#I loved the books as well obviously but like half of my enjoyment came from there being short chapters

[idklackingimaginationapologies2]

i love you I love you I love writers that do short paragraphs in fanfic (I have eye problems and my eyes skip around so reading big paragraphs can be painful) and writers who do short chapters in books (I have no sense of time and it's nice to regularly have a built in break point, and it gives me a shot of dopamine to finish a chapter so I can trick myself into reading more) (reading is my favourite thing to do probably but my brain hates it for some reason so I have to trick it into doing it.....even though I really love doing it???)

[skeltnwrites]

The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / part one masterlist

part two - at the rec center's fall festival, you and steve finally make plans to hang out 11k

a/n - how did this end up twice as long as the first chapter this was supposed to be a short one!! general warnings/tags here

── .✦

Utah’s pretty this time of year. Fall is in full swing. The maple and cottonwood mellow into rich shades of orange, there is a constant crush of leaves underfoot, and the crisp scent of pine needles mingle with the breeze. Your neighbors go all out to decorate. Pumpkins are for sale on every corner and the apple orchards buzz with families for the harvest. This kind of weather has every brush of sunlight feeling like a hug you didn’t know you needed. 

The rec center hosts an annual fall festival, bringing hayrides, corn mazes, and costume contests. And though you wouldn’t normally volunteer on a Sunday, Steve’s hard to say no to. It’s not like he begged you or anything, a half-shrug and simple “If you want to” was enough convincing. 

You’d volunteer with or without Steve. You have the time and the goodwill and thus it’s a cork on the end of your monotonous work-week. But there’s no denying that Steve makes it a hell of a lot more enjoyable. He’s the sunrise after a long night, guiding you into the days ahead. And yeah, maybe you’re romanticizing too much. Too caught up in the way his tongue sticks out when he’s concentrating or how he mumbles to himself when he forgets you’re near. But working with him is delightful, nonetheless. 

You and Steve are friends now. Well, work friends. You’ve never actually hung out outside of the rec center but there isn’t a Friday that one of you doesn’t mention it while you eat lunch in his office. You’ve learned trivial little things about him, like his favorite brand of pen, the store he buys his groceries from, and how he likes his coffee– hot enough to burn, with as much sugar as he can get away with without attracting strange looks. You ask about Penelope often and he’s very open; eager to rant and rave about the latest details of their lives. She visits every now and then, usually too sick or naughty to be at school. So you’ve come to know her just as much. That she loves Barbies and Salt-N-Pepa and insects but not the furry ones. 

Being in each other’s lives is routine at this point– parking beside his car, leaving sticky notes on his desk, setting your bag in his office. It would be crazy to say you love him, you don’t, obviously, but you feel like you could. And you know you’d be devastated if he left the center. Your shift assignments are arranged so they almost always thread with his.

He’s always hated asking for help, but then you came, puttering into his office with a lovely smile and open arms and suddenly it’s not so bad. He’ll ask for your assistance on more projects than not: your advice, your creative eye, your hands to hang something that he most certainly could do alone. 

Like now, you trail only a few paces behind Steve, cradling a wicker basket full of decorations. He billows a tablecloth over the nearest picnic table, considering your dispute over the best holiday. 

“I dunno, I’m more of a Christmas guy,” Steve shrugs, smoothing out a ripple in the fabric. “The music is just inarguably better. You get to open presents and eat delicious food. Not really a contest in my book.” 

You hum, centering a plastic pumpkin. 

“Penelope is like the queen of Halloween, though.” The corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth. “This morning, she told me she wished she was born on Halloween so she could go trick-or-treating on her birthday.” 

You wear a similar expression, gaze flicking over to Penelope. She’s not far, crouched in a strip of dirt, parting a pile of leaves to search for ladybugs and other creatures. “I bet she’s excited for all that candy.” 

“That’s all she’d eat if I let her. I’ve already scheduled a dentist appointment for her in November– But, I’m just as bad, she gets her sweet tooth from me,” he admits. 

“Figured. The amount of Reese's wrappers I find in your trash.” 

He squeezes your shoulder playfully, not hard enough that you should need to squirm away but you do. “Whatever. Why are you going through my trash anyway, weirdo.” 

You click your tongue, “I wasn’t going through your trash! They are on the top where anyone could see.” 

“Mhmm, whatever you say… dumpster diver.” 

Joan, the youth counselor, whisks over to interrupt with arms full of mason jars before you can retort. Steve smothers his smirk with an answer to her question. Your tongue prods the inside of your cheek to prevent your own. 

It’s like this with Steve, now. Teasing and taunting each other like schoolchildren. A game of tug-of-war, where every knowing glance and light-hearted jab pulls the rope just a little tighter between you. It’s as thrilling as it is nerve-wracking. 

It’s not much later when guests filter into the festival. The earliest glow of sunset mists the courtyard in gold. There’s cider stations and pumpkin carving and a whole bunch of apple bobbers fighting to win a pumpkin pie. Monster Mash bleeds from several speakers lining the trail to the tented area you find yourself in. People dance and laugh and drink. It’s a very successful event for the rec center. 

Steve plops down on the bench across from you, Penelope at his hip. A silent, self-invitation he knows you won’t decline— you enjoy their company more than people-watching. He seems to find you no matter which way you drift, even through a sea of townsfolk. 

A big scoop of chili is spooned from his paper bowl into a second. “Blow on it,” Steve reminds, planting it in front of Penelope. 

She does blow on it, a spray of more spit than air that merits her a shoulder nudge to knock it off. 

Penelope simpers over her steaming food as Steve offers you an apologetic look. Last you saw her, she was waving her way up the stairs to the costume contest. She’s since been bundled up– a tiara traded for a knit beanie and the gown from her dress-up bin crammed underneath a thick sweater and spilling out the hem. 

The string lights bathe their faces in a white glow. It highlights the beauty mark on the slope of Penelope’s cheek, like a half of Steve’s pair in the same spot. It’s not often you get to just enjoy their company. No scrambling about deadlines or standards. It’s a calm you could get used to. But Steve’s always ten steps ahead, already plotting which crew needs the most tending to when he’s finished eating. He’s selfless like that. Your feet ache from running around, but Steve’s probably worse. 

“Penelope, is that what you’re wearing on Halloween?” You ask.

Her chin presses into the neckline of her sweater. “No,” she recalls, mouth full of sauce. “I’m being Dorothy.” 

Steve swipes a napkin across her lips before anything drips. 

“From The Wizard of Oz?” 

“Mhmm,” she grins, popping the spoon out of her mouth. 

“Very cool. Did you get your costume yet?” 

She nods, glancing at Steve, “Daddy made it.” 

Steve’s in his own little world, slurping his belly full of warm food and basking in the second of peace he‘s been given. But he blinks back into reality at your questioning stare, leaning in to hear you over the boisterous laughs of nearby people. 

You try to reel in your surprise, soften your features. “You made her costume?”

“Oh,” he waves a dismissive hand, “I just sewed a shirt to a dress. Nothing fancy.” 

“Still– that’s really cool, Steve.” 

He stirs his food, voice torn with guilt. “I dunno. It’s cheap.” 

“Costumes are better homemade. The ones in the stores are tacky. I bet it looks amazing.” 

Fragments of a smile find his lips, more a peace offering than a true one. 

“I painted my shoes red and I put so much glitter on them so they sparkle,” Penelope adds cheerfully.  

“You did?” 

She nods, shining with pride. 

“It’s been two weeks and I’m still finding glitter everywhere,” Steve comments, more amused than he lets on. He can’t be that mad when they’re little reminders of his favorite person in the world. 

“Are you dressing up?” You ask him. 

He huffs, side-eyeing Penelope. “Yes.” 

A glint forms in her eyes, a sly little smirk beneath. “Daddy is going to be the lion because he’s hairy.”

You laugh and Penelope joins you because Steve has a funny pouty face. 

He rolls his eyes. “Tell ‘em who’s your Toto?” 

“Cinderella!”

“No way!” You match her level of excitement. “Does she have a costume?” 

“No, but I have a basket for her to sit in.” 

You coo, “I bet Cinderella will love that.” 

Steve snorts because he knows you know Cinderella will in fact not love that. 

Cinderella is supposedly the grumpiest animal he’s ever met. She was a quick, unfortunately painful, lesson on boundaries for Penelope– not to pet certain areas or animals as a whole. Steve described her as an old, scraggly thing with a temper flaring unpredictably from one moment to the next. He wasn’t a cat person to begin with, growing up in a house with no animals probably started his revulsion to having fur on his clothes; but at two and a half, Penelope begged to feed the stray on their porch and she just kept coming back. 

Steve wanted a dog when he moved out, if anything at all; but in four years he’s learned more about sacrifice than any speech his parents tried to drill into his head. And Cinderella is practically Penelope’s best friend now. She sets aside birthday money for new cat toys– the crinkly ones are her favorite– and sneaks the cat through her bedroom window from time to time. She even cradles her like a baby, not without protest and the occasional scratch, of course, but Penelope knows the risk. 

“I told her Cinderella probably won’t want to come trick or treating but she can still take a picture with her at home.” 

“I told you she will want to go because there’s candy.” 

“Yes, but I told you cats can’t have candy,” Steve jabs her side lightly. 

Penelope only pouts. “That’s sad. I think she would like candy.” 

“It is,” he agrees, slotting a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. “But it makes them sick, remember? So we can’t share with Cinderella.” 

Her cheek melds with his sleeve, begrudgingly agreeing with a sigh. “Can I get my face painted?” 

Steve traces her line of sight to the ring of kids swarming the face painter. It’s not far. He can see well enough to recognize most of the children. Many are younger than Penelope too. 

But Steve hesitates, “Can you wait until I’m done eating? I’ll go with you.”

“Daddy,” she whines, pinching his arm hair. “You take forever.”

Penelope’s got magical little eyes. You don’t know how Steve ever says no. 

“I can take her,” you offer, stacking trash on your plate. “I’m done anyway.” 

“No, it’s okay.” He deflates with a sigh, curling into his ribs so he can see her face. “You can go by yourself–”

Her frown washes away just as fast as she peels herself off of his arm. 

“But! You have to come straight back when you’re done and you have to stay where I can see you. ‘Kay?” 

“‘Kay!” She beams, nearly tripping on her dress as she swings her legs over the bench and breaks into a run. 

Steve can’t hide the wobble in his smile as hard as he tries to be strong. Most of the hardships he’s faced as a parent are foreign to you, but clearly, this isn’t easy for him. 

“She’ll be fine,” you reassure with a ginger squeeze to his wrist. “We aren’t far if she needs something.” 

He nods, still locked in on Penelope. “I know, I know. I’m trying really hard not to be a helicopter parent as she gets older. It sucks though, feeling like she doesn’t need me anymore.” 

“Steve,” you deadpan, prying his attention back. “That’s… silly. You’re her dad, of course she still needs you. Maybe not all the time or as much but she’ll always need you.” 

“I dunno. I feel like she grows an inch every time I turn around. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss when she was in diapers. She’s cute now, but God was she cute then.” He chuckles to himself, eyes swinging from Penelope to you and then back. 

“I believe it,” you grin, admiring his girl. Her cheeks are red from the cold, like two tomatoes framing her lips. She might like to wear your jacket, you consider, but she’s so small, perhaps she’ll overheat from too many layers.

Penelope scrambles into the chair when it’s her turn, talking a mile a minute to the face painter. A funny wave of emotion roves over you. There’s affection and joy and and then something heavier and harder to describe. 

“I’ll have to show you her baby pictures sometime.” You hear the parting of a true smile. “There’s this one– it was her first birthday– I gave her a whole cake and she just demolished it. Had it in her hair and her eyelashes and in between her toes. She was so damn happy.” 

You exhale a happy hum, turning back to Steve. He’s propped on his elbows now, close enough to discern each eyelash from the next. It doesn’t startle you as much as it just scrapes the words right off your tongue. 

He’s reading you, churning, and chasing the right words all in between the blink of an eye. “We should hang out, you know? Like actually– We always talk about it but…” He shakes his head, trailing off. 

He’d let the words be carried with the wind if you wanted. It’s hard to imagine you’d say no, but people have surprised him in worse ways. Just when he thinks he knows someone, truly knows them, they cut him off like he’s no more than a dying branch. The ghosts of past someones and somethings still haunt him. It makes being so forward with you all the more difficult. 

You wear a whimsical sort of grin that you hide behind the brush of your hand, fighting your own flood of emotions. “Yeah– I mean, yeah. When?” 

Excitement flares across his features. “What are you doing on Halloween? You could come trick-or-treating with us?”

“Probably just home handing out candy– but Steve, I don’t want to intrude on Halloween. It sounds really special to Penelope.”

“You wouldn’t! No way, Penelope would be thrilled if you came. She talks about you a lot, you know?” 

“No she doesn’t,” you grin madly into your palm, peering over to her. Her face is dressed in a bright shade of orange now. With her pudgy cheeks, she reminds you of a little pumpkin. 

“She does! Swear it– on my life.” He’s not lying. He can’t hold your eyes when he lies, even about silly things. 

You huff, feeling foolishly giddy. “I don’t have time to get a costume, Steve.” 

“Nonsense. We can find you one. I’ll make it if I have to. The Tin Man and The Scarecrow are still up for grabs.” 

You swallow, washing the sudden dryness from your throat. Why does Steve have to be so damn cute and sweet all at once? “I dunno. Would it be fine if I didn’t dress up?” 

He chuckles dryly. “Penelope won’t have that, I can tell you that much. Plus if I’m going to be tortured into some itchy lion onesie I expect you’ll do the same.” He’s teasing, which is typical for you both, but it’s like you’ve forgotten how. 

“Steve.”

“Come on. If not for me, for Penelope. She’ll love it.” 

“Okay,” you settle. But you aren’t really settling. He could ask you to dress up on any other day of the year and you’d do it. 

Penelope races over– a tabby cat with long whiskers and a pastel pink nose– yelling, “Daddy, look!”

Steve beams at her like he stuck a lightbulb in his mouth, somehow brighter than before. “I see! You look so pretty, princess.” 

“I’m like Cinderella.”

“You are!” He pats her former seat beside him until she sits. 

Her long lashes flutter questioningly. 

“Nell, don’t you think we need, I dunno, like a Tinman or a Scarecrow to go with our costumes on Halloween?” 

She tracks his gaze over to you, adopting your smirk. “Are you coming trick-or-treating with us?” Her voice is uneven and bubbly with anticipation. 

“Do you want me to?” You ask genuinely. 

Penelope’s tongue wriggles in her mouth like she can’t find the proper words to express what she feels. But she nods in this bashful way against Steve’s shoulder that surprises you. 

“Are we being shy now?” Steve remarks, pulling her into his arms effortlessly to peck her hairline. 

“No,” she whines against his sweater, overjoyed to be smothered in love. Dry paint creases with her scrunched face. It’s an adorable sight. You keep wishing you had a camera on you because this is the kind of thing Steve probably puts in his photo albums. 

The moon climbs the sky quickly, draping the party in a silver veil. Many stay for the campfire and the promise of smores. But the later it gets, the crankier kids become for their parents. Penelope’s no exception, whining and clinging to Steve until he agrees to hold her. And he tries to work still, but his arms are starting to burn and stamping hayride tickets isn’t easy one-handed so he makes the hard choice to leave before cleanup. 

He feels awful, apologizing to several of his coworkers on the way out but most are too drunk on cider or too high on festive cheer to care. Besides, he’s paid a salary, doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He has no obligation to be here– you’d reminded him of that multiple times. But the festival does feel empty when they leave, even with half the town still around. 

ᯓ★

Steve lives in a quiet pocket outside of town on a curvy, secluded stretch of road. The directions he’d scrawled out on a receipt weren’t as useful as you’d hoped as one of the street names you were intended to turn on was smudged beyond legibility. But you made it, parked in front of a white house with a similarly white picket fence. Steve’s beamer is idled to your right. It’s strange seeing it somewhere that’s not the rec center. But it’s a familiar comfort between so much new. 

There’s a tire swing knotted to the oak tree in the yard, a collection of painted rocks in the pebble-lined path up to the house, and two carved pumpkins set outside the door, caving in on themselves but not yet rotting. A lot of love is shared here.  

Penelope answers the door when you knock. She’s half dressed– stockings hugging a pair of fleece leggings and a flowy pajama tank top. Her eyes outline your costume and light up with approval. 

You sport a flannel and denim overalls stuffed with prickly straw straight from the local farm, courtesy of Steve. But Penelope ogles your face paint more than anything– a stitched grin and two circles for blush. You hope it’s not scary looking. 

She doesn’t know how to let you inside– she’s not supposed to answer the door after all– so she hangs clumsily off the door handle until you ask, “Can I come in?” 

“Yes,” she teeters out of the way, closing the door behind you with a sweeping grin— the mischievous kind that makes you wonder what she’s up to.

The foyer is situated between the living room and kitchen, both of which are missing Steve. 

“Where’s your dad?” 

“Umm. Cleaning?” 

“Oh. Are you getting ready to go?”

“Yes, but I can’t find my shoes,” she makes a strangled face and shrugs with her entire wingspan.

“Do you want me to help you look?” 

She nods, “I think they’re in my closet.”

Penelope sprints up the stairs easily, leaning over the railing at the top until you hesitantly follow. You hope he won’t mind. You were technically let in. 

It reeks of chemicals upstairs. You stifle a cough and hope it’s Steve, not some science experiment in Penelope’s room. But you don’t worry long. The culprit swings around the corner, juggling several bottles of solutions and sprays. Steve would’ve barreled straight into you had you not thrust your arms out in defense, but still, all his things scatter across the floor. 

“Christ, you scared me.” He kneels, tucking a roll of paper towels against his chest. “Nell, you can’t answer the door without me.” 

“I looked in the window.”

You hand him a sanitizer and shimmy your hat back into place. It’s too big and far too floppy, sagging over your brows no matter how you situate it. Amusement draws his cheeks up as he realizes. You look ready to plop yourself in the middle of someone’s crops and he’s in a tee and jeans you might find him in any other day. His smiley-staring only makes you feel sillier. 

“The straw’s really a nice touch, huh?” Steve teases, picking a sandy stem from your collar with his free hand. He’s got that smirk you so often find on Penelope’s lips. 

You yank the strand from his grasp and poke the column of his throat with it. “I’m definitely more itchy than you’ll be.” 

His fingers encase the entirety of your fist like a shell. They’re knobby and mannish, stout against your own. But there’s a tenderness to his hold as he eases your fist away. You don’t push back, though you contemplate it. He’s never touched you for so long; he’s basically holding your hand. 

“Could’ve been the Tinman,” he says, releasing your fingers at your thigh. 

You suck in, like fuel for a reply, and exhale a breathy, nervous laugh. “And paint my entire body gray? No thanks.” 

He chuckles, eyes darting behind you. “Well, you look great. You like it, Nell?” 

You’d almost forgotten she was there. She’s quiet as a mouse when she wants to be. 

Penelope bobs her head behind you, patiently watching from the doorway to her room. “I have oh-ralls like that.” 

“You do,” Steve confirms, fidgeting with the nozzle on the disinfectant bottle. It reminds you of the smell. 

“You kill someone?” 

He stiffens. “What?” 

You flick the bottle of Windex, serious facade fading. “Smells like you’re trying to cover it up.” 

“Oh! No,” his shoulders soften, “Just a little spring cleaning… in fall.” 

You hum gaily. “I like your house.” 

“You do?” His voice is light, buoyant with relief. “I can give you a tour. A proper one.” 

“I would but I’ve promised a patient little lady I’d help her find her shoes first.”

Penelope beams when you glimpse at her. “I think they’re in my closet,” she shares with Steve. 

“I think so too,” he says, eyeing past her. “What happened to cleaning?” 

“I was but I had to find my costume first.” 

“It’ll be easier to find when your room’s clean.” He sends you a look, “Don’t let her trick you into cleaning for her. She’s sneaky.” Steve whispers the last part, loud and teasing. 

“I’m not sneaky!” 

“Mhmm. I’ll go get ready and then come help you, Nell.” 

“Then trick-or-treat?” 

“Yes,” he starts down the stairs, “Yell if you need me.” 

Penelope tows you into her room by the arm, unphased by the clinking of toys crammed behind the door. Anything in her way gets kicked or shoved aside without a second thought. It’s like her toy chest exploded, a kaleidoscope of pink and purple across the carpet. And no wonder it’s a mess; she starts chucking things out of her closet, adding to the pile spilling out like an avalanche—books, stuffed animals, barbie dolls, baby dolls, and so so many clothes. 

You squeeze by a play tent, scanning the floor. 

“They’re red and sparkly, ‘member?” Penelope calls from behind her closet doors. 

You tip a beanbag over with your foot, “I remember.” 

She babbles to herself as she looks, just like Steve does– little hums and scraps of thought that are hard to catch. It’s a funny thing, to see it translated from one human to another. 

It doesn’t take long to find the shoes, wedged underneath her bed with numerous other things. You go prone against the floor to dig them out and hold them up by the straps. “These it, Pen?” 

She gasps vibrantly. You wish you got up in time to see her face. 

“How did you know they were under there!” She shrieks, snatching them from you. 

“Just had a feeling,” you sit up properly, happily watching her slip the flats on. 

She practically twinkles, clicking her heels together like Dorothy. 

“They look stunning! You painted these?” 

“Yes,” she skips over to her dresser, shuffling through drawer after drawer. Anything folded surely isn’t anymore. 

“You’re a talented artist.” 

“I know. Daddy says.” Penelope yanks out a blue line of fabric. “My dress is so pretty. I’m going to be the prettiest Dorothy for Halloween.” 

“I know you will! You should give your dad a big hug for making such a pretty dress.” 

She buckles into the costume as fast as she can, patting the skirt down with a satisfied grin when it’s on. 

After several compliments and much debate, you’re able to convince her Dorothy would have a clean room. Penelope puts a few things away, but she’s easily distracted. And it’s hard to blame her with so many toys about. So you do most of the cleaning, but you’re happy to. It’ll make Steve happy– lest he finds out it was you– which makes you happy. 

The floor’s mostly cleared when Penelope decides Steve’s taking too long; it’s time for your house tour, with or without him. And when he doesn’t answer her shout it’s decidedly without him. She shows you downstairs first– the living room, the kitchen, the half bath, her favorite hiding spot underneath the stairs. All the while she explains her very detailed and strategic trick-or-treating plan. Staying out until midnight is the priority, she doesn’t seem to care if it’s past her bedtime, and filling several bags with candy is also high on the list. 

“And this is Daddy’s room.” She jerks the door knob several times before yelling, “Daddy!” 

“What?” Steve calls, muffled. 

“Let us in!”

“I can’t hear you– hold on!” 

Steve unlocks the door donning the promised lion onesie and a pair of sneakers. It’s ridiculous how handsome he looks even with a stupid fur collar and tail. 

“Cute,” is all you manage to say. He takes it as teasing, rolling his eyes, though you really mean it. 

“Can you help me? I can’t get my whiskers right.” He taps the cap of an eyeliner pen against his cheek where he’s drawn two lines. 

“Sure.” You take the stick and follow him through his room to the master ensuite. 

“Wait!” Penelope shouts and waves vaguely at the room. “This is Daddy’s room.”

You pause to look it over, jovially commenting, “Wow! Very nice.” 

And it is nice. There’s a rustic set of furniture striped in blue and green accents; paired well with the framed floral prints above his dresser. And the bed’s made, only slightly surprising, topped with a Care Bear’s quilt you assume is Penelope’s. 

In the bathroom, Steve leans against the counter, arms braced behind him on the sink rim. You shuffle in front of his legs, skimming knees accidentally. He has no abhorrence for physical touch, you know that for certain. He’s touchy with not just you, but everyone in the office. An arm around the shoulder, a pat on the back, a gentle squeeze to the arm– he gives these out like candy on Halloween. But even so, touching him isn’t always easy. It’s vulnerable, runs the risk of rejection. 

Steve smiles at you, ever-patient and encouraging when you stall awkwardly. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. Talking any louder feels illegal when he’s so close. You cup his jaw and steady your opposite hand against his cheek, picturing the line how you want it. 

But just when you press into his skin and flick the pen, Penelope slams a drawer shut, startling you enough to flinch. The ink slants all the way behind his ear like a jagged nail. 

You gasp and recoil, “Shit.” 

Penelope gasps twice as loud and Steve crumples into laughter, even more so when he turns to view the damage in the mirror. 

“Oops,” you chuckle nervously, thumbing at the black streak. “This washes off right?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve redone it like four times.” 

You douse your finger in water and work the pad across his happy cheek gently. 

He’s watching you. You don’t see, just feel it in the fringe of your peripherals. It’s not like he has many places to look when you’re a hair’s breadth from his nose. But he might as well press a magnifying glass against your face, point out every pore and blemish and hair you're insecure about. 

Your cheeks burn and the beginning prickles of sweat coat your upper lip. You brushed your teeth before you arrived, but how could you forget a mint? And what about an extra layer of deodorant? That wouldn’t have hurt. You glance at Steve anxiously and his eyes jump to Penelope. For once you’re grateful not to keep his attention. 

Penelope digs through his cabinet on a quest to find nothing in particular. 

You pull away to judge your first line as Steve opens his mouth. “Nell, go get your brush and hair ties.” 

The top half of her face pops up over the cupboard door like a puppet. “But I want my hair down.” 

“I still have to brush it. And I thought you wanted the bows?” 

She considers his words– her prior words– brows pinching before she shrugs, “Okay.” The cabinet door thuds against its hinges as it claps shut, and not a second later, Steve’s bedroom door slams as Penelope charges out. 

“You would not believe how often I tell this kid not to slam the doors,” he scoffs, though it’s devoid of any real anger. 

You take his chin again, packing away a grin. You have to focus. “Don’t move,” you prompt. 

He’s relaxed in your hold. Still as a stone, maybe apart from the slight tug of his lips when you resume drawing. 

“Tickles,” he murmurs when you lift the nib. 

You print another three to match the trio on his right. It’s not bad, but you wouldn’t say it’s good. The angles are skewed weird and one’s shorter than the rest. But if he wants them any better, you might not be the best person to ask. 

“How’s that?” You draw back, searching for any smudges. 

He spins, briefly inspecting his reflection before facing you again. “Perfect! Thank you!”

Perfect is definitely a stretch. 

Steve’s a perfectionist. You’ve seen it innumerably in the office. How he’ll spend hours revising something only to ruminate on an insignificant detail after. And with Penelope, every parenting decision is subject to endless second-guessing, as if her health and happiness hinges on the smallest nuances. 

But as much as he’s a perfectionist, Steve would never judge you in the same way he might himself. Your whiskers truly are perfect in his eyes, not for the shape or size, but because you drew them– wonky and all. 

The ink warps around his smile. You study his face under the guise of checking your work. Steve’s a handsome guy. An inviting kind of handsome, with shallow laugh lines and the start of stubble stippled across his jaw.  

“Wait,” you square his shoulders, brushing the nape of his neck to reach for his hood. The lion’s mane is laid gently over the top of his hair. 

“Now it’s perfect.” 

He smirks. “Sexy, huh?”

“Should leave this unzipped a little. The cougars will love that.” 

Steve laughs, harder than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s so contagious even Penelope joins your hysterics when she returns, though she hasn’t a clue what you’re laughing about. 

“What’s so funny?” Penelope lurches into his legs with a handful of hair things. 

“We just think my costume’s kinda silly. Here, baby.” Steve heaves her onto the counter and props her right in between the sinks. 

Her dress pours over her crossed legs like a layered cake, baby blue and white gingham. Steve really did a great job with the stitching; you can’t even tell it was done by hand. And Penelope hasn’t complained about the fit once so it must be comfortable too. 

“Face forward please,” Steve reminds gently for a third time when Penelope twists her neck to speak. 

Penelope frowns at his reflection. “You’re pulling too tight.”

“Sorry. You have to stop moving though.” 

There’s a mild curve to his lips. He’s not aggravated with her fidgeting, in fact, quite the opposite. Maybe because you’re around, he’s in too good of a mood to spoil with something as trivial as his daughter's hair. But regardless, it’s endearing as it is entertaining to care for Penelope. He loves being a dad, even when it’s frustrating. And you can see the love as he braids her hair– how he cards through knots from the ends up and slowly sections off pieces to tackle one at a time. 

“I’m not moving.” Her chin droops as she scratches the polish from her nails. 

Steve cups her jaw, steering it back up. “You are, monkey.” 

“Monkey?” She chortles, seeking your gaze in the mirror to see if you also find the nickname funny. 

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, seizing the rubber band from between his teeth. “Monkeys move a lot.” 

“Do they have tails?”

“Mhmm.”

“You have a tail 'cause you’re a lion.” 

Steve hums and bends back, evaluating his performance. “There. You look so gorgeous, Penelope.” 

And he really has done a great job, especially with all her wiggles. Steve takes a lot of pride in styling his hair– much of his confidence derives from it. And he tries to extend that care to Penelope; to teach her how gorgeous she is and that she deserves to be nurtured. 

Penelope shakes her head disapprovingly. “I’m Dorothy now, Dad.” 

“Oh, sorry.” Steve turns toward you instinctually, happy to catch your smile. 

“You look very very pretty, Miss Dorothy,” you correct. 

She slides off the counter, aided by Steve’s hand. “Can we go now?” 

Penelope waits patiently in the foyer for Steve to gather everything needed to leave. This lasts for all of about ten minutes before Penelope is halfway out the front door, too excited to wait any longer. 

“Wait, Nell!” Steve shouts from beside you in the kitchen. 

You’re choosing snacks and filling water bottles. Steve doesn’t really need to pack a bag for Penelope anymore, she’s a year and a half past diapers, but he likes to feel prepared. 

When Penelope doesn’t answer, he meets her on the porch to explain, “I’m almost done. And we still have to take pictures.” 

“I don’t wanna. I’m ready to leave.” 

“Well, we aren’t leaving until I get a picture of Dorothy.” 

She sighs, lugging herself back inside like she’s got bricks for shoes. “What about Cinderella?” 

“Go and look– get the treats.” 

She scrambles into the kitchen, snagging a jar of cat treats from the counter quickly. You shoulder the backpack and follow her out. Steve joins you not long after, two flashlights and several glowsticks in hand. 

“No Cinderella?” Steve asks, unzipping the bag pressed to your back to stock with more things. 

“No,” Penelope pouts, vigorously shaking the jar in the air. “How can I be Dorothy without Toto.” 

He yanks the zipper back up, then pats her head, “Keep calling. Where’s your jacket?”

“I don’t need it.”

“You will. It’s gonna get cold later. When it’s dark.” 

“It’ll mess up my costume. Dorothy doesn’t wear one.” 

“Let's bring it, just in case. I’ll carry it.” 

Steve jogs back inside, coming out this time with a camera around his neck, a jacket over his shoulder, and a plushie in hand. 

“Here,” he sets a blue stuffed dog on Penelope’s lap. “Backup Toto.” 

Penelope glares up at him, insulted. “This isn’t Toto.” 

“I know. But if we wait for Cinderella we might not have time for trick-or-treating. Why don’t we bring the treats? See if she’s started without us?” 

Penelope deflates, stuffing the dog in her wicker basket. 

“Can I take your picture now?”

“Why, Daddy?” 

“So I can remember how beautiful you look tonight.” 

A petulant bow creases her lips as she peers up. Round, sullen eyes connect with his. 

Steve squats in front of her, taking her much smaller free hand in his. “I know you’re sad about Cinderella but she’d still want you to have fun, right? And she might show up later. I just want to get a picture now so I don’t forget.” 

Penelope nods and Steve kisses her forehead, standing and backing up a few paces. 

“Smile, baby. Please?” He blinks at her through the viewfinder. 

She offers a strangled face�� more of a toothy open mouth than a smile; not even close to wide enough to round her cheeks or crescent her eyes like the real deal. But it’s funny and just as cute. Steve snaps a photo and the expression drains from her face as fast as the camera’s flash.

You wander behind Steve and her eyes flick to you. You try funny faces first, frowning so deep your jaw aches, pulling the tip of your nose up like a pigs, winking terribly, but none of it works. Your fingers arch into bunny ears behind Steve’s hair and you stick your tongue out at the back of his head, but still, no dice. 

You have a really awful idea. You’re pretty sure you might die of embarrassment. But it’s worth it to get Penelope to smile. 

“Hey, Penelope? Remember when you told me dinosaurs are silly?” 

She nods. 

“Well, I have a really good dinosaur impression. Can I show you?” 

She nods again, equally jaded. 

You take a deep breath and shake your head, mentally preparing yourself and simultaneously erasing Steve from existence for the moment. A feral screech erupts from the back of your throat, the kind of sound you didn’t know for sure you could make. 

Steve buckles in his crouch, barely catching himself on the pavement with his free hand. A chorus of emotions ripple his features. He’s shocked and then amused and finally focused on capturing the picture, but what resonates the most is a fondness for you. 

You cup a hand over your mouth, rendering a string of different noises, inspired by several animals because what the hell does a dinosaur sound like anyway? You haven’t the faintest clue at the moment.   

Penelope fuses her lips together, unbreaking. 

“Come on Nell, I see that smile,” Steve rallies. 

But she doesn’t give up easy. She’s like Steve in that way. 

As a last resort, you press your lips to your mouth, blowing a raspberry and screwing your face in disgust. “Oh my God, Steve! Did you just fart?” 

He gapes at you, then Penelope, tickled and tongue-tied for comebacks. He can’t think straight, not when you’re making a delightful fool out of yourself, on his behalf, especially. As far as he’s concerned, Penelope’s smiling now or at least failing awfully at hiding it. So he takes several photos of her as she unravels into a giggly heap on the driveway. 

Certainly one of them is photo-album-worthy, but you continue your stunts anyway. “Goodness, what did you eat today?” You backpedal a few steps, fanning the surrounding air, partially to hide your own laugh. “Penelope do you smell that?” 

“Ew! Daddy!” 

You aren’t sure if Penelope actually believes you or if she just wants to join the fun but either way, she’s convincing. 

“I didn’t do it!” Steve defends, dropping the camera on its sling and raising his hands in surrender. “I think it was Penelope this whole time.” 

You gasp. “Penelope!” 

“I didn’t!” She cries, shaking her head aggressively. “I promise, I didn’t!” 

“I dunno. The closer I get the more stinky it smells.” Steve slinks up to her with outstretched hands that threaten tickles. 

She screams when he snatches her up, swearing up and down, “I didn’t, Daddy!” 

He’s well-practiced at being the tickle monster; knows every sensitive strip of skin to target. She was doomed from the start. Giggles spill out in jagged layers punctuated with gasps of air. Steve tickles her all the way down the driveway to the car, out of breath himself by the time he sets her on the trunk. 

Penelope deliriously eyes his hands where they rest on the beamer. 

“You ready to go trick-or-treating, Little Miss Dorothy?” You ask. 

She nods, dimples deepening with mirth.

“Here. Will you start it?” Steve fishes his keys out of his pocket and tosses them to you. “Come on, pretty girl.” 

She slides into her car seat happily, bouncing with excitement as he buckles her in. Steve’s told you before it’s not always so easy. 

“I really didn’t fart,” Penelope says. 

He chuckles, sewing a kiss to her cheek, “I know, baby. We’re just kidding.” 

Steve settles into the driver’s seat, depositing the stack of developed polaroids in your lap. You shuffle through as he backs out, flashing him your favorites; the best is one where she’s planted a hand on her hip and is rolling her eyes. You adore this little drama queen more and more every day. 

The drive’s only a few minutes, just to a denser part of the neighborhood to avoid long stretches with no houses. Steve parks against an empty grass lot behind another car. This area’s already bustling with kids which adds to Penelope’s anticipation. 

“Daddy, look– it’s Minnie Mouse!” 

Steve inspects the crowd through the window. “Yeah, you remember when you were Minnie Mouse?” 

“I was?” 

“Mhmm. You had ears and I painted your face. You were little.” He unbuckles, grabbing the backpack stashed at your feet. 

“Oh. Am I still little?” 

He pauses to melt, just to himself and only a bit. It’s too early to be sentimental– a long night of fun awaits. Steve cranes over his seat to see her face. “Yes, you’re still little. But you’re growing a lot. I think you might be as tall as me, one day.” 

“Nooo,” she giggles, waving her foot at him. 

“I dunno,” he sing-songs back, squeezing her shoe before turning back around. 

Steve distributes a handful of glowsticks, shoving a few extra in Penelope’s basket. You guys start down the block as the sun sinks below the treeline, more than enough time to complete Penelope’s plan which she reminds you of. She takes Steve’s hand, then yours, and it strikes you suddenly how much you appear as a family to outsiders. It’s not an unwelcome feeling, just a strange one. 

At the first house, Penelope knocks hard and declares to the elderly woman who answers, “Trick or treat!” She repeats it, insisting with wide eyes that she deserves two pieces of candy for her double effort. And the woman can’t resist her charm, obliging with a handful of pieces. Steve jokes it off, calls her a bargainer, but you gawk at the interaction. 

At the second house, she points to you and Steve, arguing you deserve candy too since you’re both in costume. And it works, scoring you each a piece that ends up in her tote anyway. By the third, you can’t keep a straight face, her antics are hilariously cute and you compliment Steve for raising such a little mastermind. 

You fall into a routine steadily, loafing along the road with Steve while Penelope trots up to each house. 

“Last year she was Snow White and the year before a cat,” Steve explains when you ask. 

“She likes princesses’.” 

“Less so now but yeah. She used to say she wanted to be a princess when she grew up.” 

“Can’t blame her.” You watch her fondly from afar. She picks a piece of candy off the ground and debates before tossing it in with the others. “What does she wanna be now?” 

“Changes all the time. Last it was a detective.” He beckons Penelope over. “Nell, what do you want to be when you grow up?” 

She fiddles with her basket handle. You’ve done two streets and it’s almost full. You're starting to think you’ll have to buy a pillowcase off of someone.

“Umm… Can I be a trick-or-treater?” 

“What!” Steve flips her braid over her shoulder, “That’s just for one day, goofball.” 

“Well… then,” she hums, squinting at the surrounding swarm of characters and creatures. “Maybe a pirate?” 

You and Steve share a look of amusement. You do that a lot now. It’s instinctual. Finding each other's eyes, even in a room full of people it’s easy. Sometimes there’s just too much joy not to share. 

“Daddy, how many houses are left?” 

“There’s quite a few on this street. You tired?” 

“No. Can I see? I want to count.” 

She doesn’t seem tired to you but Steve’s able to read her with the tiniest details. It’s like he’s got superpowers sometimes– dad superpowers. But maybe he’s just guessing, it’s getting closer to bedtime.

Steve boosts her onto his shoulders with a hefty groan about “getting old” which you bicker over because he’s only twenty-six. 

Penelope counts eleven houses, eight with lights on, but buzzes about a particular home illuminated with rainbow LEDs and a giant spider. And it’s even cooler than she described up close, mansion-like, decked out with spotlights and decorations taller than you and Steve combined.

A motionless clown holds a bloody bucket of candy outside. Their decorations are so extravagant, it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s fake. But you’re pretty sure the clown just blinked and you make sure Steve’s aware of that, not that he was letting Penelope go alone anyway. 

Steve scoops Penelope up before she gets very far up the driveway despite her complaints. 

“I’m not scared, Daddy,” she assures. And there’s nothing that tells you she is– she’s just as cheery and bright-eyed as before. 

“I know, princess.” He rubs her arm, scanning for other statues with the potential to come alive. “I’m kinda scared, though.” 

She tips her head at him, puzzled because it’s always the other way around. But her arms coil around his neck, a loving press of affection that she learned from him. 

And whether he’s actually afraid to be jumpscared or just subconsciously ingraining in her that it’s okay if she is, you aren’t really sure. Probably both, and either way, it warms your insides. 

The clown cocks its head slowly when Penelope reaches in the bowl. 

She cocks her head back, innocently amused. “Trick-or-treat?” 

The clown nods, pushing the bowl toward her. 

Steve sags just a hair but remains very much on high alert. 

You mouth your appreciation— “Thanks.” Thanks for not scaring my coworker-friends-child who I’ve grown really fond of and would hate to see cry. 

“Daddy, can we go in there?” Penelope points to a tunnel opening, fringed with black streamers and flashing lights– some sort of haunted house walk-through that wraps around the home. 

“No, baby. That’s for big kids.” 

She spots a group of teenagers exit the other side, screaming, laughing, and doubling over each other into the grass. 

“I really wanna go– please, I’ll be so brave. I’m not even scared,” she pleads, flashing him a wobbly frown. 

But there’s no expression she could pull right now that would change his mind, not when he hears a chainsaw buzzing inside. She could throw herself on the ground and kick and cry and he’d still refuse. He knows enough kids that have been traumatized by horror-movie-type creatures and characters; he’ll be damned if his daughter becomes one of them. 

Penelope sulks for a few houses but she has loads more candy to collect and decides not to waste her time for too long. 

“Can you hold this?” She thrusts her basket toward Steve. It’s overflowing at this point; you’ve all started cramming candy in your pockets, hoping it’s cold enough outside that nothing melts. Steve’s been beating himself up for three blocks for forgetting the backpack in the car. 

“Sure,” he says, retracting his hand from his pocket.

But before he takes it, you joke, “Better keep an eye on him. He might eat some when you’re not lookin’.”

Penelope studies him for a long moment before shifting the bag toward you. 

“Penelope! You don’t really believe that do you?” He scoffs, breathily laughing.

You cackle as she shrugs and sprints to the next house. 

Steve bumps your shoulder, snaking a hand in the basket to steal a pack of M&Ms off the top. “Blowin’ my whole operation.” 

“Steve,” you scold and bump him back. “Don’t get me in trouble.” 

“She won’t notice.” He waves you off, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. “But if she does I’m saying it was you.” 

You whack his arm, glowing bright as the moon, “Asshole.” 

Penelope doesn’t complain about her feet aching once the whole night and you know they probably do because yours started hurting forever ago. Surely she gets some kid-sized Oscar for that. And Steve being the great dad he is offers to carry her on the way back to the car anyway. 

“Daddy?” 

Steve hums, hoisting her up where she slips. 

“Can we go trick or treating tomorrow?”

He glances at you, confirming you also hear this cuteness. “No, baby. Tomorrow’s not Halloween.”

“I know, but we should still go. I bet lots of people still have candy. Like, leftovers.” She yawns into his shoulder where his fur hood has been tugged down to warm his neck and double as a makeshift pillow. 

“Don’t you have enough candy?”

“No. I need more Reese’s for you.”

“You’re gonna give them to me?”

“Only some. I like them too.” 

“That’s kind of you.” 

Her eyes are half-lidded and struggling, but she’s still awake as Steve stows her into her car seat. She chatters sluggishly to keep herself up and you and Steve entertain it; it’ll make bedtime easier if she doesn’t fall asleep in the car. Perhaps handing her a pack of Smarties was overkill because apparently, it has enough sugar to wire her longer than the five-minute drive home. 

No slower than Steve can lock the front door, Penelope dumps the contents of her bag on the floor. A bouquet of candy wrappers, big and small, enough to last her months if she’s patient. 

“You can have five more pieces tonight.” 

Penelope smirks at Steve before he’s even finished. “Ten?” 

“Six. But you have to brush your teeth for twice as long.” Before she can rebuttal he shakes his head. “Final offer.” 

“Fine,” she huffs, combing through her pile. She sorts them into categories while Steve prepares her bath. It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown is already on– Steve has a bad habit of forgetting to turn the TV off when he leaves– but you find the remote when Penelope asks you to turn the volume up. 

“You can have these,” she announces, pushing a chunk of her goodies toward you. It’s mostly things she doesn’t like: twizzlers and dark chocolate and anything with peanuts. But she did sneak in one of your favorites you’d mentioned earlier that night. She really is a sweetheart. 

“Thank you, Penelope. That’s very nice of you.” 

“These are for Daddy,” she points to a second pile, smacking loudly on the gummy bear she just decapitated. “He loves chocolate but he got a cavity once because he ate too much.” 

“Are you talking about me?” Steve hollers, clambering down the stairs two at a time. 

“No?” Penelope giggles. 

His hands snap to his hips once he treks into the living room. “Alright, it’s bath time then bedtime Miss Dorothy.”

Penelope looks utterly betrayed. She’s only eaten three things and– “It’s not even late yet,” she whines. 

He pretends to check his watch, “It is.” 

It’s not but she can’t tell time yet. 

“Can we watch Oz, Daddy, please? There’s no school tomorrow, ‘member?”

“We watched it last night, peanut. Why don’t we watch a Halloween movie?” 

Peanut, pumpkin, princess, he calls her all sorts of cute things. Is it wrong to wish he called you cute things too? 

“I wanna watch Oz. I’m Dorothy so we have to.” She drags out the last syllable until she runs out of breath. 

Penelope’s over-tired. Delirious and whiny and easily hysterical when she doesn’t get her way. And it’s not that Steve thinks he should give in when she’s like this, he’s just tired too. And you’re here and it’s the weekend so what will one movie really do? He can guarantee she’ll fall asleep during it anyway. 

“Okay. Only if you’re super-duper fast in the bath.”

She shouts and whizzes upstairs. 

Steve diverts his attention to you, “You wanna stay? I can make popcorn.” 

Of course, you’d love to stay, and not just for the promise of popcorn, but you’re afraid if you do, you’ll never want to leave. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He makes a face– a ridiculously lovely one. “Go sit. We’ll be quick.” 

They aren’t quick but there are photo albums on the coffee table that you’re happy to look through in the meantime. You flick through beats of their life like stills of a movie. There are baby photos, school pictures, movie stubs, plane tickets, and several people you don’t know the names of. It’s weird– getting snippets of things about them you had no idea of. You’re filling the gaps as you go. 

Penelope returns first, frolicking her way to the entertainment center in fresh pajamas. She’s on a mission by the looks of it, making a mess of the VHS collection in the cabinet. By the time Steve arrives, most of the films are splayed across the carpet. 

“Oz is already in, silly goose. We watched it yesterday remember?” 

Penelope drops the tape in her hands, “Oh.” 

Steve hunches over her, slotting the films away one by one. She doesn’t help much, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Penelope clambers onto the couch beside you and Steve beside her. It’s a long sectional, enough room for several others. But Penelope scoots in right beside you so you're hip to hip. And Steve makes himself comfortable more in the middle cushion than the farthest. 

His onesie has been traded for sweats and his whiskers scrubbed away– though a faded, gray smear crosses his jawline. You consider telling him, or licking your thumb and scratching it away yourself, but it makes you feel less weird to be the only one still in costume so you let it stay. 

“I like these,” you tug the cotton pant leg of Penelope’s outfit. It’s a matching set, frilly and plaid with a black cat stamped to the torso.

She tucks her lower lip away sheepishly and pushes her crown into your shoulder. Her hair's damp, soaking your sleeve cold, but you fawn at the affection more than anything. 

“Did you find that picture? From her first birthday? I think it’s in there.” Steve gestures toward the closed album in your lap with the remote but remains glued to the TV. 

“No, I didn’t finish looking.”

“I wanna see,” Penelope arches over your legs, prying the book open. 

Steve rewinds the film to the start and pauses it so he can look too. 

You thumb the plastic sheet over a recent image of Penelope scrunching her nose at the camera, a riot of stickers across her face. 

“RoRo!” She taps the photo beside it. It’s a haphazard blur, most likely captured by Penelope; you make out the shape of Steve first, then the less angular, slightly shorter person– a woman, RoRo. You think Penelope’s mentioned her before but nothing about the picture rings any bells. 

“Mhmm. That’s Robin. Remember this was at the airport?” 

“Is that when we got pizza?” 

“Yeah!” Steve rubs her arm. “You have a good memory.”  

You turn the page, revealing a set of grainy, blue-tinted photos from the same roll of film. Steve looks young for his age now, but he looked like a baby then. Strangely though when there’s an actual infant in his arms. He was thinner then but even softer in the face. Not unhappy, per se, but maybe missing a lightness he has now.  

“This was on my twenty-third birthday,” he explains. “Look how little you were!”

“Did I eat cake?” 

“No, you were too young, baby.” He chuckles, pointing to another photo. “You tried a banana for the first time in this one.”

“I like bananas.”

“You didn’t used to.” 

Steve and Penelope share slices of their pasts fondly. You study the photos, compare these reflections to the people you find yourself next to. There’s an unexpected pinch in your chest– not getting the chance to know these versions of them, it makes you sad. But it’s a happy sort of sad. You’re grateful to know them now. 

Penelope begs to flip through another album but Steve decides it’ll be too late to finish The Wizard of Oz if they do. His true reluctance stems from how emotional the first one made him– though you’ll pretend not to notice for his sake. 

Steve bets Penelope an extra Reeses that she’ll fall asleep by the time Dorothy meets the scarecrow. It’s unfair, really. You tell Penelope not to pinky promise it but she does. And she loses awfully, yawning within five minutes and startling herself awake within ten. You scoff when Steve starts carding through her hair– her guaranteed snooze switch. It’s evil and you tell him so. So of course, that finishes her off long before Scarecrow makes an appearance; she curls into Steve’s side and digs a heel into yours. Poor girl never stood a chance. 

“She had a lot of fun tonight,” Steve utters. It’s alarming at first, how his voice eclipses the TV like there isn’t a child snoring against his stomach. But she doesn’t stir. He knows she won’t. 

“Did you?” You ask, skating between a whisper and not. 

“Very much. You?” 

“Mhmm. Loads,” you answer without hesitation. It’s possibly the easiest question anyone’s ever asked you. “I think Penelope’s right.”

He quirks an eyebrow against the front of the couch. His cheek is sinking further into the cotton like he might fall asleep. 

“We should go trick-or-treating tomorrow too.” 

His lips wane into a soft smile. If he wasn’t so drained he might laugh too. “What should we be? Penelope has a strict no-repeat costume rule.” 

You hum, scraping your memory for the best costumes you’d seen. There were Power Rangers and Ghostbusters and several Batmen with their Catwomen. But the image of one young family sticks out the most in your mind. A young pair of parents with their son and daughter decked in moody black and white. 

“Addams family?” 

“Who’s who?” 

“She’s Wednesday. Obviously.”

Steve chuckles, accidentally too loud and Penelope twitches against his thigh. He draws her against his chest readily and strokes her spine with the back of his hand. “Obviously,” he whispers. 

“You’re Morticia and I’m Gomez, though.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s tall and pretty. Strong jawline, kinda sassy. I think you’ll make it work.” 

You’re flirting. You know you are as soon as you say it. And you don’t mean to, it just happens; the words come intuitively as blinking. Your brain does all sorts of crazy things around Steve. 

“You think I’m pretty?” He’s smiling hard. You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. 

“Pretty sassy, yeah,” you deflect. It’s a safer truth than admitting you do think he’s pretty. 

He rolls his eyes. “My mom says Nell gets her attitude from me. Says it’s payback for how I was as a child.” 

You gawk emphatically. “Were you a bad kid Steve Harrington?”

“I wasn’t bad– just needed attention I think.” 

You hum. It’s a little surprising since you know Steve’s an only child to wealthier parents. You’d pegged him to be spoiled in both money and attention.

“Are you close with your parents?”

He shakes his head, “Not really. Talk every now and then.”

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I came to terms with it a while ago. Even more after she was born.” He skims his lips against Penelope’s head. “I can’t imagine not being in her life. You know, not really knowing her? Not knowing her favorite things or when she’s hurting or what she’s up to every second of the day. I don’t think that’ll ever change.”  

“She’ll be so grateful to have that kind of relationship when she’s older.” 

“Yeah, maybe. Like way older.” His shoulders droop as he sighs, “She already thinks I’m smothering her. Wouldn’t hold my hand yesterday because she’s ‘too big’ she said.” 

“Already?” You laugh.

“I know!” He groans. “I almost cried.” 

“She loves you. Kids just show it in strange ways.” 

“Yeah… She forced me to hold a slug last week.” 

“You held it?” 

“I had to! She was so excited to give it to me.”

“Aww. You’re a good dad.” 

Steve's eyes caper down and his cheeks pinken. “I’m trying to be.” 

Apart from the movie and an occasional sleep sigh from Penelope, silence swallows the room. It’s a comfortable silence; the kind you only get around people you’ve known forever; It feels like you’ve known Steve your entire life. You have to remind yourself it’s only been a few months. Remind yourself this is the first time you’ve ever even hung out. 

You find yourself drifting to the future. A future, with Steve and Penelope. Vacations and school events and hiking trips and movie nights and so much more. It’s silly. It makes your heart want to rip itself from your chest. 

Steve clears his throat. Your fantasy is only partially dissolved. “I’m gonna take her upstairs. Put her to bed.” 

You lean forward and press into your knees, gearing to stand. “Okay. I should get going. It’s late.” 

“Stay for a minute. I’ll walk you out.”

You have no reason to decline but even if you did, you aren’t sure you would be able to. Saying no to Steve is as hard as saying no to Penelope. They have the same puppy-dog eyes– brown and soft as sun-baked clay. That must be it. 

Steve strains to stand with the added weight. He’s strong but Penelope’s four now and having growth spurts like there’s a race to be the tallest kid in school. She clings to him instinctually, slotting her face into his neck like it was sculpted specifically to be her pillow. Her gangly legs sway against his thighs as he slowly climbs the stairs and disappears onto the landing.  

You don’t notice Steve’s return. He’s much quieter than before, taking softer steps and more calculated movements. He doesn’t have the buffer of his body heat to soothe Penelope back to sleep if she wakes. The palm on your shoulder startles you. 

He whispers an apology from behind the couch, voice sweet and buttery as caramel. You let him guide you the short distance to the front door– expecting it to end there– but he presses into a pair of laced sneakers thrown beside the entry table. 

The night’s chill is jolting, even in your coat. It’s easy to forget the months are slipping into winter when Steve’s around. He radiates warmth, not just in sun-kissed skin and honeyed eyes, but in his tone and his touches and every aspect of his spirit. And it bleeds like a fire. Brushes your cheeks like flames and stirs perpetually in your belly like magma. 

He walks you the entire length of his driveway to your car. Probably would’ve opened the door for you if you didn’t beat him to it. 

“Thank you for inviting me Steve,” you say, lingering in the threshold of your open door. 

“Thank you for coming. I’m really happy you came. So is Penelope.” 

“As much as I am looking forward to The Addams Family next year, we should plan something… maybe a little sooner?” 

“Mmm. Let me check my schedule first,” he teases, rapping his fingers against the roof of your car. 

“Whatever, boss-man.”

You still don’t get in. There’s a stretch of silence, not awkward, just a placeholder for when the right words come. And they don’t. Not tonight anyway. You could hug him? Peck his cheek? Pat his back as he might yours? 

You settle for a safe and simple tight-lipped smile. He appreciates it just the same. 

“See you Friday?” He asks. 

“See you then.” 

Steve guides the door closed after you settle in. He waits until your taillights have completely fizzled out in the shadows of his street to stroll back up to his house. 

He thinks of you as he locks the front door and again as he finds your hat on the sectional and a third time as he slips under his sheets. Steve isn’t sure what to do. He feels sick. His heart is hammering and his gut twists itself in knots like it does when he’s afraid. He hasn’t quite figured out what about you is so scary but how can he possibly wait until Friday to find out? 

[dnpbeats]

OKAY i need to speak on the interactive christmas adventure and how it's a full circle moment, but at the same time so indicative of what dan and phil have created together (retroactively saying, strap in because this got long)

so, to begin with, i can't imagine how it must have been for dan to be making that video with phil. six months prior dan was a fan among many, commenting on phil's videos and tweeting at him. and then this interactive space adventure drops on his birthday. and dan loves it so much he comments on every single path! and tweets phil about how much he loves it!! (okay not the point of this post but i also just need to sneak this in: i just know deep down part of dan felt so special that this was posted on his birthday. and the fact that phil used a song from ff7 and dan commented on it... anyway!) so, needless to say, dan was really into this interactive adventure thing.

so then we all know what happens after that, but fast forward to december. dan, who has been talking with phil for a few months now, who has known him in real life for barley over two, is not just with phil but is collaborating with him. and they're making something that, honestly, for the time was a pretty big production! it's obvious when you watch it that they've sunk so much time into it. there are parts when they talk in unison so you can just imagine them sitting there with a little script practicing it 😭 so think about what a full circle moment it is, that the first phil project that dan profusely expressed his enjoyment of was an interactive adventure, and here he is half a year later making that very same thing with phil!! and also, the fact that it was truly a joint project, even though it was going on phil's channel. in the last scene of the adventure, dan sacrifices himself.

dan: i have to sacrifice myself phil: no dan, please don't! there must be another way dan: but phil, this is not my channel, i'm not even meant to be here phil: don't say that, dan, think about what you're doing

and like, yes obviously this is scripted! but even in the script, when dan says "this isn't my channel," phil says "don't say that." because this was 100% a joint effort. a year and a half later dan stated it was the best thing he's contributed to the internet. idk i just love the fact that one of the things dan really appreciated about phil early on was his interactive adventure, and then six months later they got to make one together, and dan obviously has a very soft spot for it :,)

okay so that's how it came full circle for dan in 2009. but secondarily i want to talk about the fact that i truly think the interactive christmas adventure is the cornerstone of everything dan and phil have accomplished together. "but emma, what about pinof?!" okay yes. pinof my beloved... but also, at the end of the day, pinof was basically just dan and phil shooting the breeze. don't get me wrong, it is foundational as well! the fact that it got so popular really highlights that dan and phil's natural chemistry is a big part of them being a duo and their popularity. and i love a good video that's just dan and phil riffing off of each other.

however, dan and phil have done SO MUCH with their careers that is so much more than just their base level chemistry. SAP, the radio show, books, TWO WORLD TOURS, movies of said tours. because besides the fact that they have a dynamic that's enjoyable to watch, they also create so well together. even their solo things, we know they help each other behind the scenes. they just get each other creatively. but aside from that, all of the aforementioned things they've accomplished together really paved a way for other people in the industry!! other creators (vlog brothers iirc?) have talked about the fact that tatinof was the first Big Youtube Tour and the fact that it was so successful meant that other creators were able to do the same.

dan and phil as people aside, i don't think there will ever be another professional duo like dan and phil. like they ARE the blueprint. and i think that's because they care so much about putting out content that they're proud of, but also because they enjoy what they do. the reason why the interactive christmas adventure was so great was because they put in a lot of effort, but also bc you can tell that they were having so much fun making it. at the end of the day it was just two boys making something together because they could! and they wanted to! and i think their mentality for creating things today is still the same. so yeah, i think the interactive christmas adventure is so so important in terms of d&p as a creative duo. it's the first project in a long long list of amazing things dan and phil have created together, when no one else was doing what they were doing. and the fact that almost 15 years later they're still here, making content together, having a whole career together... oh yeah and also a whole life!! just absolutely wild, and i'm so grateful we're all here to see it

[goosefeather]

finished riverstar's home which is uhh the first super edition i actually finished since graystripe's vow?? i wanna say??

anway! final review: not enough death!!!

(actual, long review under the cut)

riverstar's home is Good. granted i had no expectations for it and kind of forgot it was a thing until it came out. but for a super edition that most people were like "huh? riverstar? really?" it really knocked it out of the park

and i just really think that the erins had a theme in mind (finding home and what that means to our guy riverstar) and the text actually supports that. and i know, most books do this and it is something we all had to learn in high school english. however, warriors has a thing where the messaging is telling us one thing but the actual text is saying something completely different (think of like... everything to do with bramblestar)

that being said, i liked reading about a young riverstar (yes, my character tag for him is river ripple and i prefer that but y'know riverstar is shorter) and his struggle to find a place in the forest territory. it's actually a really good coming of age story that really resonates with anyone who has like moved out of their hometown and has felt incredibly isolated because of that (like me!)

also as a dotc Enjoyer i really liked seeing the events from riverstar's perspective. unlike uhh the last two super editions where the new viewpoint didn't add anything (or it retconned something to make it worse!) or added in things that were just kinda... bad (still dont like brushpaw), riverstar was just enough of an enigma that it worked. like from gray wing's pov, riverstar is an Established Cat on the river and he plays it well. but in actuality he's just a lonely guy trying desperately to maintain his friendships while trying to carve out some space for himself. it's interesting and fun and even the one eye and slash bits that i didn't care for in dotc were fun to read about from his pov

unfortunately, this is dotc so the last half Drags. like it makes sense, obviously, after riverstar feels settled into his life and home and new role as leader, someone from his past comes back and makes him question all of it. love it, really. the problem is once they leave and make it a journey! idk what it is but the minute these cats start wandering off territory it turns into a snoozefest. tell me one book where a journey to some place was Fun to Read and you cant say TNP cuz we both know it wasnt

also, im so sorry, i know we love women here and we have to cuz the erins don't but i dont like finch. like the most she shows up to help with fighting slash's rogues and riverstar was like "she was feisty!" or whatever i knew it was So Over. im sick of this thing where they introduce a she-cat just for the purpose of giving our main male lead kits. it was bad with gray wing and slate and it's bad with finch. remember when she almost stayed behind? i was hoping so hard that it would stick

and like compare finch and riverstar to say night and riverstar (im not pitting two bad bitches against each other give me a sec). before riverstar leaves to go back to help the park cats, night is nervous, her and riverstar have been through a lot together and they lean on each other. so she's vulnerable with him and he's like "oh im sorry i dont think of you that way??" and she's like "no!!! you idiot!! as a Friend" and yeah it made sense cuz we've seen them grow together in real time. finch got None of that because she is not meant to be a character and it bugs me

however, clear sky came in to save the day and cause problems on purpose at the end so the book ended on a high note (for me)

and uhh yeah, this is already pretty long and i actually have More Shit to say cuz i genuinely did like this book a lot i just wanted to get my thoughts out while they were still rattling around in my brain

god i didnt even talk about how i wanted more cats to die

[insidethefoxesden]

My Garden World

By Monty Don

I used to garden when I was little. We had an older neighbour who I befriended who let me help. To be honest, it could have been any interest that she chose to share with me and I’d have been happy. I went for attention and company. And to be treated well.

When I met K and he spoke to me of plants and gardens, trees and flowers, it all came back to me. To my surprise, I remembered many plant names and found myself easily learning more. I didn’t think gardening could be for me, given how quickly my attention was lost to other things and the resulting plant death it generally caused. With Kas a partner however, I could dip in and out at my leisure and he would carefully tend to everything during my absence.

I love pruning the most. Something to fiddle with and pick at. Very adhd. I also love the planning and the endless possibilities of what might be. All of the labour of digging is frustrating because I want it done yesterday but with my back issues, I have none of the strength required to carry it out and rely on. Bulbs are great for their promise of spectacular things that I forget about completely and am then unceasingly surprised by when they eventually appear months later.

K bought me My Garden World by Monty Don several years ago now and I got half way through it and then lost interest in both the book and in reading generally. This is not a statement on the book’s enjoyability, just on my attention span for anything. But now I have space in my life, I am making time for reading again and so I have finally finished this book.

I don’t think I appreciated it properly when I read it to begin with. I was probably in a hurry to get through what no doubt felt like an endless tome at the time. But I missed its charm and beauty for sure. He writes in part, as a naturalist and incredibly knowledgeable observer of his own local wildlife, giving the reader endless insight and history of every element of his own natural world imaginable. He also writes in more of a diary entry style, having obviously kept a diary of the comings and goings each month and season has brought to his garden and farm. If it has been alive in his surroundings, he has written about it, sometimes going back to recollections from decades before.

Not only did I love this back - evidenced by the number of times I stopped to read interesting tidbits to K - but I also learned an awful lot from it too. 4.5 stars from me.

[bffsoobin]

amortentia

↳year six potions class was never particularly exciting to you- as a Slytherin with much more interest in Transfiguration- but alas, it’s required to graduate. You thought the class couldn’t be any more of an inconvenience, but upon being paired with infamous Gryffindor Beomgyu, you find yourself proven wrong.

➤ gryffindor!beomgyu xslytherin!reader, harry potter!au, enemies to lovers, a little slow burn, fluff

Word Count: ~11k

Requested?: kinda? anon requested a Beomgyu oneshot with no specifics and I spit this out of some depraved, Harry Potter obsessed corner of my mind.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, usual e2l arguments, swearing, usual Gryffindor-Slytherin insults and tension 

A/N: I hope the anon who asked for a Beomgyu oneshot is happy with this!! I finally felt like I had enough time to write a proper hogwarts au so here it is! Also I purposely avoided using any professor names that are clearly linked with the actual Harry Potter series purely because of timeline continuity! Bonus points if you can guess who Georgiana is related to before I point it out :) ALSO this is so long and I feel so rusty so I hope it’s okay lmao

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

The sound of your quill scratching against parchment filled your quiet corner of the common room, allowing you a feeling of solidarity and peace you’d been craving since you arrived back to the castle a few days ago. Of course you’d been excited to be back, sharing the meal in the Great Hall with all of your friends happily as you watched the wide-eyed first years get sorted into their houses. It was hard to believe that 6 years ago that had been you waiting to find your place within the walls of Hogwarts. 

As always, the buzz of the beginning of a new year wore on your nerves. Despite your love for your friends, their energy was- in your opinion- completely draining. You much preferred the moments of quiet serenity that the stone laden dungeon common room afforded you. The last few embers of a fire lit hours before winked at you from across the room, tempting you to raise your wand and reignite them. After a moment you decided against the movement, as you were presumably the only one awake at this hour and the light of the cedar scented candle you’d brought down with you from your suitcase provided enough light for you anyway. 

The scratch of your quill stilled as you flipped to the next page, careful not to accidentally bend the corners of the book you’d just purchased. Several detailed diagrams detailed the process of transfiguring plants to inanimate objects to animals then back to plants and you felt your heart swell with excitement. Transfiguration was hands down your favorite subject, and you’d been craving to learn this process in particular since it had been mentioned offhandedly in class last year. You scrambled to pick up your quill, happy that you’d splurged for the instantly refilling model as ink flowed flawlessly against the parchment. 

A sudden crash from the entrance of the common room popped your comfortable bubble of silence harshly as you clambered for your wand. 

“Who’s there?” You yelled, annoyance and surprise mixing to raise your voice considerably. For a moment you heard nothing as you advanced closer to the door, keeping the three wide stone steps between you and who- or what- ever was behind the door. The door shook a few times before finally flying open, revealing three very normal looking boys stumbling through the threshold. They were all hanging on one another, stumbling over their feet as they pushed into the common room. You recognized the one in the middle instantly as Choi Yeonjun, fellow Slytherin and current Head Boy of the house. He was a year older than you but you knew him well for his infectious laughter and notoriously good grades despite never studying. His cheeks were flushed and his feet unsteady, but he held a charming grin through it all. The identity of whoever was supporting him on the left was a mystery to you, but the boy supporting him from the right sent alarm bells off in your head. 

“Beomgyu?” Your voice left you before you could rein yourself in, and you would have cringed had it not been for the hatred brewing under your skin. Here he was, the one person you tried to forget existed every single summer. And he had been part of the ruckus that pulled you from your reading. He didn’t say anything as the three boys stumbled past you, dumping Yeonjun onto one of the soft black leather sofas. 

“Hello?” You felt like you were in some kind of time warp, somehow totally invisible to the three of them as they sorted themselves out; Beomgyu and the other boy straightening out their clothing and Yeonjun lolling his head back on the cushions with a content sigh. 

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Beomgyu finally drawled, sticking his hands in the front pockets of his trousers. He was still wearing his robes, layered over a sensible gray wool sweater and black uniform slacks. His striped red and gold tie hung off of his neck slightly, obviously having been loosened at some point in the night. He donned the same Head Boy pin Yeonjun did, but in the same colorway as his robes and tie. Loud, obnoxious, attention seeking red and gold.

“Hey? How about instead of “hey” you tell me why the hell you’re barging into my common room at some ungodly hour of the night! Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Head Boy?” The unidentified boy behind him froze as his eyes widened, apparently feeling the sting of your icy words much more than Beomgyu. He just lifted a lazy eyebrow, guiding his annoyingly confident gaze over your body. Fucking Gryffindors and their confidence. It was suffocating. 

“Well you see, Y/N. Yeonjun here can’t handle his fire whiskey for shit, and we were all just having a little start of the year party in the Room of Requirement. So me and my friend here,” he motioned vaguely to the cowering boy behind him- who you now noticed looked like he had just entered his fourth year- “decided to be so kind as to bring him back.” 

You said nothing for a moment; simply simmering in your hatred for him until he spoke again. 

“By the way, what are you even doing up so late? You’re not a prefect...so shouldn’t you be up in bed like the rest of your little friends? What’s so secretive that you have to be up in the middle of the night for it? Are you doing something...evil?” He leaned forward, closing the gap between the two of you and bringing his mouth level with your ear. You cringed at the closeness, clenching your hands into fists until the crescents of your nails indented your skin. His voice had lowered like he was telling a secret, as if Gryffindors even had the capacity for maintaining privacy. “Are you being naughty?” 

You huffed indignantly, finally finding the strength to shove his shoulder away harshly. The skin of your cheeks was certainly flamed, but you hoped he would chalk it up to annoyance and not the intoxicating scent of his woody cologne.  

“If you must know, I was up studying Transfiguration. I was trying to enjoy some piece and quiet until you came busting in.”

Beomgyu stepped around you and made his way for the table you’d previously been sitting at. To your delight he refrained from touching anything, but he stared at the set up for so excruciatingly long that the mystery boy awkwardly slipped out of the dungeon without a word. 

“We start classes in about 5 hours,” he suddenly remarked. His voice made you jump a bit, since you’d become used to the regained quiet. “Why the hell are you already studying? And a subject we’ve all already taken? Any other Transfiguration courses would just be electives, and with how much you care for your class standing I would have assumed you’d be learning ahead on Potions.”

“Well first of all, I’m not exactly studying. I’m just reading. I bought the book myself because I-” you stopped and heaved a sigh at the scrunch of his eyebrows. He clearly wasn’t understanding the concept of reading just for the fun of it. “I’m not studying for Potions because I despite it. Plus, how much is there to study? The book literally spells out every ingredient and procedure. There’s no thinking to be done, and hardly any magic.” Beomgyu’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline comically. 

“Hardly any magic? My god, maybe I was right to peg you as the pessimistic type. Must be hard to feel anything akin to hope down here in your-” he glanced around your common room again, eyes catching on the darkened green and black decorations, the window offering a view of the sparkling Black Lake shrouded with pine trees. “In your dungeon.” 

His use of the word bothered you greatly. Even though you knew it was geographically true and had even used it yourself; something about him coming in unannounced and uninvited to insult your home inspired fresh anger in your stomach. 

“Get out,” you spat, ignoring the way a half-dozed Yeonjun jumped at your voice. With all your might you pushed at Beomgyu’s broad shoulders, willing him out of your sight for at least a few more hours. 

“Oof, must have hit a nerve there, huh?” He continued to speak casually as you pushed him, walking backwards up the steps with an annoyingly perfect accuracy. Once he was finally stood in the threshold of the heavy door you heaved a sigh of relief as you swing it closed.

“Bye bye! Don’t ever fucking come back!”

——

You only managed about two hours of sleep after the Beomgyu drama, but luckily for you the three other sixth year girls you were rooming with had been smart enough to buy and stash away some caffeine potions. They had none of the enjoyable taste of coffee but three times the effect, and soon you felt back in top shape to head to class.

Pushing through the masses of clambering students with a practice eased, you caught up to the familiar frame of Georgiana, one of your oldest friends. She was a Ravenclaw, but you’d ridden together on your very first trip on the Hogwarts Express and stayed close friends since then. She greeted you easily, giving you an award winning smile as she pulled you by the arm of the robes to sit on one of the surprisingly empty stone benches lining the halls.

“Let me see your schedule!” She had to yell just to be heard over the mumbling of the crowd, but you heard her well enough to produce a folded piece of parchment that you carried despite having memorized it. Georgiana’s eyes flitted over it carefully, comparing it to her own schedule which laid open on her lap.

“We’ve got...Herbology 3,” she ran her finger down the parchments a few more inches, “Transfiguration of Aquatics...and NEWT prep together!” You groaned loudly, a feeling of anxiety weighing down your bones as you rubbed your fingertips into your temples.

“What’s up with you? Over me already?” She giggled, leaning back against the wall and handing you back your schedule.

“No, it’s just...if you’re the second class for Herb 3, Aquatics and NEWT prep, that means I have to pray that the second house in Potions isn’t Gryffindor.” You leaned back against the cool wall next to her, pouting in self pity until you saw the grim look on her face.

“What?” You sat up straight again as if a fire had been lit under your ass. Georgiana looked as if she was holding in a laugh and a grimace at the same time while you begged her to give up whatever information she was holding back from you. Her hand hovered over her mouth in an attempt to hide the wavering smirk running across her lips. 

“Okay, don’t freak out.” She began, placing a hand on your knee. 

“Well now I’m definitely going to since you lead with don’t freak out! Should I freak out? What about?”

“I already compared schedules with Soobin,” she said gently.

“Okay, and?” You knew of the sweet Hufflepuff, had sat next to him in a few classes and seen him hanging out with Yeonjun on occasion, but still had no idea why she was bringing him up now.

“And him and I have Potions together.” In the split second it took for the words to process you saw her flinch, clutching at the fabric of her robes over her chest in anticipation for your angry outburst.

“Of course! Of course I have to get stuck with them for Potions class, out of all the other houses. Merlin really has it out for lately you know, I didn’t sleep very much last night, had to pay Melinda 10 galleons for one of her caffeine potions-“

“I can tell,” Georgiana supplied. You grimaced at her and immediately shut your mouth, sensing your rapid talking was quickly becoming over the top.

“Georgie, if I have Potions with him-“ you didn’t even have to specify who you were speaking of before she was rolling her green eyes into her head.

“If you have Potions with Beomgyu, you just need to ignore him. He loves to push your buttons, Y/N. When will you realize that? And you push his back and you both get a good cat-and-mouse feeling that every teenager wants. Maybe if you stop entertaining it, he’ll take it easy on you. Need I remind you of the time you were actually friends with him? Didn’t swear he was the spawn of Satan after every conversation? I even remember in second year when you had a crush on him and made me-“

“Okay!” You replied curtly, gathering your books and parchment back into your arms. “I’m going now! Class starts in,” you pulled back your robe sleeve to look at a watch that clearly was not there, “10 minutes, and I like to be early!” Easily, you slipped into the throngs of students, leaving Georgiana behind with a sly grin on her face.

——

You arrived to the Potions room before any other student, forcing you to idle awkwardly in the small space between the door and the first brewing station. A few of the cauldrons bubbled idly, breaking up the silence of the room with the low hum of white noise. The arched ceilings only amplified the absence of noise- even the never ending buzz of students passing through the hallways was somehow muffled to silence inside the walls. 

“Ah!” The professor bellowed, waving at you from the opposite end of the room where he had been straightening out some piles of parchment that you could only assume were homework papers. “Hello there, you must be quite eager to start the day!” You could feel the skin of the back of your neck heating up as the rotund man approached you gleefully. 

“Oh, um, yes sir. You could say that...” you mumbled, clutching your stack of books to your chest protectively. The man smiled at you kindly but you could still feel the heavy weight of awkwardness seeping into your bones. He opened his mouth again- making another attempt at small talk to which you cringed. As much as you respected the professor on the basis of his knowledge, your ability for any small talk, especially Potions related, was extremely lacking. 

“You must’ve done quite well on your OWLS to be here, yes? Only those with the highest scores can be registered. The class can be quite challenging, but if you’ve got your affairs in order I reckon you’ll fine.” He paused, likely sensing the blankness behind your stare as you nodded politely. “Ah, all things you already know I’m sure. Are you excited to get started with the class?” 

You frowned, holding back your natural instinct for brutal honesty. How on earth could you let this gentle old man down gently? 

“Of course she’s excited! Aren’t we all?” Beomgyu was in the room now, apparently, approaching you from behind and slinging an arm around your shoulders. The loose fabric of his sleeve collided with the side of your face, blinding you for a second. You stumbled on your feet from the jostle, trying to shrug away from the warmth and overwhelming scent of his cologne. Beomgyu never was aware of his own strength as he held you steadily against his side as if he was trying to fuse your bodies together.

“Oh my! So nice to see such great friends between different houses! Back in my day, as I’m sure you know, there was so much hatred between Gryffindors and Slytherins...never would have seen a pair of friends like the two of you!” The professor seemed genuinely delighted, oblivious to the way you tried to wiggle out of Beomgyu’s hold. You offered the professor a plastic smile as more students filed in. As soon as the portly man was otherwise occupied, you stomped the heel of your sneaker into Beomgyu’s foot with all the might you could gather. 

“Merlin, ouch!” He recoiled immediately, withdrawing his arm from around your frame to clutch at the foot you’d hopefully bruised. “I’ve got Quidditch practice after lunch today! How dare you!” 

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t need your feet for Quidditch, Choi. Serves you right for violating my personal space. Next time it’ll be worse than your fucking toes.” You hissed the words lowly, just enough that he would be able to hear them but without alerting your nearby classmates. 

“You two, there!” The professor suddenly exclaimed, making you jump out of your stupor to see he was pointed an aged finger at you and Beomgyu. “Since you were first in and seem to get along, I’ll have you be partners on Station 1.” A few confused whispers passed through the classmates behind you and your face fell at the implication. Potions partners with Beomgyu? For the whole year?

He seemed similarly stalled, not moving a single inch away from the front of the room until the professor cleared his throat pointedly. 

“Right, sir, of course,” Beomgyu nodded, rushing over to the furthest of the high-top tables; unsuccessfully trying to hide the pain of his newfound limp. With a satisfied feeling in your chest you followed closely behind, finally unloading the weight of the books in your arms onto the table. 

——

“How much worse could it get?” You groaned, laying your head in your arms at the dining table. 

“Well, you could be sick, or failing a class, or not have any friends, or have lost your books. Hell, let’s not forget what it must have been like to go to school here at the same time as Harry Potter. I mean, no final exams for a few years, but at what cost? Grandpa Ron always tells me about-” 

“Oh, good Merlin, Georgie, that’s not what I meant.” You picked your head up from the table and scanned the bustling hall. A large plate of sandwiches laid in front of you but your appetite was diminished in the presence of your stress. “I mean, how fucked is it that I have to spend every first period for the rest of the year brewing Potions alongside Choi? It’s bad enough that I hate Potions already, and now I’ll have to deal with his stupid, righteous, Slytherin-slandering ass!” You slammed your hand into the wooden table, shaking the plates and glasses near you under the force. 

“Careful there,” Georgiana scolded around a mouthful of bread. “Just keep your head down, don’t react to him like you always do,” she paused to gulp down a sip of pumpkin juice, “he’ll give up eventually.” You heaved a heavy sigh, propping your chin onto the palm of your hand and scanning the Great Hall. Masses of students bustled around, sharing meals and laughing or gathering over homework problems. You weren’t quite sure who or what you were looking for, but all you found was a rowdy group of forth year boys sitting atop one of the tables, casting small hexes at one another and their lunches. You rolled your eyes at their antics before resigning to picking at the few fries on your plate. 

“And if he doesn’t?” You mumbled, casting a pointed glare at a seemingly distracted Georgiana. It took her a second to shift her gaze back to your face, clearing her throat as she narrowed her eyes towards you. 

“Sorry?” She asked, pulling a section of crust off of the third sandwich she’d picked up off of the platter. 

“If he doesn’t give up? What am I supposed to do then?” The thought of living out the next two school years with Choi Beomgyu as a constant annoyance settled a pit of rage in your stomach. Georgiana was quiet for a moment, flicking a few locks of curled, fiery hair over her shoulder. 

“Then you get back at him.” She shrugged. “You know you get a discount at the joke shop. Just go down there and pick up some puking pastilles or something.” She looked up again suddenly, eyes shimmering and focused intently on something behind you. Out of curiosity you turned on the spot, wondering if there was something of interest outside of the window, only to be met with the sight of Soobin standing mere feet away, hand stalled mid-wave. It didn’t take a genius to notice that the Hufflepuff was staring intently at your best friend, and she was happily returning the sentiment with a goofy grin on her face. You whipped back around to face her, leaning across the table as if the action would provide any secrecy with him so close. 

“Are you and Soobin...” you wiggled your eyebrows at her and she swatted at your shoulder. Her cheeks blushed rosy as she whispered back, “He asked me if I’d want to hang out when we go to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Her voice shook as she spoke but you frowned instantly. Of course you were happy that he had finally manned up and the two of them were on the way to something akin to a date, but...

“First weekend Hogsmeade is our tradition!” You shouted, abandoning any secrecy you might have thought you’d maintained from Soobin. 

“Y/N, please!” Georgiana hissed, glancing up at Soobin with an apologetic smile. “Just once. You can still come along, maybe you can bring someone too?” She offered, trying to placate your irritation. Her eyes continued sliding between you and Soobin as she waited for your response. You sank back onto the bench quietly, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Fine.” You sighed. “I guess I can try to think of someone.” Georgiana’s face lit up as she stood from her seat and gathered her books back under her arm. She rounded the end of the table quickly, meeting up with Soobin just behind you. “Don’t think I’m not still irritated, Weasley!” You yelled after her even though she had turned her back to you. She stalled in her lockstep next to Soobin just long enough to turn her head and throw you a middle finger. 

——

The day of your Hogsmeade visit came quicker than you anticipated, and of course you’d failed to find someone to fill the empty spot that would prevent you from third wheeling. Everyone you asked had either been otherwise busy, sick, or already going into Hogsmeade with other friends.

Georgiana, being the wonderful friend she was, made sure that you hadn’t felt left out on the walk into the village. Soobin was surprisingly good at keeping conversation despite his shy appearance, and the three of you had managed to share lunch and a few Butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks before Georgiana began giving you pointed glances. It took you an embarrassingly long time to recognize what her hand signals and mouthed words were conveying, but once you did you had excused yourself to wander the shops alone in a bid to give the lovebirds some privacy.

The weather was surprisingly pleasant, and as such the streets were lined with witches and wizards of all ages. Large throngs of students and families passed you by, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit like a fish swimming upstream as everyone pushed by. When you’d first stepped out you felt odd walking the cobbled street alone, considering you’d never made a solo trip to Hogsmeade for as long as you’d lived. Something about it was quite relaxing, though, as you realized you could enter any store and stay for any amount of time. 

Once you’d wrestled your way through another group of oncoming students, you spotted an endearing baby blue storefront with deserts on display in the window. Many of them appeared to be muggle creations, and your mouth watered as you caught sight of a tray of fudgy brownies with a thick layer of chocolate icing. Your eyes had always been bigger than your stomach; so despite the fact that you’d just had lunch you find yourself stepping into the sweet smelling shop. An expansion charm helped stretch the store far beyond its dainty storefront, and you were met with the sight of even more display cases and tiered plates full of sweets. 

A few other wizards mulled around the store, debating which treats to pick up and pack into the little green pastry boxes which were stacked at the entrance in a never ending supply. You balanced one of your own between your hands as you gathered up treats, sure to grab three of the very brownies that had brought you in to begin with. You packed in a few cookies that you found on a shelf near the back of the store and began to weigh your options between purchasing what appeared to be a type of muggle cake with specs of color floating about the white batter or a more familiar looking pumpkin pastry dusted with powdered sugar. You contemplated the two deserts for an amount of time that would have been embarrassing if you were in the presence of company.

“Wrackspurts on the brain?” A rush of hot breath inches away from the shell of your ear had you reeling, clutching your box of precious deserts to your chest. Of course you’d immediately identified the voice; you were just hoping that you were wrong as you shot daggers into the boy who’d spooked you. Beomgyu looked beyond pleased with himself: a hand cocked on his hip, fake glasses perched at the very end of his nose to perfectly top off the outfit he’d chosen. His robes hung open, one shoulder almost devoid of the fabric as it drooped onto his back. The maroon turtleneck he wore struck a perfect contrast with the golden undertones of his skin and matched impressively well to the emblem on his robes. He had tucked the turtleneck into the waistband of a pair of light wash jeans that made it hard not to marvel at the shape of his waist. The scent of his cologne was faint, overpowered by the sweetness of the shop, but you were picking up overwhelming scents of-

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” He scrunched his nose as he studied you, waving gingerly like you would have at a child.

“Oh! Uh, I’m here, I’m here. What the hell do you want anyway?” You turned your attention back to the two pastries you’d been considering before his sneak attack in an attempt to keep yourself from looking back at his form.

“What’re you doing here alone? Out of friends? Did ya bore them all to death?” He had rounded to the opposite side of the table, forcing you to look at him straight on.

“I walked into Hogsmeade with Georgiana and Soobin, if you must know. They wanted some time alone so here I am.” You glanced up again to see him leaning casually against the table with one arm bracing his weight.

“I just have to point out that you’re also alone, Beomgyu. So I’m not quite sure why so keen on bashing me.” Your eyes skate over the deserts one final time before you decisively package up a slice of the muggle cake. The urge to celebrate the small victory was squashed by Beomgyu’s scoff.

“I’m here alone because I chose to be, not because my best friend is on a date and didn’t want a chaperone. Don’t you find that a little embarrassing?”

To be honest, you hadn’t considered it that way. You knew that finding a person to keep you from third wheeling had been your responsibility. But maybe he had a point. Although he was a constant nagging force, Beomgyu was insightful and intelligent. He’d helped you in class many times back when you were friends. Nervously, you nibbled at your bottom lip and considered his words carefully. Did Georgiana find your presence today embarrassing? She was surely too nice to tell you so, and there was no denying the tension in her face while she waited for you to leave The Three Broomsticks earlier. Your normally stoic face must have betrayed you, conveying that you were starting to feel hurt at the words that suddenly seemed to make so much sense. 

“I was joking,” Beomgyu spoke up suddenly, rounding the table to once again be next to you. “Don’t take everything I say so seriously, Y/N. I’m beginning to worry for your sense of humor.” He picked up a couple of cookies with careful dexterity and settled them into the palm of his hand. 

“Of course,” you concluded bitterly, taking a step back in a bid to get to the counter and buy your treats. “Must be my broken sense of humor and not just the fact that you’re an ass.” His face twisted unpleasantly as you stepped further away. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but you were already pivoting on the balls of your feet to make your way toward the front of the shop. 

——

The evidence of the first frost of the season crunched underneath your feet as you hurried to class. As someone who prided themselves on showing up on time for classes every day, you were particularly embarrassed to have woken up with just twenty minutes to spare before the beginning of potions. There was no excuse, either. You had simply stayed up too late studying for the NEWT practice exam and forgot to set your alarm before lying down.

To make matters worse you’d greatly underdressed yourself, underestimating the absolute chill of the morning when you had peeled out from the window. Only now, as you found yourself feet away from the classroom did you feel the icy temperature begin to bite into your exposed skin. Your cheeks were numb with cold, and your hands shook as you pushed them under your arms for some amount of warmth. Luckily the classroom was warmer when you finally got to it. Guiltily, you grinned at your professor as he notably marked your attendance onto the scroll of parchment. 

“Rough night?” Beomgyu asked under his breath as the professor launched into the lesson for the day. You kept your back turned to the boy in favor of writing down the list of ingredients that was being provided to you. A firm poke in the middle of your back had you turning on your stool, already silently fuming as you came face to face with Beomgyu. 

“What?” You mouthed, trying your best not to alert your professor that neither of you were paying attention to him. 

“You look awful,” he mouthed back, pulling the most exaggerated gagging expression you’d ever seen in your life. Your fingers twitched, resisting the urge to grab him by his necktie and slap him across his annoyingly perfect face. Instead you threw up your middle finger boldly, practicing a muggle tradition that wizards had become quite fond of. Beomgyu feigned shock, laying a hand over his heart and pretending to faint right there at his stool. 

“-so you’ll be using this combination of potions for the group project, due in one weeks time.” Your professor concluded. Wide eyed, you spun back around on your stool only to see the words previously written on the board disappear with a flick of his wand. A group project? Potions, plural? You’d only taken notes on one mixture, and you were sure that Beomgyu hadn’t taken any notes at all. Although maybe the group project wasn’t among your table mate? Your heart fluttered as you prayed for that to be the reality, scanning your classmates to see if anyone got up to switch seats or combine tables. 

Not a single soul moved. 

“Guess it’s just us.” Beomgyu drawled from behind you. 

“Did you take any notes?” You asked, fear running through your veins. If both of you were clueless, you’d have to ask the professor to explain everything to you again, which would only implicate the two of you for not paying attention to begin with. 

Beomgyu shook his head and shrugged much too casually for a student who was in the dark about an entire project. 

“I’ll just ask someone. Hey, Art-” 

“No!” You scrambled for a rolled piece of parchment to hit him on the arm with before he could finish his shout across the classroom. “Please, do not scream across the room that we don’t know what we’re doing.” Your cheeks were flaming, anxiety and exhaustion building to a dangerous level in your bloodstream.

“Awe, are you ashamed to admit you were too busy talking to me to pay attention?” Beomgyu cooed, cradling his chin in his palms.

“No. I’m embarrassed that we’re the only ones not starting the work,” you glanced pointedly to all of the other tables where your classmates were hard at work on...something. Every table housed a slowly bubbling cauldron producing a steady stream of light grey smoke. The cauldron resting on the table between the two of you was alarmingly quiet, your stores of provided potion ingredients remaining untouched. 

“Alright, Y/N. How about right now we work on the one you wrote down,” he points a finger at the parchment containing the list of notes you managed to take, “and I’ll talk to someone about the rest. Since you’re too proud to ask for help.” Without waiting for you to process the words he gripped the parchment between his fingers and pulled it toward the middle of the table. He mumbled a simple aguamenti under his breath and the cauldron filled with the perfect level of water. He then scrutinized the words for just a moment before he began to collect ingredients with a practiced ease, barely even glancing at the labels of the hefty glass containers. You’d never seen him quite as focused in a class as he was at the moment, his nimble fingers uncapping lids and measuring precise amounts of lacewing flies with a delicacy you never would have expected to come from the hands of Gryffindor’s star Beater. 

One after the other, ingredients fell into the wrought iron cauldron, changing the color of the mixture from clear to an odd, murky green. You scrunched your nose in distaste but Beomgyu was nodding to himself in satisfaction, his fluffy hair bouncing back off of his forehead. 

“Stop staring and start taking notes, Y/N.” His voice was casual but his lips were twisted in a smirk as you scrambled for both an excuse and a fresh roll of parchment. 

“I wasn’t,” you defended as you begin to scribble out notes against the parchment, refusing to meet his eyes as the shame of being caught red-handed crawled up the back of your throat and stung behind your eyes. He simply hummed in acknowledgment and tossed in a few leaves of a plant you didn’t have time to identify into the bubbling mixture.

——

Impatiently, you tapped your foot against the stone floor. It echoed a sound that would have been satisfying in its consistency if it weren’t for the annoyance running through your veins. Beomgyu had promised to meet you in the west corner of the library today, at a prompt 7pm, in order to finish synthesizing your plan for the Potions project. You checked the clock on the wall again just in case you had somehow misread the hands only to find them confirming your suspicions. Beomgyu was blowing you off. He had suggested the time and place himself, and yet he couldn’t even have the decency to show up. 

Anger blossomed in your chest as you stood to gather the things you’d brought along. Your chair scraped on the floor and attracted the stares of a few other students put you paid them no mind as you swore under your breath. 

Of course Beomgyu had stood you up in the face of an important project. He was probably laughing away to his friends in the common room, boasting about how he’d left you sitting in the library like a fool. Once again he had proven himself to be an utterly useless and annoying human being that you wished you had never even met. Your teeth sunk into the supple flesh of your bottom lip so hard that blood pooled on your tongue, the bitter tang snapping you into action. The route to the Gryffindor common room was a familiar one, and the hatred brimming inside of you made your legs move even faster than usual, swearing under your breath as you finally came face to face with the portrait keeping you from entering the room. 

“I don’t have time for any password- please just let me in. I’m looking for someone.” Your words came rushed, obviously annoyed as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Now, you know that isn’t how this works, dear,” the painting asserted, crossing their arms to mimic your own stubborn pose. “I can’t let just anyone into the room. I’ve got,” the portraited stopped dead in its tracks and began counting on its fingers silently. “I’ve got 30 students inside right now, and it’s my job to protect them.” Your fists clenched at your sides over the stubborn portrait, fingers itching to grab your wand and level a badgering curse against the damned painting. It must have read the anger on your face as you fiddled with the fabric of your robes, as it’s booming voice came again; 

“Tell me who you’re seeking, and I can tell you if I’ve seen them!” With your fingers still curled around your wand, it took a fair deal of restraint to leave it in your robe pocket. After a deep, steadying breath, you looked back up at the portrait. A beat of silence passed before you slathered on a sweet smile, clearing your throat to quell any remnants of your frustrated growl. 

“I’m looking for Choi Beomgyu.” 

The portrait took a moment to contemplate your words, squeezing its eyes tightly and tapping its fingers as you assumed it searched the students inside the Gryffindor common room and dorms. 

“He’s not here.” It finally concluded, snapping its eyes back open to peer down at you again. Frustration flamed your skin red all the way to your hairline. Hogwarts and it’s grounds were extensive, and searching for him would surely take up your entire night. 

“I did happen to see out Quidditch players heading down to the pitch around 5 o’clock, though.” Not needing any further ceremony, you turned on your heels and made your way toward the exit of the castle. The corridors were fairly empty, and the few students still milling around were quick to step out of your way as you hurried through them, robes flowing out behind you. Silently you thanked your lucky stars that no professors had been around to inquire about why you were rushing out of the castle in such a haste. 

As soon as you set foot outside, you regretted not stopping by your dorm first to grab your coat and scarf. It had been three days since you woke up to the first frost, and the temperature had only continued to drop into frigid numbers. Even in the limited light provided by the setting sun you could see your breath fogging ahead of you. Cold air curled around your body, seeming to seep underneath your skin with a harsh ferocity. For now you simply tucked your hands deeper into the fabric of your robes, hoping that the heat of them in conjunction with your brisk pace would keep your body warm enough.

The walk to the Quidditch pitch was deceptively far when you traveled alone. Normally you were so distracted by conversation with your friends and the last minute bets between houses that you didn’t have time to mull over how many steps it took you to arrive at the stands; but today you were nothing short of pissed at how far away the compound had been built. Every step you took sent a shock of cold through your feet, your toes completely numb no matter how much you wiggled them inside your sneakers. The trees shuddered with you as you passed them, leaves spiraling to the ground as they finally give in to the pressure of the cold and resign themselves.

Finally you passed through the solid wood of the viewing stands, coming face to face with the expanse of the pitch in front of you. Totally empty. Not a single soul was to be found warming up on the grass or running practice games in the air. Upon listening, you couldn’t even hear any distant chatter that would indicate the team being huddled into the locker room.

“Shit!” A new wave of frustration crashed through your mind. Had you passed them on the way over? It was plausible that they had taken a different route back to the castle and your whole trip had been in vain. Exhausted, you leaned against the wall and listened to the whip of the banners against their metal poles, the clinking of their bindings matching with the steady, loud beat of your pulse. Just as you were about to turn and head back for the castle in your freezing shame, you heard another sound. This one was different, less uniform, almost like a grunt of exhaustion followed by a heavy thud. Your freezing feet moved almost without you to follow the noise. A vicious wind whipped your hair, mussing it up so badly that you had to stop in your tracks to gather it all back into place. You hazarded every step you took, unsure exactly where the source of the noise was coming from other than somewhere behind the stands. On your next step you heard the noise again, much closer this time, and the excitement of being close to solving this mystery had your footsteps speeding up.

Just as you rounded the curving stands, you spotted the culprit, still a little hard to make out due to the distance you had yet to cover, but the colors and shape of a Gryffindor Quidditch uniform were clear. Upon further inspection, it became obvious that the heavy thud you’d been hearing was a the heavy iron Bludger cracking against the magically reinforced bat. There were only two Beaters on the team, and one of them was the very man who’d forced you to walk into the frigid night. You continued your steady approach to the figure, morbidly curious over who it was that was out here pushing themselves to practice alone in the freezing cold. 

“Hey!” You yelled as you edged closer, hoping to give whoever it may be a fair warning that you were approaching. Within three feet of the body, there was no mistaking it to be Beomgyu. 

“Choi!” You raged, yelling much louder than required for him to hear you. The Bludger was sailing far away from the two of you with a strong hit as you closed the distance almost all the way. “I know you can hear me, asshat.” Beomgyu kept his eyes on the iron ball, effectively ignoring your words. In disbelief you glanced back and forth between his face-seeing the way his eyes narrowed in concentration as the Bludger came closer by the second. 

“Is this where you’ve been all night? Playing Quidditch while you were supposed to meet me in the library?” A strong gust of wind knocked the air out of you, shivers running down your spine as you waited for any response from the boy. The Bludger came whistling back toward the two of you, and in the split second you had the foresight to step back he had tensed his shoulders, gripped the end of his bat and took another strong and precise hit against the Bludger, sending it even further away than the last one. 

“Lost track of time.” He supplied absentmindedly, turning his head to regard you with lazy eyes. 

“What?” You seethed, stepping forward again, placing yourself in front of his frame in hopes of appearing somewhat intimidating. “You lost track of time? Let’s talk about the fact that out project is due in four fucking days, and all we have to show is a single god damn Potion. This was your responsibility,” you pushed your pointed finger into the front of his uniform, the fabric giving way to allow you to feel the firmness of his chest underneath. “I trusted you with the single task of making sure that we could figure out the rest of this project, and you fucked up!” Tears of frustration rimmed your eyes as the worry of failure overwhelmed you. As much as you hated Potions, you’d be damned if Choi Beomgyu became the reason you do poorly. 

“Listen, I seriously did just forget,” he pushed at your shoulders forcefully, to which you planted your feet into the ground harder. “Seriously, Y/N, I forgot! Now move!” 

“No! You are not,” you grabbed at his forearm and pulled it off of your shoulder, “going to blow me off again! We are going to work on this project right now, even if its the last thing I do!” 

“It’s about to be if you don’t fucking move!” He yelled, finally managing to uproot your feet and push you off to the side with so much force that you landed flat on your ass, the cold hardness of the ground knocking the breath out of your lungs. From the ground, you watched helplessly while Beomgyu scrambled to grab his bat in time to hit the whirring Bludger. He was a quick enough thinker to see that there was no way he’d make the move in time, so he simply did the next best thing- turning his back to the ball and ducking his head into his chest, covering the back of his neck with his arms. 

With a sickening crack, the Bludger made foul contact with Beomgyu’s back, striking just below his left shoulder blade. The force knocked him forward, his hands barely catching himself as he met the ground harshly. He cried out in pain, the sound bouncing around the stands and piercing your veins. In a hurry, you crawled toward his heaving body and urged him to sit up with the guidance of your hands. 

“Are you okay?” The words rushed out of you in a hurry, panic crawling up the back of your throat at the shine of tears streaming down his reddened cheeks. 

“Wh-what the hell do you think?” He groaned, body shaking as he struggled to even take a breath. 

“Okay, right. Dumb question. Let’s get you to the infirmary, yeah?” His legs shook as he got them under him, something akin to a baby deer taking its first few steps. Instinctively you shot out an arm to steady him, looping your arm behind his back as effectively as you could given the height difference and placement of his injury. 

“Merlin, I think I broke my shoulder blade,” he groaned, stumbling across the uneven ground with trepidation. 

“You didn’t, I watched. It actually hit right below your shoulder blade, so if anything it’s just bruised, and you probably won’t even need a bone-healing spell, so recovery should be little more than some Devil’s Claw for the pain and-” 

“Did someone cast a babbling curse on you? Merlin’s beard. It’s bad enough that you got me hit to begin with, and now I have to listen to you run your mouth!’ His voice was still pinched with pain, an octave lower than normal as he gritted his teeth. The two of you finally reached the threshold of the castle, encapsulated by the warmth of the torches littered all inside. 

“I’m trying to help! Did you ever consider the fact that if you had showed up to our scheduled meeting time, you could have avoided being hit. I could have avoided freezing all of my extremities off, and I wouldn’t have to be helping your ass to the infirmary.” 

The noise of your bickering outside of the infirmary wing attracted the nurse to the hallway, who furrowed her eyebrow in silent question over the two of you. 

“He got hit by a Bludger, ma’am,” you supply as soon as you see her. Her eyes widen instantly as she rushed forward, helping you guide Beomgyu into an empty cot. She shooed you aside as she fretted over him, asking questions about the incident in a low, steady tone before nodding seriously. Without any kind of warning, Beomgyu was pulling the fabric of his uniform over his head, leaving his top half bared to you. Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat nervously. The nurse was too busy prodding at the blossoming bruise to have heard your stutter, but Beomgyu was nothing if not aware. 

His dark eyes found your form standing just a few paces away, staring unabashedly at the faint hint of his abs that had become visible. 

“Somethin’ you like?” He drawled playfully, snapping you out of your reverie. 

“Merlin, no.” You sneered, hoping to cover the thickness of your tone as you swallowed hard. “Just trying to decide if I should tell the Quidditch team to get their backup trained for the game tomorrow night.” Beomgyu’s face fell at the implication of your words and a sting of regret struck your heart. 

“There will be no need for a backup, dear,” the nurse cooed, shuffling her feet as she gathered up a few healing supplies. She offered a bottle of innocent looking clear liquid to Beomgyu and he drank it instantly, grimacing at what you assumed to be a foul taste. “Now, dear, if you don’t fancy seeing your boyfriend in more pain as I heal him-”

“Please. He is not my boyfriend. I just helped him get here. I’ll be going now, anyway. See you tomorrow?” You asked pointedly, hoping he would understand your incessant need to finish the Potions project. He nodded slightly, and you scanned Beomgyu’s form one more time before excusing yourself to the nurse and scurrying back to your dorm. 

——

“I better hear a thank you.” Beomgyu asserted as soon as he slumped in the seat across from you. He had been so quiet in his approach to the table that you hadn’t heard him until now, rocketing your gaze up towards him from the pages of your Transfiguration book. 

“Beomgyu,” you breathed, relieved to see that he had been healed and able to return to classes just the morning after the Bludger hit. You schooled your features into cool indifference as soon as you saw his mouth twitch up at the sound of his name. “For what am I thanking you? Withholding information about the project?” 

“No,” he shook his head, springing a few carefully parted hairs loose from their spot. “For- number one-” he paused dramatically, drumming his bony fingers against the edge of the high-topped table, “providing you all the information for finishing this project.” Out of seemingly nowhere he produced a thick roll of parchment that unrolled to reveal a step by step explanation. Pages of carefully written instructions went into great detail on every step of the potions that needed to be made. A sense of relief and happiness washed through you, enough to make your hands curl into excited fists as you beamed. 

“Turns out our Seeker is good at more than catching a Snitch. She got the highest marks in this class last year, and agreed to share the notes with me.” 

“Thank you, Beomgyu. Seriously. I was beginning to worry.” 

“I know, I know. It feels good to be your savior, Y/N. Oh, which reminds me of reason number two; the fact that I spared you a Bludger hit last night.” 

“I thought we’d already covered this. Most of that encounter was your fault. Plus, your little shove left me with a bruise of my own on my ass.” Pouting, you shifted your weight in an attempt to alleviate the pain against said bruise. 

“Just admit it, Y/N,” he leaned forward, his face mere inches from your own so as not to be heard by anyone around. “You’re indebted to me. Two times over.” He was cocky, but you had to admit he had a point. As much grief as he had caused you, he had saved you from both a failing grade and an injury in just under 24 hours. 

“You’ve got a point.” Beomgyu shrunk back into his seat, cocking his head to the side as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. It seemed like he was waiting for a witty remark or some kind of argument to his words, but you kept a sure, steady gaze on him instead. Either your eyes were playing tricks on you or there was a slowly building flush of red blooming from under the collar of his cable-knit sweater onto his cheeks. Against your will, your mind reproduced the image of his bared chest from last night. 

“What do I owe you?” The question rolled off of your tongue like butter as you took the chance to lean forward to him, balancing carefully on your stool with your elbows planted onto the table. 

“I-I just,” Beomgyu frowned at his stutter, apparently upset by his own lack of confidence. His mouth opened and closed again in quick succession and you grinned wider. Another teasing lilt was right at the tip of your tongue, but the booming voice of your professor cracked the tension wide open and had you sitting back on your stool. 

——

Two days later, you stand behind your stool in Potions class, wringing your hands together nervously. Your portly professor had spent all morning swirling around the class, leaning over the cauldrons and vials present at every table. He muttered a few things to every pair of students, nodding along as they explained their approach to him. It seemed as if he were grading on the spot, since you caught a glimpse of a quill gliding over a small strip of parchment. 

Finally the elder approached your table, bushy eyebrows pinched into one another as he had already begun to scrutinize the potions laid out for him. He said nothing as he approached, quietly appraising your work. One by one, he picked up the vials one by one, peering through the clear bottom and giving them an experimental swirl. He hummed happily to himself and your heart soared. Across the table you noticed Beomgyu looking equally pleased. The professor set down the vials one by one before leveling his gaze onto you. 

“How do you think you did?” He questioned, producing the same thin strip of parchment you’d seen him use at other tables. Palms sweating, you stole a glance at Beomgyu who gave you an encouraging wave of his hand. 

“I think we did quite well, professor. It took us a bit to get the whole project together, but I feel confident in our end results here.” Nervously, your eyes skated down to his quill, tapping against the parchment rhythmically. 

“Well, I think you did quite well, the two of you. These potions are near perfect. Couldn’t make them any better myself.” It felt as if the air had been sucked from your lungs, shocking you beyond belief. Never once in your life did you think you’d be receiving such high marks in Potions- especially with Beomgyu as your partner. Your professor marked a delicate “A+” on the small strip of parchment. 

Beomgyu threw a triumphant fist in the air, wiggling in his spot with pure excitement. Your professor let out a belly laugh, spinning around to address the entire class. 

“I didn’t want to advertise this since I wanted you all to put in your best, pure efforts to the project. But, now that I’ve reviewed everyone’s work and determined the best,” you swapped a look of confusion with Beomgyu, both assuming that he was referring to you. “I am offering an award to our friends at Station 1!” He motioned to the two of you wildly, robes flailing as you ushered to the front of the room. Your peers glared at the two of you, but you were too far onto cloud nine to care. 

“Good thing I got those notes, huh?” Beomgyu muttered to you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Good thing I spent all last night making sure we actually had the potions to present.” Keeping your voice low and level to keep him from sensing just how grateful you were for his efforts. The class murmured lowly, surely trading snide remarks about the two of you until the professor cleared his throat pointedly.

From the pocket of his robes, the professor pulled out two small, clear vials. One was pressed into each of your palms, and you stared up at him with confusion. Maybe this was a sign you should have paid more attention to the types of potions around you.

“Luck potions, please use them carefully” he supplied helpfully, swirling back around to face the entire class. “Now, who’s willing to take a photo of me and our winners?” The professor bellowed, producing an old film camera from somewhere and brandishing until someone shuffled off of their stool.

——

Fresh, fluffy snow floated down in gentle waves outside the window. It was the thick of winter now, and despite your best efforts to bundle up you were still huddling into yourself for warmth as students shuffled into Potions around you. Everyone seemed especially lethargic, yearning for the break from classes that Christmas promised. You laid your head onto your folded arms, feeling just as exhausted as the atmosphere suggested. 

Sleep had been evading you lately, annoyingly deceptive as you would lay down in bed tired only to be kept awake by your racing mind for several hours. Somehow settling into your arms in this classroom was the most content you’d felt in days. And then you felt a firm push at the back of your head. There was no mistaking who the perpetrator was, especially as you heard the scrape of a stool directly across from you. 

“Good morning to you too, Beomgyu.” He was perched perfectly on his stool, eyes wide and bright. For as long as you’d known him, he had thrived in the cold and the snow. “You are obnoxiously cheerful. God damn Gryffindors.” 

“Not my fault you’re such a grouch. But I guess it is true that snakes don’t like the cold.” 

“Do you ever let up? Or do you get pleasure out of ruining my mood every single morning?” 

A grin cracked his lips as a short laugh bubbled through. “Thinking about my pleasure, are you? Concerned I’m not getting enough? I can assure you that-”

“Okay, gross. Stop. Enough. You know that isn’t what I meant.” Quite honestly, you had no time to endure his usual teasing so you simply turned your body away from him, idly watching the professor gather his things at the desk. 

“Right, let’s get going! We need all the time we can manage today!” He seemed more jubilant than usual as he centered his own cauldron onto the middle of his desk. “Today we’ll be making love potions. Amortentia, you may know. If you’ll open to page 104, you can find the procedure. It is important to note that this potion cannot make anyone truly fall in love, but it does create a strong attraction to whomever you make with it in mind. Of course, the full effect doesn’t apply unless it is consumed. Today we will simply be brewing it for practice. If done correctly, the potion will emulate-” 

“The scent of what you find most attractive,” you muttered absent mindedly, reading directly off of the page you had open in your lap. 

“Exactly, miss Y/N. Your potion today will smell like what you find most appealing.” He nodded proudly. A feeling of anxiety rose in your chest as he rattled on. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t think of the type of scents that would come from the potion. You were quite fond of some scents in candle form, but you wouldn’t classify them as...attractive. Even more worrying was the idea that no matter how hard you tried, you would have to reveal this concoction in front of Beomgyu, who took every chance presented to torment you. Your professor clapped his hands together, marking the beginning of your working period. 

The instructions were simple enough, so you took extra care to be sure that the   measurements were as perfect as you could get them. The room was shrouded in a hushed silence that indicated everyone was working hard on this. After all, this was the most exciting potion that’d been offered to you all year. 

“Can’t wait to see which poor dude you have a crush on,” Beomgyu chuckled as he stirred his pot exactly three times counter-clockwise. 

“Could say the same for you! I seriously petty whichever girl you’ve been fancying. Imagine being at the receiving end of your...ick. You’d better tell me who it is so I can send them a warning.” You stirred your pot the same way he had, watching the mixture turn to a stereotypical bright pink. The instructions lead you to allow the mixture to culminate for exactly two minutes before any results could be sought. 

The students who happened to work faster than you were already taking a sniff at their potions and recording the scents on their parchment, some pairs gossiping amongst one another about what they smelled. A clank of metal had you whipping your head upwards, locking eyes with Beomgyu as adjusted his small cauldron to bend over his potion. Since it wasn’t your own, there was no scent for you to distinguish, but you watched the way his eyes widened in shock for a second. 

Unfortunately you had no time to process his expressions before you had to examine the contents of your own cauldron. Before you could even take a deliberate sniff, your senses were rushed with a mix of sweetened musk, a wood that seemed somewhere between cedar and mahogany, and an addicting citrusy undertone that you eventually recognized as bergamot. You placed it immediately.

“Merlin, Beomgyu. Could you refrain from spraying your cologne right now? Why are you even carrying it with you in the middle of-” The words died in your throat as you realized how incriminating your words had become, seeing as Beomgyu had nothing but his quill in his hands. A feeling of sickness rose in the back of your throat as he let out a hearty laugh. 

“My cologne, huh? I actually didn’t even have time to put any on today,” he peered over at your parchment, his height allowing him to easily read the fragrance notes you had scribbled before complaining. “But those are the exact notes of what I wear.” 

Your cheeks flamed, the heat radiating so fully through your system that you felt yourself begin to sweat despite how cold you’d been before. There was no worse fate than this, you decided. Amortentia had betrayed you, putting you under the mercy of Beomgyu’s knowing stare. Fuck, did he really have to find out now that the smell of his cologne secretly drove you crazy? That as much as you hated the way he teased and antagonized you, somewhere deep down you’d never quite lost the crush you developed in second year? 

“I was beginning to think you might’ve had a crush on me, Y/N. Isn’t that so sweet! The stony little Slytherin finally realizing that she’s attracted to me...this is quite the revelation!” Beomgyu lamented, obviously overjoyed at the new ammo he could load into his teasing. 

As much as you searched, you could find no words to defend yourself, as the proof was truly in the potion. A bit defeated, you sunk back into your stool, content to bury your face into your hands until your next class began; but at your new level you could see Beomgyu’s own piece of parchment scrawled with what he had smelled. Reading them upside down was a bit of a challenge, but he was too busy complimenting himself to recognize your analytical stare. Written in a neat list were the scents: sage, some type of berry (juniper?), eucalyptus, something woody (cedar?). 

Your heart stuttered, a bitter laugh threatening to spill out and give yourself away. Skillfully you held it back, cursing to any god or deity who might be listening. The notes matched up exactly with the perfume you wore every single day.

——

“You asked him why he sprayed his cologne?” Georgiana gaped at you across the table in the Great Hall. The two of you had joined up for lunch just hours after your Potions class disaster.

“Yes, but that’s not all! Just before I melted into a puddle of my own dispair, I saw his list, and I swear to Merlin it’s the exact notes of my perfume! Look,” you produced the travel-sized bottle from your pocket, flipping it to the back label and listing off the exact ingedients.

“Wow,” Georgiana nodded, sinking her teeth into a piece of pizza. “That’s quite remarkable.”

“Why are you not giving me more of a reaction?” You whined, stomping your foot against the floor petulantly. She raised an eyebrow high, taking a few more chews at her food.

“You want me to be honest? Or nice?” She asked, weighing the invisible options on her hands in front of you.

“Honest, I guess.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d pick that one. You see, my sweet Y/N, the two of you have been dancing around this for years. Even though you renounced him all those years ago, I still talk to him on occasion. Not to mention he’s friends with Soobin, so I’ve been provided with some...insider information. To be honest, Soobin and I have both been waiting for the day the two of you finally stopped bickering and like...made out.”

Your face twisted unpleasantly, shocked at her words. “Insider information?” You croaked, creases forming in your forehead. Georgiana smiled devilishly and you swore you could see red horns rising from her fiery hair.

“Beomgyu talks about you all the time. Apparently, back when he was dating Klara, he would often talk to Soobin about how she never bantered with him like you did. They broke up because he kept comparing her to you. Told Soobin that he’s had a crush on you just as long as you have, but he thought you thoroughly hated him.”

“He has a crush on me?” You sputtered, stomach twisting into knots somewhere between disbelief and excitement. Georgiana full on laughed upon seeing your face, the cackle permeating through the air and turning heads.

“Well, I’m not gonna be the one to bring it up. If he’s got a crush on me, he can bring it up.” You suddenly decide, finally indulging in the pizza that had been waiting for you since you sat down.

“That’s my girl, stubborn to the very end.” Georgiana grinned and offered her hand for a high five that you eagerly returned.

——

The weekend brought you a much needed break from both schoolwork and all things Beomgyu related. Christmas break was fast approaching, and all of your professors had surprisingly laid off on assignments. It seemed as if they were just as tired of grading as you were of doing the work.

Unsurprisingly you found yourself in the library, sitting underneath the twinkling of the fairy lights set up especially for the holidays. Most other students were out socializing, so the room was pleasantly vacant. As a result you were able to settle into one of the plush velvet couches that were usually occupied.

After roaming the aisles you’d found an anthology of wizard poetry that piqued your interest. Settling beteeen the cushions of the couch with a book made you feel the most at home you ever had, cracking open the delicate binding and balancing the book in your stomach as you began to read.

There was no way to tell how long you’d been reading, but by your estimations it was only about 20 minutes before someone was looming above you. Startled, you lifted your gaze over the book to see none other than Beomgyu standing before you. He was decked out in a sage green sweater paired with slightly oversized beige slacks. He had forgone his robes, but his Head Boy pin still shined on the breast of his shirt. Typical.

“Can I help you?” You asked, finally sitting up to regard him.

“I thought you’d be here.” He said simply, shuffling on his feet awkwardly. You blinked.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you poked, slipping your book shut dramatically. “Did you want to ask me something?” Beomgyu licked at his lips before rubbing his fingers against his forehead.

“Merlin, why do you make everything so hard?” He groaned and seemingly became so exhausted that he collapsed onto the ornate rug under his feet. Seeing that you’d riled him up so much by doing practically nothing sent excitement through your veins. As much as the bickering annoyed you, there was no denying the thrill you felt when giving him back a taste of his medicine.

“What exactly am I making so hard? I don’t even know what you’re here for. To be honest I’m shocked you managed to find me in the library. I figured you would start to burn at the door and have to find a different way in.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at his pillowy lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here.” He finally began to reveal the award winning smile you’d come to know whenever he teased you. “I know what Georgiana told you.” His voice was low, so quiet that if there had been any other souls in the library you’d have missed it.

Your eyes flew open and he flushed instantly. “You two aren’t exactly quiet at the Great Hall, and I’ve got more than a few friends.” It was your turn to flush red, wondering just how many conversations between you and Georgiana had been overheard by other people. 

“So you know that I said...” 

“Why do you think I’m here? All it took was me knowing you also...you know,” he picked at the nonexistent loose threads in the carpet. Honestly, you were shocked at how reserved he had become in the face of this confrontation. All traces of his usual confidence seemed to have vanished in the moment. 

“I do like you, Beomgyu. I had a massive crush on you in second year, but then we got into that fight and-”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” he countered animatedly. “You just never understood my humor. All this time, I was hoping that you would catch the hints.” 

“Hints?” It felt like your eyes were going to fall out of your head with how wide you held them. “You call those hints? I’d call those lackluster clues, at best.” 

He was quiet for a moment, examining the smirk on your lips carefully. In a moment of impulse you slid off of the couch to sit opposite him on the floor, knees touching. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, gripping at his thighs nervously. “Didn’t know how else to go about it.” 

“That’s okay, me either, obviously.” A rueful laugh escaped your lips, and he returned one just as easily. Up this close, the planes of his face were defined by the delicate light provided from the fairy lights. Shyly you shared glances, neither of you knowing quite how to deal with the charged anticipation in the air.

“Will you...come to the last Quidditch game tomorrow?” He finally spoke, snapping your attention back to him.

“Only if I don’t have to wear one of your ugly jerseies.” Feeling bold, you leaned forward just a few inches, beginning to close the gap between you gradually.

“Fine,” he acquised, leaning forward just the same as you had, his breath fanning hot over your face. “In exchange for not wearing a jersey, how about you...” he tapped at his lips cheekily. A surge of excitement tumbled through you.

“That’s a shit way of asking me to kiss you for the first time, Choi.” Nevertheless you leaned forward further, bumping your nose against his own before you finally pecked him firmly on the lips. You felt ridiculously shy, like you were having your first kiss all over again, but Beomgyu smiled reassuringly, pulling your hands into his own and linking them together. The touch encouraged you both, and your lips collided with more assurance than before.

The faint scent of pumpkin juice lingered on his lips, and you wondered how many bottles he’d drank before finally deciding to come find you. Finally you both sought a new breath, taking a moment to close your eyes and collect yourself. When they fluttered back open you saw Beomgyu staring back at you intently, pupils reflecting the strands of lights strung above you.

He mumbled something so quietly that you couldn’t even hear it at your close distance.

“What was that?” You asked, wondering if you’d caught the end of a charmingly romantic thought.

“I said you’re in need of practice.” He smirked, leaning back of his hands cockily.

“Fuck you, man,” you slapped at his shoulder with a firm clap. He gasped, a hand covering his heart as if he were being sworn into a committee.

“Already? I didn’t take you for such an impure heart!” Another hearty laugh bounced around the library and you ducked your head into your hands, resigning to the fact that you were stuck with him.

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

just let me adore you || h. styles

warnings: swearing, kissing, briefly proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: a holiday in italy involves an unusual amount of shampoo and lusting...

The villa was somewhat quiet. The sound of solitary piano notes echoed through the halls. Harry’s hair was dishevelled from his heavy night’s sleep prior to the warm morning he found himself emersed in. While his fingers were busy working away at the grand piano, his eyes were preoccupied with following your form around the backyard of the villa. 

You were sat by the pool, your book long forgotten. Your sunglasses were shielding your eyes from the unrelenting Italian sun. Your hair was pinned up, your skin exposed to the heat of the morning. 

Harry’s attention was suddenly pulled away by the sound of your father emerging from the kitchen. “Morning, Haz,” he grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Any plans for today?”

He shrugged, “Might just, you know, work on some music.”

“A man committed to his career, that’s what I like to see,” your father said. 

Harry nodded awkwardly, offering the older man a quick smile. Once your father disappeared into the lounge, Harry found his eyes wandering back to you. But you’d vanished. Had there not been wet footprints staining the concrete poolside, there would be no trace you’d been there at all. 

Focusing on the lone notes the piano had no trouble emitting became an increasingly difficult task. All he could seem to focus on was you and the obnoxiously loud laughter of your mother and his own in the kitchen. He huffed loudly, pulling his jacket around himself tightly. He clambered up from the piano stool, stalking through to the kitchen to kindly ask if the two women could lower to volume slightly. However, he was soon silenced by the sight of you sat on the countertop of the island, your legs swinging beneath you, a peeled tangerine in your delicate hands. You were smiling slightly as the women couldn’t help but laugh at something Anne had said. 

A bundle of nerves unravelled itself inside of Harry’s stomach when you looked up and locked eyes with him. Your mother and Anne quickly quietened down at Harry’s sudden presence in the doorway. “Morning, darling,” Anne smiled. 

“Morning, Mum,” he replied, breaking his gaze away from your own. “Do you, uh, do you mind if you can keep it down a bit? I’m trying to work.”

“Work?” your mum asked. “Harry, dear, we’re in Italy! Why don’t you wait to work when you get home.”

“I know, but I feel most inspired when I’m away from my house,” he tried to explain. 

“Just take a break, Harry. Relax… you know, unwind,” Anne said softly. 

He sighed, “Okay. Fine. I’m going to shower.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and left the kitchen. You’d been silent throughout the entire exchange, glancing between Harry and your half-eaten tangerine. As you watched him leave, you averted your attention back to your book that was being held open by a mug you’d quickly put down so as not to lose your place.  

Harry found himself running his hands through his dark hair, which was now coated in mango-scented shampoo. He’d just grabbed it off the shelf in the shower, assuming it came as a complimentary luxury with the villa. As the hot water trickled down his body, he allowed his muscles to relax. He knew his mum was right: he needed to separate himself from his music for a few days. But he was only working away tirelessly at the grand piano because it kept his mind off you. If it wasn’t music, it was you. If it wasn’t you, it was music. 

These yearly holidays used to be enjoyable for Harry. Right up until he was fourteen and he realised he liked you. Then they became almost torturous. As soon as he began to see you in this different light, your presence and whereabouts became apparent to his senses. Before, you always seemed to swim in the pool with Gemma or play in her room. He’d occupy himself with your brother by going down to the beach or playing tag in the extensive gardens of the Italian villa. But you suddenly seemed to be everywhere. He’d go down to the beach and there you’d be with your parents or Gemma. He’d be running through the gardens trying to find your brother after an afternoon of hide and seek, and yet he’d discover you reading or gossiping with his sister. All of this, but the summer you didn’t come with your family because you were going away to Scotland with your then-boyfriend instead was utterly dreadful for him.

When he was finished in the shower, he wasted the rest of the day by the pool in hopes you’d venture out with your books and tangerines. But alas, you did not. It was only when the sun was dipping below the horizon did he next lay eyes on you. He was sat at the dining table, his plate before him. You grinned at him, sitting down opposite him. You kept quiet as your parents chatted away mindlessly with Anne, only sharing a brief and quiet conversation with your brother, who you were sat beside. 

Gemma hadn’t come this year, leaving Harry and Anne alone with your family. Anne didn’t seem to have a problem with that at all. After all, she and your mother were such good friends and always had been. You had always been content in your own company. And your brother seemed to spend all his time with your father, something about inheriting the family business. So, Harry had found a companion in the villa’s grand piano, which had now been stripped away from him courtesy of his mother. 

It wasn’t as if you were deliberately being cold to Harry. You actually quite admired him and you knew you always had. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t aware of his eyes following you everywhere you went. But you liked the attention. You wanted to know just what you could do to him. So, when your foot accidentally grazed his leg beneath the table, you didn’t even look at him. After all, it was a mere accident. 

When, at last, your father was finished with his meal, you helped Anne clear away the dishes and your mother as she washed up. While your father and brother ventured through to the lounge to watch a football game, Harry went straight to his room. 

An hour passed and he was too busy on his phone to notice you enter his room. When you cleared your throat, he finally looked up. His eyes were wide like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He hurriedly shut off his phone, blackness overtaking the screen that had once presented your Instagram profile to him. “Oh, hi, Y/N,” he said as you sat yourself down at the foot of his bed. 

“Oh? Didn’t realise you were expecting someone else,” you smirked. 

“No, no, no. I, uh, I wasn’t. I was just surprised to see you,” he said quickly. 

“Right,” you grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He watched your face screw up suddenly. You leaned forward towards him, before laughing. “What?” he asked. “What’s funny?”

“Is that my shampoo?” you questioned. 

“Shit. I just thought it was a, you know, freebie. I didn’t realise it was yours. Shit. I wouldn’t have used it if I knew it was yours. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

As he rambled, he remembered that the two of you shared the same bathroom. It was between your respective bedrooms, doors leading to both. Of course it was your shampoo. You chuckled at his ramblings, “It’s okay Harry. It’s just shampoo. You can use it whenever.”

“Oh,” he let out a sigh of relief. “Well, for what it’s worth, I thought it smelt wonderful.”

You smiled, “Thanks. I have a pomegranate one in my suitcase that I think you’d love.”

“Really? Why did you bring two shampoos?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “So I have options depending on my mood. Sometimes I’m feeling like a pomegranate, sometimes I’m feeling like a mango.”

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes wandering up your bare legs that were only sporting a pair of silky shorts. Obviously, this didn’t go unnoticed by you. “The only thing is,” you started, “you’re going to smell like me now.”

He shifted slightly. You smiled to yourself. 

“What if people, you know, get the wrong idea?” you asked innocently. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “I guess you’ll just have to use your pomegranate shampoo tomorrow instead, won’t you?”

You leaned back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. His cheeks were flushed and you knew your job for the evening was done. “Fair play, Styles. See you in the morning,” you made a point of touching his shoulder as you left via the shared bathroom. 

The following morning, Harry awoke, finding himself peacefully content for a moment before he recalled the prior night’s events. He was yet to decide if you were actually making a move on him or not. Or perhaps you were genuinely concerned that your families would smell your signature mango scent on Harry and get the wrong impression of the entire thing. 

He dragged himself out of the soft sheets, getting dressed. He listened silently to the running shower. He could hear you humming along to Then He Kissed Me by The Crystals. And after the shower he stopped, he gave it five minutes before going in to brush his teeth. He couldn’t help but look over to see your bottle of pomegranate shampoo making its place beside your mango one. The red bottle was the one soaked in droplets of water, while the yellow bottle remained dry. You’d done as he’d said. In a way, Harry almost wished you’d used the mango shampoo. He almost liked the thought of people thinking he and you had been so close that he’d absorbed your tropical scent. 

As he wandered into the kitchen, preparing himself some toast, he noticed the unusual silence of the villa. It was unnerving. He felt like the protagonists of those books and movies where they wake up and everyone’s gone or been evacuated. It felt apocalyptic. But, as his mind churned out immediate actions to take in this case of an unprecedented apocalypse, you walked into the kitchen just as his toast popped out of the toaster. “Morning,” you smiled, sitting down at one of the island’s stools. 

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, spreading butter onto the crisp toast. 

You shrugged, “It was alright. You?”

“I slept wonderfully.”

“Good,” you said. 

“Where is everyone?” he asked, sitting down opposite you. 

“They left for the beach,” you explained. “I didn’t want to go and they didn’t want to wait around for you to get out of bed. Anne told me to tell you that if you want to go down, they’re the ones with the pink deckchairs.”

He nodded slowly, “I think I’ll pass. Not a fan of sand.”

“Right? Why do people enjoy playing in minuscule rocks, which end up in your clothes for the next two weeks? Sounds like hell to me,” you said. 

He smiled at your aggravated tone, “Wow, and I thought I hated sand.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, pal,” you joked, smiling. 

Before a blanket of silence could fall on top of the two of you, Harry quickly said, “I saw you used the pomegranate shampoo.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him, “Yeah… I mean, you told me to, right?”

“Right,” he nodded quickly. “Of course. Well, at least we both smell nice now.”

You frowned, “If you say so. Anyway, I’m going for a swim. See you later.”

Harry watched you leave. His eyes roamed your figure with your legs exposed in a pair of shorts. You looked back at him over your shoulder, grinning to yourself at his longing look. He watched through the large kitchen windows as you rid yourself of your shorts and t-shirt, revealing your swimsuit beneath. He tried desperately to peel his gaze away from you as you settled yourself comfortably on one of the sun loungers by the pool. You placed your sunglasses over your eyes, opening your book. 

As soon as he’d finished his toast, he wandered outside. At the sound of his footsteps, you looked up. “Hi, Harry,” you smiled. 

“Hello,” he said softly, sitting down opposite you. You slid your sunglasses up over your head, settling them on your hair. You sat up, never allowing your eyes to leave his. “How can I help you?” you grinned. 

He was fiddling with his fingers, his gaze alternating between them and you. Finally, you reached out and placed your hand over his shaky ones. You stood, pulling him up with you. You were so close. You could hear each other breathing. You could practically hear his heart thumping against his ribs. You reached up to whisper in his ear, “I know you adore me.”

You smirked, allowing him to revel in your confidence. Call it cockiness. Same thing, really. You slowly pulled away from his ear, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. And yet it was him who finally connected your lips to his own. He didn’t make any effort to pull away either. You smiled into the kiss, burying your fingers in his hair. And when he finally did pull away, he stared down at you, cheeks red, “Depends if you adore me too.”

You grinned, “I do.”

And, with that, he dove back in. You grinned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up. He lay you down gently on the sun lounger, leaning over you. As you pulled his shirt over his head, he leaned back slightly. “I thought you didn’t want people to get the wrong idea,” he whispered. 

You shrugged, “I guess we’ll just have to see what pomegranate and mango smell like together.”

[toorusluvr]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ CALIFORNIA: IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

characters: iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

cw:  car sex, unprotected sex (please use protection if you hate kids), iwaizumi has a praising kink! mutual pining lol. if there's more let me know.

wc: 3k

crossposted on my ao3 ��

The gush of the sudden heatwave was unbearable, you must admit. Stepping foot in California, a foreign country with no one to pick you up at the airport, felt awkward and scary at the same time. Your only goal was to visit your best friend, Iwaizumi, at the college he was studying at. Your plan was to give him a call once you arrived at the destination soon.

Taking a cab from the airport, the beach view came into your sight. The way your eyes shimmered at the beautiful view of people surfing and enjoying themselves at the beach was enough to tell that you actually had a great start being here. Iwa must have had an enjoyable time being here.. Is he homesick? It suddenly popped into your mind. He must be having a great time being in California. The weather’s great, and the scenery is pleasant.

The cab driver helped you with your luggage, though it wasn’t as handful as the other tourists, you still need help getting your big luggage out from the trunk. You heaved a deep sigh, breathless after dragging your luggage onto the concrete pathway. Without stalling your time, you searched for your phone in the pocket of your pants. Scrolling through your contacts, you finally found his contact number.

Within the first three rings, he picked up your call. His raspy voice greeting you the first thing. You heard he cleared his throat. “Hey, why are you calling me? Isn’t it like 11 in the morning there? Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, considering your fucked up sleeping schedule?” a laughter was followed after he nagged you.

You laughed, entertained by his own way of making fun of you. “If I was in Tokyo, then the answer is yes. But I am not in Tokyo, to be frankly speaking!” you were hoping he would catch on to what you were saying. Your presence here was to surprise him, after all!

Iwaizumi had just finished training at the local gym. He wiped the beads of sweats forming on his forehead with the towel hanging around his neck. He glanced over the clock on the wall, 6:15 p.m. Don’t tell me that you are here? he thought. “What are you on, Y/N? Are you talking in your sleep right now?”

This guy, you grunted softly. He caught on but he was afraid if his instinct was not telling him the right thing. “What a dumbass. I’m here in California, you idiot. Come and pick me up at your college! I don’t know your home address for God’s sake!” you burst out. The heat was killing you and please God, can he be quick to pick you up?

He deadass laughed at you. “Are you for real? Oh my goodness! Aight, just give me 10 minutes! I just finished working out. Stay where you are, I am coming to get you!” Iwaizumi rushed to take a quick shower in the shower room. He has to look and smell nice before meeting you. Of course, he would.

“Make it 5, Hajime. I swear to God!” you said, lowkey threatening him. You looked like you were stranded in front of his college with your luggage beside you. Standing awkwardly while the passersby looking at you up and down with a questionable look on their faces.

His sinister laughter made you unknowingly clenched your thighs together. “I swear I’ll be quick. Just stay where you are! Don’t follow any strangers!”

Being the petty friend you are, you counted how long it took for Iwaizumi Hajime to come and get you. He took exactly 7 minutes and 39 seconds to come to your rescue. The matte black range rover parked in front you. Iwaizumi got out of the driver’s seat hurriedly. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were coming, dumbass?” he ruffled your hair. Trying to look good for him ended up being ruined by the person himself.

You rolled your eyes, “Obviously, it’s a surprise visit! Can’t you tell them apart or what?” you laughed, unable to hold your laughter any longer. “Nice car, by the way!”

“It's not mine. I had to borrow it from a friend to pick you up” Iwaizumi told, taking in your luggage into the trunk. He opened the passenger’s seat door for you -- his hand rested on the windshield, ensuring your head to be safe. You mumbled a soft thank you before he got to the driver’s seat.

“Where are you staying, by the way? It's dangerous to be out there all alone. Or, aren’t you afraid?” he asked, his right hand turning the steering wheel to drive out of his campus area.

You hummed, “There's a hotel nearby here I booked. But, if you wanted to pay the expenses for me, it’d be nice!”

Both of you burst into laughter, knowing too well both of you are joking around and no hard feelings involved! “Since you are here, let’s go to In-N-Out that you’ve always talked about” Iwaizumi suggested, his eyes glanced over you in the passenger’s seat. You looked excited to try out the fast food franchise you’ve been wanting to try.

It felt like old times, hanging out with your best friend even in a foreign country feels exactly the same. The skies were getting darker as time passed by. About half before 9, both of you headed to his friend’s car. Iwaizumi needed to send you off before midnight. It's unsafe for you to be alone, especially at this hour.

Sitting in the expensive car, both of you enjoyed talking about anything and everything. Time doesn’t seem to be passing by when both of you are together. How badly Iwaizumi wants you to be there for him every single day. He hesitated to ask you, but it’s now or never, Hajime.

“Uh, why did you come to visit me? Why not Oikawa?” he laughed, an uneasy feeling creeped into his heart. Did he make a mistake? He was just asking a question. There's no way you’ll be offended, right?

Shrugging off your nervousness, you covered it up with a lie. “Apparently, California is much cheaper than Argentina. So, I decided to visit you first before meeting Oikawa. Sounds like a genius idea, no?”

Great, now you looked like a pathetic liar. That doesn’t fascinate him, not even a bit. “Oh- that sounds like a great plan, by the way” he laughed. “You know, I am honored to be the first friend you visited!”

You smiled, trying to think of a sentence to reply. “Yeah, you should be.” Fidgeting with your fingers only made you look like a liar. You turned to look at him, both of you fell into an awkward somehow comfortable silence.

“I think I have fallen in love with you” Iwaizumi confessed. He paused for a moment, “No. Actually, I am in love with you.” He looked serious, yes he was. He had been waiting for this moment to come and it’s finally time to confess. It's about time to tell you the truth.

“Wh-what? Are you kidding or what?” you chuckled nervously. Between him and you, you’ve always thought it’ll be you who make the first move but your assumption was wrong.

“No, I am not kidding” he looked at you straight in the eyes.

Your fingers brushed over your face which is now slightly warmer than usual. You disclosed the gap between both of you, “What if I tell you I am in love with you too?”

Iwaizumi's lips formed into a smile. He didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words, but he was thankful for your presence. Closing the gap between both of you, he moved his hand to your face. His palm cupping your face and pressed his lips on your lips with a tender kiss. “Is this fine?”

With your eyes closed, you nodded confidently. You have always loved how considerate Iwaizumi is with others. “Yes, please.”

Both of you kissed for the first time ever. There was a taste of love instead of lust from two individuals who are looking for home in the right person. Brushing your lips with his thumb, he looked at you once again. “Do you want this? Are we taking things too fast?”

You chuckled softly, “It’s fine, Hajime. It's not like we don’t want this in the first place.” Your eyes looking into his green eyes, before a smile appeared on his face. He nodded, agreeing with what you said.

“Let’s get to the backseat” he whispered, nibbling on the sensitive spot under your ear while his hands caressing both sides of your face. You climbed to the backseat, adrenaline pumping in your system. Iwaizumi gently laid you on the leather seat, spreading your legs so he could be in between your legs.

He easily removed your thin top, unzipping your pants that it slid over your legs so easily. The sudden cold of the night sent shivers down to your spine. “Are you sure you’re fine with this?” he interrupted your thoughts. You held his face in your hands, “I will never regret this moment, Hajime. Trust me.”

You have convinced him to not hold himself back. He nibbled on your sensitive spot over and over again, leaving deep purple hickeys all over your beautiful neck. Clinging your legs onto his waist, you arched lewdly to his touch while your tongues clashing with each other.

Iwaizumi placed his hands on your bare thighs, brushing his fingers over your inner thighs crucially slow. You whimpered softly, your body kept on asking for him to give you more. Everything he has to offer. “Hajime, please. I need you” you begged. “Don’t hold yourself back, because I am not going to.”

Oh, how sweet you looked being under him with your glossy eyes, begging him for more. He would wreck you if it wasn’t for this cramped place. Pulling his shirt off of his toned body, he let you enjoyed seeing his defined abs and chest. “I guess I need to teach my princess one or two things about love, hm?”

You nodded your head, your voice caught up in your throat, unable to speak proper sentences. “Don’t worry, I’ll take a really good care of you. Because I love you” he whispered in your ears.

You tugged on the waistband of his briefs, the tent forming in his boxer couldn’t hide the size of his cock. You gulped, he is unlike the other guys you have dated. He is sweet and loving, sometimes aggressive. Is he aggressive while being intimate too? You wondered.

From the way he parted your legs apart, you knew he’s real good at this. Iwaizumi dragged his two digits on your slick folds, “You’re already wet, baby” he laughed. He looked at you and gave you an assuring smile before he ate you out like a starved man. His tongue laid flatly on your dripping pussy.

His licks made your back arched lewdly to his touch. Iwaizumi never thought the day he'd be making love with his own best friend has finally come. He's in love with you ever since you guys were in first year of high school. The years of mutual pining only made him crave your love even more.

“You’re doing so good for me” he said, smirking at you in a glance. Your fingers intertwined in his spiky black hair while he praised you endlessly. “You’re eager for me, aren’t you baby?” his raspy voice vibrated against your wet cunt.

“Please, Hajime” you whimpered. “I-i want you to fuck me, please.”

“Since you are doing so good for me, I guess I have to give my princess my cock, hm?” With a harsh thrust, a loud gasp filled the car. He gasped when your tight walls swallowed his cock. Using his thumb, he played with your clit as he rocked his hips slowly to build his pace.

You have never heard yourself let out a sinful moan like you did just now. You immediately threw your hand over your mouth to cover your moans. Your eyes rolled back when he pressed his thumb on your clit.

“No, baby let me hear you” Iwaizumi yanked your hand away. “I want to hear you screaming my name, because I am the only one who can make you feel good from now on, hm?” he grunted as he slammed his hips into you.

Your tears formed in your eyes, wrapping around his neck while kissing him deeply. He toyed with your clit while kissing you passionately, hips rocking slowly into you. “Ah- Hajime” you moaned in his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful” he grunted softly. "You’re doing so fucking good for me, princess. Taking my cock so well like this hm? Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nodded eagerly, “Pl-please. Make me cum, Hajime- ah!” your legs wrapped tightly around his waist when you felt your orgasm building up in your stomach. Iwaizumi bit his lips, continuing to grind against your g-spot as he eyed your fucked out face with your eyes rolled back and a single tear dropped down as you begged him to go harder.

“Fuck, you feel so- ah- good, Hajime” you cried out. “Please please please, I am so near!”

With the angle he's in right now, he managed to make you moan as if no one was there to hear. Iwaizumi was big, the tip of his cock bumping your cervix in every thrust, making your legs shaking badly and your lips quivering with pleasure and cries. It felt so fucking good, no one has ever fucked you this good. All the boys you dated were useless, never once making you cum.

Your cunt clenched tightly around his cock, telling him that you’re near. “Baby, come on cum for me” he dragged two of his fingers on your clit, flicking on it as he waited for your orgasm to break.

“Y-yes there! H-hajime, it feels so good!” you moaned, mixed with cries of pleasure. Your nails digging into his back muscle, leaving scratches all over his back.

“Here? Like this, baby?” he hummed through his teeth, flicking your clit over and over again until it made your whole body trembled. “Do you like that, hm?”

You nodded eagerly, words have flown out of your mind. Nothing can ever compare to his cock and the size of his fingers that could easily make you cum. Your throat felt dry from all the moaning and cries. You came around his cock, your cum dripping on his length.

“I need you to cum one more time, okay baby? You’re doing so good for me” iwaizumi caressed your hair gently. He placed a chaste kiss on your lips. You nodded, following his orders. He changed the angle of his thrust, pistoning his cock faster than he did before. His calloused hands playing with your hardened buds before taking one of them in his mouth and started sucking on it.

“Come on, baby” he grunted, biting his lips from cumming before you.

“I- I'm gonna- fuck!” you sobbed, it felt different than your first orgasm. Your legs trembled, “H-hajime please.”

“That's it, baby. Fuck, I'm cumming” he gritted through his teeth. “We can’t make a mess in here” he grunted softly. He looked at his cock being swallowed by your gummy walls. The mess that you made around his cock excited him.

“Fuck, just cum inside me, oh- shit” you sobbed, gripping onto his biceps as you came down from your high.

"Are you sure? Oh- fuuuck” you nodded, panting for air as he spilled his seed inside you with a deep grunt.

He laid on top of you for a moment, trying to catch his breath after spurting his thick cum inside of you. Iwaizumi kissed you on your forehead, “Let's stay like this for a moment. Can't afford messing up my friend’s seat, can’t we?” he laughed.

You chuckled, nodding your head. “Right. I have a tissue, Hajime. Don't you worry. But it’s in my luggage in the trunk.”

Iwaizumi giggled, sealing his lips with you sweetly while he tucked your hair behind your ear. “You did so good for me” he whispered in between the kisses. You giggled, “Yeah, as if we didn’t have sex in your friend’s backseat.”

He laughed, “He would have understand, right? Come on, let’s send you to your hotel it’s getting late.”

"Fuck, Y/N. I love you so much" he kissed you lovingly. You looked into his eyes trying to catch your breath. "I love you too, Hajime. Always have been."

[artsybookworms]

A pointless thread in which I rate the HOO books:

Warning: If you love this series and don’t want to read any complaints about it, just keep scrolling. This is not a personal attack on people who think the books are great. Obviously, I still love the series or I wouldn’t have stayed a member of this fandom for 7 years (and counting)💀 but yeah just fair warning that I’m a bit harsh in these reviews, but on the whole nostalgia has me in a choke hold and they feel like dear friends even if they annoy me *cough* a lot *cough* sometimes.

6/10: Listen, it’s an okay book. I actually really liked Piper when I first read it (although I know now that a lot of things about Piper’s character are… problematic), and the plot is interesting enough. I read it a second time and enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would. But like,, after //five years// of being invested in a completely different set of characters, many of whom grew up with them as each book came out, expecting readers to be invested in a brand new trio is a lot to ask. I just will never understand why people act like it’s unreasonable to be upset that the protagonists of PJO are barely in TLH. I uh,, was not intending this to turn into a rant, but basically, this book wasn’t a terrible first book; it was just very ambitious and I’m not sure how well Rick pulled it off.

7.5/10: In my heart, this book is a 9/10. I loved seeing Percy interact with Hazel and Frank, two of my favorite HOO protags. However,, I realize that I’m very biased, and it’s likely SON is not much better than TLH. I just like the characters more. On the whole, I enjoyed the plot and getting to know the new campers. I think I also just like Percy’s type of humor over Leo’s, so I enjoyed the quips in SON more. I was not a fan of Frank’s “transformation” at the end or the Frazel age gap (although I genuinely think Rick was just really out of touch as a grown man trying to write from the perspective of adolescents). But overall, it’s a comfort read for me. I also really liked Reyna :)

8/10: We stan Annabeth in this household!!! Now that everyone’s together, the dynamics get a lot more interesting. Sure, there are a lot of rivalries that I feel like should’ve either been omitted or explored further, but maybe that’s asking for too much. It’s an enjoyable, fast-paced read, and that’s honestly all I want at this point. Also,, the ending. What a power move Rick. You got me.

9/10: Tartarus was such an interesting setting to explore!! We got to see a completely new side of Percy and Annabeth, which added even more depth into their already complex characterization. Ngl all I remember was just waiting until I got to the Percy/Annabeth perspectives lmao

4/10: To put it bluntly, BOO was a pretty disappointing conclusion to the series :(

I’m gonna get this first point out of the way because y’all knew I was gonna say it: there were no Percy or Annabeth perspectives. We’ve been with them for TEN years now and they literally went through hell and back in the last book, forgive me for being greedy and wanting the final conclusion to their story to include,, well,, them. It was also just very underwhelming. Like, the final battle against Gaea lasted like a page and a half (compare this to the finale of PJO which was much more developed). Also, the romance between Calypso and Leo felt shoehorned in, as if having a love interest will always solve everyone’s problems. I’m glad Rick decided to develop their relationship further in TOA, but at the time it left a bad taste in my mouth. It also felt like Rick ret-conned Calypso from PJO and turned her into a completely different character. Also also, I hated that scene where Percy tells Jason about having suicidal thoughts and Jason is just like “I feel that bro” and never asks him about it or tells anyone. What kind of message is that supposed to send?? Not to mention it just felt rushed overall, Rick might have been getting close to a deadline or something. By far my least favorite book of the series, although I did like getting a Reyna perspective.

[inknopewetrust]

smallest joys (Henry!Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader)

Summary: the tree in the Holmes’ backyard as a place of great peace and laughter of all, and a moment arises for it to be a place of forgiveness and love as well.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none.

A/N: thanks so much for reading and always remember that authors love to hear any feedback on stories, so don’t be shy to share your opinions. Requests are still closed, but I’m working on getting them up and running hopefully soon! xoxo (gif not mine)

Enola was perched high above the ground in the great gray tree that sat far from the house she had grown to resent without her mother there. It was difficult, the constant want of adventure and thrill that was often smothered because of Mycroft’s inability to have a semblance of joy in his life.

Throwing the shading pencil in her sketchbook and closing it with a huff, Enola heard a set of angered footsteps make their way towards the tree in which she inhabited and she balled her fists against a branch. Half expecting it to be Mycroft yelling at her for leaving the study and half expecting it to be Sherlock doing their eldest brother’s bidding in a kinder manner, one they always hoped she’d fall for.

But it wasn’t. Y/n L/n, Sherlock’s feisty assistant from London was irate with her cheeks as red as apples storming toward the tree. Without noticing Enola above, Y/n leaned against its trunk and her head fell into her hands in embarrassment.

“Did you do something stupid?” Enola inquired and you jumped ever so slightly, looking up with great haste at Enola above. The young girl was smiling down on you kindly but also with such an inquisitive mind, you weren’t sure if she truly cared or just wanted manor gossip to share with the housemaid.

“And why would you ask such a thing, young lady?” You shoved your hands on your hips and narrowed fine eyes at Enola, trying to forget why you stormed out in the first place, though that was practically impossible because you knew he would follow after an argument.

“I asked you first, Y/n. And I’m not a young lady, you sound like Mycroft.” Enola swung her feet off a branch and rested her head in her intertwined hands that laid on top of another arm of the great tree.

“What happened? Did Sherlock finally recognize your talents for discovery or did you say something stupid that angered him?” Enola asked again, more in depth than before and her eyes narrowed now at the woman she had grown to admire very much.

Y/n was always someone who Enola could depend upon. Whether it be for new books from London or a simple lesson on dust particles, she knew Y/n had many of the answers. But as of late, with her mother gone and the tension in the home only growing, Sherlock appeared to be easily angered or upset by small comments, jokes or jabs at him that were not unusual from his assistant and Enola took notice. She saw the way Y/n’s eyes fell or how she would storm out of the room, angered at either herself or his reaction to her little joys and she couldn’t quite figure out why it was always her he was getting angry at. It had never happened before they had come to stay at his childhood home to help with Enola.

“Enola, I do not want to burden you with the petty arguments of adults. It is no concern of yours.”

“If it is my brother’s fault I consider it my concern.”

You pursed her lips at the girl before indulging in your frustrations.

“Every little comment I make he gets angry at. I am not use to being yelled at by him and I certainly do not understand why he is so uptight ever since we arrived. I try to help with his inquiries about your mother but even then, my input seems to go in one ear and sails out the other! Enola, I mean nothing by this, truly, I am simply frustrated by always being second fiddle to a man who appears to need no help at all.” You managed to mutter out in a moments time and Enola understood. Mycroft was the one treating Enola the same way at the moment and she wanted nothing more than to place a metal helmet on his head and bang a stick against it to set his mind straight. The men just do not appear to respect the intelligence of the women in the house.

“I am not meant for a life of domesticity, Enola. I am sure you can tell by the way I stir a pot or fold the laundry, I like adventure and I enjoy mystery very much. I simply want Sherlock to see that too. I don’t want to lose my dearest friend over one little spat.”

Enola smiled down at you and jumped down, meeting the grass with a thud and wiped off the shards that managed to catch themselves on her stockings.

“And that is why I admire you, very much, if I may add. And are you sure you don’t love him? If friends act the way you two do, I would have to choose my friends wisely.” You chuckled, reassured her you were simply just friends and embraced Enola in a some-what motherly manner, though Enola saw it as what she’d imagined would be a best friend, or sister.

“I would tell him how you feel. Make him understand you better and believe me when I say he will listen.” Enola retracted from the embrace and shot off towards the house, leaving you in state of bewilderment and confusion but when you turned around yourself intending to watch Enola run toward the house, you were met with the man you had no more than ten minutes ago stormed away from.

Sherlock stood with one hand in a pocket and the other clutching a book to his chest and a small pout on his face. The pout wasn’t one of sadness or disappointment, but of wonder and curiosity, already trying to decipher the situation before him.

“She was quick to run away.” Sherlock observed and moved toward the tree, leaning his back against it and looking over to you, just slightly to the side of him but facing him, not the land surrounding the tree.

“Well if she knew your temper as well as I do, I would run away too but obviously that has proven to not be an option.”

“I came here to apologize.” Your eyes, ears, and heart managed to perk up at the sound of Sherlock saying the word “apologize” because it wasn’t one he had ever said before, certainly not to you or anyone else he interacted with.

“An apology? From the great Sherlock Holmes? What ever shall I do with this honor?” You faked a gasp and held a hand to your forehead in a manner that only suggested a maiden swooning. Sherlock enrolled his eyes at the joke, seeming to understand that it was simply that, and as your hand made its way down from your forehead, he captured it softly in his empty one and held it gently, yet firm and your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“I would like to be serious about this, Y/n. My actions towards you the last few days have been unlike me and I am sorry for making you feel as if your opinion doesn’t matter, because it most certainly does.”

So he had heard you short conversation with Enola.

“Your opinion I value more than anyone in this world and I am frustrated I have gotten nowhere with my mother’s case in several days. I want her to return safely and with every passing day that outcome becomes less likely.”

“If you spoke to me about your concerns earlier we may have found a middle ground Sherlock. I accept your apology but I will not forgo my jokes in any situation so enjoy the humor while I still walk this earth.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but let the smallest smirk grace his face at the comment. He knew you always took your work seriously, but humor helped with the difficulties some cases can bring and he often failed to recognize the importance of laughter and enjoyment even in the darkest times. He still held your hand in his, in which he then brought it up to his lips and kissed the inside of your palm. It was personal, intimate, and apologetic.

“I am sorry you have to put up with me. I shouldn’t be so harsh when you’re trying to brighten the darkest days.”

“If I want to leave I can, but I seek thrill too much to let you or these cases disappear from my life.”

Sherlock actually smiled and sat down against the trunk, leading you to sit beside him and wrapped his free hand around your shoulders pulling you close. Ever since you arrived at his home, intimate interactions were seldom as Mycroft would have a million harsh words about how you were not a “proper lady to Sherlock”, but it wasn’t like Sherlock would have cared anyway.

“Shall we return to this story?” Sherlock said in a low, “fancy” voice in your ear and you couldn’t help but let out a snort at his attempt to be regal.

“I sincerely hope Elizabeth slaps Mr. Darcy across the face after what he said about her family. If that does not happen, the story dies there.”

“Would you slap every man who offends you? Because if so I’ll brace for one now.” Sherlock was actually joking for once but you slapped his chest lightly with your hand and let it fall, playing with a button on his waist coat. He looked down at you, a curl from the top of his head falling onto his forehead with a spring and you smiled at the handsome man you curled up against. 

“Perhaps.”

Sherlock laid a lingering kiss on your forehead and opened the book, removing the leaf that served at the bookmark and began reading in total comfort with you beside him. It was perfect until a rumble came from the bush and Enola shot up with sticks in her hair.

“So you ARE together!?”

[lonslibrary]

things the netflix shadow and bone got right and wrong—my reaction to the show (🚨 contains spoilers, pls read at your own risk!!)

- to start on a positive note! the shadow and bone characters: i, like many others, didn’t care too much for shadow and bone with the exception of nikolai and am also half convinced a different person wrote soc judging by how little i enjoyed reading s&b compared to soc and crooked kingdom. however, i thought the show was enjoyable and got the characters spot on. alina was more likable, mal was not bland/douchey at all, and i thought ben barnes as the darkling hit every right note.

- highlights included genya and david; though they didn’t have too much screen time, genya was stunning and david was almost exactly how i imagined him when reading the books. i’ve grown attached to them, and yes, i’m pretending row chapter 20 doesn’t exist :-)

- cgi and costuming was also super impressive. loved the keftas, loved the crows’ outfits, and the stag, the fold, and all the grisha powers were really, really good.

- moving on to the crows, i will say i thought casting was some of the best i’ve ever seen throughout all ya adaptations, although i know there are some things that could have been improved, including the fact that danielle galligan, who plays nina, isn’t plus size (no hate to the actress, pls). however, all the reviews i read praised kit young and i could see very obviously why. his jesper was spot on—exactly as i had imagined in the books. i’m willing to bet kruge on the fact that he falls within everyone’s top 5 characters. loved his character in the books, and kit was perfect for him.

- amita was also a stunning inej. her knife/acrobatic skills were all there like i imagined and i thought she portrayed the character very well on screen. i was so invested in her menagerie backstory when reading so i was happy to see some of that get into the show as well.

- ok, now my thing about kaz: freddy carter’s performance was perfectly good! i had no issues with his acting, but i think the show, meaning the producers/writers, haven’t fully understood kaz. don’t get me wrong, the introductory scene with all the crows in ep 1 was fabulous. jesper shooting the coin, kaz’s cane being on screen first, inej’s silent appearance. i really enjoyed the grittiness of kaz, the way his bare hands weren’t shown once, his hair, his cane, how he sweat, etc. however, i thought they overdid it with the pekka rollins backstory, which i think could have been saved for later seasons, and i wanted non-readers to be introduced to a more brutal, calculating, brooding, and genius kaz. i know he isn’t like that all times, but i felt like he was kind of on the defensive(?) very often, raised his voice when it wasn’t needed, etc. i wanted more of his smart, scheming moments like when he double crosses the conductor. not sure how to explain it, but his character felt a bit off at times. maybe i’ve read the books too many times to the point where i’ve kinda made him in my head very specifically.

- nina and matthias: loved danielle and calahan’s performance, i know some disagree but i think the actors were also pretty spot on to how i imagined in the books. their lines most alike to the books as well so i loved hearing the quotes. i did feel that their relationship moved too quickly, though. i definitely feel like matthias would have taken up a bit more time than that to warm up and i know how it goes in the books, but on screen it felt really sped up to the point where i was like already?? i feel like with how much they put into the very little screen time they had, this could’ve been saved for flashbacks in season 2.

- the combination of the two series did worry me but it was pretty smooth! i liked where the crows went, how they kinda came together in the end, but i’m also glad that they’re separating after all. i’m so invested in seeing the soc and crooked kingdom storyline come to life exactly how it is in the books so i don’t want any more interference lol. i am worried about how the timeline is gonna work in season 2 because obviously the civil war has not ended, but i really liked how the last episode set us up for season 2. (also a random note, but the show was very dark lol i had my brightness up all the way the entire time)

- HIGHLIGHTS: milo the goat (mvp of the show), jesper tumbling the stable boy, all of jesper’s lines, really, the darkling’s office/room setting, genya and david’s one (1) singular scene together, the darkling’s kefta, the child actors portraying alina and mal, the way the stag’s bones connected alina to the darkling (super grotesque, but a good portrayal of her becoming his prisoner), the CUT omg, that one scene when jesper pretends he didn’t shoot on dime lions territory, the scene where the fjerdans attack alina in the forest, kaz avoiding the cut, kaz saving jesper from the cut, inej’s knife battle with the heartrender, kaz stepping in front of inej to face the volcra, FEDYOR AND IVAN omg, kaz’s “jes?”, queen baghra, the darkling coming out of the fold at the end with his monsters that are impossible to spell, and more i can’t remember after binging the show until 3AM.

- in conclusion, it lived up the excitement for sure, and i’m ready for season 2!! especially with the way the last episode ended. i’m very eager to see my faves, nikolai and wylan, and cannot wait to watch where the grishaverse takes us next.

do you agree or disagree with my thoughts? i want to hear everyone’s opinions!! feel free to drop comments below :))

[heartfragment]

Okay sorry for the long asks I'm gonna send! I wanna give you my thoughts on the routes after playing and getting the good endings of all four of them (I haven't touched the bad ends yet because I'm not ready to destroy my soul 😔) and I figured it'd be easier to have one ask per route for simplicity. Also I will be as spoiler free as possible with my thoughts for the sake of anyone who hasn't played yet. These may not be the best written reviews though, my thoughts kinda go all over lol. So first off, Kay my beloved darling!

He was the one who caught my attention first and I gotta say while I adore everyone so far he's still my favorite! Man that Act 1 plot twist about who Kay really is? I'm still mind blown over it like I never ever EVER expected that to be the case! So when that was thrown at me I was basically like "?????? wtf??? WTF????" Honestly Kay's route was sooo heartbreaking in many respects, from Kay's struggles to Xani dealing with the consequences. And my gosh as someone who is the biggest baby alive when it comes to horror and anything related to it, the unsettling moments were *chef's kiss* I saw another anon bring this up and I wanna agree that Kay's VA? Outstanding, simply incredible. Every emotion, every line that came from Kay was believable and hit me in all the right ways. My fave moments being a certain breakdown in a shack and basically everything from the Branch 2 ending. And I really enjoyed how you wrote the mental health issues in this route, especially the issue regarding dependency. Kay himself was so enjoyable as a character as well, both pre and post that part of Act 1. I loved his teasing moments and kindness, I loved his more solemn moments, I loved the moments when he was struggling because of you know what. This route also had me asking a lot of questions which works that it's paired with Clive's route that contains some answers. For Kay my favorite end was the Branch 2 ending, I think it was the best way to wrap up everything that happened.

Hi anon!! This is ... one of the most sweet and most lovely asks I've ever gotten. Thank you so, so much for taking the time to write all of this. I'm sorry it took me so long to actually reply. I was away on vacation and while I saw these soon after they were sent, I didn't want to reply until I had access to a computer so that I could compile all the asks into one post.

I hope you know that this message literally lit up my entire day when I first saw it and it continues to do so as I reply to it now <3 Things like this help to encourage me to keep going even when things get tough. I'm glad you got so much enjoyment out of books one & two! If you haven't already, please consider leaving a review on the game as well. It isn't necessary of course, but it helps a LOT to have detailed comments like this... or even simple ones like "it was good"!

Wishing you a super lovely day!

Here's a compilation of this anon's other asks:

Next up, Clive you little weirdo (affectionate)!

Starting Clive's route was already breaking me because, as I said, Kay's my fave so there I was making sure not to bond with him too much so that I could get Clive's route. That coupled with The Plot Twist™ of Act 1 and basically I was already grieving with the start of this route. I say all this but truly I was already fond of Clive. He's just so incredibly, adorably, painfully earnest in all he does. It's hard not to love him even when he acting so obviously suspicious. And that sincerity in his interactions with Xani over the course of the route does help to lessen the sting of certain reveals. This route did answer some questions I had about Kay's route but it also raised so many more??? Like seriously as this route went on I was half ready to do a conspiracy board to try and piece things together. I enjoyed how this route dealt with identity and how you choose to see both yourself and others. And it was sooooo much fun interacting with Clive over the course of this route and seeing his funny and adorable reactions to Xani mixed in with how achingly sweet he was at times. And it all made the drama of the latter part of the route all the more better! Once again, shout out for the VA work because Clive's VA did a great job selling how awkward and sweet this guy truly is. Great first impression with the hiding behind the tree scene and the adorableness of the scene at the end of Branch 1. So while for Kay I preferred his Branch 2 ending (I did say that it was the Branch 2 ending I loved more for him right? The one with the party? bleh my memory is bad sometimes but yeah that's my fave of the two for Kay) in Clive's case my preferred ending for him in the Branch 1 ending. Mainly for the heart melting sweetness and partially because I couldn't bear having poor Xani deal with a certain consequence of Branch 2's ending.

Now we got my precious baby Shannon!

This book wasn't big in terms of spooks but it dealt with other kinds of fears that still chilled me to the bone. I adored how this route handled paranoia and how much do you truly understand/try to understand the people in your life. I was already attached to Shannon in the common route so finally getting to play her route was great (plus I'm a sucker for childhood friend romances)! Shannon's bubbly energy and A+ friendship was so adorable (everyone deserves to have an incredible friend like Shannon) and precious but my truly favorite scenes were the ones where she tried to open up more about what she was going through. I felt her frustration and loneliness whenever Xani wouldn't let her in (completely understandable why Xani would but I also totally felt why it hurt Shannon so much). Shannon's VA completely sold me on her adorable bubbly self and also completely sold me during the scenes where she let out emotions other than "I'm happy bubbly Shannon". A certain yelling scene after a certain other character's role in everything was revealed comes to mind most. Can I just say that gigantic WTF moment (the "memory" one for the sake of being as spoiler free as possible) nearly fried my brain? Like I was right there with Xani wondering what the hell was going on here and how that happened. Didn't get a conspiracy board but I did actually start taking a shit ton of notes in a spare notebook I have trying to piece together everything going on and all the questions I have! Also screw Dustin, all my homies hate Dustin >:( But it was fun to meet Charlie and Choi (will we see more of them later on? they were so fun it'd be a shame if we didn't). For Shannon it was actually a really close call between Branch 1 and Branch 2 for my favorite ending because each branch had something I loved so much in terms of romance, friendship and pure drama. But the Branch 2 ending just managed to win between the two because I liked that drama more and also that dance scene was too precious for words! Also the after credits scene of Branch 2 killed me with cuteness!

And last but note least, my actual mom Lana!

When I looked at the walkthrough for Lana's route and saw there seemed to be fewer choices than for the other routes I was worried that would mean her route would just be shorter. But nope, you put my fears to rest when I saw what you did with Act 3! I'm really glad you made that choice for Act 3, because it answered so many questions about the precious acts in her route but also gave a great insight into Lana's mindset! May be sounding like a broken record here but Lana's VA also did a wonderful job here, giving Lana such a caring and soothing voice. Like that finale scene between her and Xani was beautiful and made me melt into a puddle from how much love I could feel in Lana's words! I enjoyed this route's take on trust and the past, how much of it do we hold onto and how much do we need to let go of in order to move forward and heal. This route also revealed a couple somethings that I had been guessing early on and was so excited to have confirmed (namely the identity of a certain someone Lana knows and what said someone's name is). The dream sequences in this route were sooo cool and trippy and makes me want more and more because I need answers! I need all the answers!!! I adored seeing Xani and Lana interact with each other, seeing them reignite that closeness from their past while Xani also has to battle between sincere love for Lana and the mess of emotions coming from all the shit that happens over the route. Lana only has the one good end though I loved how you had variations in there via having the other three be potential love interests and also a certain other variation. It really was fun to try them all out (especially since I super curious how you were gonna pull of one particular variation considering said character's unique position at this point in the game)! Also can I say Lana was incredible in both how hard she tries and truly is a wonderful guardian for Xani and also in how she deals with the grief and despair of past tragedies and also the nonsense of general adult life. Personally I'm closer to Lana's age than the rest of the cast's ages so I ended up really connecting with many of her struggles since they mirror so many of my own.

Last one, I promise!!!

Anyways yeah those are my scrambled thoughts after playing the routes. I'm over here basically vibrating intensely because I cannot wait for Book 3 and the final book to be released. I'm getting closer and closer to upgrading my notebook to a full blown conspiracy board 😂 But seriously, I have so many questions and all the hints and teases you put throughout these routes has my brain going into overdrive trying to figure it all out. Because I noticed certain things and was glad the game was like "yeah isn't this off?" but there was other stuff pointed out to me that I didn't even realize (the dates…THE DATES). Also Xani is such a wonderful MC, my love and light. Both female Xani and male Xani have such adorable designs and their VAs did great when it came to bringing them to life in both sweet moments and in the harsher moments (also loved seeing the different reactions the other characters would have based on Xani's gender it was so cool you added those variations in dialogue). Anyways you have done such a good job on the writing on this game and please pass along my admiration and love to the artists who made the incredible images, the composers and singers and all the music folks who made some absolutely amazing tracks that were perfect for the scenes, and also to all the fantastic VAs who brought these characters to life! Love the game and am eagerly awaiting the next part!!!

[litafficionado]

Four Questions with Garielle Lutz:

I’m extremely beholden to Garielle who took the time to respond to my silly, garbled, childish, intrusive questions. You can purchase her latest book Worsted here and here, among many other sites.  --------- Q.  You've attributed the resuscitation of your literary career in quite considerable measure to your teacher and editor Gordon Lish. It seems like you guys are particularly close, even as you seem to have largely confined yourself to Pittsburgh(mostly driven by your erstwhile teaching career but also by your liking the city over time). How does it feel to hear someone like Gordon speak so highly of you, “I think there’s more truth in one sentence of my student [Lutz] than in all of [Philip] Roth. Lutz gives [herself] away. “The speaking subject gives herself away,” says Julia Kristeva. I thoroughly believe that. What you see in Lutz, [her] lavish gift, is [her] refusal to relax [her] determination to uncover and uncover. It is, by my lights, quite wonderful, quite terrific.[…]Lutz is entirely the real thing?” Does one feel vindicated? How do you navigate the waters of self-effacement and self-indulgence as a writer and as a person? A.  I haven’t had a literary career before or after studying with Gordon Lish.  I don’t think one finds one’s way to him in hopes of launching a career.  Anyone with vulgar ambition along those lines would have been shown the door pretty quick.  I would never presume to be close to Gordon or to feel that I am part of his life other than in my role as a student. He dwells in another realm entirely. I attended his classes and tried to grasp, to the best of my abilities, the things he was saying about how to get from one word to the next.  He also talked about how to free a word from the constricting range of its permissible behaviors, how to drain it of every sepsis of received meaning, until there is nothing left of the word but the skeleton of its former self, just the lank, gawky letters sticking out this way and that, and then how to fill the thing up again, to the point of overspilling, but this time with something that would never have been allowed to belong in there before, and then see whether the word, now close to bursting, can hold up and maybe have a new kind of say.  I’m always surprised and relieved whenever Gordon says anything approving about anything I write.  I think that for a lot of his students, his opinion is the only one that counts.  

Q.  You've said, "A typical day goes like this: noon, afternoon, evening, night, additional night, even more night, furtherest night, then bedtime, though I don’t have a bed or furniture of any kind.” Have you always been a lychnobite, sensing the overwhelming superabundance of life after the sunset or is it a relatively recent development facilitated by your retirement from teaching? Do you consider yourself in any way to be a minimalist? Does your room bear any resemblance with a sparsely lit opium den where all exchanges happen at the floor level?

A.  I think the pandemic has had a lot to do with it.  Lately I’ve been up until five, sometimes six.  But I’ve always found mornings the harshest and ugliest part of the day (maybe it’s just because of the place where I live, but I never open the blinds anyway).  There can be something awfully scolding about a sunrise the older you get  Evening seems to extend every form of leniency, and in the dead of night, expectations go way down, which is where they maybe ought to stay.  I do spend all of my time on the floor, but my apartment doesn’t bear any resemblance to an opium den.  It’s more like a crawlspace or the back of a  dollar-store stockroom.    

Q. Even with your reputation of being a page-hugger than a typical page-turner, how do you decide which books to read apart from your line of work? Do you try to keep it largely in the familiar territory, like exploring the oeuvre of a time-tested writer? How does one unshackle oneself from this constant niggling that one ought to read so many books? Here's Ben Marcus: “When I was in graduate school, there was this sort of cautionary adage going around by the poet Francis Ponge that we can only write what we’ve already read and one way to hear that is you’re just sort of doomed to kind of regurgitate everything you’ve read and so if you’re just reading all the popular books, the books everyone else is reading, in some sense you’re maybe unwittingly confining yourself to a particular literary practice that’s gonna look pretty familiar. I remember at the time thinking, okay well if that’s true, if I’m just fated to that, then I’m gonna read things that no one else is reading. I loved to just go to the library and pretty randomly grab books, because I think for a little while, and I’m kinda glad this passed, but I really just had this feeling that a writer just consumes language and just sort of spits it out. So it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t have to be a great novel for it to be worth-reading. And I still read very little fiction in the end compared to non-fiction, essays, works of philosophy, science. And the other sort of dirty secret is: I don’t finish a lot of books. I just don’t care enough. I only finish a book if I have to or if I really want to. And, often, I’ll stop reading a book three pages from the end. I think that as writers, we probably feel a lot of pressure about what kind of a reader to be, what kind of a writer to be in, and we feel this shame, like “I haven’t read DH Lawrence, I’m such an asshole.” You begin to feel like you’ve these deficiencies and you gotta make them up and you never will and a lot of it is just kinda tyrannical. Of course, obviously, we must be naturally motivated to read and read and read and read but I guess I just started to notice that…I got a lot of my ideas by just reading…e.g. a gardening book…like the weird way a sentence was structured.” Then there's Moyra Davey: “Woolf famously said of reading: “The only advice … is to take no advice, … follow your instincts, … use your reason.” A similar thought was voiced by her elder contemporary Oscar Wilde, who did not believe in recommending books, only in de-recommending them. Later, Jorge Luis Borges echoed the same sentiment by discouraging “systematic bibliographies” in favor of “adulterous” reading. More recently, Gregg Bordowitz has promoted “promiscuous” reading in which you impulsively allow an “imposter” book to overrule any reading trajectory you might have set for yourself, simply because, for instance, a friend tells you in conversation that he is reading it and is excited by it. This evokes for me that most potent kind of reading — reading as flirtation with or eavesdropping on someone you love or desire, someone who figures in your fantasy life.”“What to read?” is a recurring dilemma in my life. The question always conjures up an image: a woman at home, half-dressed, moving restlessly from room to room, picking up a book, reading a page or two and no sooner feeling her mind drift, telling herself, “You should be reading something else, you should be doing something else.” The image also has a mise-en-scène: overstuffed, disorderly shelves of dusty and yellowing books, many of them unread; books in piles around the bed or faced down on a table; work prints of photographs, also with a faint covering of dust, taped to the walls of the studio; a pile of bills; a sink full of dishes. She is trying to concentrate on the page in front of her but a distracting blip in her head travels from one desultory scene to the next, each one competing for her attention. It is not just a question of which book will absorb her, for there are plenty that will do that, but rather, which book, in a nearly cosmic sense, will choose her, redeem her. Often what is at stake, should she want to spell it out, is the idea that something is missing, as in: what is the crucial bit of urgently needed knowledge that will save her, at least for this day? She has the idea that if she can simply plug into the right book then all will be calm, still, and right with the world. […] Must reading be tied to productivity to be truly satisfying […] Or is it the opposite, that it can only really gratify if it is a total escape? What is it that gives us a sense of sustenance and completion? Are we on some level always striving to attain that blissful state of un-agendaed reading remembered from childhood? What does it mean to spend a good part of one’s life absorbed in books? Given that our time is limited, the problem of reading becomes one of exclusion. Why pick one book over the hundreds, perhaps thousands on our bookshelves, the further millions in libraries and stores? For in settling on any book we are implicitly saying no to countless others. This conflict is aptly conjured up by essayist Lynne Sharon Schwartz as she reflects on “the many books (the many acts) I cannot in all decency leave unread (undone) — or can I?”” What way out do you suggest? Do you deem it worthwhile to eschew any shred of obligation and be propelled in any direction naturally? Like you said you found grammar books and lexicons more engaging and enjoyable than the novels.

A.  I seem to remember that in some magazine or another, James Wolcott once said “Read at whim.”  That has always sounded like the best advice.  And I assume it means to feel free to ditch any book that disappoints.  Like Ben Marcus, I’ve had experiences of abandoning a book just a few pages from the end, but I often don’t make it that far in most things anymore.  I came from a long line of nonreaders, so I’ve never felt any guilt about passing up books or writers that so many people seem to talk about a lot, and I don’t expect other people to like what I like. Some books I’ll start about halfway in and then see whether I might want to work my way back to the beginning.  Others I’ll start at the very end and inch my way toward the front, one sentence at a time, and see how far I can go that way.  I seem to remember that in The Pleasure of the Text, Roland Barthes recommends “cruising” a text, and maybe something like that is what I’m doing at least some of the time, if I understand what he means.  And every now and then I’ll read  a book straightforwardly for an hour and afterward wonder whether the time might have been better spent staring off into space. Too many books these days seem ungiving.  It’s the ungivingness that disappoints the most.  A lot of contemporary fiction has the gleam and sparkle of a trend feature in a glossy magazine, and I can appreciate the craft and the savvy that go into something like that, but I am drawn more toward stories and books that demand being read slowly and closely, pulse by pulse, the kind of fiction where everything--what little might be left of an entire blighted life--can pivot on the peal of a single syllable. Q.  I'd like to ask you so many questions. But let this be the last one for matters of convenience. Also, in a capitalistic world, one's enshrouded with guilt for taking one's time without being remunerative in any way. Among the books and films that you recently encountered, which ones do you think deserve rereads/rewatches? A.  I used to feel like the woman you’ve described so movingly above, someone who questions her choice of books almost to the brink of despair.  At my age, though, I no longer have a program for reading, a syllabus or a checklist, and I’m okay with knowing there’s a lot I’ll never get around to.  I’m happy being a rereader of a few inexhaustible books and chancing upon occasional fresh treasure.  The one book that has shaken me the most in the longest time is Anna DeForest’s  A History of Present Illness, which will be out next August.  It’s a blisteringly truthful novel written with moral grace and unsettling brilliance and an awing mastery of language.  A couple of recent books I have read in manuscript, books that totally knocked me out with their originality and uncanny command of the word, are Greg Gerke’s In the Suavity of the Rock (a novel) and David Nutt’s Summertime in the Emergency Room (a short-story collection).  I haven’t watched many movies in the past few months, and the ones I watched aren’t ones I’ll probably be rewatching anytime soon.  

[comfortwriting]

A Walk To Remember - R.W

Ron Weasley x Fem Reader - Part 1/2

Masterlist, Request Rules, Part 2

A/N: To the lovely angel that requested this, thank you so much - this has been so therapeutic and enjoyable for me to write; thank you for being so patient and kind. I hope I’ve done this right!

Based HEAVILY on the movie: A Walk To Remember.

Warnings: mention of cancer, death, heavy theme of religion and god, blasphemy, fluff, sadness. 

Since Ron and Harry fell out in fourth year because of the Triwizard Tournament, Ron unfortunately found himself surrounded by the wrong people, he didn’t have Harry anymore - his one true best friend and he didn’t have Hermione anymore to keep him level-headed. Ron wasn’t himself and everyone could see it, he cared more about his social status than being a good classmate, and a good wizard. 

His parents were sending more Howlers to Ron than they had ever sent to Fred and George, no one could recognise him from the kid who put himself in the line of fire to protect Harry and Hermione when they were trying to retrieve the Philosopher stone, but you - you still wanted to see the good in him, you knew under the ridiculous attitude and his stupid behaviour, lay a heart of gold and lots of potential.

“He’s late again.” Lavender rolled her eyes, standing around in the dark, looking at the Hannah Abbott .

“Ron will turn up, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Hannah replied, continuing her conversation with Dean Thomas.

“Took him long enough.” Seamus pointed towards a very tired Ron walking alongside Nigel Wolpert from a few years below.

Ron and Nigel continued to walk towards the rest of the group, Nigel shivering every now and then in his thin plaid pyjamas. Finally meeting up with the rest of the group the six of them continued their stroll to the Great Lake. 

“Sleep well?” Hannah taunted Ron.

Ron shot her a sarcastic smile “brilliant, actually.” 

Lavender instantly tried making a move on Ron but he blew her off “if you want to have a dance go and ask Neville.” causing everyone but Nigel to go on a tangent about how geeky, strange and pathetic the herbology student was. 

Nigel wanted to speak out to defend Neville but in front of such cool people, especially Ron, he didn’t want to ruin his chances of climbing up the social ladder. 

“So what is it that I have to do?” Nigel beamed up at Ron.

Obviously getting into any friendship group requires some sort of need to prove yourself, whether it’s promising to not share secrets, to never date another's ex, the usual ‘bro’ and ‘girl code’ but when it came down to this group, they would go to unfair and extreme lengths. 

 Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Hannah all stood at the edge of the lake, smirking. 

“go on, tell him.” Seamus glided his outstretched hand, presenting the lake to Nigel.

“Well, uh, Nigel - you’re going to go for a swim in that lake, mate.” Ron tried to act coolly, unbothered and the least concerned. 

Nigel’s face dropped, starting to panic. “But there's Merpeople in there, Grindylows - the Giant Squid!”

“It won’t be that bad” Hannah laughed. 

“Yeah, dear Ron will be going in with you.” Lavender bit on her lip, staring at Ron.

Ron remembered to keep his act up, “yeah, you won’t be going in there alone” he lied. 

Nigel nodded his head and agreed to go through with the orders he had been given, he took of his pyjamas and was left freezing cold in his boxers, he turned around to look at a fully clothed Ron.

“Are you not getting undressed?” 

Ron shook his head, his arms folded. “Nah, I’m sensitive to cold temperatures, reminds me of uh.. you know.”

Nigel remembered the second challenge during the Triwizard tournament, not wanting to ask any questions or mention Harry and Hermione. 

Nigel and Ron got closer to the lake, Nigel tipping on the edge. 

“We’ll go on the count of three, alright?” 

Nigel continued to shiver, nodding his head and wrapping his arms around him to keep him warm. 

“Three, two, one!”

Instead of joining Nigel and swimming, Ron pushed the younger student into the Lake, causing him to fall head first into the water. The group broke into laughter, yelling at Nigel and cheering but the cheers soon turned into screams and sheer panic. 

Nigel tried to swim but couldn’t his body went into shock due to the temperature of the water, and his fear of being attacked and dragged away by the residents under the water. His arms waved up above him as his head went under. 

“Someone do something!” Lavender yelled, “Ron!”

Ron swore under his breath and quickly stripped out of his pyjamas, making a rope for Nigel to grab to pull him aside. Whilst Ron hurried into the water, grabbing a hold of Nigel’s arm, trying to get him out of the water. Nigel’s head fell back and his breaths shallowed, his lips and skin turning blue.

The yells coming from Mr Filch rang out through the school grounds - panicking everyone. 

“We’ve got to go!” Hannah grabbed Lavender’s arm “if we get caught we could get expelled!” 

“Hurry up, Ron!” Dean hissed, following the girls. 

Seamus stayed for a moment as Ron got closer to the the edge he and Nigel were standing minutes ago, Ron got all of strength and lifted Nigel up, placing him down on the grass, Seamus pulled Nigel back and helped Ron out of the water. 

Once Ron got back on his feet Mr Filch and now a yelling Hagrid stormed across the grounds, getting closer and closer to the three boys.

“We’ve got to go now!” Seamus glared “leave him here, he’ll be fine, lets go!” 

Ron going against everything good within him, fled with Seamus and left Nigel, alone and inches from death. 

Unfortunately, to Ron’s distaste, he didn’t get away with what happened that night - his friends did, but thanks to Professor Snape, he didn’t. Ron got caught moments before he got to the common room, Seamus miles in front of him. Ron spun his impressive web of lies, although Snape didn’t believe him - but everyone else did. 

Stuffing toast into his mouth his eyes locked with yours for a moment whilst you took a sip from your goblet, you and Ron had known each other even before Hogwarts, you shared almost every class together, but that didn’t make you friends - you were far from it.

Deterring himself from your gaze, Seamus laughed.

“Stare any longer and your the pumpkin juice in your goblet will turn to wine.” Seamus teased.

“or my potions book will become a bible” Ron teased back.

You were a half-blood, your mother a witch and your strict religious dad a muggle - you found it hard to believe at times that you were even allowed to attend Hogwarts but your dad wanted the time that you had left to be enjoyable, he even moved to Hogsmeade so he wasn’t too far away if you needed him. 

Ron and Seamus both swore under their breaths as Professor McGonagall stormed towards them.

“Mr Weasley, a word in my office.”

Professor McGonagall sat down, picking up her long piece of parchment that sat on her desk “after being caught up in such a serious incident, don’t think for one moment that you will go unpunished.”

Ron slouched in his chair and grinded his teeth.

“For this term, every weekday after dinner you will be helping the house elves clean down in the kitchens, every Saturday mornings you will be helping a handful of first years with their brooms bright and early! and you will also be taking part in a theatre production in Hogsmeade for the rest of your Saturday, to ensure that you won’t skive, you will be transported to Hogsmeade with other students.” 

Ron’s face dropped, everything he hated all mixed together had been thrown on upon him whether he liked it or not, and worst of all, he couldn’t get himself out of it if he wanted to graduate. 

Dean, Seamus, Hannah and Lavender found it hilarious seeing Ron clean up with the house elves, they too mocked you and your faith in god every chance they had.

Walking outside to join the rest of the students in Hogsmeade, you heard Lavender’s laughs from behind you. 

“Oh Ronald just look at her, she’s as helpless as it gets. Clinging onto that bible as if her life depends on it.”

Ron stayed quiet, his eyes burning into the same sweater you wore every single day without fail. 

“We should go together sometime” Lavender spoke out again at Ron.

Ron looked at his ex and almost grimaced “I’m not doing that again alright? we’ve been through this.”

Ron departed from his group, waving goodbye and walking slowly behind everyone else. Noticing Ron behind you, you slowed down so you could walk next to him - you were always alone when you went to Hogsmeade and you felt like having some company before your theatre class.

“So, you’re going to be in my group right?” you smiled, hoping the small talk wasn’t that bad.

Ron ignored you, continuing to follow the other students. 

You didn’t want to give up on the golden haired boy just yet, you didn’t know why but there was something in him that stood out to you, something his friends couldn’t see - perhaps something Harry and Hermione missed.

“I think a change of scenery will be good for you - Nigel is also recovering slowly, you should visit him-”

Ron stopped in his tracks and gave you a horrified look “don’t you have bible verses to stress over? shouldn’t you be focusing on the mythical man instead of me?”

You raised your eyebrows and felt quite taken aback, you were used to having your head bitten off but you were trying to break the ice, you weren’t pushing your faith on anyone. 

“You don’t know me at all” you replied, pursing your lips, storming past him.

You, like many of your group enjoyed theatre with a passion, the guy in your class had written the play himself and you were so proud, his writing more than a work of art and you could tell something beautiful would come from it. 

After being assigned your roles, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied knowing that Ron had a role of his own, even if he wasn’t expecting such a thing. You felt a tinge of excitement inside of you, knowing that the two of you would be spending more time together. 

Going through your lines, Ron was slouching in his chair as usual, speaking in monotone whilst he read his parts, you couldn’t understand why he didn't want to be here - to redeem himself. 

After your first class, you didn’t go back to Hogwarts with the other students, you were allowed to visit your dad whenever you needed and today you felt like spending sometime with him, going through your bible and getting the reassurance you desperately needed.  

Ron, who did not have permission to stay out, went against the rules anyway, getting himself a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks and some jelly slugs from Honey Dukes.

Leaving the extravagant sweet shop, Ron bumped into you, almost dropping his treats. 

“what are you still doing out?” he asked, chewing down a slug.

You smiled sheepishly at him “I could ask you the same thing” 

The two of you walked back to Hogwarts, going through the constant back and forth of him trying to test your faith and speak against god, trying to get you to reach breaking point - but it wouldn’t work. You had patience, you were full of love and you could see the beauty in everything - the exact opposite of the boy next to you. 

“you shouldn’t dumb yourself down to fit in” you sighed, snuggling into your sweater. “you should care less about your social status and more about your future.”

Ron shoved another jelly slug into his mouth “you think you know me, do you? well you don’t.” 

Ron and Seamus sat on the sofa in front of the fire, the two of them scrutinising the play, picking apart the script piece by piece and acting it out sarcastically. 

“It’s gonna be brilliant” Seamus grinned, flicking through the pages. 

“You sound like my brothers, it’s going to be a bloody nightmare.” Ron groaned, looking miserably into the flames. 

“That's why its going to be brilliant, you’re going to make a fool of yourself!”

After another week of feeling tired and nauseated, you tried your best to pull through it, focusing on god - his love - his warmth, you focused on seeing your dad at the weekend, being able to drown your fears in the path god had chosen for you. 

“Oi, y/n” Ron whispered, pulling you aside and tearing you away from your thoughts.

You stared at him and waited for him to continue talking, holding your bible to your chest.

“Look, can you help me with my lines after class on Saturday?” he asked, his mouth barely moving so everyone around him would find it hard to lip read. 

“As long as you aren’t doing it only to benefit yourself”

Ron rolled his eyes “yeah, whatever - can you help me then or what?” 

You nodded your head, ticking off a box from your list “I don’t see why not” you smiled “thanks to you I have one less box to tick”

Ron gave you a strange look, then noticed his friends walk down the hall towards the two of you. 

“We’ll go to my dads, we can practice there, but promise me one thing?”

Ron started to become inpatient “bloody hell, what?”

You took a deep breath, facing your fears “promise you won’t fall in love with me.”

Ron felt delighted, he thought making this promise was the easiest thing he had ever done in his life “I didn’t think it would be that easy.” Ron’s friends stared at him, pulling faces behind your back “I’ll see you on Saturday” he paused before walking away “I promise.”

Little did Ron know, the promise he made would be the hardest one to keep.

“Ronald Weasley?!” Your father freaked out “I’ve told you to stay away from lads like that!” 

You sighed, hearing a knock at the door, you stood up from the table “the lord preaches forgiveness, dad.”

Walking over to the door, you opened it, Ron stood there with another bag of jelly slugs, swallowing one down “can I come in then”

“Yeah - make yourself at home, wait in the living room, my script is upstairs.”

Ron walked around your living room. searching the moving faces in the picture frames, the candles on the mantle piece, pictures of Jesus and multiple mini statutes of him surrounding one another on a shrine. 

He couldn’t help but feel the hairs stand up on his neck, he wasn’t used to all this religion thrusting itself into him, the eyes of a higher being judging him for each and every sin he committed. 

“You must be Ronald.” Your father spoke out, almost making Ron jump out of his skin. 

Ron turned away from the altar, holding out his hand for your father to shake, but withdrawing it soon after your father declined.

“Thank you for-”

“I didn’t” you father spoke over him “that was y/n decision.” 

After being grilled for his behaviour from your father and running through the same romanticised script, Ron couldn’t wait to break free from it all, from judgement of the lord, your fathers none existent approval, slowly getting friendlier with you.

The more Ron noticed you, the more you stood out to him. You weren’t just the girl devoted to god that was glued to a bible - you loved animals, you thought they were magnificent and spent hours reading about them. 

After finishing breakfast you walked over to where Ron was sitting with his friends, you felt confident and excited to see him again outside of Hogwarts.  

“Will you be coming back to my place tomorrow?” you asked, smiling at him. 

Seamus started laughing, almost choking on his juice. 

Ron felt mortified, there's no way he could allow his friends to get the jump on him for being your friend. 

“yeah, in your dreams” Ron spat, making Seamus laugh more. 

Your butterflies wings felt like they had been ripped off, your smile fell and your heart ached, but you refused to curse him, instead you swallowed hard and walked away - reminding yourself that this was a good thing; he wasn’t falling in love with you. 

Playing the piano and singing with your father, the two of you were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, you ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away but they didn’t. Standing up, you walked over to the door and saw Ron standing in same spot as he always did on your porch.

You tried to close the door before he stopped you, shoving his hand in the way. 

“Look, don’t take it that personal, alright?” 

You crossed your arms, pulling on the sleeves of your sweater. 

“I still want your help, it’s just, you know what my friends are like.” 

You couldn’t believe your ears, you couldn’t believe how heartless Ron was in this moment. 

“Are you trying to say you want us to be friends in secret?” you faked a smile, noticing Ron’s face brighten up.

“exactly that! yeah, brilliant!” 

You however didn’t brighten up, your fake smile crumbled and your expression turned sour. Tears made your vision glassy and you felt like taking your sweater off you were that hot with anger. 

“I can’t believe you, Ron - I can’t believe I saw something good in you, let me go and cry to god about it.” you replied angrily, slamming the door in his face, going upstairs and questioning whether or not waiting the next few months out would be worth it. 

Your confession struck something in Ron and he couldn’t explain it, out of nowhere he was practicing his lines without sarcasm but with seriousness instead, he genuinely worked hard at helping first years with their brooms and even encouraged them to give Quidditch a thought. During minor dress rehearsals of the play Ron was taking constructive criticism onboard, pushing himself to do better, to remember his lines and to be a persuasive actor. 

He felt himself feeling guilty for what he had done and said to you each time his eyes landed on you, each time you shared the stage together, Ron wanted nothing more than to make things right, even if he found it to be incredibly difficult to begin with. 

You noticed these changes in Ron like you had noticed everything else about him, you could see how much the first years appreciated his hard work, how much fun he was having away from the bad influences he wanted to impress so badly - deep down you were praying that he wasn’t doing all of this just to benefit himself. 

Ron took a deep breath and walked through the hospital wing, seeing Nigel sat in his bed, reading a muggle children's book. 

“Alright, Nigel?” Ron greeted nervously, standing at the end of his bed. 

Nigel looked up at Ron and closed his book, staring at him. “Considering the fact I almost died and went into shock, I’m not too bad.”

Ron bowed his head in shame and felt like he did when his mum would scold him for misbehaving. 

“I’m really sorry mate, I am.”

Nigel looked at Ron and shook his head “I was stupid for believing you’d go in there with me, I’m asking myself if it’s stupid of me to forgive you.”

Tonight was the night you had been looking forward to the most, the one and only performance of the play - the one night you were able to get yourself dressed up - your hair and make up done, the dress you rented fitting you perfect. 

Dean, Seamus, Hannah and Lavender were sat in the front row, Lavenders camera at the ready taking pictures of Ron in his suit every chance that she could. The rest of the Weasley family were sat watching, Fred and George having the time of their lives thinking of ways to embarrass their little brother, Molly and Arthur feeling so relieved and proud that their son had started to pull himself together. 

Your father sat at the front row also, feeling excited to see you come on stage, for you to experience such a special moment in the time god had left to give you. 

The two of you read your lines, talking and acting like a couple who were in love, finally not hiding it amongst the other characters. Ron sat down in his seat and you pulled the cloak off your body and sat down next to him, continuing with your lines. 

Ron suddenly forgot his lines that he had worked so hard to remember, your presence making him feel as if he was in the presence of an angel - this was how he felt when he saw Hermione at the yule ball, only making him more determined to make things right with you. 

As soon as you revealed yourself, Lavender stopped snapping pictures and put her camera away, the jealousy she was now feeling eating away at her. Seamus had to close his mouth it was gaping open for that long, he couldn’t believe you were the same girl that wore the same sweater that only devoted herself to god. 

Fred and George stopped bitching about their brother and like everyone else, they were captivated by you, trying to find out if you had bewitched the audience or took a potion before hand.   

Reaching the last legs of the play, Ron failed to deliver his lines and had to improvise instead, his eyes roamed your angelic face and he blurted out such a compliment it made your heart skip a beat. 

“You’re beautiful”

You wanted to correct him but at the same time you felt flattered, you weren't used to compliments unless they came from your dad. Getting lost in the moment, Ron leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, the two of you sharing a kiss whilst the red curtain knitted together, putting an end to the show.

Your breath hitched in your throat, you told yourself over and over that it was just a kiss - just part of the show - nothing more, nothing less - Ron wasn’t falling for you and you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for him. 

Afterwards, Ron’s family praised him for doing such a good job, but Ron couldn’t stop himself from watching you, your father pulling you away from the big crowd. Walking out of the theatre, Ron spotted a familiar face, approaching him out of the crowd. It was Harry. 

“You did an amazing job, Ron.”

Ron stared at the lad in glasses he once called his best friend, he stared into his eyes and allowed his anger to consume him. 

“Clear off” Ron replied “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”  

Burying yourself in another book about creatures, you couldn’t help but giggle at the illustrations of Nifflers holding gold in their hands. Ron walked into the Great Hall, everyone staring at him and Lavender whispering to her friends about you and him. 

Ignoring them, Ron walked over to you and sat down beside you, seeming more cheerful than you had ever seen him. 

“Reading another book about creatures are we?” Ron smiled. 

You looked up from your book “it’s another box on my list, read one hundred books.” 

Ron smiled “I think you’re brilliant.” 

You felt a wave of irritability swirl in your stomach, you couldn’t tell if your health was crumbling even more or if it was because of Ron. 

This was it, he was falling for you and you were falling for him, the two of you breaking such a sacred and important promise, committing one of the biggest sins that reined heavily in your head. 

You stared at Ron and started to panic “what are you doing?” you barked, shutting your book “stop trying to figure me out” 

You stood up, your heart pounding in your chest, you kept drilling the path god had chosen for you into your brain, telling yourself over and over that you and Ron couldn’t happen, no matter what it couldn’t happen. 

Ron didn’t give up like he used to, instead he chased after you and trapped you into the corner outside. 

“I thought a girl like you wouldn’t be afraid” Ron said in disbelief “don’t be a plonker, y/n. Don’t deny how you felt that night, I’m not denying it-”

You put your hands over your ears, shaking your head, if he knew why you were running he wouldn’t be so forceful, you wanted to tell him the truth right there and then but you were terrified. 

“you have no idea what I feel Ron!” 

“I do and you know it! you want to be with me like I want to be with you!” 

Tears streamed down your face, your big secret sitting on the tip of your tongue, trying to pry your mouth open and set itself free. 

“I can’t!” you cried “I warned you!”

Ron stayed still and watched you walk away, his heart and head screaming at him to follow you, to kiss you one more time, to just say screw it and start over again.

[umaficwriter]

SOUVENIR IS AMONG US!

KALIJAH SMUT DARINGS! 

I was feeling like shit and started this weeks ago, finally came to finish it and kinda don’t give a damn about how it turned out, still, hope you like it! 

You can read it on AO3 or FFNET or even, down below this lovely gifs. 

The light breeze of a New York’ spring night passed through Katherine mahogany curly strands as she admired Jane and Greenwich street down ten floors below. She engulfed a full breath, filling her lungs with the not so clear night air, cigarette smoke coming from the party on full swing behind her.

The balcony was empty. She had compelled anyone that came in her direction away, so it would stay that way.

Finally, Katherine Pierce had piece of mind.

She had run for so long, firstly from her past in Bulgaria, then from Klaus and all that his figure entailed, then she ran from him when he found her. And then she had made her escape when he failed her once again.

Elijah Mikaelson.

Not her biggest mistake, nor regret, but close enough to discomfort to make chills arouse in her body when she recalled his figure. His suits represented an armor she once thought she would be able to penetrate. Oh, was she wrong.

For he could never be truly hers.

Elijah was like an expensive gift you bought someone, just to regret later you gave it away when in fact you wanted it to yourself, when on his part. he seemed to consider her, them a disposable souvenir.

New York back in August, tenth floor balcony Smoke is floating over Jane and Greenwich street

 Katherine leaned over the steel railing, aiming her vision to the busy Big Apple streets. Her heightened senses catching the environment around her. The faint smell of putrid trash from the alley couple blocks away, the blinding headlights of cars so tiny from where she stood. The wind picking up the hairs on her arms, giving her body an enjoyable hum. The cigarette smoke entering the balcony from the lounge party behind her, the smell of sweat and sex lingering in the air coming from the humans inside the giant apartment that wasn’t hers.

She should go back down to hell; she was its Queen after all. Mystic Falls people had been so naïve believing she would die after the tunnels caught fire…

She was Katherine Pierce, a survivor, of the upscale kind, caring for her life, being it as a vampire or otherwise.

She had woken up, without Stefan, completely naked in the throne that had been hers for sometime now.

A smile had creeped itself on her features, her limbs stretching as if she was a sated cat after a long afternoon nap.

Since then, she had given up on tormenting that filthy gang. Stefan was truly dead, although not in Hell, for Katherine’s dismay. She wished she could enslave him for eternity, albeit looked like it wouldn’t happen.

Shrugging, Katherine looked over her shoulder to the gathering inside the condo. She didn’t know anyone there, as expected, she didn’t live in this world anymore. She was just passing by the human land, and soon enough, she would go back to Hell to ruin her tormenting souls even more.

Another strong breeze floated the NYC night, and that was when she felt it.

At first, only a discomfort in the pit of her stomach, similar of when she was being followed, or observed. Case being the latter tonight.

Goosebumps from your wild eyes when they're watchin' me

The smell the wind brought was rich blood, expensive cologne, leather from Italian shoes, moving in her direction.

Her unliving heartbeat scaled, for she knew very well whom was walking inside the recently opened balcony glass’ doors, bringing the blasting music to her ears.

Katherine didn’t dare uttering words, she maintained her position as the man closed the doors behind him, muffling the sound from the party once more.

Was he to think she was her doppelganger?

Katherine would prefer he did not make that mistake. She also knew he would not.

His presence was enough to make shivers run down her spine. Katherine wasn’t fazed by what they had in the past. She had decided to bury those feelings deep inside, still he awoke a brutal wave of desire inside her. And as a supernatural creature, her emotions were as heightened as of a vampire, if not more, considering she fed from souls as well as blood. The latter just for reminiscing the thrill of the hunt.

Shivers dance down my spine and head down to my feet

The hot night wind picked up her skin and she hugged herself, running her hands through her arms, before directing her speech at him.

“The noble, family-oriented brother so far from home. I wonder why is that?” her voice was laced with sarcasm, although Elijah picked up a faint tone of hurting. He couldn’t blame her.

After Niklaus’ death, Elijah had bid his family goodbye and decided against settling in New Orleans. Marcel had claimed his throne back, for being king had never been Elijah’s call.

Hope was attending the Salvatore Boarding School and he didn’t see the need to disturb his niece education, still he visited her and even took her to vacations when the time called for it.

Elijah had chosen traveling the world instead, although always coming back to the US for his supernatural business, New York to be precise.

The city always brought good memories into his troubled mind.

It reminded him of the second woman he had loved. So deeply, her name remained engraved in his heart and soul.

Elijah was aware he didn’t have any right to claim her, nor search for Katerina, so he had not.

He had talked to Alaric once about her whereabouts and it was then he had discovered of her last attempt in destroying them. They believed she had died in the fire.

Elijah never had.

She hadn’t the first time in 1864, she wouldn’t have this time around.

Still, imagine his surprise when he caught her silhouette in the veranda at a party one of his associates was throwing.

He wasn’t to attend, he never did. Petty, unimportant things he would justify. Except, this night he was strangely bored by his usual book and wine program, hence his presence.

Elijah couldn’t say he regretted it.

From the moment he walked into the large apartment, loud music and abusive expanse of drugs had surrounded him. The Original had gone to the bar and ordered various doses of whiskey, before his business subordinate had found him, urging him to mingle around the gathering, and have a proper drink.

Elijah had bled various wrists inside his glass, being slightly intoxicated by substances within the blood he fed from.  

And that was when he saw her.

Alone over the balcony, her slender body hugged by a lace black dress, her hair in soft waves adorning her stance and stopping over the middle of her spine.

That was, without a shadow of doubt, Katerina Petrova.

“Niklaus is dead,”

“I know,” she turned around to finally face him. “Lucifer fed from his soul,” Elijah saw the faintest of smiles quirking over her lips.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I assure you, he doesn’t remember who he is, so it’s no fun torture him,” she justified, for she knew that was what he wanted to know. “Although, he deserves it anyway, for everything he caused me,”

Elijah looked down at his expensive shinny shoes.

“Apologies are never going to fix that,”

“No, they won’t,” agreed the brunette woman.

“And what you’ve been up to?” the trivial question floated from the man’s mouth as he moved beside her and leaned his back over the steel banister.

Katherine mirrored his position with her wine glass in hand and almost scoffed with his bluntness. It was clear he already knew what she had been up to.

“You already know, skip the small talk, what is it you want from me?” she questioned before downing the last of her drink, setting her glass over the nearest surface. “I mean, aside from everything you’ve already taken, obviously,”

He deserved that; he also would take it.

“I’ve got word you’ve been ruling over Hell, although I was never certain of the veracity in this tête-a-tête,”

She rolled her eyes. Elijah was much smarter than that.

“You want to know about my line of work?” she asked a little taken aback, after all, what kind of mundane questioning was that?

“Well, you don’t seem too keen talking about our past, do you, Katerina?” he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes.

She gave him that credit.

He wanted a civil conversation? She could do that.

“I feed from blood just for the rush of it, although what I really need, all inhabitants from Hell for that matter, to survive is: souls.”

He nodded in understandment. “Any soul?”

Katherine shook her head “Supernatural souls,”

The pair didn’t utter a word for a little while.

“How’s your life without your brother?” she questioned. For anyone knowing their history, would claim she was only being cruel. Maybe a little bit yes, but Katherine really wanted to know how he felt.

Maybe she refused her devoted heart from breaking, but she still held Elijah dear. The Petrova only had a different way of showing it.

“Never thought life could be this calm,” he honestly answered, a ghost of a smile dancing in his features.

She smiled and turned her face at him.

“Do you miss him?” she already knew the answer, still she couldn’t avoid it from going out there.

“You already know the answer to that, Katerina,”

“True,”

“At first, I couldn’t stop thinking about him,” Elijah prompted and crossed his arms and legs in front of him. “but then, time has passed, and grief ran its course…” he paused “now he’s a pleasant and hurtful memory,”

“Just as me, I presume?”

He turned his upper body at her, unfolding his arms and passing his hands through his short brown hair.

“Just as you were half an hour ago,” he confirmed.

“You really did give up on us, didn’t you?”

He let out a heavy shudder “I couldn’t promise you anything, they’re were broken words, like stiches. It was shattered glass we could not put back together to perfection, so I let you be,” she didn’t turn her head back at him. “I’ve never forgotten about you, if that’s what you’re asking.”  

“You never came to say goodbye,” he didn’t respond to that “you know, Damon showed me a version of you with me, when I was in my deathbed, then you dissipated into his face and he promised he would kill you,”

“I’d like to see him try,”

“He’s human now,”

Elijah seemed surprised in hearing that piece of news; Alaric had never mentioned that, also he had never asked.

He turned to face the sky and the street ten floors down, she didn’t mirror his posture this time.

“What should I call you? To summon you.”

She let out a chuckle.

“That’s not how it works, Elijah,”

His name floating from her lips, made him aim his looks at her and smirk in amusement.

“You didn’t respond me, what is it Katherine and Katerina do?”

The woman looked down at her Jimmy Choos’ and folded her arms in front of her lace covered chest.

“Katherine rules Hell with iron fists, has no mercy whatsoever, never had, but when she comes up to the land of the living, she drinks nice wine, walks long distances…”

“What about Katerina?”

“She cooks,” they both smiled at that “and read lots of romance novels that remind her of what she never had,”

“You did have love,”

“You, then Stefan, then you again,” she pointed out unfolding her arms and counting on her fingers to emphasize. “and look how that turned out,”

Elijah looked away back into the beautiful night.

“What is it you want, Elijah?” it was her turn to question.

“Right at this moment?”

She turned her head in his direction. His eyes were locked with hers, his nose almost touching hers, his breath dancing in her face.

“Yes,” she whispered looking down through her lashes, just to look inside his eyes once more.

“You,” he whispered back and didn’t gave her time to refuse him as he advanced his lips to touch hers in a long kiss.

Katherine’s arms wrapped around his shoulders as their kiss deepened, his tongue invaded her mouth in a ferrous battle while his arms circled her waist in a vice grip, bringing her closer with nothing in between them aside from their clothes.

Elijah let out a groan when she bit his lower lip hard making it bleed, which she latched on looking up at him through her long lashes. He hissed and used one of his hands to grip the rail when she descended one of hers to the front of his trousers, fondling his half-hard member.

“Katerina,” he nibbled on her earlobe, while he moved her hand. His whisper sounding needy, and that was what he was indeed.

Elijah moved his mouth to her neck descending to the feminine jaw, ‘till he reached her plump lips again, but Katherine had other plans in mind.

The brunette woman pushed him away, until his back hit the far corner of the veranda. Elijah new what was to come. Usually, he would give her pleasure first, but she looked irrefutable into having him the way she wanted.

Katherine unzipped his slacks while attacking his mouth, his hands gliding along her slim arms, arousing modest shudders from her.

You're giving me chills at a hundred degrees

 She separated herself from his mouth and descended her body, kneeling in front of him. Freeing his length from its cloth prison, Katherine looked up at him and smirked deviously.

“Now you’ve summoned me, I must show you the extent of my abilities,”

Elijah smirked back at her, and it transformed into a board smile when he felt her hot mouth on him.

Her lips surrounding his penis felt amazing. Her skilled tongue swirling around him, making him murmur with excitement, while she bobbed her head making him harder than he was before.

His member pulsating inside her mouth made Katherine heart beat faster, he was delicious, and the sensations she was causing him, the sounds he was making as he slowly let himself relax, encouraged her to suck him harder and faster.

Her mouth left his member, as Elijah grabbed the back of her head, moving her face away from his lower region and bringing her to him, to engulf her in a passionate kiss.

Elijah spun her around and made her sit on the steel railing. With a swift move, he moved her panties away and ran his fingers through her folds, feeling how ready she was, he inserted two fingers, while she gripped his suit clad arms with such force Elijah didn’t know if it would heal as fast as it should.

The Original kept his slow pace, and when he felt her walls clenching his digits, he removed them from her, receiving a disapproving wail.

Katherine reopened her eyes only to close them shut, as Elijah replaced his fingers for his engorged shaft, filling her up with a strong thrust.

“Oh God!” she proclaimed and held his shoulders tighter.

“If saying that was wrong before, I can’t imagine how much more it is now,” he mocked as he kissed her neck and Katherine smirked, sighing as he moved almost all out of her, just to pump back in with another hard thrust.

She guided her mouth to his neck and moved his shirt collar away, biting him hard, while he started moving frenetic into her, searching their deliverance.

As their breathing shallowed signalizing their approaching climax, Elijah moved them to the glass doors.

Neither giving a damn about someone watching them.

Katherine’s back hit the surface hard, while she let out a moan appreciating the pain and feeling Elijah’s penis never leaving her aching core.

The man stopped his pace and observed the woman in his arms.

Her chest moving up and down, her face flushed and her lower lip between her teeth.

Katherine opened her doe orbs and looked straight into his.

All sounds dulled around. Her blood pumped hard against her hot skin.

“Tell me what you want,” he prompted in a throaty whisper, his whiskey-blood-laced breath hitting her face, his words transforming her insides into puddle.

She smirked and leaned her head ‘till her mouth touched his earlobe, pulling it with her teeth.

“I want you to finish what you started and fuck m-“

Elijah thrusted deep while Katherine swallowed her words.

An almost animalistic groan left her lips while he continuedly kept going, the hot friction creating a delicious sensation, building more and more, until the stars in the night sky mingled with the ones behind her closed eyelids.

Katherine didn’t speak his name when she came, although he whispered hers in a prayer to the devil herself.

His seed ran down her thighs as he collected himself and helped her lower her dress.

Neither elaborating on what had just happened.  

Calling your name, the only language I can speak Taking my breath, a souvenir that you can keep

 They met again two months later.

Mid October’ sundown shone beautifully over New York skyline while Katherine Pierce sashayed into the luxurious hotel lobby.

Elijah had invited her into his apartment in the 5th avenue, although the she-devil wanted to keep things carnal only, and frequent his place was opposite to that.

So, she had suggested a random hotel.

Knowing full well he would choose the one they’d stayed when looking for the Cure a lifetime ago.

Sunset tower lobby, waiting there for me

 And there he stood.

In all his glorified tailoress. Armani suit, combed back hair, elegant and subtle. Not giving away what was about to happen a few floors up in just a couple instants.

At the sound of high heels on the marble floors, Elijah looked up, smiling at the figure approaching.

He was hopeful she would come, as a good serve he waited so. Although regarding the possibility she could not.

Fortunately, he had been wrong.

They don’t greet using words, but he ghosts a hand on the small of her back, as he guided them to the elevator. Her hand grazes his upper thigh when they enter the gold metal box, he stands behind her, hovering over his new favorite thing in the world.

Guess she always has been, he only had just remembered one of the reasons why.

Katherine waits for the elevator to shut its double doors, before turning her neck to look over her shoulder, encountering his face inches from hers.

She smirks with the proximity that wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.

She leans up and captures his lips with hers in a sensual kiss. Her tongue darts out to touch his and that’s when Elijah moves them to the lift’s wall, his hands multiplying as he tried and touch her every inch at the same time.

Katherine’s head hangs back as he explores her neck with his mouth, only a hint of his fangs coming out to play and that pulls a moan from her throat.

When the transport dings its destination, he reluctantly breaks their contact, and lets her out into the presidential floor first.

In the elevator, fumble for your key Kissed in every corner, Presidential Suite

Opened a Bordeaux from 1993

 When Elijah opens up the room’s door, contrary of what Katherine thought, he does’t jump right back at where they left.

He aims his steps to the light’ switch and dims it, leaving the room in a comfortable yellow glow.

Outside the twilight shows itself purple and orange, subtly letting the night in.

Elijah goes for the glass’ center table, and only then she notices the wine bottle as well as two glasses siting there.

He had thought everything through then, huh?

What did he think this was?

A reconciliation encounter?

Even with those questions inside her head, she collected her tongue and accepted the wine glass when he offered it to her.

“My favorite,” she quips after tasting the grape fermented juice.

He sheepishly smiles at her , downing his own drink.

Putting her glass aside, she goes to him. Her walk purposeful, her heeled feet tapping on the hardwood floors, her hips swaying, and Elijah appreciates the sight.

Elijah deposits his glass by the side table and backings until he reaches the king sized bed.

“And now what?” he quips, his voice low and husky as he leans back, sitting on the mattress, his chin up high to face her standing figure.

“I though you had it all figured out, my Lord,” she taunts, tilting her head and smirking at him.

Elijah chuckles and meets her cockiness.

“Oh, but I do,”

Katherine’s eyes go wide, her lips forming an ‘o’.

“Is that so?” she pushes and leans herself forward, her hands gripping his parted knees.

Elijah’ smile doesn’t leave his face as he contemplates her mannerisms.

Katherine’s face is closer now, her wine hot breath blows on his face, as he looks through his lashes at her plump lips.

How he missed touching her.

But he lets her have her fun, looking back into her cocoa orbs.

Like a cat she’s slow on her actions, calculating every slight move while she climbs in bed straddling his thighs.

Her eyes never leave his and their wordless communication turns her on just as much as his touch.

Speaking of, why wasn’t he?

“Afraid I’m gonna burn you?”

“If anything is I who burns for you, Katerina,” he justifies, his head going to the hollow of her neck and shoulder, grazing his teeth there.

She hisses with the caress and her hands travel from his knees to his shoulders, moving his suit jacket away from his frame.

With his tongue darting out to taste her neck, Elijah whispers in her ear

“Delicious just as the forbidden fruit,”

“Rich, since you’re tasting the devil herself,”

He chuckles again and takes a yelp out of her sinking his fangs deep into her flesh and vamp speeding them to the nearest wall.

The coherence escapes the doppelganger as the sensations of shared blood curse through her body.

Her legs are wrapped strongly around her lover’s waist and his member is pressing between her jean-clad legs, and it feels like heaven, more so when unconsciously, Elijah starts to thrust forward into her.

“Oh, yes…” her breath is caught up her windpipe.

The sharp nails tinted black she possesses go to his man shirt and tear the fabric apart to find his bare back and scratch it with will.

His groan as he moves his head from her jugular is guttural and makes her chill in excitement.

Elijah’s fangs are out, his lips red from her blood and the veins around his eyes are prominent.

He’s the beast she wants and when she goes to kiss him, he trumps her, enveloping them in a bruising lip locking.

The Original dismisses her jacket and blouse like rag, although leaves her bra on, vamp speeding them back to bed, throwing her over the soft surface.

Katherine gets rid of her jeans and boots as the man does the same with his garments, leaving only his boxers on.

If she was to be the she-devil, he certainly was a Greek God.

Elijah’s body was built, strong and as his fangs subsided, his beauty screamed old world elegance, even more so alluring with his bloody face.

He’s standing at the foot of the bed, staring at her hungrily, his chocolate irises almost didn’t show such was his lust.

Katherine knew better than thinking her eyes were any different.

She knelt over the bed. Her hair tousled, lips parted, black lace adorning her flawless body.

Neither moved further.

It was a battle of sorts.

Who would give in first?

Katherine didn’t like losing.

Although she despised wasting time.

And thinking of that she makes her crawling to him.

A hunting peer.

She was the beast now.

Her lips reach for him.

She kisses his navel, going up to his stomach as she feels his muscles contracting there. She looks up and Elijah has his eyes half opened, trying to fight the urge to let it completely go.

Katherine giggles mischievously and ascends her kisses to his nipples, as he finally touches her again.

His hands going directly to her breasts and squeezing them through the fabric of her bra.

Katherine’s nose is nuzzling his jaw as she hums her approval. The wetness of her tongue darts out to taste her dried blood of his face, her hands running through his hair while she pulls that back, making his neck available for her to taste.

And drink.

And as she laps her tongue, filling her body with rich Original blood, Elijah moves her panties out of the way, inserting a long digit inside of her.

Katherine stops her feeding to moan into his neck while he joins another finger in.

“Don’t stop…” she pleads and he has no intention to whatsoever.

Just as expertly, her skilled hands take his briefs off the way, the heat of her palm in contact with his erect shaft.

Elijah lets out a grunt while moving his ministrations in her pussy faster, seeking her release just as she does his.

The scene was sensual, erotic in its maximum, the blood she spills when she comes with a loud wail runs down his neck and chest, just as her juices travel down his hand and wrist.

She’s panting, in her mind only his face and form.

With a strong tug, the eldest vampire alive takes off her bra, throwing the material carelessly behind him and pushes his Katerina down onto the now stained red sheets, as his head and lips descend on her hard nipples.

He plays with them, biting and soothing it after with a blow, making her writhe beneath him.

“Lijah…” she implored.

But for what?

For him to make her cum again?

For the Original vampire to let her go?

Was she begging for release? Of what kind?

Katherine liked to think herself headstrong, but when he touched her like this, doing what only he knew how and for how long and how intense, she couldn’t straight her thoughts. Every pierce of knowledge she knew of flew through the window and the only thing left were the increasing sensations.

She didn’t know how to love anymore.

For if she did, this would be their lovemaking.

As it always has been.

Although, Elijah certainly awakened something inside her being.

Something he knew how to tame.

Calling your name, the only language I can speak Taking my breath, a souvenir that you can keep

Slowly letting her flesh mounds go, Elijah trailed down kisses until he was facing her wet entrance.

Katherine’ soft gasps echoed around the room as the man sucked her clit and gripped her thighs so forcefully, restraining himself from devouring her in one go.

Teeth grazed sensible skin and his breath oh so close washed away every curse she had in mind to praise him.

The woman could only make wonderful sounds as she moved her hips in encounter with his face.

“So sinfully divine,” he complimented, shifting his position to kiss her inner thighs not allowing her to come a second time.

“Says the saint,” ironized the girl her hands up gripping the sheets, her boobs moving with her heavy breathing.

Elijah chuckled in response.

“Am not. Regardless, Katerina let me blessedly cherish you just as such,” a raised eyebrow and a light lift of his lips, as well as those chocolate irises were all Katherine had time to process, before he was plugged to her, filling her to the hilt.

Her surprised shriek, followed by a whisper of his name fueled Elijah to take himself all out and thrust with no mercy once again.

“Fuck! Yes!” she exclaimed closing her eyes with the wonderous building up sensation growing on her lower abdomen. Circling her legs around his middle, draping her arms over his shoulders, Katherine moved her hips in encounter to his.

Male hands were everywhere as he fucked her deep. His mane being tousled by her fingers as she grunted in his ear.

“You’re such an obedient subject,” she played with the words, nibbling his earlobe as their bodies shook with the force of their bang.

He moved his head from her neck to look at her, a glimmer shinning in his beautiful eyes, as he moved her away from him.

Katherine was to open her mouth in protest, only a moan came instead when he palmed her pussy and flipped her on her stomach.

“However, I might cherish you the way I choose to,” the sultry velvet pouring out of his mouth, as well as his fingers assaulting her labia were enough to make her body shudder in a second orgasm.

Katherine was almost begging for him to enter her again.

Almost.

She bit her lower lip and enjoyed as he so subtly ran the tip of his penis along her entrance.

“Enough teasing,” she commanded after an instant, albeit her body moved back and forth to try and get him inside of her.

“And what do you want me to do, Katerina?”

Maybe she should be preoccupied this man could replace her as the devil, he certainly knew about torture.

On her hands and knees she turned her head back, her long curly hair slapping the bed, and watched the precum dripping from him.

Tempting.

“You’re gonna fuck me, with that gorgeous cock of your-“

Her hands automatically sought the wooden headboard as the vampire reentered her from behind efficiently.

A ragged breathy moan accompanied by a wave of pleasure shook the doppelganger as he deliberately inserted himself in and out of her.

His hands firm on her waist guiding her to the rhythm of his groaning.

“Katerina,” he loudly whispered seeking them both their ultimate bliss.

The sound of his palm colliding with her buttchecks made her yelp in surprise and laugh in delight.

She always liked it rough and Elijah knew it. That was exactly why he full fisted pulled her hair back as he increased the speed of his thrusts.

“Say that I fuck you like no one else does,”

She closed her eyes when his breath hit her ear. A wide cat smile appearing on her features when he enveloped her neck in his hand, aiming for lightly choking her while still moving, only slower now.

“Like you needed the reassurance,” she shot back with a groan when he went deeper.  

Elijah smiled closing his hand tighter around her slim neck.

“I want to hear you say it,” he prompted taking his member almost all off and going in slapping their bodies together.

“Yes!” she chocked hanging her head back.

Elijah felt her walls clenching around him, so he retreated himself letting his fangs come out once again.

Katherine moaned in pleasure when his vampire teeth sank on her shoulder, his moves slow and languid.

This was to be the most amazing torture out there.

She wanted to let go, although without ever leave.

“Harder,” her command was clear and he bit her deeper on her shoulder.

“Faster!” she pleaded against her better judgment and felt his balls hitting on her pussy.

It was animalistic the way he was having her. Devouring her in all ways he could. Mind, body and soul.

He didn’t know if he would have her again, so he would prolong it the best he could.

“Say it, Katerina,” he quipped blowing on her ear, the blood dripping from his fangs on her glistening bare back.

Her mouth formed an arch in bliss with his never stopping but oh so slow moves.

“You have me like nobody else does,” she whispered in surrender, feminine hands back at the headboard, while his traveled back down from her neck to her waist.

“Now, I shall the devil to heaven,”

She laughed while he sank himself deep and hard into her wet inviting hole.

Their juices mixing as they both watched the lights dancing in front of their eyes.

Katherine came first in a trembling cry, her curly head hanging low as she felt Elijah cock explode inside of her.

You're giving me chills at a hundred degrees

Her body felt like the sun kissed it as they both laid spent between the blood smeared sheets.

Elijah had the sweetest of smiles, as if he hasn’t been the most pervert beast only a couple minutes prior.

Her hair was plastered on her sweated forehead and the man beside her moved his thumb to take it away from her face.

Katherine offered him a sated smile and wrapped her leg around him.

“What would you say about becoming my sex slave?”

Elijah laughed with that and leaned to bless her lips with his in a brief kiss.

“I would say you need to test drive the vassal again,” his voice sensual as they locked eyes and a smile appeared in her own face.

“Just to be sure I made a good deal?”

He nodded in agreement his hand traveling the side of her body, his fingers featherlight on the side of her breasts as he thrusted his hip into hers.

Katherine’s hands went to his short hair.

“Just to be sure,” he finally said sinking his head down for another kiss.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 28- Crossbones

Summary: The Avengers uncover the identity of the mysterious Crossbones and mount a mission to apprehend him in Lagos.

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

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: NEW BANNER ALERT @angrybirdcr​ has made a DOOZY for the Civil War part of the Story.

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.

Chapter 27

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

January 2016

“Are you sure this isn’t a team call?” Katie asked Steve, watching as he picked up his shield.

“No.” He shook his head firmly as they walked down the corridor.  “We don’t even know if he will be there.”

“But…”

“Katie, stop!” Steve chuckled, pushing the door open to enter the hangar. “We’ll be fine. This is intelligence gathering, I’ve no intention of heading straight off after this guy, not until we find out what his play is.”

“His play is arms trading.” Nat interjected dryly as she appeared at the side of the jet.

“Which we are going to gather intelligence on.” Steve looked at her sternly “Nothing more.”

Katie bit her lip, she wasn’t convinced.

“We’ll be fine.” Steve continued, putting both his hands on her shoulders before he deftly changed the subject. “Don’t you have an interview to be getting ready for?”

He watched as the gentle smile spread across her face, a surge of pride flooding his system. She’d recently found out that the author of one of the books SIP had published last year had worked their way onto the Pulitzer Nominee list for fiction. The book itself held a plot centred around a War Veteran and the letters he wrote to his girl back home, and she’d roped Steve into helping the author keep it as factually correct as possible, something he had found strangely nostalgic yet enjoyable. Upon publishing it had flown off the shelves, the original five hundred copies went within three hours causing a mad scramble for a second run and downloads had been off the scale. Other than the Thrombey book they had published, it was their biggest seller to date, shifting almost half a million copies in a month, and with a foreword from Steve Rogers, critics had raved about how poignant it was.

Whilst it hadn’t won the prize, simply being a nominee was an honour in itself according to Katie. The Publicists at SIP had arranged for the author to be interviewed in a few newspapers and magazines along with one of them also requesting Katie, to discuss the launch of her new charity The March Foundation, which would sit alongside Tony and Pepper’s latest initiative- The September Foundation, but instead of focusing on inventors and science, it would instead be centred around authors and the arts.

The name was a play on words, not only being another month to compliment Tony’s, but also to honour both the War Based fiction that had inspired it and the man who had saved her life as March was the month of Bucky’s birth. A decision that had really touched Steve.

She took a deep breath and sighed, as she eyed Natasha heading up the ramp into the jet.

“Just be careful…”

“I’m always careful.” Steve kissed her gently.

“Liar.” She mumbled against his lips. He grinned and pulled back, pecking her mouth once more before he started up the ramp. He paused at the top and turned to face her. “We’ll be back late tonight. Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t!” she teased.

He flashed her another smile and then he hit the button and the ramp started to close. A loud siren told Katie that the hangar door was opening and that was her cue to leave. She headed back over to the steps at the side, leading up to the mezzanine, and as she watched through the window she saw the jet fly out of the side and over the frosty compound grounds. It up through the clouds and gone from sight before she had reached the double doors at the top.

The base was a hive of activity already, despite it being little after seven am. Katie was heading for an hour or so in the gym before her day began properly. She stuck her Bluetooth headphones in, selected the usual work out play-list and began to run on the treadmill, slowly at first to ease herself in- she was a little bit stiff and sore from her sparring session with Natasha yesterday. Nat had really upped the ante on Katie over the last month or so, which was good as Katie was now pretty much on a par with her when it came hand to hand, something Steve had been completely astonished to see after walking in on the two women just as his wife floored Natasha with a well-placed leg swipe the red head didn’t see coming. 

Forty minutes later, Katie swapped to the rower to finish off, and was approximately half way through the three-kilometre distance when her music cut off and the screen to the right of the machine switched over from the play-list to a visual of Rhodey.

“Hey Kiddo,” He smiled as she stopped rowing to look at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve had a sensor trip on the outer perimeter of the facility.”

“You send someone out there?” She frowned, catching her breath as she picked up the bottle of water that was to her right.

“Yeah, Sam is currently out there looking for it, just thought, well seeing as Cap and Nat are out, you’re technically the one in charge so…”  

She let out a snort as she swallowed a mouth full of her drink.  Being third in command was something she didn’t really care for, knowing full well it was Steve’s way giving her some kind of authority over simply being the Captain’s Wife, but she’d accepted the gesture simply because he’d been so excited when he had asked her she couldn’t refuse.

“Okay, I’ll go and check it out. “

Standing up she left the gym and moved quickly to the armoury, grabbing a gun, a coms piece and a fleece jacket before quickly making her way outside.

“What’s going on up there, Sam?” Rhodey spoke in her ear as she walked into the cold air, spotting Sam circling above.

“I’m at the location of the sensor trip, but I’m not seeing anything.” He said. “Oh, hang on…”

“What is it?” Katie asked, watching him as he circled above her.

“Roof top…”

“Gimme a lift?” 

Sam swooped down from the clear, winter sky and she grabbed his arm as he effortlessly pulled her up, dropping them both onto the flat roof of one of the buildings.

“I can see you.” Sam called out loudly as they landed.

Katie frowned, as she didn’t know what Sam was talking about until out of nowhere a man in a red and silver suit, with an insect like helmet suddenly appeared. Katie cocked her gun and aimed it at him.

“Who the hell are you?” she questioned. As they watched the man started to awkwardly introduce himself to Sam, his mask lifted to reveal a shaky smile as he waved.

“Hi, I’m Scott. I know who you are, obviously, you’re Katie Stark, I mean Rogers…” Scott started trying to hold back his enthusiasm and motioning towards Sam and Katie with a chuckle. "I’m a big fan.”

"Appreciate it. But like the lady asked, who the hell are you?” Sam echoed Katie’s earlier sentiments.

“I’m Ant-Man.” Scott or Ant-Man answered confidently. Sam and Katie shared an incredulous look and Katie mouthed the name back to him and he shrugged. Katie lowered her gun slightly.

“Wanna tell me what you want?” She questioned Ant-Man as the man tried to explain why the two Avengers hadn’t heard of him.

Scott pointed towards a building to their left, maintaining eye contact with Katie as he spoke “I was hoping I could grab a piece of technology. Just for a few days, then I’d return it. I need it to, uh, save the world- you know how that is.”

“Yeah, we know exactly how that is,” Sam said to Scott and Katie felt her mouth twitching into a grin.

“What piece of technology, and what do you mean saving the world?” she asked.

“I’d love to tell you but Hank Pym said never to trust a Stark.” The man called Scott, or Ant-Man was almost apologetic. “Even though you’re technically a Rogers now.”

Katie frowned, she’d never heard of a Hank Pym before, but that was irrelevant now. Sam gave a sigh besides her and stepped forwards.

“We’ve located the breach.” he spoke “Bringing him in…”

“I’m really sorry about this.” Scott rushed out and as Sam reached out to him he vanished.

“What the…” Katie spun round and felt something hit her, hard in the back. She fell forward onto the gravelled surface of the roof before rolling onto her back, gun raised again just in time to see Sam flying backwards off the edge, tumbling through the air and grappling with something whilst flying over the lawns of the facility.

Katie could do nothing but stand and watch from her vantage point as Sam continued to wrestle with, then shoot at the man who could shrink and grow seemingly at will. And if she was completely honest, it was kind of entertaining to watch.

“This guy would actually be pretty useful.” Katie mused into the coms, trying but failing to hide the amusement in her voice “Are you recording this? For future, recruitment purposes obviously.”

“All over it.” Rhodey responded, a slight chuckle punctuating his confirmation.

It was when the two men crashed into the storage unit that Ant-Man had wanted to break into in the first place that she started to get concerned.

“Err do we have cameras in there?” she questioned Rhodey.

“Uh… negative.” Rhodey answered after a short pause.

“Shit.” Running to the side of the roof she scaled down the metal ladder at the side, dropping the last eight feet or so, landing gently before she ran towards the storage building. At that point Sam came crashing backwards through the metal door and Katie flung her arms up to shield her face from the debris before glancing up. Sam’s flight pattern was jerky and off and he was gripping at his pack on his back.

“He’s in my pack!” Sam shouted before he landed hard in the dirt and with a groan, pulled himself into a standing position, yanking off his goggles.

“You okay?” Katie asked as she ran over to him.

“Yeah, fine…” He sighed before he looked at her. “You know, it’s really important to me that Cap never finds out about this.”

Katie grinned and the pair of them scouted around but to no avail, there was no sign of Ant-Man, or Scott anywhere. Katie instructed Rhodey to get the door fixed and lock it down again and said she would speak to Tony to find out what was in there. Sam was luckily not hurt, just a slight bruising to his pride so Katie left him at the lab with Lawson to look at making the repairs to his pack before she headed off to get changed.

*****

Steve and Natasha landed in Sadove, Crimea and were instantly greeted by the man who was leading the investigation into the raid on the local police station. The last three out of six hits the guy had made had been on small, local outfits with less resistance than the other places he had hit but that was hardly surprising. The former SHIELD base he had hit in Mexico had been heavily guarded, which made Steve think that he had perhaps suffered losses to his team which was making him rethink his strategy. As Natasha chatted to the man in his local language, Steve hung back before the man nodded to Natasha and strode towards him.

“Captain Rogers.” he said, English thick with accent “Inspector Chernov.”

Steve shook the man’s hand “Pleasure to meet you in person Inspector.”

“So you are interested in the man who raided our local station?” “He’s been on our radar for a while.” Steve said, choosing his words carefully “But we don’t have much to go on.” “Well, I’m not sure we can help but I can take you down there and you can see for yourself.” Steve nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

It wasn’t a long drive, and once they arrived Steve and Natasha were allowed to wander round the scene undisturbed, providing they didn’t interfere with the police and teams already swamping the area. Their search showed them nothing new and they moved to watching the CCTV which the Authorities had refused to send them. They could have hacked into it, but Steve was keen to keep the tentatively growing communication lines with Crimea and Russia as amicable as possible, especially in the light of Sokovia. The Avengers were not a political party, so by remaining respectful of their requests to meet only in person he hoped it went someway to proving they were here to help and had no ulterior motives.

As such they sat in the mobile control centre, scanning the CCTV. Steve watched the footage and sighed.

“This isn’t HYDRA.” Nat concluded and Steve agreed.

“I know, it’s not their MO. This guy is too haphazard.” Steve pondered. “Just wondering why, considering how well organised he is, he is leaving so much devastation behind.”

“Minimum effort leaving maximum casualties.” Natasha said, watching the footage “He simply doesn’t care who he takes out.” “Well he’s hardly gonna care about that if he’s dealing black market arms.” Steve sighed.

They watched the footage some more and Steve held his hand up to Natasha to play it at normal speed when they reached the bit where the key perps were on screen.

“What’s he doing?” He frowned, looking at Crossbones. The man was stood in the middle of the room, looking around.

“He’s scanning for Cameras.” Nat answered as they both watched. 

There was something familiar about the way the man walked and held himself, but Steve couldn’t quite place it. As they continued the footage, Crossbones located the camera they were watching through and looked directly up at it, pulling his mask up a little to reveal his mouth, clearly saying something.

“Can you enhance that?” Steve asked. Natasha tapped at it.

It zoomed in on the man and Natasha spoke “looks like something about it being personal…”

She held her phone up to the footage and then pressed something, and the phone spoke to her in a robotic voice.

“Big Guy…I just want you to know, this aint personal.” Steve’s gut clenched. The last time he had heard those words were in an elevator in the Triskelion.

“Rogers?” Natasha looked at him, noticing the nerve which was twitching in his jaw “What is it? Does that mean something to you?”

“In a fashion.” He turned to face her. “It’s Rumlow.”

****** The interviews went well and once the photos etc were done Katie and Tony retreated to the living area of the Tower for a well-earned drink as they put the final touches of their tour together. They were to start visiting various Universities across the US to roll out their foundation grants. To ease them both in gently, the first University they were going to was Columbia, so not far from home. Tony and Pepper would be presenting and discussing to students within the School of Engineering and Applied Sciences and Katie in the School of the Arts for Students on the Writing Programme.

Their chatter moved from work to Tony asking how the Compound was going, and Katie remembered the events of that morning.

“You ever heard of a bloke called Hank Pym?” she asked suddenly.

Tony paused for a moment, frowning at her sudden change of subject, but something stirred in his mind. “The name rings a bell, hang on…FRIDAY, search all files reference Hank Pym.” He instructed, tapping at something on his tablet.

After a few seconds something flashed up in the corner of the screen.

“Yeah, here you go.” He pressed another button causing the image to reflect in front of them as a hologram. “He worked with Dad and SHIELD on a programme called Project GOLIATH.”

“What the hell was that?” Katie asked, taking a pull from her bottle.

“A research programme into some kind of Nano particle.” Tony said as the pair of them simultaneously ran through the information on the screen.

“Ahhhh.” Katie nodded, “makes sense…” “What does?”

Katie explained about the encounter with Scott and Tony gave a hum of agreement. 

“That could actually be kinda useful.”

“I know.” she agreed “But he vanished after he got whatever he wanted. Any thoughts on what it could be?”

“That facility holds a load of crap that was Dad’s” Tony said simply “Could be anything.”

“Well, nothing we could see was missing, but it might be worth you taking a look.” she suggested.

He shrugged “I can do, but there was nothing remotely dangerous in there. Was just a load of old signal jammers and code breakers we don’t really need anymore.”

“Well, I did try and ask what him what it was he wanted, you know, on account of him saying he was saving the world, maybe we could have helped with that, being the Avengers and all, but he simply turned round and said ‘Hank Pym told me never to trust a Stark’.”

She drained her bottle of beer as Tony did the same and he stood up, taking the empties to retrieve 2 more from the fridge.

“Clearly one of many in the long line of people dad pissed off.” Tony rolled his eyes as he popped the lids, before he sighed “I’m actually surprised no one tried to kill him before, you know, he rammed their car into a tree.”

Katie looked at her brother and swallowed. Tony had no idea how close to the truth he was.

“Sorry.” he slid the beer across the bar, mistaking her guilty silence for one of upset “That was out of order.”

“For all his faults I don’t think Dad was a bad man.” Katie spoke quietly “And he did love us.”

“I know.” Tony nodded, squeezing her hand.

She stayed for another drink and then headed home. She had checked in with Sam before heading back to their apartment and she was settled on the couch with a glass of wine when Steve called.

“Hey Soldier.” she said, smiling at the screen as she flicked the phone to project the image in front of her, muting the TV.

“Hey Darlin’.” He smiled back

“So, how was it?” she asked

“Well we got the intel.” 

“Solid?”

“Pretty solid yeah.” Natasha spoke, appearing by his side. “We think we know who he is anyway.” “Who?”

Steve sighed. “It’s Rumlow.” “What?” Katie spluttered into her wine glass. “Are you sure?”

“Oh pretty sure.” Steve nodded. “He left me a clear message.”

“Steve recognised him on the Video so I ran a crosscheck.” Nat picked up. “Turns out he was listed as severely injured and was taken to the hospital. After that, our trail runs cold.” 

“Until now.” Katie sighed.

“We’ve also got a list of his associates, some known faces he’s been seen with.” Steve shrugged “So we’re putting out an alert.”

“Doesn’t give us much to go on though.” Katie rubbed at her temples.

“When have we ever had much to go on?” Natasha asked and Katie shrugged

“Fair point.” she conceded as Natasha moved off out of sight.

“So how has your day been?” Katie looked back at Steve as he spoke.

“Not bad actually.” she said, “Interviews went well, oh, and we had a bit of an incident at base before.” “Incident?” he frowned, “What kind of incident?”

“Attempted break in, nothing major.”

“Everyone ok?”

“Yeah, honestly it was no big deal, I’ll fill you in on when you get home. For the rest of the day once the interviews were done Tony and I drank beer.”

“Sounds pretty productive.” Steve raised an eyebrow, smile playing on his lips.

“Beer is always productive.” Katie informed him and he chuckled.

“We’ll be airborne in thirty minutes and then we should be home in about four hours.” He said, as Katie looked at her watch. It was almost 8:30 pm. 

“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you.”

“And you.” She blew him a kiss and cut the call with a yawn. She was tired. Really tired, so she headed off for a bath. After soaking and listening to music for forty minutes she dried off and shoved on one of Steve’s T-shirts before climbing into bed and laying there for a moment, flicking through the TV channels. She settled on an episode of Family Guy and snuggled down into the large bed, wrapping herself in the soft covers. It always felt odd sleeping without Steve being there. Sometimes she quite enjoyed being able to starfish in the middle of the Emperor sized bed but tonight she wasn’t enjoying being alone.

****

Steve was whacked when they arrived home. Bidding good night to Natasha, instead of changing in the armoury he headed straight back and let himself into their quarters. Crossing the hallway he made his way into the bedroom he paused, a gentle smile spreading on his face. Illuminated in the light from the hallway he could see Katie was curled up in the middle of the bed, using his pillow as a hugging buddy. He quietly crossed the room and perched on the bed, stripping off his boots and uniform top. He paused slightly as Katie stirred and he turned to look at her, gently brushing her hair of her face. He glanced down at the freckles he knew by memory, long thick lashes, soft pink lips, that familiar Stark nose…she looked so peaceful asleep.

She stirred again, and that nose he adored wrinkled in the way it did when she was waking up and she cracked an eye open before her face split into a smile at the sight of her husband.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby girl.” He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you”

“It’s Okay.” She yawned, leaning into his touch.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” He asked, and through the tiny sliver of light coming from the hallway Katie could see his eyes were full of their usual warmth.

“I don’t think you did today, no.”

“Well in that case, you’re beautiful” He smiled and she chuckled slightly as he dropped a soft kiss on her head. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll be right with you.”

She watched him appreciatively as he stood up and pulled his compression-shirt over his head, leaving him bare form the waist up as he headed into the en-suite. For a moment she was tempted to join him, but then decided against it, laying back onto her side, dozing.

It wasn’t long before the bed dipped and she felt him slide under the covers next to her. She turned over to snuggle up into the crook of his shoulder, her head laying on his chest.

“So, you wanna tell what the incident was today?” he asked, his right hand reaching up to play with the strands of her hair that fell over her shoulder.

“Oh yeah.” she grinned before she launched into an explanation about Scott-slash-Ant Man. He fell silent for a moment but in the end came to the same conclusion as Tony had, there was nothing in there that was dangerous so they just needed to remain vigilant.

“Yeah, well Sam seemed to be taking vigilant to the extreme as he’s already been on the phone to numerous contracts, trying to track him down.” she said “I think he’s a bit annoyed the guy basically kicked his ass. Rhodey caught it all on video but Sam told me never to tell you about it. He’s taken it quite personally.” “I’m not surprised, he had his ass kicked.” Steve sniggered. “Where do I get a copy of the CCTV?”

Katie grinned, “I have it on my phone, Rhodey sent it to me.”

“Play it.” he instructed.

“What now?” “Yes, right now.” he nodded, moving so he was sat up, jolting her off his chest.

“No Sam will kill me!” she laughed, propping herself up on her elbow

“Screw Sam!” he snorted “He plays those damned Phys Ed videos every chance he gets.”

“That’s true.” Katie pondered “Ok, hang on…”

She turned, reaching over for the phone and the TV remote. Blinking at the sudden light, once her eyes were accustomed to the change she pressed a few buttons on her phone and beamed the footage to the TV on the wall. She had to admit, it looked even funnier from the video play back than it had when she had been there.

Steve let out a huge, genuine laugh, his head thrown back, banging against the headboard, arm clutched across his chest as he laughed, and laughed.

“I’m so showing that at our next briefing.” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“You can’t…” “Oh, I can!”

****

The next morning the pair of them made their way to the briefing room both munching on a piece of toast and each carrying a mug of coffee. It was early, before 8, but Steve wanted the team to be prepared. Everyone filed into the room along with some good humoured grumbling about the time before they dropped into their preferred seats and looked to the front of the room.

“I know it’s early and I’m sorry…” Steve held his hands up, looking round at the team assembled in front of him “But this is important.”

“More important than sleep?” Sam yawned.

Steve ignored him. “Alright, here’s what we already know.”  Steve began to explain how they believed Rumlow to be Crossbones, the masked man who had been causing a whole lot of chaos in the wake of what happened at the Triskelion. Katie knew he was annoyed at himself for not realising he had survived sooner, but even if they had, they’d so much going on, not to mention Ultron had been a much bigger threat in the immediate future

"He’s been targeting former SHIELD labs and police stations all over the country and selling products on the black market.” Natasha spoke.

“Police stations?” Katie asked.

“We think he suffered heavy losses at the raid prior to the last three, so he’s going for easier targets whilst he regroups.” Natasha answered.

“Still no intel on who his buyers are?” Wanda asked.

“No.” Steve shook his head, “He seems to have become an independent terrorist, and doesn’t appear to be working for anyone”

“Our recon yesterday told us that Rumlow seems to be operating with this guy.” Natasha explained as the photos flashed up “He’s known as the Black Mamba…” “Black Mamba?” Wanda deadpanned. “Cross Bones and Black Mamba?”

“NATO has every available pair of eyes out looking for them.”  Steve ignored Wanda and looked at Rhodey.

“Soon as they break cover, we’ll know.” Rhodey nodded

“So then what?” Sam frowned

“More recon?” Katie asked

Steve looked at his wife and nodded. “Possibly, but for now we need to let intelligence do their job. But be prepared, when we get a lead I want to be ready to go.”

There were mumbles around the room and Steve let the team lead the discussion. Sam commented on the crap code names again, causing Wanda to laugh. Katie suggested they should compile a detailed profile on Rumlow, see if they could find a pattern to his behaviour, nodding to Vision. the AI had a knack for it as did Katie, so Steve and Natasha nodded, both agreeing it was a good idea.

“We need to be vigilant.” Steve instructed. “Keep our eyes open for anything that’s out of the ordinary.” He caught Katie’s eye, a wicked smirk crossed his face and she shook her head smiling as he continued “Speaking of which…FRIDAY, play the video”

“Certainly Captain Rogers.” The pictures of Rumlow and Black Mamba disappeared from the screen and suddenly the footage of Sam spiralling through the air started to play. The room started to snigger as Sam looked at Katie who held her hands up in an “it wasn’t me!” gesture.

“Oh come on Man!” He groaned as the room gleefully watched the film, laughter ringing round the room.

******

The next four months ticked by with no further information on Rumlow. They pulled together a potted history which tracked the hospital he had been in, when he had escaped (the local authorities had been searching for him for ages since he threatened his nurse upon waking before violently breaking out) his movements since (ones they knew about and some they hadn’t) but it didn’t give them anything new.

Katie and Tony were buried deeply in their Foundation work, which was taking up a lot of Katie’s time so she wasn’t as close to the investigations as she could have been. Steve was fine with that though, the further away she was from Rumlow frankly the better, but he still made sure she was involved with what they had found and she attended the briefings as best she could when she wasn’t travelling the country. Steve’s chest burst with pride every time he saw his girl on the news, in papers, as the press seemed to be lavishing praise upon the siblings for what they were doing. 

Then, one day in the middle of May, they struck gold when one of the Facial Recognition Alerts they had set up pinged to Black Mamba being spotted in a Lagos, Nigeria. As a result Steve had scrambled them all to attention as soon as he could, which was four am. But there were no complaints about the time, not when they knew this could be their chance to bring him in. They all pitched round the screen as Steve and Natasha identified the local police station that they suspected of him hitting, given where the FR had pinged several times.

“We think they are scoping this area.” Nat said, drawing a red circle round a part of the town.

Katie moved the screen with her fingers, enlarging the aerial shots as she looked at them, her analytical brain going ten to the dozen.

“Layout looks pretty standard.” she said, scanning the map, frowning slightly. Something was nagging at her. And as she looked, she realised what it was.

“What is it?” Steve asked, recognising the tone of her voice and frown on her face.

“The Science Institute.” She nodded towards the screen. “Big white building at the end of the road.”

“Biological weapons are big on the black market.” Sam cottoned on, nodding slightly.

“Yeah but his recent previous hits and our pattern analysis don’t give us any reason to believe that’s what he’s going to be aiming for.” Nat suggested

“You said yourself that you suspected he was going for easier targets whilst he regrouped.” Katie bit her lip. “What if he has?”

“We have to assume Rumlow will go for the police station, it’s the best intel we have.” Steve looked at her and he noticed the expression on Katie’s face as she crossed her arms and opened her mouth to argue. “But we should be vigilant, keep alert.”

She exchanged a glance with Sam, who simply shrugged

“We do this with stealth.” Steve continued, “I want us on the ground and out of sight, we need to catch him with as little fuss or danger to civilians as possible”

"Yeah, and with that in mind Viz you may need to sit this one out.” Nat tossed out and Vision nodded deprecatingly

“We’re still working on him blending in.” Wanda added.

“Same for you too Rhodey.” Steve looked at him “We need someone back here, we could be gone a few days.”

Rhodey nodded. “No problem Cap.” “Get what you need. Wheels up in twenty.” Steve dismissed everyone who immediately went their separate ways to prepare for the upcoming mission leaving Katie, Natasha and Steve alone

“You think she’s ready?” Natasha looked at Steve, nodding to Wanda. He took a deep breath, staring at the door through which she had just left with Vision.

“You say she’s been training hard.” He spoke after a moments pause, looking at Nat.

“Yeah, she has but her powers are still largely impacted by her emotions.”

“Aren’t everyone’s?” Katie asked. “I mean I’m angry or upset I fight harder, as you know.” “Yeah but,” Nat sighed “It isn’t the same, she can do a lot of damage.”

“We have the bare bones of a team as it is.” Steve shook his head and Katie looked down, feeling slightly guilty. She had discussed this with Steve, she wasn’t going. The Stark Foundation Tour had another few visits to Universities this week. Steve spotted the look on her face and he gently nudged her arm “That’s not a criticism honey…” “I know…” she bit her lip. Maybe she should postpone…

“Throw in the fact that this is the first full team mission we’ve had since Ultron and I don’t see any choice but to take Wanda” Steve shrugged, ending the conversation.

Nat took a deep breath and nodded “You’re right. And maybe being in an actual mission environment might help her gain some control, I mean practice makes perfect.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked, eyeing her

“Both.” she drawled, heading out of the door.

Katie took a deep breath as Steve turned to her. “You best go.” she smiled softly. Steve bit his lip before he pulled her into an embrace, kissing her softly.

“I’ll call as soon as I can.” He promised, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Stay safe, please.” She whispered as he kissed the tip of her nose and hurried out of the door.

Once he was gone, Katie sank onto a chair, her head in her hands. She was torn, really torn. For the last year or so, post Ultron, they’d had a pretty quiet time of it, mopping up any stray Hydra operatives that strolled into their patch. But this, this was big. Was the Foundation really more important than putting a halt to whatever shitty plan Rumlow was trying to pull off? She was still an Avenger after all, she’d never quit that, and would never quit that.

She’d always be Supernova, whether she wanted to be or not.

“I’m gonna regret this.” She groaned to herself as she jumped up, and headed after the rest of the team.

*****

Steve, at first, had tried to argue against her coming but when Natasha had pointed out they could do with the support he had relented and the team had been bolstered by Supernova’s return to active duty.

Their support staff had done a great job on such a short time, and rented the group a four bedroomed apartment overlooking the street the Police Station was on. It wasn’t fancy, but it was the last place anyone would think would house Avengers. They spent their first day setting up a command centre, with coms links back to base and the next morning they began their recon.

The first two days were completely uneventful. No sign of Rumlow or any of his associates. Nat was the expert at covert ops and so she took the lead, directing them to all the right places coaching Wanda along the way and Steve was pleasantly surprised to see how well the younger girl took to the task, blending in with the locals. Katie took to observing from up high with Sam, her attention on the Biological Institute, unable to shake the nagging feeling she had about the place. She hadn’t mentioned it since their brief a few days ago, but Steve knew when she had an idea in her head she wouldn’t rest so he left her to it. Between them they had the area covered, which was good enough.

On the evening of the fourth day Wanda, Sam and Natasha headed out for a little undercover work in the bars at night, “So you guys can have a little undercover activity of your own” Sam teasingly stated, patting Steve on the back as he left, drawing an exasperated sigh from the Soldier. Nevertheless, the door had hardly clicked shut before Steve had his wife pinned up against a wall, hands wandering all over her body, lips and teeth clashing, her hand fisting in the slightly longer strands of hair at the top of his head as they’d furiously taken advantage of their first time alone in days.

The next morning Katie woke at about five-forty-five am and rolled over only to find the bed empty besides her. Steve could never rest when they were in the middle of a case like this. The clothes they had shed and left scattered all over the floor the night before were now folded and placed on top of the dresser, and she had to smile. Even now he was a total neat freak. Knowing full well where he would be she climbed out of the bed, pulled on Steve’s T-shirt and a pair of shorts before making her way into the dark corridor. She stopped in the doorway of the small dining room which was functioning as a makeshift office and sure enough, there he was, the lamp softly illuminated his handsome face as he flicked through a file, crease evident between his brows.

“Soldier, you’re up so early.” She said gently. Steve had heard her coming of course. Smiling softly, as he was always pleased to see her, he turned to face her as she crossed the room.

“Yeah, sorry, I woke about half an hour ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“You know, I get that you’re fed up of just waiting but sitting here re-reading all this isn’t going to help you know.” Katie sighed, taking the file off him and dropping it onto the wooden table, before she perched on the edge.

“I know, it’s just so goddamned frustrating.” Steve ran his hand over his face. After pondering for a moment Katie stood up and walked behind the chair and placed her hands on his shoulders. He let out a groan of satisfaction and leaned back in his seat as she kneaded the muscles with her hands. She found a particularly bad spot just under his shoulder blade and began to push harder with her thumb. Steve, unable to decide if it was pleasurable or painful, made a little noise which was half way between the two.

“God your shoulders are so knotty.” Katie mused and he left out a breath through his nose moving his head to the side.

“Yeah well, I did a lot of exercise last night.” He quipped back as her hands continued to work at his shoulders.

“I’ll say.” She grinned. “You know that thing you did with your mouth is actually illegal in several countries.” “Good job we live in the land of the free.” His voice was low as he fully relaxed under her touch.  Katie carried on working at his muscles in silence for a moment, happy to let him bliss out. 

“So… answer me a question?” She spoke after a short while, rousing him a little, and he hummed, unable to bring himself to be bothered to talk.

“If you couldn’t sleep why didn’t you wake me to help you?” Her voice was loaded as she leaned forward to wind her arms around his neck, running her hands up and down his chest from behind. Steve loved it when she touched him like that which was why he pouted slightly when she pulled away, but the pout didn’t last long and a smirk crossed his face as Katie walked round to the front of his chair

“And how, exactly, would you have done that?” His hands moved to rest on her hips as she lowered herself so that she was straddling him. She slid one of her hands around the back of his head to tangle in his hair the other settling on his chest.

“Reckon I can think of a few ways.”  She smirked slyly before using her hand in his hair to pull him forward and connect their lips. Steve kissed her back immediately as one hand crept up the back of her top, the other on the side of her thigh, sliding up her shorts.

“Sleepy yet?” She murmured.

“Not exactly the word I would use.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

She grinned and then began to rock her hips on top of him grinding down on his growing hardness and he sighed slightly, kissing her harder as she pushed down again. With an automatic reaction he raised his hips, rocking up to meet her and this time she groaned as she could feel the friction of their clothes grinding against her clit. His hands were now firmly holding her hips underneath her, no, his top, and he sat forward so his mouth could cover the spot under her ear that drove her wild. With a soft sigh she titled her head to the side as he trailed kisses across her jaw until his mouth met her lips again. His hands reached down to grasp the hem of her top and he had just begun to slide it upwards when they were interrupted by a raspy voice.

“I thought all the making out fully clothed supposedly stopped when you reached the age of seventeen.” Natasha scoffed from the doorway. Katie looked up over Steve’s shoulder as he sighed, dropping his head onto her chest, letting out a groan of frustration.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” Katie sighed.

“Don’t you know how to lock a door?” She retorted, dryly.

“I take it this isn’t a social call?” Steve’s voice was muffled as he spoke into his wife’s chest, not bothering to move his head. Katie chuckled a little, her hand running through his hair.

“Half and half.” Natasha arched an eyebrow, “Unsociable hour it maybe but Wanda’s already up and wants breakfast, she was going to head out to the local bakery but I thought it might be an idea to start the re-con early.”

Steve’s head looked up to Katie’s as she shifted off his lap and straightened out her clothing and hair. Steve glanced down at his crotch and Katie raised an eyebrow slightly as he stood up and adjusted his sweats in an attempt to hide his slowly ebbing arousal before he turned to face the red head.

“Well, you’re the expert in this covert stuff.” He raised his brow. “What have you got in mind?”

*****

“All right, what do you see?” Steve was coaxing Wanda, as ever, to observe her surroundings, see and hear everything, on the job training he supposed you could call it.

Meanwhile, Katie glanced down from the rooftop on which Sam and her were currently stood, her scanners doing their usual work. No weapons spotted yet.

“Standard beat cops. Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target” Wanda’s voice came through the ear piece Steve was wearing.

“There’s an ATM in the South Corner.” he replied “which means….”

“Cameras” Wanda said instantly.

“Both cross streets are one way.” He carried on

“So, compromised escape routes.”

“Means our guy doesn’t care about being seen, he isn’t afraid to make a mess on the way out.” Steve concluded. “You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute”

“It’s also bulletproof,” Katie cut in as FRIDAY completed a scan on the vehicle “Which means private security…”

“Which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us” Nat finished

“You guys know I can move things with my mind, right? “ Wanda replied

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.” Natasha continued

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a little paranoid?” Sam asked and Katie turned to look at him, retracting her face plate to give him a grin.

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” the exchange continued.

“Eyes on target, folks” Steve spoke firmly with an air of authority, bringing them back to the job in hand. “This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

“If he sees us coming that won’t be a problem. He kind of hates us.” Sam replied

As Steve watched he noticed that a garbage truck was slowly pushing its way through traffic, with no regard to pedestrians or other vehicles. He frowned and kept his eyes on it as it continued to gather momentum as it went.  

“Sam, Katie…see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

Sam’s small drone launched, swooping down to scan the vehicle as Katie instructed FRIDAY to do the same.

“Give me X-ray.” Sam spoke. There was a pause before he gave a little moan. “That truck’s loaded for max weight.”

“And the driver’s armed.” Katie concluded.

And in that second it dawned on Steve that his wife had been right all along. The Institute was the target after all.

“It’s a battering ram.” Katie’s voice mumbled on the coms, clearly having realised the same thing he had, and with that Steve turned from the window, running for the door.

“Go, now!” He yelled into his coms as he sprinted down the stairs. “There not hitting the station…” “The institute…” Sam spoke as Steve burst onto the street looking up in time to see Falcon and Supernova spiralling into the air.

And once more the fight was on.

**** Chapter 29 Part 1

**Original Posting**