch. He moved so they were facing each other, gently nudging her nose with his.

“Can we talk this over like adults now?” his voice was still quite stern. Katie bit her lip as she looked at him and he sighed, his voice becoming softer “I hate rowing with you. But I still don’t know what’s going on. Please talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t have ordered me out.” she said.

“You broke Allen’s nose.” Katie had to fight the smirk crossing her face. Good shot.

“it’s not funny.” “It is.” Katie said “She deserved it.”

After what Evans had told him, Steve kind of agreed to be fair and Katie saw his face soften slightly. “Evans told me what she said.” Steve brushed her hair behind her ears “For what its worth she’s had an official warning.” “Did you go all Cap on her?” Katie raised an eyebrow “Bet she loved that…” “What do you mean?” “Oh come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed…”she snorted before putting on an airy voice “oh Cap…that’s so funny. Hey Cap, can you show me how to do this take down. Oh Cap, you’re such a good teacher… she was practically trying to climb you the other day in your office.” “You’re jealous…” he smirked.

“I don’t like people touching my stuff.” she sighed “Especially not some 28 year old blond bombshell.” “Blond bombshell?” he snorted.

“What? She’s hot.” I shrugged “I’d do her.” His eyes flashed cheekily “Now there’s an image.” She narrowed her eyes at him and he laughed before sighing again.

“Listen to me…” he said, his hand then coming up to caress the side of her face as he looked at her, driving his words home. “You are the most important thing in the world to me and there’s no other girl that comes close, not matter what you think. Not Allen, not Peggy, no one. And as for playing second fiddle…” he gestured with his spare hand around the room. “Say the word and this all goes.”

“Yeah right. You’ll never give up being Captain America…”

“I would for you.” He said simply.

Katie looked at him, he’d shocked her, but he meant every word. If he had to give all this up, he would. He didn’t want to but, he would. The magnitude of what he had just admitted took a while to sink in, but when it did Katie was overcome with emotion, and the tears pricked at her eyes.

“Hey, come on.” Steve let out a soft sigh, as he held her close, rubbing his hands softly up her back. “You wanna tell me why last night was such a big deal, and yeah, I know that I messed up but, well I’m getting the feeling there’s a little more to it.”

With a deep breath she pulled back and licked her lips. “I err, I just wanted to tell you something and I wanted it to be special because I know how much it means to you, but, well, I made a decision on my name. You mean everything to me, Steve, and when we get married I wanna give everything to you, so, I wanna be Mrs Rogers.”

Her words took a moment to sink in and once they did, a huge grin spread across Steve’s face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling. “We’re tying ourselves together for life and I want everyone to know that I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“I’ll always be yours, Baby.” He whispered, as she leaned in to kiss him, as he wrapped an arm around her waist while one of her legs slithered in between his.

Soft, gentle kisses were shared as Katie gently reached for the zip of his uniform top, undoing it and then guiding his undershirt over his head as he undid his pants fully, shimmying out of them before he guided her onto her back while he shifted so he was caging her in between his legs. This time the mood passion, not anger.

“You have no idea what you do to me…” he whispered gently into her ear as he undid the strings on her bikini top leaving them both completely bare. She let out a groan as she titled her hips up. He closed his eyes as her hand came to rest on his cheek and he leaned into the touch as he shifted so her legs parted and he was inside of her again.

Tilting her head back at the feeling left her neck exposed, which Steve took advantage of in pressing soft kisses up her throat. His hand snaked up her arm so he could intertwine his fingers with hers. He slowly rolled his hips against hers, instead of the frantic rhythm he had prior. The hand that wasn’t entwined with hers went to her hip, pulling her closer as he thrust deeply, gently, slowly, each roll of his hips hitting her spot as he continued over and over again, head dropping to my neck, collar bone and breasts which he had paid no attention to before.

“Stevie, you feel so good…” Katie moaned and he let out a groan of his own at her words. When her orgasm rolled over her again, this one not as ferocious as before, but no less pleasurable she melted underneath him, breathless, her hand running through his hair as he came again, collapsing on top of her

The moments after they finished were always their favourite. The quiet bliss that surrounded them like a bubble, keeping them safe from the world.

“I love you.” Katie said softly. He picked his head up from where he had it buried in the crook of her neck so he could meet her eyes.

“I love you too.” he responded, pushing some hair out of her face, thumb circling her cheek. “I can’t wait to make you Mrs Rogers.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over hers.

**** Chapter 26

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfic #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

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luminescencefics · 4 years

Text

the light inside

Natasha Reynolds is trying to figure her life out. She’s newly single, behind her deadline for her newest book release, and currently stuck in her best friend’s house while her home office is being renovated.

Harry Styles is just trying to complete this project. He’s in the midst of his own home renovation, but when he steps foot into Natasha’s townhouse, he finds that there’s more to life than just trying to rebuild.

A oneshot about starting over, learning how to cope, blonde haired toddlers, and finding the light that shines inside of you.

written for @majorharry‘s 20k fic celebration

prompt #27: “your hands are soft,” prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that,” prompt #33: :”I--I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

harry/ofc, 8k

Natasha Reynolds is losing it.

She’s currently sitting in the half-finished nursery of her best friend’s unborn child. It's the only room in Ellory’s home that has some semblance of quiet, and that is exactly what Natasha needs considering she’s about three weeks behind her workload. Her inbox chimes with a notification of a new email, and Natasha sighs, ignoring it as the red number on her laptop screen grows from forty-six to forty-seven. No doubt they’re all from her editor. And, no doubt that if she doesn’t respond in the next hour, her phone will start to ring incessantly.

Natasha’s life never falls out of order. She has always been a woman with a plan, ever since uni, and that mindset has paved a road of success for her that she never thought she would achieve at this early an age.

Right after uni, she drafted about twenty query letters and sent them out to various publishing agencies throughout the Greater London area. She had been penning her mystery novel series her entire last year of university, and with a stroke of luck her first book was being edited and published before Natasha could turn twenty-five.

The first book was a success. It became an even bigger hit overseas, and not long after was her agent proclaiming that she must develop a second book. Three more books and three and a half years later, the Midnight series was finished. It allowed her to travel the world, meet fans of the book, and earn enough money to own property in Mayfair.

But now that her series was complete, her editor and agent were begging for Natasha to release a new book. Natasha wanted to branch away from the mystery genre and come up with a brand new book, one that would not be developed into a four-part series.

And, considering her newly single status, it made sense to venture into romance.

As of lately, Natasha feels like she has bitten off more than she can chew. Sure, she loves writing. And sure, her relationship imploding definitely gave her the push she needed to start writing again. But she’s suddenly at a standstill—battling a difficult case of writer’s block.

On top of all of that, she’s been sequestered at her best friend’s townhouse because her home office was currently under construction. Natasha usually plans for these things, and she definitely would not have decided for her writing space to be completely transformed while she’s trying to reach her deadlines. But her ex-fiancé ended things abruptly and that office was the only space in her home that he had called his, so it only made sense to completely tear it down and start fresh.

If only the timing was appropriate.

Just as Natasha began writing the eighteenth chapter of her unnamed novel, she starts to hear high-pitched giggles get louder and louder down the hallway. She can hear the gentle thud of feet, and not long after is the door to the nursery thrown open.

“Tasha! Come play!” Maude calls from the doorway of the room.

Her hair is in wild curls and her cheeks have a gentle flush to them, no doubt from running away from Ellory and trying to find Natasha’s hiding spot. Yesterday, Natasha was hiding in the guest bathroom to get work done and it only took a few hours before Maude heard the toilet flush and suddenly found her.

Today, it only took an hour and a half.

“Hi Maude,” Natasha says with a small smile.

“Why are you in sissy’s room?” Maude asks, hobbling towards Natasha’s spot on the enormous bean bag chair in the corner of the room.

“Trying to get some work done. Where’s mummy? I thought you guys were supposed to be baking shortbread?” Natasha asks, tearing her eyes away from her computer screen and looking at Maude who has now become eye level due to the bean bag’s relativity to the carpeted floor.

“We did! Come see!” Maude’s sticky hands reach out towards the screen of Natasha’s laptop, and before her fingers can make a mess of it, Natasha slams it down with a gentle click. Maude starts giggling, reaching for Natasha until her forearms are sticky from flour and egg.

Sighing, Natasha follows after the three year old. There’s no way she’ll be getting any more work finished today.

Ellory looks up from the oven when she sees her daughter dragging her best friend into the kitchen. She gives Natasha a look, laced with an apology and a bit of pity. Ellory knows that Natasha is struggling. Her personal life has been shit the entire year, her workload is only increasing, and now her home is in a state of disarray.

“Maude, love, what did I tell you about bothering Auntie Tasha?” Ellory asks, her ivory hands resting on her cocked hip. She’s giving her daughter a pointed glare, but Natasha knows that it’s no use. Maude always finds a way of getting out of trouble.

“Sorry mummy. I just wanted to show Tasha what we made!” Maude says, holding her arms up so she can be placed on her chair by the kitchen island. Natasha just shakes her head a little, wordlessly telling Ellory that it’s okay. She wasn’t really being productive anyways, to be fair. Baking with her best friend and her daughter sounded better anyways.

“Any progress on the book?” Maude asks, pouring Natasha a cup of tea from the still-hot kettle on the stovetop.

Natasha just shrugs before slumping down on the chair next to Maude. “I’m still stuck on chapter eighteen. Diane’s going to ring my neck.”

Natasha’s editor Diane was nothing but a terrifying presence in her professional life. Granted, she was phenomenal at her job, and without her guidance the Midnight series would probably never have become the success it had, but Diane struggled with understanding how Natasha worked.

She knew about the break up. She knew that her life was in shambles. But Diane pushed through all of that. She was a career-woman first, and didn’t believe in distractions. Therefore, she continuously pushed Natasha to write.

Sometimes, Natasha just needed to breathe.

“You’ll get there, Nat. You just need to find some inspiration,” Ellory offered kindly, resting her hand on her baby bump.

Ellory was always ten steps ahead of Natasha. Starting in secondary school back in Hammersmith, Ellory was already thinking about where she wanted to apply for uni. Although they went to different schools, they still kept in touch. And while Natasha was struggling to finish her final exams and finish writing book one of her series, Ellory was falling in love with Isaac and already planning her wedding.

That happened four months after graduation. Isaac was in finance and came from a wealthy family, and not even a year later, Maude was born. Natasha was still living in her tiny flat in the center of the city, far too cramped for her liking. She was in the middle of writing book two, so her royalties from the first installment hadn’t come in yet. Ellory was already planning Maude’s first birthday when she encouraged Natasha to stop being a reclusive author and start dating, and that’s when she met Will.

Will was smart and posh and worked at the same office as Isaac. He was a career-focused, well-mannered, completely tailored gentleman, and for some reason he took a liking to Natasha’s abnormal life. They were the same age but he felt eons ahead of her. His flat was in a luxury building with a doorman, he owned more suits than he did casual clothes, he drank bourbon like her father did, and he never tried to understand why Natasha wanted to become an author.

He never pushed it though, and he never really tried to understand Natasha either. After she meets his family and they announce that their cousins are to be married, things began to change. Will’s family was very traditional, and when they found out that Natasha and Will had been together for two years and were still living in their own separate flats, Will hired a realtor and they started looking at homes in Knightsbridge and Belgravia, and they all felt too regal for Natasha’s taste. One afternoon when she’s visiting Ellory and newborn Maude at their home in Mayfair, Natasha comes across a dated townhouse that was for sale. It had crown molding and exposed brick, a dated fireplace and exposed beams that showed the true character of the place. With book three finished and her bank account expanding, Natasha puts a deposit down and they move in a week later.

Not even a year later, Will proposed. At the time, Natasha thought it was everything. She finally felt ready, and she thought that her and Will would be happy together. But then after that he started getting colder, and their relationship started feeling more rushed than ever before. She couldn’t even remember what she loved about him in the first place, and whenever she would ask him why he wanted to marry her, his response was always, “Because that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Natasha was unhappy. And when they sat down a week after they had already mailed their wedding invitations to their guests, she told him that they shouldn’t get married. She expected Will to put up a fight and beg her to reconsider, but instead he gave out a deep sigh of relief.

A week later he moved out.

And three months after that he was engaged to another woman.

The ringing of the timer rips Natasha out of her thoughts and she laughs quietly when Maude starts jumping up and down in her chair, clapping her sticky hands when Ellory announces that the shortbread is finished.

“Tasha! Will you help us decorate?” Maude asks, grinning up at her mum’s best friend with wide shiny eyes.

“Of course,” Natasha responds, placing her arms under Maude’s armpits and lifting her off the chair and sits her on the granite countertop near the shortbread that’s resting on the cooling rack. Ellory lays out different colored icing, yellows and pinks and blues, and Maude greedily sticks a finger in the pink bowl and brings it up to her mouth when Ellory isn’t looking.

Maude starts to giggle when Natasha raises her eyebrows comically, before copying the three year old and digging a pointer finger into the blue bowl. Maude’s giggles grow louder when Ellory grows suspicious, but Natasha stays quiet, smiling at Maude as if they were sharing a secret.

Midway through icing the shortbread cakes, Natasha’s mobile begins to ring from the island. She groans, knowing that it’s probably Diane asking for an update, but when she gets closer she notices that the number isn’t one she has saved into her contacts, so she brings the phone up to her ear and offers up a quick hello.

“Hi, is this Ms. Reynolds?” a deep voice asks. It’s low and guttural and Natasha instantly recognizes it as the voice of the contractor currently redoing her home office a few streets away.

“Yes, this is she,” she says professionally.

“Right, this is Harry, we’ve spoken a few times before about your renovation. I just thought I’d keep you updated. The desk was delivered later than expected so we’re running a bit behind schedule,” Harry says.

Natasha groans because of course things were running behind schedule. It seemed to be the theme of her life these days.

“Sorry?” the voice asks, and Natasha slaps a hand to her mouth, realizing that her groan came out much louder than expected.

“Nothing. That’s fine, you can stay as late as you can in order to have everything back on schedule. I really would hate to push the completion date any further,” Natasha explains, ignoring the look Ellory gives her from the other side of the kitchen.

“No problem Ms. Reynolds,” Harry responds kindly.

“Thanks for the update,” Natasha says, saying a quick goodbye before ending the call and placing her mobile face down on the countertop.

Things really weren’t going her way.

***

Normally, Natasha leaves Ellory’s house by four o’clock the latest, and by four oh five, her house is void of contractors and construction workers and painters. Ellory offers for Natasha to stay for dinner, but after Maude throws a temper tantrum and Ellory grows increasingly tired from her pregnancy, Natasha decides to just head home. She could avoid the noise of the downstairs office by hiding away in her bedroom on the floor above, and she probably should respond to the growing number of emails in her inbox.

When Natasha arrives at her townhouse, she can already hear the erratic hum of the numerous power tools from inside the office. A large white van with Styles & Co. is parked right outside her front door, with a black pick up truck parked behind her parking spot across the street. Natasha unlocks her front door and is immediately hit with the smell of sawdust.

She closes the door a bit softer than usual so her presence would stay undetected. But while she slips off her flats and discards her jacket in the foyer, she hears the heavy sound of boots come closer and her head snaps up.

In front of her is a tall man with broad shoulders. His brown hair curls over the tips of his ear and stands taller in different areas around his head, most likely from pulling on the strands out of frustration. He has a thin layer of stubble surrounding his mouth and chin, and his green eyes are wide, searching her face the same way she was searching his.

“Ms. Reynolds?” he asks, and his voice has the same timbre as the one she was speaking to on the phone a few hours prior. She cocks her head to the side in surprise, taking in his long jean-clad legs, brown toolbelt, and white henley rolled up at the sleeves, revealing black ink etched onto his tan skin.

“Uh, yeah,” she responds, her mind growing a bit foggy.

He smiles in front of her, revealing a straight set of white teeth. “Hi, I’m Harry,” he says, wiping his hands on the tops of his thighs and extending a long toned forearm.

Natasha is a bit dumbfounded for once, because she figured the Harry she was speaking to on the phone for the past week and a half was someone much older. His deep voice reminded her of her father’s, and she had never come across a contractor so handsome in her entire life.

“Hi,” she responds after she realizes his hand has been extended a bit longer than normal. His eyes stay on hers as they shake once, twice, before her hands retreat back to her sides.

“Your hands are soft,” he says offhandedly, and she’s not entirely sure if he meant to say it outloud. His calloused hands are rough from his work, and when she looks into his eyes with a smile, she can’t see any ounce of regret or embarrassment.

“Thanks,” she says, shouldering her tote bag a little higher on her body.

“We’re almost done for the day, Ms. Reynolds,” Harry explains.

“Natasha’s just fine,” she responds, and she feels even warmer when she hears his Northern accent echo her first name to her.

She likes the way it sounds coming out of his mouth.

“D’ya want to see the progress so far?” Harry offers, hoping she’ll say yes.

Against her plans of retreating in her room to stare blankly at the whiteness of her screen, Natasha nods and follows Harry out of the foyer. The hallway splits in two and he takes a left, bypassing the staircase and entering the back part of the house where Will’s office used to be.

The room is much brighter due to the lighting fixture only having light bulbs without the lampshades. Natasha explained to Harry on the phone that she wanted the room to not be as cold and uninviting, and when he recommended painting the chandelier, she agreed instantly. White tarps were placed over the original hardwood flooring with paint buckets and rollers placed haphazardly around the room. Two other burly men were on the far side of the room near the big bay window, sanding down the large wooden desk and attaching different pieces to the furniture to make it the focal point of the room.

“Wow,” Natasha announces breathlessly, stopping in the middle of the room and looking around with wide eyes. It was such a contrast from what the room was before, and she could feel the weight on her shoulders growing lighter and lighter.

“It’s not nearly finished,” Harry says from behind her. Natasha just shakes her head, realizing that he probably doesn’t understand how much this room transformation actually means to her.

“Oi! ‘Arry! Where’s the cabinet?” One of the voices calls out. He’s older than Harry and has a few wrinkles surrounding his face, but he has kind eyes. His accent makes Natasha smile, and when he looks up he gives her a grin in return.

“Got distracted by the pretty lady, I reckon?” He repeats, and the man to his left cackles. Natasha looks over her shoulder just in time to see the flush creep up Harry’s neck, and she giggles a bit to herself.

“Enough of that, you two. Finish up and I’ll go grab it from the garden,” Harry says, his voice thinning as he retreats towards the back entrance of Natasha’s home where most of the furniture and supplies were situated.

“It looks great, guys. Thank you for your hard work,” Natasha says to the two men, watching as they stop their previous tasks and give her matching grins.

“No problem, lass. Reckon you’ll write another bestseller in this room, aye?” The darker haired man says. His accent is much deeper than the previous man and Harry combined, and Natasha laughs a bit when he mentions her writing.

Before she could respond, Harry is back heaving a large cabinet in front of his chest. Natasha jumps to the side, shocked at how strong he actually is. His long arms were wrapped completely around the piece of furniture, with his large hands fanned out over the doors in order to keep them from opening. He grunts as he places it on the floor in front of the two other men, standing up and wiping his brow with sweat.

Natasha really needed to stop staring.

She coughs to herself, averting her eyes even though she can feel the two other men’s gazes from across the room. She’s sure if she looked over they would have amused looks covering their faces.

“Right. Anybody need water or anything? Tea?” Natasha asks kindly, praying deep down that nobody actually needed anything and she could make herself a brew and hide away in her bedroom for the rest of the evening.

“We’re good lass, thank you,” the older men say, before grabbing a power drill and getting back to work.

“I’m all set, thanks though, Natasha,” Harry says, standing right in front of her. She really wished she didn’t love the way her name sounded leaving his mouth.

“No problem. I’ll leave you boys to it,” she announces, nodding her head before turning on her heel.

Before she enters the kitchen, she chances one last look over her shoulder, and she’s met with bright green eyes and a boyish grin.

She skips making her tea and runs straight upstairs, closing her bedroom door with a loud thud.

***

The next morning, Natasha wakes up much later than expected. After Harry and his crew had left, she went downstairs and made herself a late dinner. After an explosive phone call with Diane, Natasha managed to write two chapters that definitely were not up to her standards. It took her much longer than usual to write, and after a cup of black coffee that she only saves for emergencies only, she couldn’t fall asleep.

She wakes up to the sound of power drills and the smell of paint.

Ellory has called her twice already and texted her enough times to earn an eye roll from Natasha. She knew she was expected over there two hours earlier, but she needed rest. She responds as she’s traipsing down the stairwell in boy shorts, a tank top, and an old flannel button down. Her hair is in a bun and she hasn’t bothered putting her contacts in, and it’s only once she reaches the bottom of the stairs when she realizes that she isn’t wearing a bra.

Harry’s standing before her, green eyes blown wide. Natasha isn’t sure if it’s from her thin tank top and lack of appropriate undergarments, or if he’s just shocked to see her in general.

“Natasha—uh, hi.” He sounds breathless and she just gives him a tired grin, noticing the same two guys from yesterday hauling in different materials from the back garden. The door is open and the chill November air settles into the ground floor, and Natasha crosses her arms over her chest subconsciously.

She hopes Harry doesn’t notice, but she watches his pupils dart down for a millisecond before shooting back up, and her cheeks start to flush.

“Morning Harry,” she replies. “Want some tea? Coffee?”

She starts walking towards the kitchen without waiting for a response. Natasha can hear the heavy clunking of his boots, so she can only assume that he’s taken her up on her offer. He only responds once she’s filled up the kettle and turned the burner on.

“Uh, coffee, black. If you have it,” he asks cautiously. He’s leaning on the doorframe of her open kitchen, unsure if he should step further into the room. Natasha just nods before turning the coffeemaker on, adding grounds to the appropriate compartment and waiting for it to heat up.

She turns around then, resting her tailbone on the lower cabinets of the kitchen. Harry saunters forward, before sitting down on the barstool across from her, resting his arms on the countertop. She waits for him to say something.

“Figured you’d be at work or something,” Harry says after a beat.

“Slept in, I suppose.” Natasha shrugs, pivoting on her heel and grabbing two porcelain mugs from above and placing them on the granite.

“Sorry if we woke you,” Harry says, watching as she pours his coffee before grabbing her tea bag and pouring the hot water from the steaming kettle into her matching mug. He thanks her quietly when she places his mug in front of him.

“Nonsense. I should have been up hours ago,” Natasha responds as she’s steeping her tea.

She watches him idly as he wraps his long fingers around the mug. Without thinking, her eyes drift down to his left hand, second spot in from his pinky finger. It’s bare, and she squints under her glasses to try and see a tan line in the place where a wedding band should be. Maybe he doesn’t wear it while he’s working, she thinks to herself.

Harry of course is watching her, and he doesn’t need to mimic her inquiries in order to make an educated guess that she is in fact single. The foyer is filled with women’s jackets and high heeled boots, and in the two weeks he’s been working on her office, there’s been no trace of a man coming and going.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Just continues to let her stare.

“Will you be here all day?” He asks finally, watching as her brown eyes dart up to his face. She doesn’t seem embarrassed that she’s been caught.

“Probably. The glory of my profession—I can permanently work from home,” she offers with a hint of amusement, and Harry laughs softly to fill the space.

“Well, I’ll make sure we stay out of your hair,” he says, taking a large gulp of his coffee and standing up from the chair.

Natasha just smiles. “Don’t worry about me.”

Harry smiles back. “Cheers for the coffee,” he says, grasping the white mug in his hands and exiting the kitchen before taking a right and following the hallway down into the office.

Natasha goes back upstairs and writes three more chapters. When she checks the time and realizes that it’s a little past noon, she goes downstairs and hears silence. She enters her kitchen and prepares a small salad, and when she finishes to clean her plate, she notices the white mug resting on the drying rack.

She smiles for what feels like the fifteenth time that day.

***

Natasha and Harry have fallen into the habit of having tea and coffee together each morning. She starts staying home to finish her book, ignoring Ellory’s questions on what suddenly has changed for her.

“Inspiration,” Natasha would respond, offering nothing else.

They don’t really talk about much, her and Harry. She tells him about her book and he tells her about his house that he’s almost finished renovating in Chiswick. He tells her that he grew up in Cheshire and she tells him that her family home is about a thirty minute drive away. They don’t talk about the reason why she’s remodeling the office or why Harry is the only thirty-two year old Natasha knows who isn’t engaged or married.

Harry estimates that the remodel should be finished in about a week’s time, and Natasha somehow feels a bit sad about that. At one point she schemes of a way to delay the remodel, to ensure that Harry will be around for a bit longer than seven days. But she knows she’s ridiculous. She knows he probably has way better things to do than hang around her house in Mayfair.

One afternoon after she’s finished writing chapter twenty-nine, she hears a loud bang from the room below her. Immediately she flies down the stairs, takes a sharp right, and enters the office with wide eyes. In front of her, the coffee table that was supposed to be where the seating area would be is in shambles. The glass covering has cracked, and she checks the white tarp for spots of blood.

Rory and Gareth, Harry’s workers, are swearing at each other. They obviously figured that the glass would stay intact from the shipment center they ordered it from, but when they opened the box, they found that it was in twelve different pieces. She notices Harry in the corner, frustratedly pulling at his hair.

“Everyone okay?” Natasha asks, mainly directing the question at Harry. She can sense his annoyance from the other side of the room.

“We’re alrigh’, Natasha. The fuckin’ idiots who packaged the table clearly did a terrible job at it! It’s fuckin’ fallin’ apart!” Rory says loudly, his voice getting louder with each curse that passes his lips.

“It’s fine, I’ll reorder another one. Just please be careful when removing the glass from the house, I don’t want anybody to get hurt,” Natasha orders, watching as Rory and Gareth reach into their back pockets to retrieve gloves. They start picking up the glass shards slowly, before placing them into the cardboard box.

Harry just watches her, feeling the frustradness leaving his body. She’s very gentle, and watches the guys like a hawk, ensuring that they don’t get injured. Before they’ve finished, Harry announces that they can go and take their lunch break. Rory and Gareth thank him repeatedly, announcing that they need a smoke after the table debacle.

“I made too much stir fry, if you’re hungry,” Natasha says once the boys have driven off to eat their lunch in the park.

“Starved,” Harry replies with a grin. He follows her down the hallway and into the kitchen, admiring her long legs under her leggings. The jumper she’s wearing is big and warm, and his eyes latch onto her right shoulder, watching as the fabric hangs revealing smooth white skin.

Natasha fills up two bowls and they sit at the breakfast nook on the far side of the kitchen near four windows. He watches as she slides her glasses up her forehead, resting them like a headband in her dark hair. He thinks she’s the prettiest girl he’s seen in a long time.

“How’s the book coming along?” He asks after a few bites.

“Surprisingly, not as terrible as I thought. I’m actually right on target to finish it on the deadline,” Natasha replies. And it’s true—she’s gotten more writing done in her busy townhouse than she ever did in Ellory’s home, hiding away from Maude in closets and unused bedrooms.

“That’s great. You didn’t want to wait until your office was finished?” Harry asks, and Natasha can almost feel the follow up question coming.

“Didn’t want to fall behind schedule,” she replies quietly, waiting for him to just say it.

“Why did you decide to do a full renovation right before your deadline, then?”

And there it is.

It’s not like she still cares for Will. Because those feelings for him have been left in the past. Although it took her a little while to fix her messy heart, the sudden news of his brand new proposal practically catapulted Natasha into officially feeling nothing for him. But, whenever she tells the story to somebody, she’s always hit with a pitiful look. Everyone always tells her the same things: I’m so sorry, and, I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel, and, you’ll find someone much better than him.

She didn’t want Harry to look at her that way. She didn’t want to hear her name fall from his lips at the end of one of those sentences.

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Natasha says, deflecting.

Harry pauses, knowing.

“Didn’t mean to overstep,” Harry says, holding up his hands in surrender.

Natasha just shakes her head, takes another bite, and racks her brain for anything else to say to take the attention away from herself and her failing relationship.

“So, what about you? Where are you hiding the ring?” She asks, noticing the way Harry practically chokes on his chicken and rice.

“Sorry?” He’s completely confused.

“Your wedding ring. I assumed you didn’t work with it, which is smart, because it’ll practically get ruined with all the hammering and sawing you do. Plus, you’re always on the phone in hushed conversations, and Rory and Gareth are always talking about the pretty girl you never shut up about, so I assumed…” Natasha’s voice trails off as she notices the pained look fall across Harry’s face.

For the first time in a long time, she’s said too much.

“Why do you assume I’m married?” Is what Harry chooses to ask her.

She’s grown quiet, unsure of how to respond. “Well, you’re in your thirties. And you’ve recently renovated a home in Chiswick. Most people who live in Chiswick plan on having children to fill those rooms up.” Natasha suddenly starts wondering if her logic is flawed.

The pained expression on his face grows bigger, and she watches as he gently places his fork against the glass bowl, seemingly finished with his lunch.

“I was in a relationship. We were together for awhile, and I was planning on surprising her with the house in Chiswick because I was ready for the next step. She wasn’t. She left and I spent a year renovating a house that had three bedrooms next to a school by myself.” He stands up, walking halfway towards the door before turning around and looking at Natasha.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” He says, anger radiating off of him.

Natasha isn’t sure how to respond.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Harry says sadly, shaking his head and looking down at the tiled flooring. “You never bothered to ask.”

And with that, he walks out the front door and she can hear the tires of his car skid away.

Natasha spends the rest of the night holed up in her room, typing and retyping chapter thirty. It stays unfinished.

***

Three days goes by and Natasha feels absolutely horrible. She tries to avoid going downstairs as much as she can, because she knows the second she sees Harry’s face she’ll start feeling even worse. She sneaks out the front door when she knows they’re working in the back part of her house. Instead of going to Ellory’s, she walks and walks around London. She ignores her emails, ignores her book, and starts analyzing why she’s so messed up.

It was horrible of her to assume that Harry was married. He’s spent the past few weeks drinking coffee and chatting with her, and he was the closest thing she had to a friend in a long time. All of her other friends were Will’s friends, sans Ellory, so when they broke up and he left, they stopped inviting her around.

Harry was the first person who actually tried to get to know her. And Natasha kept continuously keeping him at arm’s length. She didn’t want him to ask the questions that everybody else asks, but thinking about it all now, she knows that Harry would never look at her the same way the rest of them did.

She was forced into a world she didn’t fit into. She was simply Natasha, a girl who loves to write, can sometimes forget to make her bed, and always puts too much sugar in her tea. She ignores her scary editor and she can only make stir fry and scrambled eggs, and she spent the last few years of her life feeling vastly insignificant compared to Will and his elitist friends. She shouldn’t have made assumptions about Harry, because that’s what people have been doing about her for the better part of her twenties.

There’s a reason why her writing increased tenfold when things were going well with Harry. He was kind and beautiful and inspired her, and now that things are shit, her writing has been horrible. She’s having trouble connecting words into sentences and she knows that’s because she needs to set things straight with Harry.

When she gets to her front door, she doesn’t even stop to pull it shut completely. She’s on a mission, her legs dragging her down the hallway before she can even peel her trainers off her feet. She enters the room without saying hello to Rory and Gareth—instead she eyes the curly headed boy in the corner, leveling shelves before she calls out his name.

She watches his body turn rigid. Rory and Gareth look between the two of them as if they know too much. They try and get back to work, but Natasha can feel their eyes on her. Harry lowers the leveler and looks at her with a blank look on his face.

“Can I talk to you, please?” She asks, and she’s pretty sure he only agrees because he can hear the desperation in her voice.

He follows her out into the back garden, past the tools and materials and into the verandah. Most of the time she sits here with a book and a warm mug of tea and forgets about the world for awhile. But now, she’s hyper aware of Harry’s eyes on her frame, and suddenly she feels much smaller than usual.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, brown eyes meeting green.

“Natasha—”

“No let me finish.” Harry’s lips shut tight and he nods slowly, watching Natasha take a deep breath in and out.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you. The reason I asked you to renovate my office was because it used to be my fiancé’s. It didn’t work out, it was all too much, and then a few months later he was engaged to someone else.” She pauses, waiting for the look of pity, the awkward apology, the acknowledgement of her sadness.

Instead, his eyes are focused on hers. And she continues.

“I wasted too much time with him. He made me out to be this person I wasn’t, and whenever I was with him, I felt inferior. It felt like I had to dim my shine so he could glow the brightest for the both of us. I was so stupid, ya know?”

Harry doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t expect him to.

“I chose this house. Our agreement was that he got the office. But when he left, it took me a while to figure myself out. And then when I heard he was getting married, I changed everything back to the way I wanted. I got new linens. I bought new mugs. The last thing was the office.” Her eyes are downcast, staring at her Nike’s. She knows that Harry probably wasn’t expecting her to unload all of this on her, but she needed to do it.

Suddenly, she sees the toes of his leather work boots touching her black trainers. Her eyes shoot up and Harry is standing right in front of her, closer than ever before, and he’s looking at her so intensely and she feels warm all over.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says so softly that Natasha has to lean in to hear him.

“I, uh—you’re welcome. I should’ve told you that a few days ago, to be fair,” Natasha replies, her cheeks feeling flushed.

Before he can say another word, or possibly step a few inches closer so their lips are touching, Gareth calls out Harry’s name and she can almost hear the whine lodged in his throat. He looks as if he doesn’t want to leave, as if he’s anchored down to the flooring of the verandah, but Gareth calls out again and Natasha just tells him that he should go, and their warm bubble is suddenly popped.

That night, Natasha writes three more chapters and has the best sleep of her life.

***

Before Natasha can even comprehend, it’s the last day of the remodel. When she wakes up, Harry is waiting for her by the foyer like usual. She makes him his black coffee and she drinks her tea, and just before they part ways until the afternoon for lunch, Harry asks her if she could step out for the day until they were completely finished.

“Are you hiding something from me?” Natasha asks, cocking her head to the side and trying to persuade Harry into telling her. She hates surprises, and was never fond of them growing up. So whatever Harry had up his sleeve, she wanted to know.

He just gives her that grin of hers she’s grown to love. “No more questions. I’ll see you at five.” And with that, he places his hand on her lower back and shoves her gently towards the stairs.

“You’re infuriating,” Natasha says, lying through her teeth.

“And no peeking on your way out!” Harry shouts from the back of her house.

Natasha begrudgingly obliges, deciding to spend the rest of her day at Ellory’s house with Maude. For the first time in a while, she goes over without her laptop. Instead, she brings a children’s book for Maude, and the three of them spend the afternoon playing games and running around. When Maude goes down for a nap and it’s just Ellory and Natasha lounging on the sofa, Ellory finally acknowledges her good mood.

“What’s got your spirits so high? Or should I dare say, who?” Natasha just laughs, shaking her head to try and distract from the growing redness creeping up her neck and settling on her cheeks.

“It’s nothing, El. For once, I’m just letting things happen without planning beforehand,” Natasha explains, this time actually believing herself.

“Well, I for one am excited,” Ellory says, grabbing her best friend’s hand and giving it a tight squeeze. No matter what happens in Natasha’s life, she’s always been grateful for Ellory’s love and support. And sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.

With four creeping up, Natasha starts getting anxious. Maude overheard Ellory and Natasha talking about the renovation, and she can sense her mother’s excitement in the air. She starts begging Natasha to let them come see it with her.

“Of course, Maude. You’re always welcome at my house.” Maude grins and wraps her arms around Natasha’s neck, and just like that, she feels her anxiousness settle.

Ellory wraps Maude up in a trench coat, and the three of them tread over towards Natasha’s townhouse. Natasha keeps clicking the lock screen on to check the time every thirty seconds, and Ellory just stays quiet, eyeing her best friend suspiciously. Maude is positioned between the two, her small hands grasping one of Ellory’s and Natasha’s.

When they reach the front door, Rory and Gareth are settling into the white Styles & Co. van on the street. Natasha walks up to the window, knocks gently, and waits for Rory to push the button to lower it.

“Miss Natasha,” Rory says with a smile. Natasha grins back, and there’s no denying that she’s grown fond of these two men the past two weeks.

“I guess this is it, boys,” she says sadly, watching as Gareth gives her a knowing look.

“I’m sure you’ll see us around, lass.” Natasha just rolls her eyes, because of course they know that she’s grown extra fond of their boss. They have been watching them for weeks now, laughing to themselves and saying more with just looks between the two of them than words ever could.

“Thanks again for everything,” Natasha says sincerely.

Rory just grins, reaching out and giving her forearm a squeeze. Words aren’t needed.

“Auntie Tasha, come on! Let’s go see!” Maude calls out impatiently from the front steps. Ellory is still holding onto her hand, but her eyes are on Natasha with an amused look.

Natasha walks by them and reaches for the door, feeling Maude wrap her tiny arms around her left leg. She grins down at the toddler before grabbing her hand and dragging her into the foyer, discarding her coat and boots at the door.

“Five on the dot,” Natasha hears from down the hallway. She starts to smile immediately, hearing Maude ask Ellory in the background who that voice was. Ellory looks just as confused as her daughter, and suddenly, Harry is in front of them.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a light patterned button down shirt, opened enough so that Natasha can see his thin white tank top underneath. For the first time since knowing him, he’s wearing Chelsea boots instead of his work boots. He looks even more handsome dressed up, and Natasha can’t help but blush when looking at him.

“Who’s this?” Ellory asks, although she can already tell that this is the boy who’s made her best friend unequivocally happy these past few weeks. Harry extends a hand in greeting, and Ellory looks at Natasha with a smirk on her face.

Maude is hiding behind Natasha’s leg, hand still wrapped around her kneecap.

“Maude, do you want to say hello to my friend?” Natasha whispers, watching as Maude’s big blue eyes look up at her, then over to Harry, then back to her.

She nods before walking in front of Natasha. Harry crouches down so he’s eye level with Maude, and Natasha can’t help but feel the swell in her heart.

“Hi there, I’m Harry,” he says, gently sticking his hand out to shake.

Maude wraps two of her hands around one of his, shaking it up and down a few times until she giggles quietly. “Hi Hawwy. I’m Maude.”

“That’s a pretty name. How old are you?” he asks, grinning when her personality starts to shine through in front of him.

“Fwee! Auntie Tasha says I’m the best fwee year old she’s met,” Maude announces, and Natasha grins down as Harry’s green eyes meet hers.

“I’m sure your Auntie Tasha is right.”

Maude begins to babble and Ellory reaches out to grab her hand, shushing her so that Harry can show them the office. He leads the way, and Natasha starts feeling butterflies flutter in the pits of her stomach. She’s not sure if it’s from Harry or the office or both, but she can practically hear her heartbeat in her ears.

Just before the office comes into view, Harry stops short and Natasha almost runs right into his back.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry starts, “but I found some boxes in the storage room and I figured an author should have a library so, I sort of took the liberty of making you your own bookshelf.” He looked bashful, but curiosity was eating her alive, because she knows exactly what boxes Harry’s talking about.

They were the culmination of her favorite books since she was a child. Collecting books was what made her want to write her own, and her tiny flat in the middle of London was filled to the brim with them. But when she moved into the Mayfair house with Will, he only offered her the bookshelf near the kitchen nook that only held about fifteen novels. She had kept the rest stowed away in the storage room, allowing them to fill with dust, unused.

When Natasha steps around Harry and the office comes into light, she’s floored. Her hand shoots up to her mouth in awe, and she can practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

The original brick flooring that Will had covered up in favor of a more traditional hardwood look was finally given the light of day. Surrounding the wooden door on each side was an archway of bookshelves, curving around the door. It had seven shelves on each side with an eighth over top in the middle, each filled to the brim with all of Natasha’s books.

“Harry…” Natasha is not one for stunned silence, so this is a first for her.

Harry looks sheepish as Maude ogles at the sheer amount of books. “Mummy, is this every book in the world?”

“In Natasha’s world, my love,” Ellory responds quietly, watching her best friend in awe.

Natasha walks through the door and the room is lighter than anywhere else in the house. It reminds her of the verandah in the back garden that she’s grown to love, filled with white wood and green plants. The coffee table has new glass, the love seat and matching chairs are tan and pale yellow respectively. Her actual office desk is white and vast and exceptional. Her laptop and desktop are placed up top, with her best selling books framed on the side. A giant blush pink office chair sits on wheels with her favorite bay window behind her.

She’s absolutely floored. Maude being the toddler that she is runs straight into the room, gasping at everything in awe. She tries to climb on the desk chair and Natasha can see Ellory begin to scold her daughter, but all she can think about is Harry.

Harry.

She turns around and he’s right where she’s left him. His bashfulness has grown to sheepish, and with one enormous grin, she runs towards him and engulfs him in the biggest hug she could muster.

He leans back, surprised at the gesture, but then his strong arms snake around her back and settle on her tailbone. Her arms are locked around his neck, and she can feel him bend down and breathe into the crook of her neck.

“I don’t know what to say other than thank you,” she whispers, her lips falling over the swallows tattooed under his collarbone due to their height difference.

“You’re welcome, Natasha.” There’s her name again, falling beautifully past his lips. She removes her hands from his neck and leans back so she can look into his deep green eyes. They’re standing close to each other again, just like they were in the verandah, but this time they both have no desire to let go.

“The bookshelf—I just. It means so much to me. I don’t know how to repay you,” Natasha says breathlessly.

Harry just smiles softly. “You deserve it, Natasha. You don’t have to repay me. I wanted to do this for you.”

Before she could react, Maude suddenly appears below them, her tiny fist tugging at the bottom of Harry’s jeans.

“Do you think you could make me a bookshelf, Hawwy?” Maude asks shyly.

Natasha looks at Ellory, and for the first time in five years she actually feels something. She feels excited, she feels hopeful, she feels as if everything is starting to make sense to her. And Ellory knows this, and she looks at her best friend with the warmest smile she could muster.

Harry is crouched down in front of Maude. “Of course I can. Whatever you want.”

Harry looks up and Natasha is giving her a look that he hasn’t seen before. He can feel Maude giggle excitedly in front of him, her little hands leaning on his thighs, but all he can think about is Natasha and her brown eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he jokes, standing up and wrapping his arms around her body again.

“I can’t help it, I’m just really happy,” Natasha replies, feeling the light inside of her burn brighter than ever before.

And for the first time in a long time, Harry can feel it too, and together they shine brighter than the sun.

#majorharry20k #harrystylesfanfiction #harrystyles #new fic #1dff #updates

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gildedmuse · 3 years

Text

Room For One More

I wrote this just off the cuff, for no reason. It was inspired in part by conversations with @jhaernyl and @babblebuzz so I encourage you to blame them, even though neither of them asked for this, wanted it, or suspected they were about to get 1000+ words in their messages.

It’s suppose to be Mihawk.x Law x Zoro, but it never got so far. It features Mihawk x Law as a married couple, Zoro as Mihawk’s too young and too cute and too sexy assistant that Law finds just suspicious... And also really fucking hot.

PS: Sorry for the requests I haven’t filled, especially Go To War For You. It’s coming, I swear! I just got out of the hospital and straight back to work, and I lost my train of thought there. But I’m slowly writing it out. Because obviously I love me some MiZoLaw

PPS: See people this is what you message me/converse with me. I just write up 1000 words of nothing. You are to blame.

Room For One More: Get Him Out

Ooohh... Au where Law is married to Mihawk and one day he comes home to find his husband leaning over and around this green haired.... KID (that's what he is, he is a goddamn kid, Law thinks. He may be all of 18. Barely.) Law just stands in the door, utterly unacknowledged as Mihawk continues speaking in that low, sexy voice of his and Law is too upset to even hear what he's saying, but he sure as hell can see the way his husband's mouth is so close to the boy's ear the three gold bars hanging from it jingle together. Like a fucking alarm bell as far as Law is concerned.

Law coughs.

Twice.

That finally does it. Both of them turn as if they just noticed Law when he'd come in mid rant about a patient who just won't take his damn meds and paperwork and yet only know have they managed to notice his existence.

Mihawk smiles even as Law glares him down. "Law, you're home early."

"Actually, I'm home precisely when I was supposed to be."

Mihawk nods, brow furrowing for a mere second, thrown by the snippiness in Law's voice. Oh sorry I sound upset about walking in on your clearly private session with school boy jezebel here, honey. "Which in your case, is early. I can't name the last time you did not stay late at the hospital for one reason or another."

"I had a frustrating day, I wanted to call it an early night. I wasn't aware that we'd have... guests." Law's eyes not so subtly fall to the boy, unable to see him completely since he's still sitting there between his husband's arms. Plus he's gone back to whatever is in front of him on the table. Sure, now he feels a sense of shame.

When his gaze goes back to his husband, Mihawk has an eyebrow raised. Law knows that look. The "I am older and wiser than you and do not understand at times why you behave the way you do" look. Law hates that look, but right at this particular moment it makes him want to stab something.

Preferably something green, cute, and sitting in between his husband's arms like it's no big deal.

"I informed you earlier. Red-Hawk offices are under going heavy renovation and will be unusable for the next two weeks, forcing me to work from home." Yes, Law remembers the conversation. Although, admittedly, only barely. He'd had just gotten off two major surgeries and countless troublesome patients and a 12 hour shift. Mihawk himself had apparently been forced to run meeting after meeting, and all alone thanks to the newly wedded Shanks and Benn having both come down with some undescribed illness, that was on top of his normal work overseeing product development, speaking with potential clients, whatever he did at that office of his, the very description of which always bored Law. He knows it's something sports related, that it makes incredibly good money but also keeps Mihawk constantly busy and nearly as exhausted as Law. Just the other day he ended up sleeping over at the office and...

Oh. Oh, fuck, Law has been so stupid and naïve. And he supposes this boy's name just happens to be At-the-office.

"This is Roronoa Zoro," Mihawk continues, ignoring the narrowing of Law's eyes. "He's one of our interns. He's acting as my temporary assistant while Perona is on vacation."

Right... The pink haired gothic doll that acts as his husband's right hand.... Lolita (that wording had never sounded so wrong to Law. He'd met Perona plenty of times. While the girl gets on his nerves, she is apparently incredibly effective. He's also seen her with Mihawk and there is absolutely nothing going on there.) Her absence is part of what's been adding to his husband's recent stress at work.

Stress he's apparently found a cure for. A very new cure, apparently. Barely old enough to be out of testing.

The boy glances back at Law since the first time since he first interrupted them. His husband stands up, freeing the boy to sit up a little straighter. Law had been right. He is cute. Annoyingly so.

"Hey there," the boy says in such an incredibly causal tone it actually throws Law for a second.

"Roronoa," Mihawk's already low voice seems to dip a little deeper, more authoritative. Usually sexy as hell, goes right to Law's cock. Unless he's exhausted. Or it's being used on his fucking boy toy.

The kid actually rolls his eyes! "Sorry. How do you do, Dracule-san," Zoro says, using his schoolboy on his best behavior voice which, who knows, he may actually still have use for. His voice is lower than Law had assumed, almost expecting him to sound like a child not yet through puberty.

"It's Trafalgar, actually," Law corrects him, and it's a pointed correction. Instead of being relieved that at least the boy knows he is indeed the husband here, he's more annoyed than ever. So Mihawk told him he was married and the boy came anyway?

Zoro shrugs off the mistake, apparently entirely unaffected by Law's rather legendary bad looks. "S-- My apologies, Trafalgar, I was unaware."

Law can't help but notice that despite the still formal language, Zoro has already thrown away the honorific. Much like he already thrown away any respect for the sanctity of Law's wedding vows.

You know what, no. Law's day had been hell and this is simply too much right now. "Excuse me. I'm starving," he mutters. He moves by Mihawk without stopping for their usual kiss, not even looking at his husband as he goes to open the fridge.

It doesn't mean he misses the way his husband's striking golden eyes follow him, just like a hawk's would as it studies its prey. Nor does he miss how eventually the feeling burning into the back of his neck drops away. He hears a low sigh, almost neutral except he knows his husband. He can hear the frustration.

Good. Let him be frustrated..

"Roronoa," Mihawk says, sounding almost as tired as Law feels. "Do you remember when I showed you the study earlier, where I keep all the file logs."

Law is too busy trying to ignore the goddamn child in his kitchen to care what he replies. He does, however, get out some vegetables right at that moment, and so sees the way Zoro turns his head up, exposing a long column of his neck, stretching it above the collar of his undone dress shirt, as he gives his husband a sort of searching look, pausing before he nods.

"Could you take the papers up there, please, and finish the form as instructed. Law is trying to dig out a damn chopping block but does hear the boy say, "Yeah, sure." and the scratch of chair legs along with shuffling papers.

Just as Law has finally found what he needed, right where it was supposed to be but that's not the point, he hears Mihawk approaching. Before he even makes it halfway to Law he's stopped. "Wait."

Law looks up on instinct. Mihawk's deep voice also attracts Zoro, who had finally almost been gone. "Don't start the next form until I am there. Simply file what we've completed."

"Yeah, okay."

"That will be all, Roronoa." Zoro actually has the nerve to roll his eyes before he turns to start leaving again. Not that he gets far. "Roronoa," his husband adds with another sigh. Frustrated still, annoyed and... endeared. Yes, damnit, Law knows Mihawk too well.. "It is the other door." Zoro's shoulders go very stiff. He huffs but says nothing, making a quick turn and marching out of their kitchen. At least.

Law slams the chopping board down on the counter so hard he's surprised neither of them breaks.

"Law.." Mihawk places a heavy hand on Law's shoulder which is quickly dismissed. He picks up a knife - perhaps not the best choice at the moment... For Mihawk - and starts chopping away at some peppers. They are nice and green and easy for him to slice apart. "Law... Darling," Mihawk tries again, this time not attempt to touch him. He is watching Law chop apart the pepper, which is good. One of them should probably be paying attention to the way he wielding a sharp blade around his fingers while exhausted and enraged. "Very well, I can see that you've come to certain conclusions, but let me assure you those assumption are entirely incorrect, likely the result of your long shifts and lack of sleep.

Law ends up embedding the knife in the board. He turns to Mihawk, an aura of pure darkness. Honestly, he loves the man, bit is this the time for one of his "be sensible, I'm right" speeches? Law glares up at him, temped just storm out only that would just make Mihawk feel more confirmed in his believe that Law is over reacting.

Instead, after a deep breath, Law starts in on him, his voice low and logical while still with an edge of danger. "I walked into our kitchen to find you leaning over some boy BARELY out of high school - hopefully! - whispering in his damn ear.... Don't think I don't remember you doing that to me. I believe you later admitted to loving being able to watch my face as you slowly worked me up into a frenzy. Was the boy getting hard for you? Or had you only just started?"

Law's voice is laced with some much bitterness and maybe... Maybe some heartbreak but Law is burying that deep right now. Yet Mihawk's face gives him nothing. His husband leans against the counter with his arms crossed, watching him go off on this rant with neutral and yet somehow analytical expression. That just drives Law temperature even further. Even more than Mihawk's utter lack of an answer.

"Your reaction?" Law's voice is raising with every word, furious that Mihawk is giving him so little when Law has every right to be mad. "Once I get you attention, at least. You're very first comment when I come home exhausted and stressed and find you with some green haired, rude little brat? Surprise that I'm home early."

"I apologize, Hawk-ya, that in interrupted your time with-

Mihawk pulls Law in for a kiss. It's not sensual or deep, but it's sincere. Which... Law can't even understand. It makes no sense. It makes Law want to cry and as that realizes comes Law realized he already has been.

Why is Mihawk doing this to him? Just tell him the truth.

When he pulls back, Mihawk appears at least somewhat contrite. Still, when he finally nods it feels like like an agreement and more like he's acquiescing. "Perhaps it would have given the circumstance to give you more time to adjust to this change, but let me assure you that Roronoa is only here in an official, business capacity. "

"And what's his business? Sucking my husband's cock?" Law bites back, no longer wanting Mihawk to try and disguise what is obvious, like he thinks Law is an idiot or, more likely, so overworked and so rarely home he simply would never notice the indiscretion and would be too exhausted to bother caring if he did.

Is that... Is that how Mihawk sees their relationship?

Mihawk reaches for him again but Law has had enough. He jerks away before Mihawk even gets close to touching him, eyes fire and challenges as he stares up at the older man. “Where did you pick him up? A damn kindergarten?”

“He’s an intern for RedHawk, as I explained earlier,” while Mihawk’s words are still rather simple, straight forward in many ways, his tone is patient. Like he’s dealing with a damn child. “And he is nineteen.” Well, he probably has practice since he’s sleeping with one. “Please, Law, you are clearly exhausted. Let me finish instructing Zoro on some final matters and we’ll both of us lay down. It’s been a hard week and-”

Oh, he’s sure his husband will instruct the boy on all sorts of things. Law swings around, hunger completely forgotten. “You’re right, Hawk-ya,” he spits the old nickname with a venom, storming from the kitchen, his hunger completely forgotten. “I do need rest. And frankly I think that is more likely to happen if I don’t have to share my bed with two other people.”

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