#chapter 7 is coming along swimmingly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aimless-imagines-for-fun · 4 years ago

Text

His

Paring :: mafia dark!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+, Smut/NSFW, Dark Themes, Possessiveness, Oral(M Recieving), Deep Throating

Word Count :: 2,787

Summary :: Bucky’s had a long day and you’re the only one he can release his stress on

A/N ::....there may or may not be another part... idk yet.... I just really like Mafia Bucky

Some days were better than others, for both you and Bucky.

So far, your day had gone swimmingly. You woke up, did an easy morning stretch to help you wake up, and proceeded to clean around your house in your favorite sundress. There wasn’t much to do, with the house usually clean due to Bucky hiring professional cleaners to come once a week. Still, the dishes weren’t going to do themselves.

The highlight of your day was a package being delivered. A book that you had pre-ordered from one of your favorite authors. After you cooked your lunch, you spent the rest of your day reading the book, sitting on the dark grey couch in your large living room. That was all you could do besides watching tv or doing a small hobby to keep you occupied until Bucky came home.

Bucky’s day, on the other hand, was infuriatingly long. He was a businessman and a mob boss, meaning he’d usually have long days. If he was lucky, he’d just have to deal with some idiot trying to cheat him. Today was an unlucky day. He received a visit from Helmut Zemo, the head of a Sokovian Mafia trying to start up in Brooklyn.

Bucky sat at his desk, leaning back in his leather chair as he stared at the man who just entered his office.

“I already told you the deal Zemo. There’s no bargaining, if you don’t like it save your breath and get the hell out of here.”

The Sokovian ignored him, walking over to a large bookshelf that was against the wall. “You know, for the most powerful man in Brooklyn, you’d be surprised how quickly some of your ‘people’ are willing to betray you if you offer them enough cash.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, a scowl forming on his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Zemo glanced over for a moment. “The docks.”

A few nights prior, one of Bucky’s incoming shipments of illegal weapons had been robbed. A small number of men were killed, and the rest were injured. There was also a weird symbol that had been spray-painted around the docks, a sign that whoever had done this was publicly declaring war.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he was now sitting up straight in his seat. “You did that?” “It was quite easy to.”

“So why the fuck are you here now? I could put a bullet through your head in a second.”

Zemo laughed, finally turning to face the other man. “You won’t because you know I’m not stupid enough to come here without just as many men you have.” He let out a small breath, taking a few steps forward. His gaze moved down to Bucky’s left hand, an eyebrow raising with curiosity. “You haven’t married her yet? She’s a lovely woman.”

In an instant Bucky stood up, his hands balled into fists. If a look could kill, Zemo would be dead and his body burning.

“I came to tell (Y/N) thank you. Not long ago, one of my guys got a bit lost and she helped him. Pietro said she was ‘the kindest girl he’d met’ and ‘extremely helpful and friendly.”

Bucky cursed in the back of his mind. It sounded exactly like something you’d do, you were kind and naive by nature, simply wanting to help people when they needed it. It was what drew him to you, and it seemed like it was attracting unwanted attention from others now.

“I’m gonna give you ten minutes to get the hell out of my territory.”

“Why so generous?”

“It’s a nice neighborhood,” Bucky replied sarcastically.

Zemo walked back towards the door, understanding he had pushed the man far enough. A coy smile crept on his face, looking at Bucky one last time. “I’d keep her better guarded and up to speed if I were you. She’s too innocent to be involved with you.”

Once Zemo and his men left Bucky nearly tore apart his office. It took Sam and Steve a good hour to calm the man down and make sure he didn’t do anything reckless. Once he cooled down, Sam revealed that Tony Stark had been the one to cross Bucky. Tony’s father was the previous big bad until Bucky came around.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do Steve, just make sure Tony doesn’t think he’s not get strung up on a tree after I shoot that Sokovian bastard in the head.”

His voice was full of annoyance and his grip on the steering wheel of his car was so tight the whites of his knuckles were visible. It was one thing for Zemo to publicly humiliate his authority by robbing him, but he had indirectly threatened you by mentioning you to Bucky. You were his and his alone. He had invested far too much in securing you, ensuring that you’d never leave him.

Bucky leaned on the doorframe of your apartment’s bedroom, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you step around the room. “What are you doing?”

“Going home,” You muttered, continuing to pack your suitcase.

“That’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know.”

“I can’t keep an eye on you if you’re in LA.”

You looked up from the clothes you were packing, glaring at him. “I know.”

Bucky let out a huff. “So you also know I can’t make sure you’re safe.”

You let out a dry laugh, eyes rolling. “I’ll probably be a lot safer once I’m far away from you.”

The man pushed himself off the door frame, now approaching you with long strides. “You’re not leaving (Y/N).”

You threw the shirt you hand in your hand down, turning to face him. “Yes, I am Bucky, because you lie to me!” Your voice was strained, eyes looking up at him full of pain.

“I didn’t lie to you-”

“Yes, you did! You lied to me about what you did and you hid the truth!”

When you and Bucky started dating, he told you he ran a large ‘supply and demand’ business in Brooklyn and that was it. Like the naive girl you were, who had just moved to the east coast, you believed him because you fell for him hard at first. He spoiled you and made you feel like a princess in public, and in private you helped him release all the pent-up stress he had built up from work. A few months later, you finally figured out why Bucky was always so protective of you and wanted to know where you were 24/7.

Bucky could see the tears you were holding back, mentally cursing at himself for being the cause. He cupped your cheek with his normal hand. You had to resist the urge to lean into his hold.

“I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry, but…” His voice trailed off. In a swift motion, his metal hand wrapped around your waist lifting you up and over his shoulder. “You’re not leaving me (Y/N).”

“James Buchanan Barnes! Put me down this instant!” You slammed your fists into his back to no avail. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

“I love you too darling,” He mumbled, proceeding to walk you out of your apartment.

You were on the fourth chapter of your book when you heard a car door slam. You sprung up from your seat, moving as quickly as you could to greet Bucky at the front door. When you got there, you saw he had already let himself inside. His brows were knit together, looking down at the door’s locks.

“Why isn’t the door locked?” He questioned before he even saw you.

With the territorial instinct he had when it came to you and his meeting with Zemo earlier, it was clear he was not happy about such a small thing, no matter your excuse.

“Oh, I must’ve forgotten to lock it when I got the mail today,” You said quietly.

He had lectured you multiple times about how important it was you locked the door, even before you move in with him.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, properly greeting him with a smile like you did every day. You had done this so many times, you noticed how long it took for him to softly wrap a single arm around you before walking away. He was upset.

“Go to the bedroom and wait. Now,” He ordered.

Your heart started racing, wondering what was going to happen to you. If he had stress pent up, he would either wait until after dinner or start kissing you roughly the second he stepped in. He had only acted like this when you pushed him to his limit, like when you threatened to leave him or attempted to run away when he first forced you to live with him.

You sat at the edge of your shared bed, hands holding and fiddling with the hem of your dress. When Bucky was this angry, he was painfully rough to the point where you would begin crying. You quickly began thinking of everything you had done recently, wondering what could’ve pushed him to this point.

He walked in, jacket off and the sleeves to his white button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even though your mind was screaming with fear, your body started heating up with desire seeing him. Especially when your eyes glanced down to his pants and saw a hardness forming. ‘Fuck, he’s been thinking about this.’

Walking up to you, Bucky grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look up at him. As a sort of last-ditch effort to get some kindness from him, you gave him a doe-eyed look.

He leaned down, pressing a long kiss against your lips before pulling away. “Get on your knees.”

You took in a deep breath, accepting he wouldn’t be gentle. You pulled away from his cold metal hand, sinking down to stand before him on your knees. Keeping eye contact with him, you managed to under his brown leather belt and navy trousers. You looped your fingers at the hem of his pants, pulling them down along with his briefs just enough for his fully erect shaft to be freed.

With both of your small hands wrapping around his shaft, you could feel yourself growing wet at the sound of his soft groan. At first, you started stroking his length slowly, leaning your face closer to lick the tip and swirl your tongue around the head.

Bucky didn’t allow you to continue this very long. Only a small dribble of precum was licked up before he grabbed a fist full of your hair from the back of your head and pushed himself further in. Another groan escaped him feeling the warmth of your mouth around his cock. He hit the back of your throat and you gagged, not yet ready for him to go deeper. He did it again two more times, warning you that he planned on having you take all of him in his mouth.

Your hands moved up to his thighs to hold yourself steady and you relaxed your throat the best you could in preparation. Once he started to push his dick further in, you could feel tears start to well up in your eyes as he went down your throat. You moaned each time he shoved his shaft down your throat, sending a soft vibration on his shaft.

Bucky eventually started thrusting his hips into your mouth, fully fucking your mouth as tears started to fall out of your eyes. Watching your glossy eyes stare up at him with his cock down your throat he nearly lost it, feeling his ballsack tighten. Not wanting to cum just yet, he pulled out, a string of your saliva falling off his dick and dribbling down your mouth. You gasped and began panting for air, wiping away your drool with the back of your hand.

He sat on the edge of the bed now, pulling your hips to stand in front of him once you stood up. “Off.”

You took off your dress, followed by your bra and wet panties. Already knowing what was going to happen, you moved to straddle his hips. You and Bucky had had sex numerous times before, but you always needed a moment to get used to his size. He wasn’t going to allow that.

With his large hands on your hips, he forced you down his entire dick, groaning at how tight your walls clenched around him.

“Bucky!” You cried out, body tingling as he filled you up, balls deep.

He held your hips with such a strong grip you were sure there were going to be marks after. He bounced you up and down his cock, watching you with a dark gaze as you moaned and whimpered against him. Only he could make you feel like this, act like this for him.

He thrusted his hips up, and you moaned loudly, back arching as he hit a sweet sensitive spot. “Please!”

“Please, what?” Bucky asked, knowing full well what you wanted. He wanted you to beg.

“Fuck me right there Bucky! Please!”

More than happy to comply, he proceeded to slam into that same spot, your breath growing faster and cunt tighter each time it was hit. His breath was becoming heavy, and his movements ragged.

He watched as you looked down at him fucking you and saw you shudder. “Ah!” Your walls tightened and your release hit you, juices pouring out. Feeling you release triggered his own orgasm, releasing inside of you. You could feel spurt after spurt of hot cum filling you up and your tight cunt gladly took it.

He finally stopped bouncing you, rolling his hips into you and allowing you a few seconds of rest. He pulled his limp dick out but watching your pussy drip with a mixture of both your cum, he found himself hard once again.

You barely had any time for your mind to clear up after, your eyes widening as Bucky forced you on your hands and knees. Not sparing a single second he rammed back into you, his hand smacking your ass hard.

You let out a cry, the stinging pain from the spank only lasting for a short while before you felt the pain and pleasure of him filling you up again.

“Tell me how much you love it,” He breathed out, watching your ass bounce against his hips with each thrust.

“Bucky!” You moaned out, your walls tightening around him again.

You barely had any time to recover from your last high and still sensitive. You started moving your ass against him, feeling his ballsack slapping your clit each time he thrusted.

“I love it so much!” You breathed out. “I love feeling your big dick fill me up and fuck me!”

You bit your lip, feeling the juices drip down your thighs. Your arms were starting to grow weak, barely able to hold yourself when you screamed again. Your pussy tightened and released, begging him to cum and fill you up again.

His large hands buried into your hips, continuing to fuck you as you released around him again. His build-up was growing with the sight of you taking his cock, thrusts growing sloppy.

Bucky wasn’t blind and could tell your arms were going to give out. So, he released his grip on you with his metal arm to lean over you. He wrapped his arm around your chest, holding you up while squeezing your breast.

Hearing your soft whimpers as he still fucked you did it for him, his hips bucking to release another hot load inside of you. He stayed in you until he finished then pulled out, releasing you to collapse on the bed.

Weakly, you turned yourself on your back to look at him, face flushed and tear-stained. He lowered himself above you, metal arm pressed down near the side of your head to keep him above you. Bucky’s eyes danced over your facial features. His gaze moved down, watching your chest rise with each pant before looking at the mess in between your legs.

With his other hand, he reached down and dragged two fingers up your wet folds, gathering the juices on them. When he raised them back up to your face, both of your hands grabbed him and began to suck and lick his fingers clean.

“Christ you’re fucking beautiful.”

He pulled his fingers away, smashing his lips against yours. You wrapped your hands around his neck, a hand moving up to play and tug on his hair as you kissed.

#bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan smut

787 notes · View notes

animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Signed, Sealed, Delivered (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), MILD SPOILERS, also this is a sequel, the first work is here. (I promise it’s good, the formatting of the origi post is just a little plain cause I hadn’t figured out what I liked yet). There’s some… stuff in this, idk, its nothing much but check the description or ao3 tags if you’re not sure of how you feel about dads who are Assholes, lots of angst because yours truly is a masochist :)

Description:

Levi returns from the war with a broken body only to have his heart broken as well when he finds (Y/N) has gone away from her father’s farm never to return or so much as remember his name- or so her father says. (Y/N), recently returned from a medical emergency in a neighboring village, is informed of her lover’s death, and the ensuing grief is almost too much to bear.

Months later, (Y/N) finds herself trapped in her father’s house, and Levi finds a very interesting ad in the personals column of the newspaper. Letter-writing shenanigans ensue, and Gabi and Falco get ideas.

Ao3 link here

Chapter 5

While wedding plans were coming along swimmingly, the boards across (Y/N)’s windows became weaker and weaker.

Admittedly, (Y/N) had felt a little betrayed by the betrothal at first— the last thing she wanted to do was marry a man who wasn’t Levi, and she’d thought her nameless acquaintance would understand that— but she had come to realize that it should have been expected. The man had answered her father’s ad for a wife, after all, not a pen pal; he was lonely, desperately so, and he walked into this arrangement with the expectation of marriage. (Y/N) knew that, and she accepted it, but she couldn’t let it happen right under her nose as though she had no agency at all.

So she formed a plan.

It took a bit longer than she’d wanted to prepare everything, but it was the nature of the beast; she needed food and water for her escape, and it took a while for her to save up enough for a journey far enough away from her father’s farm that she wouldn’t be caught. In the place of stealing money (which was virtually impossible, since no one carried coin purses around the house), (Y/N) pried off any gilding from paintings and table-edges and hid it away under her mattress. If her father or the farmhands that brought her food noticed anything, they didn’t comment, and after a few weeks more of sawing at her boarded windows, (Y/N) was fully equipped for her escape.

“Here,” her father said as he handed her a tray of food, not knowing that this would be the last time he would do so. “Eat well— you’re to be married tomorrow. No man wants a starved bride.”

I won't be a bride, starved or not, she thought triumphantly, but accepted the plate silently.

As she ate, (Y/N) wondered if the months she had spent grieving were entirely wasted. Any single day that she had been stuck in the mire of her heartache, she had been free to come and go as she pleased. She could have gone at any moment and escaped her current struggle.

It hardly matters now, she thought with a sigh. I can't change it, and I need to rest. Night will be upon me soon, and I'll need every ounce of my courage.

Yes, night would come soon. It would be cold, and there was no telling what sort of creatures would be waiting for her in the woods… if she made it to the woods.

***

So much for a plan, Levi thought to himself, sitting gingerly down on a tree stump as his leg began to ache. A cloud passed over the full moon, and he scowled as the darkness around him reflected his mood. What a mess.

He was to be married come daylight, apparently. The very idea of it made him queasy.

"Sorry, Levi," Gabi had told him a few days ago, her shoulders slumped in defeat as she related the failure that was her recon mission, and thus the plan that she and Falco had been imagining. "We’ve been watching for weeks, but her window is boarded, and when we asked the farmhands, they said her door is barred shut at all hours. I don't know how she lives like that."

Levi knew all too well that the (Y/N) he knew wouldn't live like that. She would sooner die than be caged— something she had in common with the Jaeger brat, damn his shitty hide. He couldn't imagine her willingly agreeing to be kept like a beast in a cage. The thought of it made him sick.

And yet, what did he know? Levi was buying her like one might a prize pony— perhaps not entirely without regard for her happiness and wishes, but certainly without regard for her say in the matter. What did that make him?

He sighed, glancing up at the full moonlight. The air was cold; he could see his breath against the night sky as he exhaled. It reminded him of the steam from a titan's death, and he looked away, disgusted.

Tired from his walk and his thoughts, Levi was just about to turn back down the trail that would lead him to his cottage when he heard rapid footsteps drawing near. Quickly, he drew up the hood on his cloak and backed into the treeline, and soon a figure darted into the clearing he'd been sitting in. A few seconds later, the figure was cast into sharp relief against the shadowy forest by the pale light of the moon, and by the time Levi recognized who it was, she had fallen face-first on the ground, having tripped over a protruding root.

Levi was there in an instant, offering (Y/N) a hand up.

"Careful," he told her, his voice hoarse even to his own ears. "What are you running from?"

(Y/N) looked up at him then, and scrambled backwards in fright. She was half-wild, her eyes wide and darting around her as though she were terrified of something; she carried with her only a small sack in one hand and a knife in the other, and Levi thought she had never been more beautiful.

"(Y/N), you're alright," he said, leaning a bit more heavily on his cane as he stretched his hand farther out. "I'm not going to hurt you or let anyone else do so."

She stilled, then, her eyes coming to focus on him.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "How do you know my name?"

Oh.

Levi's face was concealed by his cloak.

"I'm just a man from the countryside," he told her truthfully. "I believe we're acquainted."

(Y/N) began to tremble, and Levi felt sick. This wasn’t quite how he’d imagined meeting her. In fact, he hadn’t stopped long enough to truly imagine it at all.

"Let me go," she said, her knuckles white on the hilt of her knife, and he knew she meant violence if she was met with opposition. "I can't stay here another second, I can't��"

"And you don't have to," Levi replied, dropping his hand. "I see I misunderstood."

And oh, how badly he'd misunderstood! (Y/N)— now in front of him and so clearly frightened— would never have wanted her husband to be chosen for her at random. How could Levi ever have thought that she could ever wish that? Looking at her, scared and shaking before him, Levi was ashamed of himself.

"I—" she began, then stopped herself. "I'm sorry. I really am. For what it's worth, sir, I— in another time, I could have—"

(Y/N) stopped again, and she looked as though she might cry.

"Go," Levi told her, though it broke his heart. "Go quickly, and go safely."

"I—" (Y/N) looked pained as she stood, peering at him with a familiar curiosity that made his heart ache. "I know I have no right to ask this, but… will you tell me your name before I go? I just— you've been a dear friend to me, and I want to know who I can thank for such kindness."

Levi froze, shocked. Why would she even care what his name was? Wasn't she trying to escape this place?

"I'll tell you if you tell me something first," he told her, cursing himself for a selfish fool all the while. "Why not marry me? I have riches enough to give you the life of a queen— I have acres and acres of land for you to enjoy. You could have anything you want and you have to know that I wouldn't force you into anything you didn't want— why not me?"

It was a stupid, selfish thing to ask and he knew it. He was asking both as Levi, her former lover, and as a total stranger— how could he expect any sort of answer that would be satisfactory to both ends?— and yet when (Y/N) spoke, he didn't dare breathe for fear of missing a single word.

"I don't want your gold and silver," she told him sadly, her voice quaking with emotion. "I don't want your house or your lands or any other mortal possession you could offer me. I'm in love with a soldier to whom I had promised my hand, only—"

She paused, choking on her words, then said,

"Only, he's dead, and when he died, a part of me died too… the part of me that's capable of loving anyone else." She looked away, crying. "That's why I can't marry you— because I can't love you the way you deserve."

So there had been someone else. Levi had wondered— but it was another, somehow more unbearable pain to have it confirmed.

"Thank you," he said as a sick, stabbing feeling formed in his chest. "You've given me what I asked for— but I think you'll find that you already know my name, and have only forgotten that I belong to it."

With that, he pulled back his hood, and (Y/N) gasped as though she'd been struck.

"Levi?"

***

(Y/N) could scarcely believe her eyes. She must be dreaming, she must be dead— and yet, this was never how she would have imagined Levi to be either in dreams or death.

The man before her had borne painful wounds from battle. A vicious pink line cut through his right eyebrow all the way down to just below the swell of his rosy bottom lip— whatever had injured him had not spared his right eye, which had been blinded from the looks of it. Parallel to that scar was another shorter one, and when (Y/N) glanced down, she noticed that two fingers on his right hand had been severed. In his left hand, he held a cane.

Before (Y/N) could articulate any of her questions— is it really you, how are you alive, where have you been— Levi turned away.

"I suppose I'm not what you were expecting," he said tightly, and she saw his jaw clench as it had at Erwin's funeral.

(Y/N) stumbled forward, unable to speak, unable to think until she touched those scars for herself, until she saw that he was real— and then her hands were on either side of his face, her left thumb tracing the smallest scar on his right cheek, his warm, human, living cheek—

Until he swatted her hands away, his teeth grinding so hard that she could practically hear them.

"Don't touch me," he said, his eyes scrunching closed against the tears (Y/N) knew were pooling there. "If you— if you mean to leave— I can't bear it."

"You're alive," she whispered, voicing the only thought she could think. "Levi, you're— you're alive!'

(Y/N) knew what it meant to be in shock— she knew all the textbook signs and symptoms, knew exactly how to treat it in others— and yet knowing the clinical term for what was happening to her did not decrease its power over her body. Knowing did not diminish the tightness in her chest, the jittery, disconnected feeling she had. Knowing did not make it easier, and she began to tremble once more.

"Is that news to you?" he asked, watching as her own body rebelled against her wishes. "We won the war, if you can call it that. Why wouldn't I be alive?"

"Because…" (Y/N) couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, and Levi reached out to steady her as she swayed on her feet. "My father— he said— you were gone, and I thought— I never—"

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe.

"Oi, are you alright?" Levi asked, soft and concerned, and (Y/N) managed to take a shallow, hiccuping breath. He was alive— he was alive!

"My God, you're in shock," he muttered to himself, realization slowly dawning. "Sit down, bright-eyes, take a few deep breaths for me. That's it, just breathe."

(Y/N) was guided down onto a tree stump to sit, and Levi winced as he lowered himself to kneel before her.

"Your leg," she said, still fighting for breath. "You shouldn't sit on your—"

"Let me worry about that," he told her softly, tenderly, his hands coming to rest over hers. "You're unwell. Catch your breath and then scold me, brat."

At that, (Y/N) looked up and into his eyes, and she couldn't help but laugh. It was all too much, really— she giggled and giggled until her side began to cramp, and she laughed even more as Levi raised a brow without even a hint of amusement.

"Are you done?" Levi asked, as she wiped a tear from her eye.

"I think so," she replied, suddenly nauseous, but she willed herself not to be sick. "I'm sorry, I— I really thought you were dead, Levi, and now here you are, calling me a brat like you never left and I—"

Levi cut her off.

"Sorry," he said, glancing off to the side. "Old habits die hard. If that's not what you want, then—"

(Y/N) placed a hand on his cheek and guided his gaze back to hers.

"I'll always want that," she said softly. "I love you, Levi."

His eyes— one scarred and unseeing, the other gunmetal gray— widened.

"Don't tease me," he told her roughly once he'd come back to himself. "You father told me you had no more interest in seeing me— if that's the truth, this is torture for me. That's why I asked you not to touch me before."

Time stopped for (Y/N).

"My father told you what?"

Levi relayed his version of the events, and (Y/N) felt so many things at once that she could no longer keep track of them all.

"I never stopped loving you for an instant," Levi told her, "But it broke me, and when I saw that ad in the paper…"

His fists clenched. (Y/N) wanted those hands to hold her, to choke her, to curl around her shoulders and shake her— anything would be better than watching them ball in bitter anger.

"I was so angry, but I knew I had to have you."

"Oh Levi," she replied softly. "My father lied to you— to both of us. I went away to help treat victims of an epidemic, and when I came back, he told me you were dead. I mourned you, Levi Ackerman. You're the soldier I promised my hand to— how could I ever love anyone else ever again? And to think that you were my confidante all along with those letters! If only I’d told you more, if only I’d known your name— oh, I feel so foolish."

Levi huffed a breath, looking infinitely more exhausted than she had ever seen him. “You and me both. ”

Their eyes locked, and Levi reached up with his right hand to caress her cheek. (Y/N) leaned into the touch, and Levi kissed her softly, sweetly on the lips.

"I never thought I would do that again," he confessed, mingling their breaths. "I missed you, bright-eyes."

"Not half so much as I missed you," she replied, the nails of her hand scraping over the cropped hairs at the nape of her lover's neck. "Trapped in that house, I thought I would go mad. I only just managed to escape."

Levi's expression darkened.

"Were you held captive?" he asked, and (Y/N) swallowed.

"Yes."

Levi growled, but (Y/N) shushed him.

"It's over, and I don't want to talk about it right now," she said. "There will be time for anger later, but… right now, I just want to be with you. Is that too much to ask?"

At that, Levi scowled, about to protest, but then winced hard in pain. Frowning, (Y/N) stood and helped Levi to his feet.

"I told you not to sit on it," she scolded, and Levi tch-ed.

"I had bigger problems," he huffed. "You weren't breathing."

"Even in shock I'm kinder to your body than you are," she teased, slipping beneath his arm so that he could lean some of his weight on her. "What does that tell you?"

"That I need a little reminding of just how kind you can be to a body," he said with a good-natured leer.

His cheek earned him a light smack, but he looked no more sorry for it than a cat would be for stealing a fish from the market.

"So, Mr. Countryman," (Y/N) teased, her breath hot against his neck. "I hear you have a nice little cottage by a stream. Care to give me a tour?"

He huffed a laugh.

"Not going to keep running away?"

(Y/N) raised a brow.

"From you? Never. Besides, you have a lot of explaining to do about these companions of yours and what you've been doing since you came back besides writing naughty letters."

Levi rolled his eyes.

"They were hardly naughty—"

"They were deceptive, and deception is still lying—"

"(Y/N), honestly."

(Y/N) laughed at the desperate and yet somehow amused look he gave her, and as they slowly made their way down the trail through the woods, (Y/N) thought that she had never been happier in her life.

"Let's get you home," she said, a quiet sort of joy swelling in her breast to match the warmth of Levi's body against hers, "Then we'll worry about everything else."

***

“This living hand, now warm and capable

Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold

And in the icy silence of the tomb,

So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights

That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood

So in my veins red life might stream again,

And thou be conscience-calm’d–see here it is–

I hold it towards you.”

~John Keats (This living hand, now warm and capable)

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #levi x y/n #levi imagine #spoliers #ao3 #levi ackerman

22 notes · View notes

write-orflight · 4 years ago

Text

Galileo. Prologue

**Gif Not Mine**

Next Chapter

Pairings: SpencerXReader, enemies to friends to lovers trope

Rating: M

Words: 1.5K (She’s a smol Prologue)

Warnings: None right now. but will eventually be smut.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N is an astronomer with her head constantly in the stars. But when a serial killer is threatening NASA’s top scientists, she is left in the protective custody of a man who’s gravitational pull threatens to pull her back down to earth.

A.N Hey, my children! This is an idea that’s been plaguing me for weeks and I just had to get at least the prologue out (This series is mainly just my excuse to get my pointless knowledge about space out there). I’m probably not going to update this until I finish ‘trouble’ which should be in this next coming week. I’m just really excited about this one and wanted to put it out there too. Message to be on the taglist! -Cia

Prologue: Mercury

There are 400 billion stars in the galaxy.

Some insignificant, some small, some large, and some with great potential.

Humans were the same way. Though most were insignificant to you, which is why you didn’t indulge in the trifles of relationships and companionship. The stars were far more interesting to you.

And you spent your life studying them.

Ever since your dad bought you your first telescope at age 7, you knew exactly what your purpose was. To study and find out what else was out there. And for a while that was all you did, all through school, no time for boys, friendship and trivial prepubescent things, your mind was literally in the clouds. That carried you all the way to Yale where you graduated Summa cum Laude with 3 Phds in Astronomy, Engineering, and Physics.

Getting the job at NASA wasn’t surprising to you at all.

Meeting Jonathan was.

Your first day together had been uneventful, you had been introduced and told your assignment which was to just track the movement of a comet that came every fifty years. A couple of months in and by pure accident you saw her.

It couldn’t be.

You immediately yelled at him to come over, to confirm that you were just crazy but he had seen it too. You had just discovered a planet. And not just any planet one that through your research could very well sustain human life. Jonathan, though not knowing you long, picked you up in a giant hug and swung you around. You couldn’t help the smiles and tears that had fallen from your eyes. This was exactly why you were doing this, for the art of discovery and the overwhelming feeling that came with it.

After weeks of convincing the boards and getting funding, you and Jonathan were now heads of your own department solely designed for tracking and finding new information on Gaia, the planet the two of you graciously named. Now your nights were filled with solving equations and trying to get more than a glimmer of Gaia from your telescope. Alas, as much as you loved her, she was very slow. Jonathan would play his old jazz records and sing off-key dancing around the planetarium gifted by NASA. You didn’t know exactly when they happened, but you started to feel like maybe all humans weren’t insignificant and you started to feel like that about Jonathan. You found yourself watching his bright smile as he danced and singed around, often asking you to please dance with him, which you always declined.

Now you wish you had.

If you knew it’d be the last time, you for sure would have.

But no one could’ve predicted a serial killer coming after NASA scientists.

And no one could’ve predicted you walking into work and seeing your best friends throat slit ear to ear.

—————————————————

The months following Maeve’s death were hard on Spencer. He was a man of science, he knew probability and often relied on statistics for his job. The predictability of it was what made it easy to cope.

But sometimes it wasn’t. And sometimes he hated the unpredictability of his job.

Losing Maeve had definitely been one of those days.

On one of his first couple weeks back, he’s called into the briefing room.

“We don’t have to go far for this case.” JJ says manning the slides to show the team “Four NASA scientists at the Goddard Flight Center in Maryland have been found in their offices, throat slit and hands bound with duct tape behind the back.”

“Execution style…” Morgan says with a grimace. “Brutal.”

“Obviously someone angry too.” Emily adds. “To just do it like that, no sign of remorse. But the jaggedness of it makes it look passionate.”

“The police and NASA believe they know who the next target is as well.” JJ adds moving to the next slide which showed a beautiful girl standing in front of a whiteboard of equations. Long silky hair tied up in a bun, glasses on her face and bright white teeth shown through the smile. You could obviously tell the picture was taken for an article or sort. Spencer thought she was cute but didn’t dwell on it long. “This is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. She worked alongside Victim #4, Jonathan Brewer as co-head scientists of the Terra-Mora project.”

“They think the Unsub is specifically targeting her department and people who have done work for her department. And if he’s already killed the partner...” Hotch trails off.

“He’s escalating…” Spencer adds.

“Which puts her under extreme risk. Which is why I’m putting her in protective custody.” Hotch adds. “Reid, I’d like you to do that.”

Spencer looks confused. “Why me? Shouldn’t someone like Morgan or Prentiss go?”

“I’ve been told Dr. Y/L/N is very reluctant about having security. I figured having someone as intelligent as her would cushion the blow.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair. Great… just what he needed.

—————————————

“No, Clifton.”

“It’s not up for discussion, Y/N.” Cliff says walking away from you down the hall. You speed up to catch up with him.

“I’m 31 years old! I don’t need a babysitter.” You said, angrily.

“You’re not getting a babysitter, Y/N. The FBI is being gracious enough to provide you extra security. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you people are dying.”

“You know you don’t have to remind me! I lost Jon!”

“Then you know why you have to take protection, Y/N. You know what important work you and Jonathan were doing. You’re the only one left to finish it. Please just let someone take care of you while they catch the sick man who’s doing this.” You sigh, Cliff takes that as compliance. “Now get to work. I’ll show him to your office when he gets here.”

You walk into work and look at the time, 10:30 PM, peak time for planets to be seen. And if you were lucky, you’d probably get a glimmer of her again. You were right because just as soon as you stepped up to the telescope there she was, or more like there was a sliver of her. You’ve never been able to get a full look at Gaia, but just past Saturn was the curvature of the dwarf planet you adored so much. You pick up your tape recorder, and begin to speak into it.

“January 16th, Terra-Mora logs. This is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. Dr. Jonathan Brewer has passed and will no longer be making logs.” You choke up a bit but clear your throat and keep going. “Gaia’s Southwest region is visible from earth tonight. Seems her clouds are finally dissipating, and you can see some of her icy plains, I am pretty positive it’s a lake. Hopefully with the Approval of SPOT, we’ll be able to know for sure what’s up there.” You look at your door to see your boss, Dr. Clifton and a man standing watching you. “Y/L/N out.” You say into the tape recorder.

You get up to walk over the two men.

“You know everyone does their logs into the computers now, no one uses an actual tape anymore.” Clifton says.

“I’m old fashioned.” You cross your arms.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He will be watching you while we figure out what’s happening.”

“This is who’s supposed to be protecting me?” You ask. “You look like a strong wind would blow you over.”

The man looks at you annoyed. “I can assure you, I’m more than capable of doing my job, Miss--”

“Doctor.” You say.

“Excuse me.”

“It’s Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. And I worked very hard and paid a lot of debt for the title so I’d prefer it if you used it.” You looked annoyed right back at him. Something about the man rubbed you the wrong way.

Dr. Clifton looks at the both of you uncomfortable. “Well I’ll leave you both to it.” He nods at you both before leaving you alone.

“I think we got off on the wrong--”

“Listen Dr. Reid.” You cut him off. “This is probably going to be hell for the both of us. I expressed heavily to my boss about not needing protective custody which of course fell on deaf ears, so I’m going to make one thing clear. We’re not here to be friends. I’m here to do important work that I now have to do single-handedly because you guys failed to do your work in the first place and my coworker had to die because of it.” Tears threatened to choke you but you didn’t let them. “And to be frank, I don’t know what exactly you’re here for besides being a pain in my ass so I suggest staying out of my way and not fucking touching anything. Keep that in mind and we’ll get along swimmingly.” You say, turning your back to him, heading back to the telescope and looking at him as if daring him to challenge you. For a second it looks like he might, he’s standing trying very hard not to look like he’s completely fuming. Then he just blows a frustrated breath and sits in a chair halfway across the room.

You didn’t know why, and you didn’t have a real reason.

But you decided that you hated Dr. Spencer Reid.

Which you guessed was another thing humans could be.

Message to be tagged!

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #bau x reader #spencer x reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut

415 notes · View notes

agentnico · 3 years ago

Text

Loki - Season 1 (2021) Review

With glorious purpose comes great irresponsibility...

Plot: After stealing the Tesseract and messing with the timeline in Avengers: Endgame, the god of mischief Loki, having recently felt defeat from the Avengers at the Battle of New York and experienced what it means to be Hulk smashed, lands face to face with the TVA (Time Variance Authority) who hire him to help hunt down other time variances.

Out of all the MCU Disney+ shows from first glance Loki seemed like the most self contained standalone one as it was set way way back in the past and seemingly deviated from the main events and story direction that the overall Marvel Cinematic Universe was heading. It seemed as if Loki’s entire existence came to fruition thanks to the fans’ huge love for the character played so splendidly by Tom Hiddleston all these years and this wasn’t going to accumulate to more than fan service. And that would have been perfectly okay, as aforementioned Tom Hiddleston is so well cast as the titular antihero that you can watch his shtick endlessly. He is articulate, delivering lines like machine gun bullets along with a real range of mannerisms and faces to deliver those lines with devastating effect. He is the perfect actor to play Loki because he is both charming and handsome. He also has the English villain thing going for him so he comes across as classy even when he is being nasty and mean. He manages to balance smugness with goofiness and delivers the Nordic Asgardian tongue with Shakespearean gusto! Marvel have always been known for great casting and arguably....heck, not even an argument, he IS Marvel’s best casting choice. Not even Robert Downey Jr.’s Iron Man have as big a fan following as Hiddle-Loki! So making a show for the fans wasn’t out of question.

However, having now watched the Loki season finale it turns out this series has thus far had the biggest impact on the Marvel Cinematic Universe than any other Phase 4 show/movie so far. This thing sets up so much of what’s to come that it comes as a bit of a difficulty to review it as basically anything I say can be classed as a spoiler and then Marvel fans would eat me up like those rats do in the video game A Plague Tale: Innocence. There wouldn’t be a shed of skin left on me!! But what I can talk about is some stuff.

Tom Hiddleston is great as always, and also the clever casting of Owen Wilson as Mobius, one of the members of the TVA, results in a great buddy cop bromance between the two that I wish the show gave more time to, especially since Owen Wilson is so loveable in this, even if he doesn’t get to say his signature catchphrase “WOW”. In fact when the two share the screen together the series is at its highest. The rest of the cast have their moments too, and a stand out who’s role I cannot spoil but is so so good in this is Richard E. Grant. He plays a certain special character and nearly steals the entire show when he appears. Also visually the show looks great and the music score hits some solid notes. I did also enjoy the twists and turns and as I said, the set up for the future is really significant and leaves space for something great to look forward to. I was always wondering how Marvel could keep things interesting following the very conclusive Endgame, which seemed like a perfect franchise ender. But with what Loki sets up it kind of turns everything we know about the cinematic universe upside down, and I cannot wait to see where things go from here.

In terms of negatives, there’s an episode midway through this season’s six episode run which is evident filler and not even good filler. It felt like a knock-off episode of Doctor Who and not a good one, and overall felt pointless to the overall series arc. Secondly, there is a character introduced in this show called Sylvie played by Sophia Di Martino and she is obviously a Hollywood newcomer, however her acting in this was quite distracting. With folks like Hiddleston and Wilson, they fit so swimmingly into their characters, however with Di Martino you can tell that she is acting. None of her emotions felt real and she always kept the same expression on her face which really distracted from the overall immersion of the viewing. And she happens to have a significant role in this show so she’s in many scenes. Again, I don’t like berating individuals and I’m certain that in real life she’s a lovely person, but I didn’t seem to connect to her in this role.

Overall Loki features a lot of Loki, a lot of twists, a lot of turns, and a lot of Marvel-lous moments! And it’s a definite must watch for die hard fans as it’s a significant chapter in the Marvel saga.

Overall score: 7/10

5 notes · View notes

sgt-morgan · 4 years ago

Text

Lucky Kentucky ch. 1

Chapter 2

Hello there, this is my new Rockstar!Bucky x Reader fic. It was heavily inspired by my love of seventies mega rockstars, Almost Famous, Classic Rock, and a little bit of personal whimsy. I hope you enjoy, and read responsibly.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ : cussing, sexy times, drugs, booze, smoking, objectification, fornication, liberation, and a litany of other sordid topics and traumas.

Your name didn’t matter, at least not so far as you could tell. They called you Kentucky, sometimes if they felt cheeky, Bluegrass. You liked it, the first band that gave you that name was some shitty college band out of Detroit. They were convinced they were gonna be the next Led Zepplin. They called it quits three years later, a good old fashioned Rock n’ Roll suicide, booze, women, and drugs. The finer things always gets the best amateurs. However, their lead singer had a way with words, he came up with the nickname. He also wrote a beautiful song about a girl named Kentucky, who he just couldn’t swing, some big named country superstar sang the song and the last you’d heard he had been writing for the best of the best since. This earned you your title, Lucky Kentucky. A bit on the nose for your taste, but it made perfect sense. You kept following the music, you went to a band in L.A., the day you left, they signed a record deal with Sony. The next was a little English girl and her backing band, her first tour of England with you landed her a tour of the US faster than they could say ‘Burbon.’

You are what is known in the music business as a road manager, so far as you could tell, this was the job you were born to do. You made schedules, you supplied booze and other artifacts, you got hotels, paid off paparazzi, packed busses, and shoved half out of their mind rock stars on to stages in more countries than you could count, you couldn’t imagine any better life. You were the best of the best, you were who the record company called when everyone else had given up. You were a fixer, and an incredibly talented one at that. You had a gift for taking a mediocre side show band, and turning them into headliners.

So when you got the call from Tony and Pepper that you had to fix The Howling Comandos, you were shocked. They were big time, nothing like your usual fixer upper opener that you could make insta stars. They certainly weren’t your crowd, but you always had a problem saying no to Pepper, Tony’s company manager. Tony was a talented mixer, and a gifted album technician. So when he started his own label, it blew up pretty quickly. The comandos were the first band he signed. They had won Album of the Year their first Grammy season without even batting an eyelash. So once business started booming, Pepper took over the paper work, and Tony did what he did best, Fucking around with a mixing board. You had met them when you started working with Natasha and the Widows, a Blondie style punk outfit. They had a pension for eating men alive. Eventually, it got in the way of their success, so you stepped in and saved the band from total destruction. You and the starks had been thick as theives since.

“Tony, you mean to tell me, that the Commandos, the biggest artists of the decade, need my help?” You scoffed down the line, checking the Widows out of the last hotel of their tour with Greta Van Fleet.

“Yes Bluegrass, I do. Barnes is going through some existential heart break shit ‘cause ole bitch called of the wedding, and fucked the Guitarist of their opener. He’s been all drugs, booze, and sappy shit since, and someone’s gotta get the mother fucker back on stage. I’m Loosing money here Kentucky, something’s gotta give.” Tony sounded livid, there were very few times where Tony was as frazzled as this, so you knew it was serious.

“Alright, but I have conditions.” You sighed, you thought you could hear the sound of Pepper weeping tears of joy, but you couldn’t be sure. “I want the Widows to open, I’m not done with them yet Stark they’ve got some potential that still needs to be tapped. I want Frankie on security, I want Wanda for wardrobe and makeup, I want Vision for my techie, and I’m taking Peter as my Head roadie.” It was a big ask, but if you were doing this, you were gonna need the best possible team.

“Jeez woman, rob the treasure chest would yah? You want all of them? You just asked me for the entire roster. They’re on other tours! I can’t just- HEY! Woman don’t you-“ you heard a slap and an ow, and suddenly you were with the one and only Pepper Potts- Stark.

“Kentucky? You have a deal. You can have the Allstars in three months, everyone’s tours should be wrapping up, that puts you just in time for festival season. You up to it?” Pepper sounded like someone had just kicked her puppy. So you knew, you were the only one that could save the day.

“Virginia? Count me in. Give me the three months to plan and connect with the team and I’ll make sure James Barnes makes it onto that bus.” You could practically taste her relief through the receiver. What had you just signed up for.

————————————————————————

You’d done it. Six months, 7 bus rentals, 75 hotels, 107 plane rides, 20 festivals, 95 shows, 89 cities, and roughly 200 people later, you had managed to construct the American leg of one of the biggest and longest tours you had ever seen. All it took was two months, and 23 bottles of Jack Daniels, and you had done it. Now all you had to do was meet the band, and have your first tour meeting.

You had never been so nervous to meet a group of men in your life. Normally, these meetings we’re pretty laid back and informal. Lots of getting to know you, and goofing off. This time, you were in charge of a multi-million dollar tour that could make or break the band of the decades d ruin your career. No pressure. Needless to say, you were fairly nervous.

You were relieved upon arrival that the first people to make it in were the people who seemed to be the most reliable. Vision and Wanda were quietly whispering to eachother in the corner as always, their hands gently intertwined as they surveyed the rest of their new subjects. Frankie was standing off in another corner looking like an immovable brick wall. His sunglasses firmly in place on his nose, looking scary as always. Peter was off with the widows flirting with their drummer. You didn’t think it would end well, seeing as MJ was a bit of a hot head, and Peter was akward and nerdy, but to your surprise, they seemed to be getting along swimmingly. Natasha and Carol were staring at a book full of something, if you had to guess, it would be song lyrics of some variety, and to your shock and absolute awe, Peggy had saddled up to Steve Rogers. Steve was the guitarist of the Commandos, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her company. Tony and Pepper were chatting with Clint and Sam the drummer and bassist of the Commandos, and Bruce Banner, your newly appointed second hand. James Barnes was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, well, good to see that most of you have arrived early!” You smirked walking to the head of the table with your big box of tour folders, Peter moving instantly to help you. “If I have not yet made your acquaintance, I am Kentucky, just Kentucky, you may call me Bluegrass or Lucky, but I will always prefer Kentucky. It has come to my immediate attention, that you sorry suckers were in need of a fantastic road manager, and here I am.” You survey the room as you spoke taking into account every face that you could see in the room and making sure everyone was following. “Now, where is James?”

————Some unnamed bar across town ————

Bucky’s head pounded. Wether it was from the booze or the pounding music he had no clue, but he could tell that it was far too early to be in this booth.

“You really went for it last night Barnes,” Bucky looks for the source of the voice to find that, Luke Cage, owner of the best bar in LA, was unloading boxes of tequila into his storage cabinets under the bar. “You shouldn’t have either, you’re late for your tour meeting.”

Bucky absorbed the information, and felt it melt out of his brain as if it were nothing more than an irritating ear worm. “How do you know about that?” He sighed running a hand down his face and slowly standing to grab his leather jacket.

“It’s sharpied onto your arm,” Luke chuckled pointing to Bucky’s right arm in just about the only clean space someone could fine. “Steve came in and did it last night before giving about a hundred dollars to let you sleep it off in that booth.”

“Of course he did,” Bucky scoffed, “the punk never knew when to leave well enough alone.” Bucky quickly slipped his sunglasses over his aching eyes, as he watched Luke slide a cup of coffee across the bar. “Goodbye Luke, your bar is the only thing I’m gonna miss about this town.”

“Goodbye Bucky, the free live music, and the fantastic tips are all I’m going to miss about you boys. I’ll tell Jess you said hello.” And with that final fond farewell, Bucky left Luke’s bar for the last time before he was trapped in a tour bus for six months.

The drive to Stark Records was as second nature to him as tying his shoes. He easily glided in between cars, making record time to his place of employment. He parked his bike next to a slot that occupied the sweetest little red corvette he’s seen in a good while. The tune in the reference catches his brain and he starts to whistle the chorus, wishing the artist formerly known as Prince was still around. He walked past Sharon, the desk clerk, giving her his customary wink and a smirk, stealing a sucker out of her candy dish and wandering into the meeting.

That’s when he saw her, the hottest piece of ass this side of the sunset strip. She looked powerful, she looked commanding, she was covered in tattoos and wearing the best looking little black number. She was saying his name. “Where is James?”

“Right here sweet thing, I hope I’m not too late to the party, I’d hate to miss anything that came out of that pretty little mouth.” Boy was it pretty, the full lips covered in a red shade that he could only seem to imagine smeared all over her moth as she panted his name.

“Ah, yes there he is. Hello, James. Just in time to-”

“James is my dad sugar, I’m sure we can think of something a little more clever for you to-”

“Alright then Junior if you don’t mind, I’m trying to conduct a meeting, and I will not be letting a drunken moron interupt my carefully planned work flow.”

Bucky’s jaw snapped shut as the people around him, some friends and some strangers, laughed at the clever lady’s little barb.

“Alright then, as I was saying, I’m here to help. I believe in the Peter Grant method of representation. The you-have-a-venue-you-want-it-filled-I-have-just-the-band-sixty-forty method.” She said, flipping her hair into a simple bun on the top of her head, which Bucky couldn’t find more attractive if he tried, “I have made hotel arrangements for every show, I have made bus arrangements, I have planned for added shows, and delayed dates. I have brought you the best opener I have, the best artists, roadies, security, and technicians I could scrape together, and most importantly, I have given you my time and my trust. I can make your touring life as easy and as simple as humanly possible, or I could ruin it. However, all I want is to get you out there, grinding again, reminding your fans the reason they love you. All you have to do, is let me work, and focus on the music. Can we do that?”

“Doll? I like the way you think.”

“Junior? It’s gonna be a long fucking six months.”

35 notes · View notes

sweeterthankarma · 4 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: SKAM (France) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Max Bernini/Tiffany Prigent Characters: Tiffany Prigent, Max Bernini Additional Tags: S7E5: La famille, First Kiss Summary:

Tiff’s never been kissed like this. Correction: she’s never kissed anyone like this— and she was the one who made the first move, after all; the one who lurched into Max’s space, took his face in her hands and breathed in his aftershave only to let it hit her like a drug, like resolution, like bravery inhaled.

I am absolutely loving Tiff and Max so far in season 7, so of course I had to write them after the gorgeousness that was the ending scene of 7x05! Fic title comes from the song that played during their first kiss— "Mirage" by Owlle— but translated into English.

Tiff’s never been kissed like this.

Correction: she’s never kissed anyone like this— and she was the one who made the first move, after all; the one who lurched into Max’s space, took his face in her hands and breathed in his aftershave only to let it hit her like a drug, like resolution, like bravery inhaled.

No one’s ever made her feel brave like Max does. Made her feel like a new start is not only possible with every fresh day, but with every single passing second, any given moment, however fleeting they may feel.

Tiff likes this particular moment quite a lot: Max’s lips parting against her own, the soft hum he lets out when she tilts her head and darts her tongue out towards his lower lip, the willingness with which he lets her in and then does the same right back— reciprocatory, though impatient in a way Tiff has yet to see him be until now. And he is, as always, immensely, remarkably, overwhelmingly gentle.

Tiff will have time to muse over all the details later, wax poetic on her lonesome when Max will eventually leave and Moïra will surely try to keep her otherwise entertained and occupied. In the past, Tiff wouldn’t have minded a distraction to keep her free from the whimsical, overexaggerated teenage crushing that befalls nearly everyone she knows, most frequently Louise, but now, she’s admittedly reached an unprecedented level, especially for her own standards. And Tiff is sure Jo will want details, probably Bilal too; and Anaïs will eventually realize that Max means something to Tiff and so she’ll have to introduce them, merge friend groups that she used to believe could never even amicably cross paths (and honestly, she really can’t imagine Anaïs and Lola getting along too swimmingly when that time comes) but for now, Tiff doesn’t care. Can’t bring herself to, even if she tried.

And she doesn’t try. She just keeps kissing Max. His neck is warm under his sweater, chilly above it where the nape of his neck meets his hairline, and Tiff slips her hands down his back, loops her arms around his waist and pulls him in. He’s just as urgent as her, just as wanting, his hands gentle but unrelenting in their clutch in her hair, and Tiff realizes another thing just then: she’s never been wanted like this.

She’s never quite wanted anyone to this extent, either. Maybe never even really wanted anyone at all, until now.

“I don’t want to wake up Moïra,” is the first thing Max says when they finally break away. His forehead dips against hers, his breath on her cheek, and Tiff laughs, feels her face hurt from grinning. Max’s hands beat her own in a movement to brush the hair away from her face.

“I think she’s still sound asleep,” Tiff replies, her voice hushed. A reluctant twist in his arms, a brief tear of her gaze away from his eyes— somehow still bright in the dark, unwavering on hers, gorgeous— and she can just barely see into Moïra’s room. There’s no movement, no sound, just the barely audible spin of the mobile and the constant pump of the radiator, bringing heat to the February chill.

“I think we’re safe,” she says, exhaling, and then she kisses Max again, just because he’s still looking at her like that and there’s really nothing else for her to sensibly do at this point. Her brain is checked out, gone, all senses honing in, focusing on him, him, him.

“Yeah,” Max finally answers, breathless. His fingertips trace her jaw, her neck, settle on her shoulders. “We are.”

15 notes · View notes

sokkalore · 4 years ago

Note

I was just wondering if there was an upload schedule for Breakable Heaven? It’s so amazing and probably one of my favorite zukka fics right now! <3

Hi!!!! Thank you so much ❤️❤️🥺🥺🥺

I currrently do not have an update schedule bc my brain is wonky and i don’t want to Promise a schedule and then not meet it

HOWEVER , i would say updates have, thus far, taken me between 1-2 weeks. chapter 6 took the full 2 weeks to get out but i was also experiencing ~massive brain fog~ while writing that, 1-5 all took ab a week and ch 7 is coming along swimmingly! i’m Shooting to update by next wednesday at the latest ☺️👍

20 notes · View notes

batekush · 4 years ago

Text

five years - (chapter 9 of moments)

five years is a long to still love someone.

surprise! i updated this story for the first time in like, 7? years. anyway a lot has changed: i'm 22 now, i'm mainly on tumblr, and quarantine is making me go insane so fuck it, ichihime renaissance. i haven't kept up with bleach since 2013 at the latest but i did check on it time to time throughout the years. anyway, i've got a real hankering for ichihime again so here we are lol. cannae believe i'm cracking open my ff account in 2020, eh?

Five years is a long time to go without seeing the girl you've had a crush on since high school. Sure, they've done the social media dance - they follow each other on Instagram, maybe like an post on Facebook once or twice - but they haven't seen each other since high school ended. Ichigo doesn't know what to expect. He's not one for high school reunions. His old man thought it would be a great opportunity for him to come back to Karakura Town after being abroad for so long. Isshin also thought it would be a good idea for Ichigo to properly introduce Rukia. Rukia's talked with Isshin before on FaceTime but they haven't actually met yet. When Ichigo mentioned his dad suggesting that he go to his five-year high school reunion, Rukia jumped at the chance to see Ichigo's hometown.

Rukia had a wicked smile on her face. "You've never shown me your yearbook photos and I was so sad that I'd never get to see you in some nerdy shit like Dungeons and Dragons club," Ichigo grunted in disagreement. "But this is way better."

And so here he is, standing in the middle of his old high school's gym. Blue and silver balloons litter the floor; tinsel streamers line the walls. The turtleneck Rukia wanted Ichigo to wear claws at his throat. The fluorescent gym lights nearly melt him to the ground. Rukia clutches Ichigo's arm in excitement and awe as the couple makes the obligated rounds through the crowd. Rukia gets along swimmingly with Ichigo's old high school buddies. She crows, beaming proudly, about the law firm she and Ichigo work at back in Boston. Ichigo's all but tuned out completely as he makes a passing glance towards the gym's main entrance.

And there she is. She's in fast, lively conversation with another woman. They laugh and hold each other like old friends. She's the same as he remembers her but oh so different. Her copper-colored hair and warm gray eyes. Her delicate, gentle hands. Her face - God, her face. Five years is a long time to still be in love with someone.

Before Ichigo can look away, Orihime's eyes flick towards him and she pauses mid-laugh. Ichigo panics internally. Does she remember him? She's starting to head over. Rukia's still gripping Ichigo and she laughs at something someone says. Orihime is inches away now. She reaches out a small hand and rests it on the back of Ichigo's arm. Ichigo untangles himself from Rukia; Rukia is too immersed in her circle of friends to notice. He turns towards Orihime, eyes bright and relieved.

"Hi," Orihime whispers. "Long time no see." The overhead lights bounce, making something glint off her hand. Ichigo's eyes fall from Orihime's own eyes to the three-carat diamond ring on her fourth finger.

Five years is a long time.

#bleach #ichihime #ichiori #ichihime fanfic #ichihime fic #orihime inoue #ichigo kurosaki #yes ichihime on main yes i'm a lesbian

27 notes · View notes

czechforrain · 5 years ago

Text

CR Quarantine meta thoughts

So I thought I’d give a quick approximation of where I am with Critical Role and where I think C2 will go and where the characters still have to go before the campaign comes to a close.

In order name-wise

1. Beauregard

As of right now she seems to be in not the best place. Her major goal along with Caleb’s for the last 40 chapters was to bring an end to the war. Now that there’s an uneasy peace, she’s partially conflicted on what to do next and how the people behind this war should face justice and whether the costs of that could outweigh the risks. She also wants to tell jester about how she feels and her apprehension to this seems to be based on her self worth. This came up again as a result of visiting her father and she seems to think that she could lose everything and go back to being an outsider without a place again. There’s also her old girlfriend who was arrested that the party might run into. Not to avoid mentioning, Yasha and her having some feeling toward each other before E69 and how her returning may complicate her feelings with Jester. A lot of moving pieces. How she deals with her feelings and her family is something I’m definitely interested in.

2. Caduceus

Caduceus is currently finding his purpose in helping others find theirs and seems to be committed until some arbitrarily defined point where everyone seems fine off on their own. I do think part of him will realize that he’s not beholden to these people and that he doesn’t owe them anything and they like him for who he is. I think he knows this subconsciously but he’s a very duty driven man and it’ll be interesting to see how this changes when he realizes the M9 have developed over time and might not need him but still continue to want him. There’s also still the grove and whether what he has done is enough to save it. This remains to be seen and might be handled more towards the endgame depending on how powerful the source of the corruption is.

3. Caleb

Caleb seems to have progressed a lot on overcoming his desire to change fate. He straight up mentions “ you can’t change the past” in talking about personal compliance in causing harm but I don’t think he’s completely over the ideas of going back in time and erasing his sin from happening. He’s certainly much more comfortable with where he is now and has found himself a family again. His main goal right now still seems to be finding away to bring the Cerebrus Assembly (or more accurately the bad seeds in the assembly) to justice without jeopardizing the unsteady peace they’ve won. This seems to be leading into Mighty Nein Navy Seals Vigilantism but might involve a ton of investigative journalism as well. I have no doubt that his plot hook and that of his former organization will continue to play a big role in the story going forward. The extent he can change the organization and possibly even turn his childhood friends away from the path of trent is another interesting side plot. The same goes for his buddy Essek and how he decides to react to Caleb wanting him to make amends for the mistake he’s made.

4. Fjord

Fjord is a super interesting character especially when comparing him before and after the Pirate Arc. A lot of people, for clear reasons, separate Fjord’s attitude based on when he lost his accent but to me his change in personality came a bit earlier than that. His role as a character for the Mighty Nein early on was as one of the faces, the badass Texan smooth guy who was able to get what he wanted generally easy and was afraid of flexing his martial might. This kind of escalated a bit, one of the moments which really stuck with me was when he cut off Algar’s hand after he already had him beaten. It’s mentioned by Fjord later on that he found himself using more power / violence as a short cut to get where he wanted and that he feels he started to cheat himself by doing so. Once they ended their pirate adventure, Fjord seemed like he took more of a backseat with his role as a leader in the group and I think part of that was due to him questioning if he really deserved to be a leader. This also tied in with him questioning whether following Ukotoa was the right choice and his realization he couldn’t game the system and earn powers with nothing expected in return. This culminated in him renouncing Satan...I mean Uka’Toa and following the Wildmother as a paladin. Since he has done so he’s starting to act more reasonably and less impulsive when there’s a possibility of conflict. He’s humbled himself and I think he feels it’s more freeing than what he was before he changed as a person. The one thing that has accompanied this though is a string of combat misfortunes (due to dumb luck) which is a neat perpendicular to his personal growth. He feels more free and more himself but he may feel weaker than he did when he was putting on a mask. I don’t think this will lead to him having second thoughts as a Paladin but I think it’s building up to him eventually assuming a larger role asa leader once he truly realizes that he can be both himself AND great. Caduceus has mentioned this before about ‘one day someone will ask for a miracle and you’ll be there to help’ and I cannot wait for the moment where Fjord is able to get a HDYWTDT and be generally badass in his New Voice and prove to himself that he had nothing to worry about.

5. Jester

Jester is my favorite version of a cheerful but awkward person, earlier on she kind of had me worrying about how much trouble she’d get them into but I over time realized that she has control over what she does and when she’s chaotic randomly vs when she has a purpose behind it. Case in point, the Cupcake Scene which was excellent and super risky but really paid off. Right now she’s dealing once again with how she feels as a disciple of the Traveler and the revelation he’s not a god revealed to her right before Travellercon. Now she’s kind of wondering what to do with several other devotees and what even will happen with him in the future regarding his divinity. I’m very interested in how this event will shape out and if there’s any 3rd party intervention into the story that will occur at this place during the time. It just seems like a narrative point where Matt could reveal something huge. But then again everyone expected fireworks at the meeting at Sea and cooler heads prevailed so maybe everything will work out swimmingly. Anyways I can’t wait to see what her next journey is after Travellercon, it will probably involve her dad and mother and may involve Darktow and is sure to not be predictable. There’s also her romance options but there’s a myriad of ways that could go and everyone else on tumblr has mentioned it so I’ll leave my peace there.

6. Veth

Veth essentially got exactly what she wanted and there’s no grand reason for her to stick around besides her enjoying the company of these people and possibly something similar like Caduceus’ “To the end of the road” type thing. She loves her family obviously the most of all, which was most pointedly seen when she insulted Caleb and blamed him for what happened to her husband after being super supportive of him for the first 49 episodes. I think she still has a lot of growth to do as a character and there might be an avenue with her prejudices. Someone else on here has mentioned it before but basically, Veth is kind of a suburban wine mom who believes a bunch of stereotypes and has a “us vs them” type of mentality. That’s one possibly route for her to go if she decides to stick around for awhile. It is possible a huge event is around the corner that throws Wildemount into disarray and requires her to stay for awhile but we’re currently in a limbo where her leaving after travelercon would make sense.

7. Yasha

Yasha is right now in a bit of a floating period. She really wants to make up for her role in Obann’s schemes even though it’s not her fault. She had a heart to heart with Caleb where he basically told her the pain never really goes away but it can be eased by the company by the company you keep. So her redemption can be pretty open-ended. I really want to see her wings again and please let them be white and feathery, I would love it. There’s also the possibility of her wife being alive / them running into her old tribe, with the boss behind it still being alive and there being some sort of conflict like how Grog had his issues with the Herd of Storms. Ashley is a full time member for the first time so hopefully there’s a lot to do with her on the cards and we get to see more juicy fireside interactions with the Nein.

#critical role #critical role c2 #the mighty nein #yasha #beau #fjord #caleb widowgast #beauregard lionett #jester lavorre #caduceus clay #veth brenatto #nott the brave #critical role spoilers #cr meta

44 notes · View notes

royalcordelia · 5 years ago

Link

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn't easy, but they're more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story).

Notes: Hope you all are staying safe and healthy out there. As always, tag list is down at the bottom. ♥

---*---

Chapter 7 ~ Oh My Heart, How Can I Face You Now?

Anne fit in so well at the Sunset House that it was easy to forget she’d only been there less than a day. With a keen intuition, she knew exactly where to find things in the odd drawers and shelves around the kitchen as Ron held out his non-cooking hand.

“Three eggs! The milk jug! A serving spoon!”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Anne replied each time, dutifully helping her new friend prepare their first breakfast together. “I still wish you would’ve let me make breakfast. It’s the least I can do after I showed up entirely unannounced. Besides, Gilbert has had my cooking before, but I’ve never cooked for him.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” shot Ron. “If anything, Gil should be the one cooking for you . After all, it’s only polite to make a woman a meal after she’s spent a night in your bed. Especially when he snores.”

“Ron! I didn’t-...He doesn’t snore! ”

“But alas, Gilbert’s breakfast skills leave so much to be desired, even if they are improving. Poor man makes the same recipes over and over again - his sister-in-law’s from this tiny notebook he’s copied them down in. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be eating bland vegetables and overcooked pork.”

Even Anne’s laughter sounded familiar bouncing off the cream walls and brightening the quiet Saturday morning. Above their heads, the running water of Gilbert’s bath kept the room from becoming completely silent.

Ron found that it wasn’t a lack of things to say that caused his own stillness, but rather, a strange desire to open his entire heart to her. He supposed that was the danger with people who were so easy to like, so easy to talk to. The words fizzed in his throat, and if he moved even an inch, they’d pour out. This is silly, he thought. What’s there to lose?

“Anne,” he began out of the blue. She snapped the gaze away from the autumn-crowned tree outside the window she’d been daydreaming with, joining reality once more and smiling her encouragement. “I’m absolutely, without a doubt one to make assumptions.”

Having read as much, and more, in Gilbert’s letters, she replied, “I’m not sure that’s always a bad thing. Your assumptions have to be correct some of the time.”

Ron shifted in his seat, making sure he could hear Gilbert still in the bath upstairs.

“And if I were to assume you’re a nonjudgmental sort of person, would I be correct then?”

“I very much try to be,” she offered.

Ron’s gaze fell to the wall where a small sized portrait of him and Christine was hung across the room. Why would it be easier to say this Anne than it ever would be to say to Chris?

“There’s this tradition,” he began slowly. “Whenever the science department hosts its autumn banquet at the Meryton Hotel, it empties the basement of all its ornate tables and chairs, leaving it completely empty. That’s not the tradition part - what I mean is, the students who aren’t smart or rich enough to go to the banquet ultimately end up working the event, but then they sneak away to host their own party in the basement. Their own dancing, their own music, their own drinks.”

“That sounds like fun,” Anne responded honestly.

“The only reason I know about it is because, um, Adam told me about it.”

“Who’s Adam?”

Ron couldn’t bring himself to say it. Either that, or he couldn’t find the words to articulate everything it meant. Every ounce of shame and every speechless moment of awe that being with Adam brought was caught in his throat waiting to be spoken. His eyes had glazed over, focused on a patch of flour spilled on the counter, though his mind was miles away. Nudging his arm with hers, she leaned over and drew a smile face into the flour.

“It’s always been women and men for me. I don’t know why,” he admitted aloud. The words loved the air they took, and Anne didn’t reject them. Instead, she only smiled.

“A secret for a secret, Ron Stuart,” she replied just as quietly. “I’m the same way.”

Anne was much shorter than him, and when she met his gaze head on, he saw the gold of her eyelashes.

“Does Gilbert know?”

She shrugged. “He might, but I’ve never said it. I don’t suppose it would make much of a difference to him. I can tell there isn’t a bit of me he doesn’t love, even the parts of me that he doesn’t know yet.” Wiping a bit of flour off of his sleeve, she added, “And he’s not the only one out there who loves unconditionally.”

“You think there’s hope for me yet?” Ron said, half teasing.

“Ron, I have every hope for you,” Anne said seriously. The man’s protective smile fell and his eyes turned glassy.

Gilbert chose this moment to come leaping down the stairs two at a time in a way that was so distinctly Gilbert, that a warm smile lifted on Anne’s cheeks. He heaved a blissful sigh upon entering the kitchen, carrying with him the smell of freshness and soap. The tips of his hair were still damp, but it didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around Anne’s waist from behind and leaning his chin on her shoulder.

“Good morning, Anne-girl.”

“Good morning to you too...again.” He smiled against her cheek. “That soap smells familiar,” she commented off handedly, laughing when he kissed her blush.

“That’s because Marilla sent it.”

“Marilla?”

“Along with fresh socks, a ream of paper, and some of her preserves.”

“She never sends me anything!”

“Sweetheart, you live less than an hour away from Avonlea! You probably live right next door to the post office she mailed the parcel from!”

He was right, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Besides, it was only once,” he added. Then, taking in the atmosphere of the room, he released Anne and sat down at the table. “Did I miss something important?”

Ron schooled his features, looking for something useful to say but coming up flat.

“A very important, very serious debate on adequate breakfast food,” Anne filled in. “Gilbert, you’re a medical student. Tell Ron that plain toast is not nearly adequate enough sustenance for breakfast. Omelets aren’t just for when guests are around.”

“I could tell him that, but then I’d be a hypocrite.”

“Toast is one of the only breakfast foods he can make, poor lad,” Ron interjected. “And even then, he burns it half of the time.”

“Hmm, kind of like that?” Gilbert said slyly, pointing down to the pan where a piece of brown bread was burnt black and smoking against the skillet. Ron rolled his eyes, sticking his spatula under the bread and flinging it at his roommate. Gilbert caught the bread and hissed at how hot it was, flinging it onto the counter where it promptly slid into the sink.

“I’m starting to get a sense of what daily life is like with you two,” Anne laughed. “Ron, something tells me you’d get along swimmingly with Bash.”

Toronto had more wonders than Anne could count. In one short afternoon, Gilbert had taken her to roam the histories of the art museum and smell the sweetness of the botanical garden, but not excluded from these marvels was the Stuart Estate. Ron led the way as dirt streets became pristine brick, and small houses turned into domineering manors of stateliness. The working class of Toronto was but a mile away, but Anne felt like she’d stepped into another country - a wealthier, more outstanding country.

“His parents live here? Have you ever been to his their home before?” Anne whispered to Gilbert as Roy said a passing hello to someone on the street. Gilbert shook his head, just as awed by the grandeur around them.

“I knew he was wealthy, but not this wealthy.”

“My apologies,” Ron said, returning to the group. “You were saying, Anne?”

“Oh! Well, the conservatory botanist was actually watching the child tear off the flowers from the corner of the room, and when he came roaring over, I thought the mother would perish on the spot.”

“So Anne, being Anne, rushes over to them,” Gilbert added.

“And I picked up all the flowers from the ground while the man was getting ready to whip the poor child. A few moments later, I was placing a flower crown atop his head. All I said to him was, ‘Forgive this imaginative child, oh king of the gardens’, and his anger died away.”

“You’ve an odd way with people, Anne. I doubt you’ve ever had a single enemy in all your days," Ron decided, shaking his head.

Anne’s mind flashed all the unpleasant faces she’d encountered over her short lifetime, each bringing a sour taste to her mouth. Her gaze fell to her dress, a bit plain on this side of town, and she remembered the enemy she might be meeting at her destination.

Oh, Gilbert didn’t know Christine despised Anne, much less the reasons why, and Anne had done her best to stay optimistic inwardly and outwardly. She hoped Christine wouldn’t think her cruel, that she was only borrowing a dress to rub it in that she was the one Gilbert loved. In fact, a person Gilbert held in such high esteem had to have redeeming qualities. Were it not for the barrier between them, Anne suspected her and Christine could be kindred spirits.

“Home sweet home,” Ron muttered, swinging open an iron gate.

The Stuart estate was built three stories tall of sand colored stones and sun-thirsty windows. Some of the gabled windows had their own balcony where a person could gaze out over the city for miles. Rounded hedges and a thousand blooms framed the home, though the flowers had started to brown in the autumn chill. As the group crossed onto the terrace, Ron’s mood dropped further and further into the dirt. He knocked on the front door, only to be greeted by a small, mousy servant girl. She eyed Ron first, then Anne, both with disapproval. Her gaze crossed over Gilbert with interest, so she spoke directly to him.

“How can I help you?” she said in a saccharine. Ron frowned.

“Are you new?” he asked. The young woman blinked and her brows furrowed as she decided whether to answer truthfully or scold him for his rudeness. “Nevermind that. Please tell Mr. Stuart that Ron is home.”

The maid was unsure, but she did what she was told, making way so that the guests could file in behind her.

“Why don’t you live here?” Anne asked quietly.

“Remember that thing we talked about this morning?”

Anne nodded.

“That ,” Ron answered, just as a man a mere inch taller than Ron appeared from the side room.

“Ronald, I’m surprised to see you.” The man’s voice bore a deep timbre, one only men of class seemed to possess.

“Well, father, I do favor a visit every now and again.”

Mr. Stuart’s hard brow softened, but only by a fraction. His hard stare fell on Anne and the kind smile on her lips.

“I’ve brought my friends with me. This is my roommate Gilbert Blythe, and his young lady, Anne Shirley Cuthbert. Anne surprised Gilbert with a visit all the way from Prince Edward Island, but she needs a dress to wear for tonight’s banquet.”

“And you’ve come to ask for money?” Mr. Stuart deadpanned.

“Oh, not at all, sir!” Anne interjected. “Christine was ever so kind as to say that she might let me borrow one of her dresses. Personally I’d be comfortable in anything, but good appearances help maintain Gilbert’s reputation, and I’m only here for the weekend. If it suits you, I can wash and press the dress before I leave on the morning train.” Mr. Stuart was speechless, so Anne charged. “Your home is magnificent! I’ve only ever dreamed up such places, but being here now, please allow me to compliment your exquisite taste. Did much of the furniture come from overseas or is it purely Canadian?”

Mr. Stuart cleared his throat when she was finished speaking and turned to Gilbert.

“Mr. Blythe, are you quite sure about this one?”

The smile which had arisen on Gilbert’s face listening to Anne be so unashamedly herself fell almost an imperceptible amount.

“Quite certain,” Gilbert assured, perhaps a bit harder than he intended. “Anne is PEI’s treasure.”

Christine appeared at that moment, descending the stairs with the elegance of a fairy tale heroine.

“I can entertain our company from here, father. You needn’t trouble yourself.”

Anne steadied her face, desperately fighting off a bad feeling in her gut. She fell back at Gilbert’s side, sliding her arm through his and relaxing only a little when his other hand reached over to take the one on his arm.

“Nonsense. I’d like an opportunity to catch up with my son and meet his friend. You may take the young lady up to your room and find her something adequate to wear,” declared Mr. Stuart. Gilbert and Anne exchanged a look that only they could decipher, but Anne bravely let go of Gilbert’s arm and followed Christine up the stairs.

Out of the autumn wind that blew when she first met Christine, Anne was able to smell the lilac perfume Christine had sprayed about her neck and hair. She vaguely wondered if she should invest in some of her own, if Gilbert might like the sweetness of it.

“I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your help. I’m all but a stranger to you, and yet you’ve been so gracious,” Anne began. Christine did not turn around. “Um, if there’s anything I could do to repay you, don’t hesitate to name it. Truly, anything.”

Christine tossed a bitter glance over her shoulder.

“Your silence will be payment enough,” Christine hissed so sharply that Anne nearly spun on her heels to fly down the stairs, yank Gilbert by the collar, and make for the Sunset house. But instead, she nodded politely and complied.

When Christine opened the door to her room, Anne decided that if Christine was Cordelia, then this was the perfect bed chambers befitting her childhood ideal. A four post bed was pressed against the wall, silken pillows resting atop its lush quilts. A tall wardrobe was nearby, in addition to a walnut desk and a loveseat for reading.

Christine threw open the doors of her wardrobe, eyeing the various gowns hanging within. Each one she pulled out made Anne’s heart soar with excitement. They were the most glorious dresses she’d ever seen, each just as breathtaking as the last.

“I won’t look nearly as lovely as you do in any of those dresses,” Anne offered quietly.

“No, you won’t,” Christine agreed. Anne’s lips snapped shut. She paused a moment before venturing out again.

“You know, Miss Stuart-”

She didn’t have a chance to finish because Christine had yanked a dress off the rack and spun around, holding it out to Anne. It was a gown of raven black velvet with a modest bit of beaded detail around the high collar.

“It’s positively lovely, just as lovely as the others,” Anne began slowly. “But I think I’d much rather wear what I’ve brought.”

Christine still held out the dress, and Anne wondered if she ought to accept out of politeness.

“It’s just that I would hate to wear a mourning gown and disrespect the person it was meant to honor. If people asked who I lost, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have an answer. I’m blessed enough to have no one to mourn," Anne continued.

“But you do have something to mourn,” Christine said.

“I do?”

What Christine said next, she stated with such a matter-of-fact air that Anne was frozen in place: “Gilbert’s good prospects.”

Anne had lived through a thousand different types of ridicules, and even more harsher verbal attacks. But this...This was so calculated, and petty that Anne’s surprise drowned out the growing flame of anger at being ridiculed. In fact, the silence in which a triumphant Christine was smirking was broken by Anne’s roar of laughter.

Christine doubled back, but Anne laughed on.

“Because of… me? ...Gilbert’s prospe-” Anne tried to speak through her hilarity, but another wave would come on. Christine was positively horrified. Of all the ways she had expected Anne to react, this was not one of them. But Anne feared if she stopped, there’d be no preventing whatever real reaction she was holding back to such viciousness.

Anne was still laughing when Ron poked his head through the door. His eyes moved from the black dress in Christine’s hand to Anne wiping tears from her eyes. Be it the connection between siblings or Ron’s own cleverness, but horror dawned on his face. He looked over his shoulder before coming in and closing the door behind him.

“Christine!” Ron scolded on a sharp hiss. “Of all your dresses, why is this is the one you-”

“Oh, Ron, it’s alright,” Anne interrupted, her voice finally even. “She’s not serious.”

“I am!” Christine spat venomously. She spun around to face Anne, whose smile drained away at Christine’s brutal loathing. The inky haired woman continued, stepping closer to Anne. “What did you expect? You’re a child from the blemish of society pretending to be a high society woman and you want me to help you?”

Anne stuttered, helplessly looking for a way to stop her, but finding no words. Christine trudged on.

“You’re going to make a country hick out of Gilbert. You’ll take the person who could be the best doctor in Canada and bring him back with you to tumble around in the mud for sport. What’s worse is he doesn’t even realize it because he’s such a bumbling fool, happily shoveling every bit of his promise into a grave, and it’s entirely you’re doing. You’ve made him a simpleton.”

Anne’s mind broke away from all its restraints. Christine had doused gasoline on her rage, and if she wanted to see Anne burn, so be it. Ron watched in horror as Anne took another step into Christine’s space.

“I won’t stop you, Christine. Say what you want to me. Give me every insult you can sneer between your teeth, and make every petty move under the guise of propriety you want. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, believe me.” Anne clenched her jaw and her stormy gray eyes flashed lightning, making Christine stiffen her back. “But don’t you dare speak of Gilbert that way again.”

“Come on, Anne, let’s just go,” Ron called from the doorway. She ignored him, and eventually, he turned around and closed the door behind him. Alone with Christine, Anne liberated hersel to speak her mind.

“Miss Stuart, I know you’re in love with Gilbert and that fact in and of itself didn’t make me jealous or worried. I know unrequited love well and I wouldn’t wish that type of heartache on my worst enemy, much less you.” Losing her control, she snagged the black dress from Christine’s hands and tossed it on the bed. “But I know a thing or two more about the world than you think. This viciousness is going to get you nowhere fast. You think Gilbert is going nowhere in life, but he’s going everywhere. And I intend to go with him, wherever that is.”

“You say you’re not worried, but you should be,” Christine replied. “You really should be. He’s here in Toronto and you’re on another island. Even if it’s not me, someone is bound to steal him away eventually.”

“If you think that’s how love works, then you’re the simpleton.” Anne hummed low and serious. “But I don’t think you are, and I’m not either. I may look like I’m worth nothing in your eyes, but I know my mind is rich and my heart is kind and strong. And it loves Gilbert. So you can give it all you’ve got and waste your time, Christine. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Anne’s gaze fell to the mourning dress she’d thrown onto the bed. “The fact that you even needed one of these makes my heart hurt for you,” Anne commented. “It’s so finely made. I’m sure it honored whomever it was made for. But you, Miss Stuart...this behavior? It doesn’t even honor yourself.”

Christine was red and quiet.

“I’m not...” she began finally, but then shook her head. The crease between Anne softened as she watched a battle rage in Christine - the same one she’d once watched in Josie Pye.

“No, please, go ahead,” Anne encouraged softly. Christine ran her fingers down an emerald green gown, avoiding Anne’s gaze. Whatever she was about to say had been locked up deep in the catacombs of her truth, and Anne wondered if she’d ever manage to unlock it, if it was even worth trying.

Then, as if she’d said nothing at all, Christine spun back to the wardrobe and grabbed one of the gowns that Anne had been drawn to from the moment she’d seen it. Christine saw Anne’s uneasiness and said, “You should wear this tonight.”

“Are you sure? I really wouldn’t want to-”

“Wear it. I’ll do your hair and embellishments, as well.”

“Embellishments…? One minute ago we were fighting and now you want to do my embellishments? I don’t even know what that means.”

Christine didn’t elaborate. She only pulled a gold colored gown from the wardrobe and began to undo the laces of her day dress. Anne looked down at her own ensemble, its silky emerald fabric and what seemed like a million shimmering jewels embroidered on. The neckline was modest by usual standards but lower than anything Anne had worn before, and the sleeves billowed at her shoulders in an attractive fashion. She stepped into the dress, surprised when Christine came up behind her and began to clasp the buttons at the back. When she was finished, she turned her own back to Anne, where the redhead quietly returned the favor.

Anne turned to the mirror, her reflection causing a short gasp to escape her lips. She couldn’t remember the last time her own appearance had left her speechless. Not even in her best daydreams could she imagine herself this way.

“I’m not usually a cruel person,” Christine murmured, eyes still locked on her reflection.

“I believe that,” Anne replied truthfully. “When I was in the depths of despair, so heartbroken that I thought I would never breathe easily again, I was horribly hateful to Gilbert.”

“But the things I’ve said to you, even thought about you...Ron probably thinks I’ve lost my mind.”

“Is that an apology?” They met eyes in the mirror reflection.

“I suppose in a way it is.”

“Then consider us even.” Christine didn’t look convinced, so Anne shrugged. “Historically, I hold dreadful drudges, but I’m working on that.”

Uncomfortable under Anne’s increasingly compassionate expression, Christine turned to her vanity, where she finished adding the final pearl pins to her dark hair.

“It’s hard to imagine you heartbroken,” she confessed.

A wound on the surface of Anne’s heart tugged, like the scar was trying to break open, but the dull pain was nothing to her trust in Gilbert.

“Would you believe me if I told you that just six months ago, Gilbert was courting someone else? Not just that - he was planning to propose to Winifred, move with her to France, and achieve his greatest dream by attend the Sorbonne in Paris?”

Christine’s frown deepened in disbelief.

“What happened?”

“He realized he loved me too much to be with anyone else.” Anne sighed, sitting beside Christine, close enough that her genuineness was palpable, but not so close as to snuff out the fragile understanding between them. “I’m not telling you this to rub salt in what I know is a painful wound. I’m telling you because it would be unfair of me not to tell you that your time is better invested finding someone who would turn down the Sorbonne if it meant being with you. And you’re very beautiful, Christine. You won’t have to look hard.”

They sat in silence for another few moments as Christine began to run a brush through Anne’s loosened hair. Finally, she wondered, “What was Winifred like?”

“Astoundingly beautiful - easily just as lovely as you are - and so sweet and refined,” “There was nothing I could fault her for. She just wouldn’t give me reason to dislike her, much to my frustration. I almost hated her for being so perfect.”

“I know the feeling,” Christine murmured. Then, a bit lighter, “How did you meet Gilbert?”

“Oh, I saw him galloping on a chestnut steed between our two houses and I knew immediately that I must marry him, and if I didn’t, I would certainly perish of consumption within the year.”

Christine stopped brushing. “...Really?”

“No, of course not, though can you imagine? ” Anne laughed. “Gilbert saw me getting picked on in the woods shortly after I arrived in Avonlea and diffused the situation. After that, I refused to speak with him and eventually broke my slate over his head.”

“Now you’re just playing around.”

“It’s the truth! Ask him, he’ll tell you. I did leave out the part when he tugged my braid and called me carrots, but it’s so unpleasant to think about. Truly, little boys have the most barbaric behavior.”

“Then how did you fall in love? When? ”

Anne shrugged. “I think the whole time, something in the depths of my soul - the part that knows the way of things - had been nudging me for years saying ‘Anne! What are you hiding from? Let him see you! Open your eyes and see him!’ One day it yelled and I listened. I began to see how kind and admirable he is. He was all I wanted to watch and learn about.” She paused. “I’m sorry, this is probably incredibly unpleasant.”

“Only a little,” was Christine’s answer. “I want to know...in case it ever happens to me, that is.”

Meeting Christine’s eyes through the reflection in the vanity mirror, Anne smiled.

“It will,” she promised. “Besides, I’ve learned that nice young men have equally nice friends. Have you considered Fred Wright?”

“Fred’s not nearly as handsome as Gilbert,” chuckled Christine.

Anne let out an overly dramatic sigh of resignation. “Alas, no one is.”

Somehow, strangely and unbelievably Anne’s mind corrected, they managed to pass the next bit of time in easy company with one another. Anne could still see the lingering traces of heartache in Christine’s eyes whenever they met hers, but the icy wall between them had melted enough that they could speak like friendly acquaintances. Their bitter fight, which had raged like a wildfire and scalded the wallpaper, seemed like ages ago. Much to Anne’s relief, Christine had Ron’s sense of humor - a bit dry, but quick to wit. The interaction was a peace offering - Christine offering Anne a bit of rouging on her cheeks and lips (“These are embellishments, Anne” Christine had informed her, darkening her auburn lashes), Anne offering embarrassing stories she’d known about Gilbert.

“His brother says his singing was so earsplitting that they made him clean the latrines!”

Christine bit back an amused smile, spraying some perfume over Anne’s hair.

“He likes to sing on his way to class, did you know?”

“No! I have to tell Bash immediately. Where’s the nearest telegram office?” The laughter on her lips died out as Christine finished her handiwork and stood back so Anne could see her reflection.

“How’s that for your Princess Veronica?” Christine said, a hesitant, but pleased smile on her lips.

“Cordelia,” Anne corrected on a murmur. “I think there’s a very unloved, very homely eleven-year-old orphan out there who will be so happy she lived to today.” She turned to Christine, unable to help a toothy grin from brightening her face. “Thank you, truly.”

It seemed that was the final piece for Christine - the part of the story that she hadn’t asked for, but the part that made her able to look upon Anne’s face without feeling sick with bitterness. All at once, Christine realized she’d been dreadfully wrong in her initial judgements of Anne. She wondered that she hadn’t seen the truth of it right away.

“I didn’t mean those things I said,” she said softly. “Well, I did, but I don’t anymore.”

Anne wanted to say something , to apologize for appearing out of the blue and for being the source of Christine’s failed hopes, but she struggled for the right way to articulate it. Before she could, Christine had taken off, leaving Anne alone to wonder how much time had passed - an hour, a day?

As she made her way down the stairs, she heard Gilbert debating with Ron about something - the philosophical meaning of healing - to pass the time near the front door. Ron saw her first, giving Gilbert a knowing glance and a nod towards the steps.

For all her imaginings about Princess Cordelia, Anne decided the moment Gilbert settled his molten gaze on her that she didn’t mind being the Anne Shirley-Cuthbert to his Gilbert Blythe. His gaze held multitudes - dreams, submissions, prayers. Each of them were wordless and inexpressible, each only for her. As if by instinct, he reached out a hand to help her off the last stair, though they both knew she didn’t need it, and used the opportunity to pull her close enough that he could smell her perfume.

“If you’re all ready to go, Chris and I ought to go say goodbye to our father,” Ron said.

Gilbert didn’t watch them go, he couldn’t look anywhere except on Anne’s freckled neckline and rosy cheeks, but he knew the second they’d disappeared into the other room.

Before she could tease him for his speechlessness, he tangled their fingers together and said in a soft tone, “You’re beautiful, Anne.” It made her want to drag his face into the nape of her throat so that he could compliment how sweet she smelled, how soft her skin was. Though she suspected Gilbert wouldn’t object in the least, they were far from romance heroes who had no sense of decorum, and if she wanted to engage in chancy embraces with him, she’d have to wait until after the banquet.

For now, she settled on a small kiss against his lips and a wink.

“What can I say, Christine works miracles.”

Soon, Ron and Christine had joined them in the front entryway. Much to Anne’s surprise, she found herself being shuffled alongside Gilbert to the family carriage. Ron and Christine sat across from them as if they’d done it a hundred times over. Peering out the curtained window, Anne watched the neighbor pass along.

“You know, Gil,” Anne began, letting her thumb graze over his knuckles. “I doubt we’ll ever be terribly rich in wealth, and I don’t mind a mite. But to be sincere, I also haven’t minded trying it out for a day.”

*****

I hope you enjoyed! ♥ Thanks for reading!! Below are those individuals who asked to be tagged upon updates. If you’d like to add your name to the list or remove it, please let me know!

@pterparkcr @be-feminine-be-unique @firehaireddeamer @annabel-lee23 @beinmyheart @forcordelia @ladyofhousewaters @brookie-cookie3 @peculiarly-deactivated @mrs-shirley-cuthbert-blythe @lexfangirls @amoraeternusforyou @pastaismysignificantother @spellsandbells @instantknightartisanwagon @noctislightning @lonelyscreaming @lbhmoon @findurhappy @mynameisbluenotjane @sarahisatotalgeek @takemetoavonlea @shrillrule @doodlesfan @noctislightning @awaeforlife @neomikaha @cresmix

#anne with an e #anne of green gables #shirbert #shirbert fic #anne and gilbert #tessa writes #thank you to all y'all who are supporting this story #means the woooorld!

39 notes · View notes

missjosie27 · 4 years ago

Text

Year 3 Part 7- Keeper of the Keys

Hey, guys. I'm sorry this update took so long. Shit has been well...weird. Hard to explain. However, rest assured I am not abandoning this pic, not by a long shot. Updates just won't be consistently regular as a warning to all my readers. To make up for some lost time, this is a longer chapter and I hope you all enjoy!

To say that Tulip Karasu was eccentric was an understatement. Nevertheless, David had no choice but to play ball for now if he wanted any of the information he sought. He was a bit apprehensive sitting at the Ravenclaw table during dinner, but luckily Andre’s assertion proved to be correct. No one desired to sit near her and therefore they could spend the meal alone and in peace.

Stuffing Dennis into her shirt pocket, the Ravenclaw began to serve herself and cut up her chicken into several tiny pieces before eating. The young Gryffindor was hungry, but he preferred to focus on the matter at hand. Something about this girl was oddly fascinating. He also had many questions to ask.

“So how exactly did you stumble across my brother’s room and how was I not aware of that? Furthermore, since when are multiple people looking for the vaults?”

“One question at a time,” Tulip countered with a smile. “I still need to know why I should work with you, David Grant.”

The use of his full name was another idiosyncratic habit she seemed to demonstrate. That being said, it couldn’t hurt to give her a pitch. Especially since it sounded like she had been working with another person, possibly more than one in searching for the vault. From the looks of it, their progress was better than his in finding the latest one.

“I don’t usually play this card but...I’m the best chance you have at getting inside of a vault. I’m one of the strongest duelists in our year and I’ve broken one curse already.”

“You’re a very determined and talented person, there’s no denying that,” Tulip replied thoughtfully. “But it seems like I’m closer to finding the next vault than you are. Why shouldn’t I just go off on my own?”

“Because if we assist each other, it’ll help us solve the mystery faster,” David explained. “You found my brother’s room, but I doubt you’re any closer to knowing the vault’s location.”

“True. You make logical points. But Dumbledore forbade any student from searching for them this year. What if something goes wrong and you try to pin the blame on me?”

Tulip was testing him, he knew that. She followed rules no more than he did. But clearly this was a person who didn’t trust people easily.

“I don’t rat on my friends,” David said simply. “When I thought Bill might not make prefect, I tried to take the blame from McGonagall. I’d do the same for you.

“Perish the thought of me ever becoming prefect,” Tulip laughed. “However, I am glad that you value the people around you.”

“I’ll put this simply: I don’t care about whatever so-called power the vaults have. I’m only in this for one reason and that’s to find my brother.”

The Ravenclaw girl scanned him up and down, as though he were a mildly intriguing piece of modern art. David felt a bit uncomfortable but said nothing. Finally she spoke again.

“I don’t know that I like you yet, David Grant, but I do trust you.”

Okay that’s a start...I guess

“Then will you tell me who your accomplice was?” he asked her.

“Merula Snyde.”

David immediately spit out the pumpkin juice he’d been consuming causing a few Ravenclaws to look over with mild disgust.

“WHAT?! But why would you team up with her of all people? You seem way too smart to trust Merula.”

Tulip gave him her most serious look yet.

“Merula is a lot smarter than you give her credit for. You may not like her personality, but there’s no denying her skill.”

David scoffed. “Yeah I’ll get back to you on that one. I’ve beaten her so many times in duels I’ve lost count. She’s always trying to one up me but never succeeds.”

“Her greatest weakness is that she believes she’s invincible. But more on that later. The point is we were working together at one point but then we had a falling out. Unfortunately she still has the other key to your brother’s room.”

“Then we have to get it back.”

“Agreed,” Tulip said. “But the question is ‘how’? She’s not going to hand it over willingly.”

“I’ve found over the years that the only way to get Merula Snyde to do anything is by forcing her. Typically after one beats her in a duel.”

“That may work, but this situation is also quite delicate and we don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves from the teachers. Especially if they caught us fighting.”

David agreed with that conclusion. They would need to try another method.

“Then what do you suggest?

Tulip gave another sly smile.

“Leave that to me. I’ll come up with something that will turn Merula on her head.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tulip told him she would need some time to plan and would message him when ready. In the meantime, David kept busy with homework which was significantly heavier this year with two added electives. He also enjoyed the start of Quidditch season given it was the first week of November. Unfortunately, unlike the previous year, things didn't go as swimmingly for Gryffindor this time around. Slytherin edged them 300-260 in the opening match. None was as ecstatic as Merula and she constantly reminded him about it during the week.

“I really hope Tulip comes up with a plan soon,” David muttered one day while sitting in the common room with Rowan and Bill. The two third years were finishing Transfiguration homework while the prefect looked over potions he might expect to find on his OWLs. “If I have to listen to Merula brag about Slytherin’s victory any longer I might just have to learn the silencing charm in order to shut her big mouth.”

Rowan chuckled as he turned the page on Intermediate Transfiguration by Emeric Switch.

“You’ll get your chance at payback soon enough, especially if you intend to get that key.”

“I know...I just wish she’d hurry up. Losing to Merula in anything is unbearable.”

“Be thankful you weren’t directly responsible for the loss,” Bill said to him, indicating the somber figure of his brother slumping in one of the chairs. Charlie had been noticeably quiet since the match, avoiding crowds and shutting himself up in the dormitory most of the time outside of class.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“He’ll get over it,” Bill assured them. “But despite what you may think, Charlie is super competitive when it comes to Quidditch. He hates losing and this was the first time in his career he’s never caught the snitch.”

“Can’t win them all I suppose,” David sighed. “We should have won, though. Skye was flying circles around them again. And that Slytherin beater totally committed a foul before Charlie could seal the deal.”

“It happens. I hate losing to Slytherin too, but a little perspective never hurts. There’s another cursed vault out there we need to find.”

David and Rowan nodded. You could always count on Bill to be level headed when it came to these situations.

“Speaking of, any luck with deciphering the rest of that book?”

“It’s slow going,” Rowan said shaking his head. “I swear I’m going barmy from trying to make out all the symbols. It gets more complicated the deeper you get into the book.”

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Bill said kindly. “The best thing we can do now is getting into that room.”

As it happened, there was more progress on that front. Jae Kim suddenly appeared in front of their group.

“I was told by a certain Tulip Karasu to tell David that she wants you to meet her in the courtyard straight away.”

The three Gryffindors looked at each other with anticipation.

“Did she say anything else?”

Jae shrugged.

“Nope. I’m just passing along the message. If you’ll excuse me, I have orders to fill.”

Bill gave an uneasy expression as the Korean boy walked off.

“I sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t be doing more to prevent him from running that little black market of contraband he has.”

“Jae does plenty to get himself in trouble without your involvement,” David chuckled. “I swear we don’t even need Zonko’s. He supplies half the school with Fanged Frisbees by himself.”

He stood up and brushed off some of the couch lint on his jeans.

“Guess I better see what Tulip wants.”

“Hopefully she’s got a plan,” Rowan said eagerly.

“Yeah...hopefully.”

Despite barely knowing her, David had a feeling that whatever Tulip Karasu wanted, it was bound to be interesting to say the least.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He made his way down to the specified area where Tulip was waiting just outside the entrance. Unlike her uniform, she wore a blue coat over a thick sweater with a matching beanie hat with a puffball on top combined with a flowy skirt, black tights, and flats. It was a brisk day despite the sunny weather and winter was well on the way.

“Good. You made it,” she greeted him. “Are you ready for my plan?”

“Don’t need Trelawney’s ‘Inner Eye’ to predict you’ve got something cooked up.”

“You’re becoming more perceptive,” Tulip said with a mischievous smirk. “Merula is over there, holding court with her lackeys.”

David gave a small peek, and sure enough the Slytherin girl was there alongside Barnaby and Ismelda. What they were talking about, he couldn’t hear but Merula was clearly animated about something.

“I’d recognize that orange tuft of hair anywhere. So what’s the big plan?”

“Even though they aren’t that bright, Barnaby and Ismelda are still tough and ruthless,” Tulip explained. “We need a diversion to lure them away from her. And luckily, I have the perfect item for the job.”

Out of her coat came a dungbomb, except twice as large and covered with some kind of outer shell.

“I call it the ultimate dungbomb,” she grinned. “Mixed in with some stinksap. I used the hardening charm ‘Duro’ to give it some heft. We toss this into their little circle and they won’t know what hit them.”

“Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that thing,” David said, eyeing the putried projectile. “So now what? Do we levitate it or something?”

“Follow my lead. We hide behind the fountain until the perfect moment to strike.”

And so they entered the courtyard, tiptoeing along the way, careful not to make too much noise. The wind aided them in this goal and as they drew closer David could make out the conversation the three Slytherins were having.

“...can’t believe this! We’ve searched everywhere! We’re never going to find a cursed vault!”

“We should cast the Cruciatus Curse on Grant on his friends. Torture makes everyone talk,” Ismelda suggested with dark glee.

“Talking to you is torture. You have some serious issues, Ismelda,” Merula responded.

“We should ask Dumbledore. He’s really smart,” Barnaby said thickly.

By now Tulip and David were crouched low behind the fountain, peering over slightly to get a sense of distance from their opponents.

“Dumbledore spent half his welcome speech telling us to stay away from the vaults. Or did you forget that, you nitwit,” Merula chastised.

“We could give him Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. I heard he likes those.”

“Sometimes I wonder if your brain was replaced by a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean.”

“I still say we should use an unforgivable,” Ismelda cut in. “I’d like to cast the killing curse on the next Gryffindor I see.”

That earned a look of derision and disgust from her leader.

“You don’t even know the killing curse.”

“I sat on a bowtruckle once!” Barnaby pipped up.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ismelda asked, looking at Barnaby as though he had a second head.

“I thought we were talking about killing things.”

“Ugh, I hate you both,” Merula commented, rolling her eyes.

David shook his head behind the fountain.

“Merlin, this is literally too stupid to listen to. Now?”

Tulip nodded.

“Now!”

Using her wand, the Ravenclaw sent the ultimate dungbomb flying into the air towards the Slytherin trio. It exploded upon impact causing a toxic mist of green and yellow to fill the air and all three began to tear up, covering their noses with their arms.

“Dear, Merlin that is awful!” Ismelda cried, coughing into her arm.

“I can’t breathe!” Barnaby said coughing as well. “Let’s get out of here!”

Merula was hacking and wheezing too, but she still had enough oxygen to call after them as they ran.

“Get back here you cowards! It’s just a dungbomb!”

David wasted no time in stepping out of the shadows, Tulip in tow. They both confronted the angry Slytherin, who became irate upon laying her eyes on them.

“I should have known it was you!” Merula shouted, trembling with rage.

“Your powers of perception are truly dizzying,” he said to her in a bored tone.

“Hand the key over to us, Merula. I don’t know how long I can stand your stink,” Tulip demanded.

The look on the Slytherin’s face went from rage to incredulous.

“Us? You betrayed me, started working with Grant and have the audacity to ask me to give you the second key?”

“Actually...yeah.”

Merula’s expression returned to its usual nasty leer.

“Well too bad. I’m not giving you anything. How does it feel knowing I found your brother’s room before you did, Grant?”

“I don’t have time for this, Merula,” David said sternly. “Give us the key, now.”

Tulip then did something unexpected, stepping forward, a note of sympathy in her voice.

“We could use your help. This doesn’t have to turn ugly. Work with us.”

David was surprised at the offer of assistance and wondered where it stemmed from but predictably, Merula turned it down.

“I don’t want to work with you, I want to duel. Specifically you, Grant. Beat me again and the key is yours…” she withdrew her wand from her sleeve. “But I don’t plan on losing to you. Not this time.”

David withdrew his own wand and prepared for battle. In truth, he was looking forward to pop her ego once more.

“You never learn, do you Merula?”

He quickly fired a disarming spell, but she ducked while sending one of her own which missed over his shoulder, causing Tulip to dodge.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Despite it heading straight for her chest, the Slytherin demonstrated remarkable athleticism by rolling to her side and firing back a retort.

“Flipendo!”

David was forced to copy the same maneuver, scraping his elbow on the stone but managed to avoid the knockback jinx. Wheeling back around he aimed a jelly legs jinx but again it missed due to Merula’s agility.

She’s clearly learned a thing or two since last year

The Slytherin began pressing forward, drawing closer with each curse she fired off, putting David on the defensive retreating from his original spot back towards the wall. Some of the spells he recognized, some he didn’t and he was fairly certain a few were the kind a thirteen year old girl wasn’t supposed to know. All the same, he had to think of something before one of them landed on his person. Then, he remembered her weak spot, the same one as always.

Too aggressive. Too wild with her spells

Indeed while she was driving forward, he could see a manic look in her eye, the kind that someone had when they were determined but unhealthily obsessed. David then came up with an idea. Dropping his stance and his wand into a wide, lazy position, he allowed his opponent to think she was catching him off guard. Sure enough, Merula took the bait.

“Remollio!”

A jet of sickly, yellow light headed straight towards his head. Smiling slightly, he ducked forward into an almost ninety degree angle and sent back a spell of his own.

“Fumo!”

A mass of black smoke issued in front of Merula, blocking her vision and senses. It was all the time he needed to strike the winning blow.

“Depulso!”

The banishing charm smashed into the Slytherin girl sending her flying back and hard onto the ground into a groaning heap, wand dislodged.

Dissipating the smoke, David walked forward, wand aimed and ready in case she tried to cheat or lash back out.

“I win again, Merula. I won’t ask a third time. Give me the key.”

Clutching her shoulder painfully, she rose from the ground, grabbed her wand, and proceeded to chuck a golden key at his feet.

“Fine! Take the stupid key! I already got what I needed from that loser’s room anyway.”

Tulip came up behind him now that the duel was over, picking up the key, sympathy still lurking in her dark brown eyes.

“Merula, please we could still use…”

“My help? Save your breath. I don’t work with traitors!”

Lavender eyes switched over to David and for the first time, he saw that they were on the verge of tears.

“Watch out for this one, Grant. It's only a matter of time before she stabs you in the back.”

Without another word, Merula brushed past them, the sound of combat boots hitting against stone echoing across the courtyard as she ran back towards the dungeons.

David wondered what Tulip’s reaction would be to these thinly veiled accusations but to his slight surprise her sympathetic expression was gone, replaced by her usual mischievous delight.

“Mission accomplished, David Grant. Let’s go to your brother’s room.”

Though satisfied with receiving the key, Merula’s reaction unnerved the teenage Gryffindor. He didn’t bring it up further but there was no doubt Tulip hadn’t told him everything about her history with his chief rival.

At least not yet.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The two teens wasted no time in heading towards Jacob’s room and soon they were standing in front of the dark brown, wooden, door. However, there was one question still burning in the back of David’s mind.

“Tulip?”

“Hm?”

“What did Merula mean when she said she already took what she needed from my brother’s room?”

Tulip shook her head.

“She was lying. We used this room because it was full of valuable information and research but there was nothing worth taking or pointing to the location of the vaults themselves...at least nothing that I saw.”

“Jacob was always pretty savvy at hiding things,” David informed her. “It’s perfectly possible you missed something. Hell, I just found a quill that turned out to be his transfigured notebook. I know this will sound strange, but I haven’t felt this close to him since he disappeared. There are a lot of things I’m still finding out.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the Ravenclaw teen asked him seriously. “You may not like what you find.”

David didn’t hesitate with his response. Any potential negative revelation about his brother could not outweigh the possible benefits of discovering more about his whereabouts.

“That’s a risk I’ll have to take. I have to see where he did his research.”

Tulip nodded, taking out her key and inserting it into the first part of the lock. She handed him the one they received from Merula.

“Do the honors.”

He did so, unclicking the lock, the golden seal falling to the floor with a metal clank. The door creaked open and the two teens entered the mysterious space. However, it was dark and impossible to see anything.

“I can’t see two feet in front of me,” David said aloud. “Tulip, you there?”

“Yeah. Lumos.”

The sight that greeted them was both unexpected and horrifying. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, bald, sickly pale man cloaked in black robes. His features were gaunt and waxy as though they had been warped or burnt, especially his nose, which was disproportionately smaller. But that was not the most disturbing aspect of this person. Within the skull like head were a pair of deadly, luminous blood red eyes that reeked of menace and murder. There was no mistaking who it was.

“Y-Y-You Know Who! It can’t be!” David cried.

“Run, Grant! RUN!”

Tulip immediately pulled him back before the figure could pull out his wand and slammed the door shut behind them.

Catching their breath from the near heart attack they both suffered, it took a few moments before either one could say anything.

“How is that possible? You Know Who is dead,” he panted.

“Use your common sense, David Grant. That was clearly a boggart. Hogwarts is crawling with them these days.”

Regaining his wits, the Gryffindor realized Tulip was right and mentally smacked himself for being so gullible.

“Merlin, that was embarrassing.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Tulip reasoned. “A lot of grown witches and wizards would have reacted the same way, if not worse.”

She paused before adding. “I am curious, though. Why is your boggart, You Know Who?”

The truth was, David didn’t know the full reason why but before he could explain that to Tulip they were interrupted by another very unpleasant presence.

“Well, well...David Grant and Tulip Karasu...why am I not surprised to find you two here together?” Severus Snape spoke in his usual dangerous, silky tone.

Oh, shit

“Professor I-”

“Silence,” the potions master cut across him. “Your brother was the most disobedient student Hogwarts had seen since James Potter. You may have overtaken him.”

“But we’re allowed to be here, sir. It’s not after hours yet.”

“Do you really believe me to be a naive simpleton, Grant? Stay away from this corridor and give up your search for the vaults, or I will ensure you will share your brother’s fate. Now back to your common rooms, both of you.”

The two teens did not dare argue but before they parted company under Snape’s watchful eye he saw Tulip mouth to him, ‘We’ll talk later.’

They would need to. With Hogwarts' nastiest professor onto them and a boggart taking the form of Voldemort blocking the way, another method of gaining access to the room was needed.

David sighed as his brother’s room went out of view. He really hated roadblocks.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thankfully, Snape couldn’t be everywhere at once and that included meal times as well as meetings after Transfiguration which the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shared together. Though both David and Tulip were eager to try and go back to the room they mutually agreed to stay away for the time being lest the head of Slytherin catch them again. The main priority was getting rid of the boggart.

“Professor Sprout used some kind of spell to defeat the boggart that scared Penny earlier in the year,” David mused while he and the Ravenclaw walked together after class one day.

“Well technically we’re supposed to cover boggarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. But we can’t wait for that incompetent buffoon to actually bring it up or teach us for that matter.”

“I swear these gormless prats are more and more useless with each passing year,” David agreed. “Guess it’s time to hit the library.”

“Let’s agree to research there after lessons are done every Friday,” Tulip suggested. “I’m sure there’s a lot we can learn before the holidays come around.”

“Sounds like a plan. I can bring Rowan along too. He’s one of the smartest people I know. Super brainy.”

Tulip suddenly hesitated.

“Actually, I’d prefer it to just be the two of us...for the time being. I can’t really explain it right now. Just trust me.”

As it was with Merula, David didn’t press the issue but he was steadily growing evermore curious about his new partner’s past. Whatever happened between her and the Slytherin teen must have been severe but he sensed there was more to it than that.

Adding to the surrounding mystery was another anonymous message he received one night. He had just come back from dinner with Penny, Tonks, and Diego when Rowan rushed to greet him quite frantically.

“David!”

“Whoa, steady on. What’s up?”

His best friend proceeded to pull out a letter from his robe pocket and hand it to him. The envelope was not addressed and carried no visible distinction.

“I found this on your bed,” he explained. “It just...appeared there. I didn’t open it in case it was private or cursed.”

David stared at the mail for a split second debating his chances. If it was a message from ‘R’ once again he was mostly certain it wasn’t cursed. Such a group would have tried to kill him by now. Then again he also had no idea what they were capable of given the general mystery surrounding them.

Taking his chances, he slit open the envelope, removed the parchment inside and read the contents aloud.

“You are in grave danger. Your investigation into the Cursed Vaults has drawn the attention of a group who is not to be trifled with. Be careful, but remain courageous. I’m depending on you to reach the final vault before the others. I will assist you when I can. I hope the next time I deliver you a message, the circumstances are far less mysterious.

Sincerely,

A Friend’”

Taking a moment to reread the letter and analyze its contents David looked towards his brainiac friend for a possible explanation. Rowan appeared to be as lost as he was.

“For the record, I have no idea who wrote you that letter. Do you?”

David certainly had no more inkling than the hippogriff by Hagrid��s hut. There were a number of possibilities, which included his brother, an enemy playing tricks, or even the Headmaster himself.

“I’m as lost as you are. I’d say it was a ruse except for the fact none of the Slytherins know how to get into our common room. If anything, it sounds like an ally of some sort.”

“I sure hope so,” Rowan responded with a bit of anxiety. “These anonymous messages are starting to creep me out a bit.”

He paused before asking another question.

“By the way, what’s with this Tulip girl? Why does she insist on working with you alone?”

David genuinely shrugged.

“I wish I knew. Your guess is as good as mine.”

In truth, David had little time to reflect on it at the current moment. Tulip was a vital piece in all of this and he could scarcely afford to scare her off. Whoever the mystery man was that claimed to be on his side, there was no use in dwelling on that either. Aside from his schoolwork, which he was careful to pay close attention to, the only thing that mattered was learning how to get rid of that pesky boggart in his brother’s room in order to properly access it.

Thankfully, that wasn’t too difficult in principle. Within their first round of research the Ravenclaw girl discovered the spell ‘Ridikkilus’ which was the same one Professor Sprout used to disperse the boggart in the Herbology classroom. However, given the risks of using the spell without prior experience and with Snape still looming over their heads, Tulip advised against going back to the room before they were ready. David wanted to head back as soon as possible but he eventually relented as his new partner in crime told him to practice over the holidays while she thought of a plan.

Honestly, she’s always scheming that one

However, with Christmas around the corner, the dreaded return back to West Country loomed over his head and he was not looking forward to the strained, emotionally stunted holiday as was per custom in the Grant household. But on the eve of his departure, he received a distraction of sorts, something quite unexpected.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the last Hogsmeade trip of the season before the holidays and David used that time to share a glass of butterbeer with his friends namely Rowan, Ben, Tonks, Penny, and Charlie. The Three Broomsticks was even cozier and warm this time of year and full of festive cheer and decorations, many of which he helped Madam Rosmerta put up before the big customer rush as a ‘thank you’ for giving him the quill. In return, he and his companions received a round of free drinks.

“I tell you what. Life doesn’t get much better than this,” Rowan said, taking a satisfying swig.

“I can’t wait to go home and see my family for Christmas,” Penny beamed. She was snuggled up in a blue coat with a matching beret, leggings, and snow boots. David couldn’t help but notice the rosy glow on her cheeks and how pretty she looked. “My sister is dying to know more about Hogwarts even though I’ve told her so much already.”

“What about you, Dave?” Ben asked genuinely.

David tried to hide the fact that he was secretly conflicted and tried to play it off with his usual sarcasm.

“Well my mom will stress herself needlessly from making the dinner, my dad will read his newspaper and do paperwork, we open some presents followed by an awkward crying session from said mother who tops it off with a bottle of wine….so yeah. Merry Christmas to me.”

The blond boy was unsure how to respond to that as flushed with embarrassment.

“I...uh…”

“Relax, Ben,” Tonks cut in. “Dave knows you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, I know exactly how to cheer him up.”

She transformed her face into that of a toucan’s beak, something usually never failed to elicit a laugh. But this time the Gryffindor teen didn’t budge.

“Oh come on, David that always works. Show a little festive cheer!”

Before she could stick another butterbeer under his nose the second Weasley brother came back over with another round and a message.

“Drink up you lot. Also David, my brother wants a word with you.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“For what? Did he mention a reason?”

“Just said it was urgent. He’s over there sitting by himself. Pretty moody by his standards.”

Shrugging, he took the spare butterbeer weaved and ducked his way through the Christmas crowd and found Bill seated at one of the tables meant for two people. Indeed, he had a curious expression on his face.

“Charlie told me you wanted to talk?” he said, taking his chair. “Is everything okay?”

“How are you in the ways of romance, Dave?”

It was a loaded question, one he was not prepared to answer at all. Because the answer was not at all.

“Uh, Bill...I think you may want the tea shop down the street,” he joked referring to Madam Puddifoots. “What’s this about, anyway?”

“I’m obsessed with this girl named Emily Tyler,” the prefect explained and there was a swooning glint in his eyes. “She’s not only beautiful but in Defense Against the Dark Arts she single handedly stupefied an entire swarm of vampire bats.”

“That’s not saying much given the current state of that class,” David joked again, taking a sip from his glass. He did, however, see Bill’s point. He knew of Emily Tyler and many older Gryffindors had the hots for her. She always hung out with the same group of friends chatting away about gossip, makeup, Witch Weekly, and whatever they found interesting that day. She was also quite wealthy on both sides of her family. “So what’s the next step then? Are you going to tell her?”

“You make it sound so simple. But I was actually hoping you could talk to her for me.”

David had never seen Bill this...timid before and it was a bit unsettling. The tall, lanky, long haired Weasley was usually the cool one of their group- collected, confident, the voice of reason and was a favorite among the student body in the way he conducted his prefect duties. To witness him as being so unsure meant this girl meant a lot to him.

“Bill, no offense but you’re asking the wrong bloke. I know less about this stuff than you do. I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”

“Well neither have I. I’ve also never been in love before.”

“And what makes you think...wait you’re in love?” he asked, completely floored.

“Am I? I don’t even know anymore. What’s happening to me?”

It was then the adolescent Gryffindor knew just how important this was to Bill and the least he could do was try and spread some cheer before Christmas. Just as Tonks pointed out. If he could play matchmaker for one of his best friends, what was the harm?

“Don’t worry about a thing mate. I’ll go talk to her. No problem.”

Bill smiled in response, his worried brows relaxing slightly.

“Good. She’s actually right over there.”

He pointed behind him ever so subtly to indicate her presence, and sure enough, there she was hanging out with her usual assortment of friends, holding court at one of the wall booths.

“You sure you want me to do this?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious.”

“Then I will,” David replied simply. “I’ll be right back.”

He drained the latter portion of his butterbeer and made his way over through the vast crowd. Upon finally reaching the booth it didn’t take long for the group of girls to look up at him with curious looks as though he were some kind of exotic alien. That certainly didn’t help his nerves but he pressed forward anyway.

“Emily Tyler?”

David didn’t need to ask as he recognized her right away. He could see what the elder Weasley meant. Like Bill, Emily was a fifth year but physically quite mature, and could have passed for two or three years beyond her age. True to word, she was very pretty, piercing brown eyes to go with high cheekbones and a slim, feminine jawline to go along with extensive makeup. Dark brown hair formed a widow’s peak along her forehead and was pulled back into a high ponytail. She also appeared to be quite fond of the color pink as she wore a long sleeved magenta dress complete with thick, pink tights, a cardigan and boots. It was indicative of someone who grew up quite upper class.

Though she did not look annoyed, there was a haughtiness to her expression that was a tad unsettling to the third year cursebreaker.

“That’s my name,” she responded evenly, ignoring the whispers of her posse. “And you’re that cursed vault kid, David Grant. What can I do you for?”

“Well I’m a friend of Bill Weasley’s…”

This didn’t seem to impress her.

“Okay?”

Out with it. She’s not going to wait for the grass to grow

“He fancies you and wants to know how you feel.”

On cue the rest of Emily’s friends began to giggle though she gave no indication as to how she personally felt.

“If I can speak in his favor, he’s a solid bloke. You couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“He fancies me? I have to say I’m surprised,” Emily finally responded.

“It’s true. Haven’t seen him this frazzled...well ever really.”

“Is this some sort of joke? Because I don’t want to look like an idiot. What did he tell you?”

“Fair warning: I know as much about romance as I do about advanced Arithmancy, don’t hex the messenger,” David told her bluntly.

“Perish the thought. I want to hear this,” Emily said as much to her friends as she did to him to stop them from giggling.

“What else can I say? He thinks you’re amazing, powerful, beautiful, strong. Bill is as cool as any person in this school but he’s a mess over you. And you couldn’t ask to date a finer person.”

There it was. A glowing recommendation and an honest account of his friend’s intentions and feelings. Surely that was enough to win over a girl right?

He thought wrong. A very unpleasant, arrogant smirk crossed Emily Tyler’s face as she began playing with her pink, manicured nails.

“What a prat.”

David did a double take.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t get me wrong he’s reasonably handsome but why would anyone date a Weasley?”

Anger surged through David as his right hand turned into a fist around his glass mug. Was she really turning him down for the reasons he thought she was? The resumed giggling from her cronies made it worse.

“May I ask why?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Everyone knows the Weasleys are one the poorest wizarding families in Britain. They have no means, no manners, and no prospects. Why would I lower myself to such a standard?”

“I think you should take that back,” David said with quiet fury.

“And so what if I don’t?” Emily sneered. “Tell your friend thank you for sharing his feelings, it was a good for a laugh but he’s delusional if he ever thought he had a chance with me.”

By now, pure hatred surged through his veins, temper getting the best of him. More from the shock of someone actually insulting Bill, Emily Tyler was now the queen bitch in his eyes. Slamming his mug on the table with tremendous force, causing the four girls to jump with fright.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” he growled. “Bill must be attracted to your looks because your personality is pure rubbish.”

Emily recovered from the shock and shot him a venomous, threatening stare.

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know enough. You sit over here prattling on like my mother at a book club thinking you’re the greatest thing since Merlin’s first bowel movement. But you’re nothing but a stuck up piece of shite. I’m just glad I can tell Bill before he wastes any more time on you.”

He flipped the glass over, spilling the small amount of butterbeer left inside.

“Get bent...snobbish twit.”

Without wasting another second, he turned and left, still fuming over the audacity of Emily Tyler to call his mate ill mannered and inferior. It was also a highlight into the flaws of his own house. Just because you were bold and confident didn’t make you a good person. So pissed he was, he barely noticed Bill’s reaction when he sat back down at the table.

“Dave?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re about to explode. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Of course, Bill didn’t believe that.

“What happened and what did Emily say?”

On the one hand, David really didn’t want to reveal the full extent of Emily’s denigrating insults. It might shatter his heart given how much he liked her. Then again, it wouldn’t do to have someone he looked up to pining after someone who would sooner rip his heart out and stomp on it than date him. The truth was more important than protecting him from it.

“Bill...I won’t lie to you. It wasn’t good.”

“What do you mean?”

He hated seeing Bill’s confused face and he suspected that what was to follow would be equally as painful.

“Mate, she’s not interested. And she didn’t mince words.”

The eldest Weasley’s expression fell dramatically.

“Oh.”

“You can do better than her,” David tried to reassure him

“But-but she’s the most beautiful girl in our year...this whole school.”

“She’s also mean, arrogant, and generally awful. Bill, she insulted you and your family.”

He didn’t want to go there but there was little other choice than to prevent his friend from continuing his obsession. And he wasn’t fibbing. Bill did deserve better.

“She did?”

“Heard it with my own two ears.”

“But what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” David emphasized. “And that’s the point. You’re too good for her. And not the other way around.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Bill said with the slightest of tremors in his voice.

The third year leaned forward, speaking with the utmost sincerity he could muster.

“Listen to me...you’re one of my best friends. You’ve taught me a lot about dueling, magic, and Hogwarts itself. Everyone I know looks up to you as a person, prefect, and role model….and so do I. Don’t let someone like Emily Tyler change that. Be good to yourself.”

His impassioned speech seemed to finally break through and the Bill Weasley of old shone through.

“Thanks, David...I’m sorry for acting like an idiot. She’s the first girl I really fell for...it’s hard you know?”

He didn’t, not truly since he’d never had a crush on a girl before. But David felt a great deal of sympathy for his friend. Anything that could rattle the cool Bill Weasley could rattle anyone else.

“Of course.”

“Now let’s grab another butterbeer. Next one’s on me.”

“Cheers, mate. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

He and Bill made their way back towards their friend group where Charlie, Rowan, and company were waiting, greeting them warmly. Though the drinks were sweet and the atmosphere quite merry for the upcoming Christmas season, David own’s spirits were far from being satiated. A part of him knew his angry reaction to Emily’s rejection of the eldest Weasley was due to his own misapprehension and unhappiness that plagued him this time of year.

Images of his brother flashed before his mind as though it were a dream sequence.

For all the faith people placed in him, he wished he could take his own advice.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #mc #hphm fanfiction #Gryffindor #David Grant #merula snyde #tulip kasaru #penny haywood #rowan khanna #ben copper #bill weasley #charlie weasley #barnaby lee #ismelda murk #emily tyler #severus snape #nymphadora tonks

7 notes · View notes

talkfastromance4 · 5 years ago

Text

For Your Eyes Only-- bodyguard!Ashton [Chapter Three]

Summary: Ashton Irwin is the head of security for Princess Alouette who is a kind, gentle young woman. Secretly pining for one another, those feelings will soon come to light as an occurrence will change Alouette’s life forever, and Ashton’s.

Word count: just shy of 5k

Warnings: just some angst

Author’s note: This story is near and dear to my heart, please give it a chance!❤❤❤❤❤

Masterlist

Chap. 1 || Chap. 2

If you’d like to chat with me, please do so here. I’d love feedback!

The next day Alouette didn’t speak to Ashton except for short answers of when they were leaving and the itinerary for the rest of her trip. Luke noticed the obvious shift in their interactions but when he opened his mouth to ask what was going on Ashton told him severely, ‘don’t.’

Alouette continued her silent treatment even on the plane, she didn’t make her inevitable comment about take-off being her favorite and instead placed her airpods in her ears and stared out the window.

This continued for weeks after the Spain trip and Ashton tried not to let it get to him but he hated the change between them and the constant coldness that surrounded her. In a way it proved Ashton’s point that if something were to happen between them this would be the result. On the other hand, nothing happened and this still was the result.

“My lady,” Ashton greets her cordially while she’s in her creative room. Her laptop is open and papers are scattered in front of her. “I’ve made all the arrangements for your Paris trip, the flight leaves tomorrow at ten o’clock and I’ve made sure your ladies have all your baggage packed.”

“Thank you,” she answers quietly not even bothering to look up at him.

Ashton nods silently then exits the room. His kind and gentle Princess has turned icy and resentful towards him. He can’t say he blames her but it still hurts all the same.

•••

On their journey to Paris a month later, it’s another silent flight save for Sydney, her assistant, going over her itinerary for the week. It’s fashion week in Paris and Alouette would be making appearances the whole time while also modeling for the final show.

Then there’s a Jeweler's Ball where Alouette will be wearing the newest, most notorious and most expensive jeweled necklace.

The whole ordeal was a bit of a headache for Ashton because he really had to crack down even harder on his security team since she’ll be modeling in one of the shows. It helped to distract his thoughts from Alouette and his feelings for her because he was constantly on the phone.

“And then the day before your modeling debut, there’s a few hours open where you’ll be going to The Orangerie Museum and Monet’s bridge. Then at 7 a.m makeup will—“

“Wait, I’m going to the museum?” Alouette interrupts her jerking her head to look at her assistant.

Sydney stares at her wide eyed. “Y-yes. Ashton made sure to set time aside so you can go and view it since he’s your favorite painter. I can change it if you don’t want to go?”

“He did that?” Alouette asks in disbelief and glances up at Ashton who is sitting near the cockpit. He’s scrolling through his phone and talking in his ear piece.

“Yes. Would you like me to change it? He already arranged everything to be shut down for you—“

“No, no, please keep it,” Alouette smiles at Sydney. Her heart warms at the thought of Ashton doing this for her.

He knows how much she loves Paris and how much she’s always wanted to go to Monet’s museum and bridge but whenever she was in the lovely city she never had time. Security was an issue as well since it was such a tourist attraction. The fact that he did this for her proves he cares about her, maybe not as intensely as she does, but still.

This small act counts in a big way.

When the plane lands Alouette smiles at Ashton and grabs his wrist before he opens the back passenger door for her. He turns to her startled, this is the first brush of contact they’ve had since a month ago in Spain.

“Thank you for the Louvre,” she tells him gratefully.

“My pleasure, my lady,” he smiles, his hazel eyes blazing into hers.

•••

Her trip has the normal run of the mill of going to fashion shows and dinners with the prime minister and some rugby and soccer games. When she was photographed at the rugby game one of the players, Raphael Sella approaches her by the sidelines, takes her hand and kisses it while greeting her.

She blushes because that’s how she always is when someone gives her the attention she deserves—even if it isn’t from Ashton—but he can’t help to see red. Ashton approaches then pushes the photographers away politely yet sternly in French then guides the Princess away by the point of her elbow.

•••

The meetings and her walk at the fashion show went swimmingly.

He’s standing guard by the double doors of her hotel suite while Alouette is getting ready for the Jeweler’s Ball taking place at the Louvre. She’ll be wearing the l’incomparable necklace that is the riveting new piece from the jeweler.

The whole ordeal makes Ashton uneasy because the necklace is worth $55 million and a perfect target around her neck. He understands why they chose her to wear it, she’s elegant and poised and the necklace will look divine on her. The Princess is priceless compared to the bauble and his security measures have increased tenfold.

Her glam team has spent hours doing her hair and makeup, she even has a jeweled crown that belonged to her great-great grandmother Amelie.

Ashton’s throat went dry as a desert when he saw her emerge from the suite wearing a midnight black dress. The neckline is just below her throat with the necklace perched perfectly atop it. The way it’s designed makes it look like a falling rose with a beautiful yellow diamond at the center.

“What do you—“

“Your purse ma princesse!”

“Oh! Thank you, Charlene,” Alouette spins around and Ashton is floored once more.

There’s a slit that travels up her right thigh, invisible until she walks, the fabric sashaying around her leg. The back of her dress is wide open revealing the smooth skin of her back which glitters when the light hits just right.

When she twirls around he’s captivated by her eyes, vibrant and sparkling and blue as the sea. She is absolutely stunning and Ashton can’t form a coherent thought.

“My neck is already hurting,” she says stepping closer to him.

He’s still staring. He knows he’s staring but he can’t stop. It physically pains him that he can’t have her on his arm or stroke his fingertips over her back to see if her skin really as soft as it looks.

Alouette is staring at him expectantly, eyebrows raised waiting for an answer. For any kind of response.

“Because it’s so heavy,” she prompts and he’s still silent and staring. “Earth to Ashton.”

She shakes his bicep gently and he finally snaps back to reality instead of the hazy violet daydreams. He clears his throat and blinks a few times.

“Sorry, my lady you . . . you left me speechless,” he rasps.

She blushes and looks down, her fingers are spinning the band of her bracelet. The one she got from Ashton. He looks down then takes her hand hesitantly, her fingers are cold compared to his warm touch.

“You’re exquisite, Alouette,” he confesses gently.

Her name finally falls from his lips and it was like a beautiful melody to her ears. A soft gasp escaped her, head snapping up to look into his hazel eyes.

“You said my name,” she whispers smiling wide.

“I’ve been torturing myself for three years of not uttering it, I don’t want to do that anymore.”

With a careful hand he lifts his left to stroke the apple of her cheek with the backs of his fingers. With an even more careful step, he moves closer and she tilts her head up to him. She waits in bated breath anticipating his next actions. Will he kiss her?

“It’s been torturing me, too,” she admits breathlessly.

He leans down closer, the tip of his nose touching hers, he breathes her in. His eyes close at the scent of lavender, vanilla and a hint of orchid. “I’ve hated this whole month of not talking to you. Can you forgive me?”

She squeezes the hand that’s holding hers, desperately wanting him to close the small space between their lips. Her voice is gone so she just nods, the action causes their lips to bump together.

“Car’s here, along with the five faux ones,” Luke announces bursting through the door. “Oh, shit!”

The loud noise and interruption forces Ashton and Alouette to jump apart thus ruining the moment between them. Their moments always seem fleeting, here and gone in a blink of an eye.

“Wait outside, Luke,” Ashton orders with his jaw clenched. Luke wastes no time running from the suite, the door slams shut behind him. He laces his fingers through his, bringing her hand to his lips and kisses it. “We’ll continue this later, my l—Alouette,” he catches himself.

She giggles then nods.

“I suppose I can wait a few more hours.”

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton writing #ashton irwin writing #ashton 5sos #ashton 5sos writing #ashton fluff #ashton angst #bodyguard!ashton #ashton smith #5sos writing #ashton imagine #calum hood #luke hemmings #ashton irwin imagin #ashton irwinf fluff #ashton irwin smut

73 notes · View notes

utterlyhopeful-fics · 5 years ago

Text

Broken Edges- Part 6

I’M BACKK 😘🥳

The wait is over and Part 7 will be posted tomorrow afternoon! (I can GUARANTEE a fight..or two.) Feedback is always appreciated. As always, I hope y’all enjoy the next chapter. Let me know if you’d like to added to the tag list!

Steve Rogers x Reader/Bruce Banner x Reader/Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: language, general angsty angst, fluffy Bruce

Catch up HERE

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

(The Next Morning)

Stirring from an inherent sleep, Y/N sensed a firm hardness pressed against her right cheek. She continued to further nuzzle herself deeper into its solemn comfort, calmness overtaking her sanity. Time seemed to transpire differently when locked in a technological jail cell. Her left leg was partially thrown over Frank’s as they lay entangled in one another as if they were any ordinary couple waking up on a late Saturday morning.

Her lids remained darkened as a small moan escaped her lips accompanied by a tender stretch of her achy bones. Frank instinctively pulled her closer reluctant to let go. He couldn’t help but think he would definitely die a happy man if he got to hear that cute noise every damn day. His hand lightly gripped her chin tilting it upwards as they found each other. Fleeting, momentary peace.

Their noses on the cusp of brushing, their slightly chapped lips just mere inches away, Frank’s breath tickled a trail along her skin. It was a transcendent moment for the pair as they internally debated on who would dare make the first move. Y/N’s gaze traveled towards his lips as she unknowingly licked hers wandering what he tasted like. Would it be a searing kiss made out of desperation or a slow lustful kiss to savor? Whichever one it was, Y/N couldn’t deny she craved his touch.

He cupped her jaw moving closer to his targeted destination. It was then she felt a fire spread in her belly causing her heart to ramp up speed. After seconds of contemplation, Frank leaned the rest of the way in delivering an earth-shattering kiss upon Y/N’s forgiving lips. Her hands perched at the base of his neck slightly tugging at the thick black hair that had grown out over the past couple months. He moaned in response deepening their kiss as Frank situated himself on top of Y/N, pushing his hips against hers, creating a delightful electricity between them. Now this is something Y/N could get used to.

Y/N wanted more, desired to be closer to Frank. Frank made her feel alive, like she wasn’t the broken woman Steve forced her to be. He pushed her to be her own true character, igniting the spirit Steve only wanted to extinguish. It felt brilliantly powerful to be noticed and appreciated, and Y/N was addicted. Without thinking, Y/N wrapped her legs around Frank’s hips pulling him in like a second layer of skin. God, this man drove her wild. But somewhere deeply enrooted in Y/N was cause for concern.

She pushed the lingering thought as far away as humanly possible not wanting to think about him during her time with Frank. There was only one other man in their universe that made her feel complete, acknowledged, and understood; Bruce Banner. But she never got the courage to tell him instead burying her feelings in a secluded spot locked securely away.

But that was a story for another day. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her at this point. What she did know was that she needed to make the best of what she was given; Frank. So, Y/N squeezed her eyes tighter hoping to shake any thought of Bruce away, unwilling to let it encroach on this exact moment, but that was always easier said than done.

Y/N pulled away from his kiss finding Frank’s predatory glance. The military forced him to be a man of control but around her he found it next to impossible to resist the brazen woman he’d grown to care for. With their husky pants intermingled; Frank risked to speak first.

“Tell me to stop and I will. But—you have to do it. I can’t think clearly with you sometimes.”

Before her mind even had a chance to form a coherent thought, her lips were responding; “Don’t, I want this. I want you, Castle.”

“Thank fucking God.”

She pulled him down again reigniting their enthusiasm, unable to wipe the smile that appeared during their kiss. But reality creepily slipped back into her conscious just as an alarm blared through the tiny space; its echo uncomfortably surrounded them thickening the available air. Frank shot up first putting a protective arm over Y/N as her fingers gripped his forearm in return. This was new.

A sudden buzz notified them that the door had been unlocked as an unseen figure stalked closer inwards. Y/N heard the peculiar tone before actually seeing him. His heavy German accent mingled with his well-spoken English. Who was this guy?

“So happy to finally meet your acquaintance Ms. Y/N. I’ve heard wonderful things about you. My father spoke very highly of you. My sincerest greetings.”

Another maniac with an accent. Awesome.

Frank’s eyes bounced between Y/N and the dangerous man who just made his grand entrance. A look of apprehension betrayed his brown orbs.

“Uh, hate to break up the compulsive obsession but who the hell are ya?”

“My name is Helmut Zemo. My father, Baron was the sole creator of everything that we now stand for. Don’t you think he’d quite proud, hmm?”

Zemo actually had the audacity to bow as if she were royalty. She was certainly no queen especially to such an anarchist bunch of crazies, but she had no other choice than to intently listen to the stranger in front of them. After all, they were Hydra’s current lab rats searching for an impossible end to their demented game.

“God, you really are a cocky son of a bitch.”

A shrewd smirk slithered across his lips; “Tsk tsk, Mr. Castle. They weren’t wrong about your…spirit?”

Frank and Y/N hazardously got off the bed, Frank keeping a towering determined stance. How did she never notice how tall Frank was until now? With Frank looming over her, she moved to his side mimicking his posture before speaking.

“What the fuck do you want with us, Zemo? Do enlighten us.”

He snickered unable to contain the laughter tickling his throat; “Oh my my, you really are a feisty girl. We have great plans for you…. for the both of you. I would like your compliance but it is by no means required. Vrstehst du?” (Do you understand?)

“ты мудак.” (You’re an asshole.)

Frank whipped his head in Y/N’s direction; “Wait, you speak…Russian?”

“I’ll fill you in later Castle.” She squeezed his hand hoping to relay any sort of comfort.

Zemo’s shrewd voice reverberated; “That’s not all she does Mr. Punisher. That’s barely the tip of said iceberg for our beautiful girl. You are in for a treat my friend.”

Frank’s New York accent shined through in his times of nervousness bringing him back to the brave boy roaming the crooked streets; “Let’s get one thing straight out of the gate. We are NOT amigos so don’t play coy with me dipshit. That ain’t no plan of ours. What the hell is your endgame?”

Zemo loved baiting people especially those within his control; with no route of escapement. He thrived off the fear accumulating under the surface of their skin, the tremble of their tone, but his favorite, oh his favorite was when he forced the light to leave their eyes all hope being abandoned. This will be fun he thought.

“You two seem to be getting along swimmingly. I’ve been reviewing your records and we seem to have contrived the perfect genetic match. A phenomenal super goddess and ex-Marine forced vigilante. The perfect sob story if you ask me.”

Frank surveyed his odds of bulldozing his way out of this hellhole but upon counting the bodies surrounding him immediately recognized he was outnumbered. He needed Y/N in a place where they could utilize her powers, but that didn’t seem very plausible.

“Genetic match? What the fuck are you talking about, Zemo?”

“You’ll realize soon enough All in good time.” Guiding his eagle eye towards the hidden camera, Zemo simply smiled. He started his trek towards the door leaving his patients bewildered behind him with his hands clasped behind his back, his spine straight, and shoulders pointed. Authority my ass.

“Initiate Phase 1.”

Once again, the door bolted shut locking Y/N and Frank back into their designated room without any sign of answer coming their way. With the glass barrier back between them panic caressed through the stagnant air. Reeling from the minimal information given to them, Y/N was stunned into temporary silence. Frank’s attention was on the woman in front of him; “Fuck, Y/N. Where the fucking hell are your Avenger friends?”

(Avengers Tower)

If someone were to ask Bruce Banner his favorite spot on planet Earth, he would gladly pick his lab until the end of time. Beakers and test tubes couldn’t talk back. For once in his forsaken days, he got to be in control, fully in charge if only for the briefest of moments. Procedures and mechanisms released him of his anxiety, overall calming his heart rate from escalating to the point of disaster.

The newspapers got it all wrong about his pent-up aggression towards mankind. They forgot he was human himself. Though some found it easier to treat him as a science experiment, others decided on kindness and friendship. Y/N was one the fortunate few that didn’t manage to piss him off. Given her cruel upbringing, Tony prepared the team for the worst possible outcome, a deranged mutant finally freed from her own hell.

He remembered the way her blonde hair caught the sunshine on a perfect spring day when he watched her lost within her latest read, her clear aqua blue eyes meeting his as an equal, and how he felt electricity run threw his joints the first time his skin briskly touched hers. Nothing but a greeting yet somehow, he knew she was going to be phenomenal. Y/N adjusted to the high-tech superhero gig faster than he expected learning compassion and self-care since becoming her own woman. She never bothered with romance, or her appearance….at least that’s what he convinced himself of. It began with long nights chatting until dawn, two friends passing time with more than enjoyable conversation.

The Stark library was her clandestine fascination, Y/N worshiped divulging into a book lost in articulate words seemingly drawing her further from her own twisted reality. It was effortless to be around her and Bruce was addicted to her quiet and comforting nature. Not many people brought ease upon him. The couch was their second escape as it became routine to sneak away, propping her feet atop his thighs, stopping her glasses from slipping down the bridge of her slender nose as he pretended to not get distracted by her graceful actions.

Y/N had this habit of biting just the edge of her lip when a story truly piqued her interest, her limbs tightening with anticipation as she unknowingly squeezed his triceps unable to tear herself away from the worn pages.

Countless nights were spent hidden away from the troubles of their world. Some sleepless and others occupied by gentle naps. One in particular stuck out more than others…

(Flashback)

13 days. 13 agonizing days since he last saw Y/N, hugged her, and simply conversed with someone similar to his own IQ. Nick Fury had selected Cap and Y/N for an undercover mission in Russia. Incognito as a loving husband and wife on their honeymoon while trying to confiscate (insert cool piece of tech). In the past couple of weeks, Banner felt her pulling away, getting a little more out of reach every time, and he loathed it. Little moments at first; less time in the library, nightly talks dwindling, but the worst part was the body language Y/N aimed at Steve.

Sly smiles here and there, a touch of the palm when no one was supposed to be looking, and Roger’s stupidly irritating smile that made Y/N blush every time he looked her way. Bruce was an idiot, it was just easier to remain oblivious, unaware of the changing atmosphere at the Tower.

Steve and Y/N had just landed the quinjet as Friday notified Stark and Banner of their successful arrival. They were all giggles and soft whispers upon approaching the dock like they had a secret only they knew about. Bruce side-eyed the lovebirds through the glass not wanting to show his true colors or annoyance. It was then that Steve drew Y/N into his chest pressing a passionate kiss upon her lips before looking around, noticing the room bare of any witnesses, or so they thought.

He saw the foolish smile and glimmering light shine from Y/N’s ocean eyes before huffing and heading towards his hideout. Bruce knew she wasn’t coming tonight. It seems Y/N would have other nightly plans he’d rather not think of or else the Hulk was sure to make a scene.

So, he numbly headed towards the elevator before clicking the 5th floor button clueless to the doors slamming shut. Bruce instinctively opened the library door and settled into a chair across from the couch. He wouldn’t dare sit there. It held far too many memories of what-ifs, almosts, and could’ve beens. If only he had the balls to tell her how he truly felt. Oh well.

It was half past twelve when Bruce was deterred by the low chime of the door informing him someone else had entered the room. Odd, he supposed. He thought he would get his sanctuary for another blissful night. As he gawked at the unknown presence, he immediately noticed who the intruder was; Y/N. His book snapped shut forgetting about marking his page as his feet found footing on the plush carpet. She hadn’t seen him yet. The door shut behind Y/N as her back rested against the wood frame before quietly sighing.

Her appearance was disheveled, her blonde tendrils thrown into a sloppy bun as she wore an over-sized t-shirt that certainly didn’t belong to her. Steve’s. Her lips plump as if she had just left her lover’s bed in hopes of seeking him out, or so he wished. He stayed seated not wanting to draw additional attention to his strange behavior.

“Y/N- you’re…back.”

“Bruce, just the guy I was looking for.” She coyly smiled genuinely happy to see him.

“Ohhh, is that so? I figured you’d have other things to catch up on. It’s good to see you Y/N, really.”

Y/N walked over to their sofa before propping her elbows along the edge, resting her jaw in her palm. Her memories didn’t serve him justice. He was kind, handsome, and beyond attentive to her intellectual needs.

“I missed you. Steve isn’t big on reading…or talking much for that matter. It’s nice to see a simulating face.”

“Psh, I’m sure you managed just fine without me. You always do.” He tried to hide the disappointment seeping into his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. Above all, Bruce reminded himself that he was her friend first regardless of his growing feelings.

“You made it back in one piece. I assume the mission went well?”

She chuckled, her fingers fidgeting in her lap unable to sit still; something was bothering her.

“Indeed. Steve is uh, quite the charmer. Almost too believable if I do say so myself.”

Bruce stood up suddenly catching Y/N off guard as he made his way back to the shelf to return his latest adventure. Out of his peripheral vision, Y/N began moving his direction closing the gap between them. With his back faced away from Y/N, he felt a small hand reach for his shoulder in a soothing manner. Y/N stood behind him as the silence lingered on. Before he could grasp what was happening, her arms encircled his waist as Y/N hid her face between his shoulder blades. Her touch brought calmness to his anxious mind; his muscles instantly relaxing as his own hand guided on top of her resting on his stomach.

She mumbled a modest “Hi.” before burrowing back into him. Bruce couldn’t conceal the blush that crept into his cheeks. He was merely glad she wasn’t able to see his reaction. No other words needed to be spoken, it was pure and simple. He steered her hands upwards as he kissed the indention by her thumb, directing her hands over his chest finally resting upon his beating heart. It was unspoken, mutual admiration both parties thrived off of. Y/N and Bruce just didn’t quite fully understand the significance of their unexpressed connection.

But that was the past, now he had the atrocious opportunity of living in the present with no Y/N in sight.

(Present Day-Avengers Tower)

“Meeting dismissed. We are staying on alert until Y/N is found and brought back safely. I suggest you all be ready to go. Rogers and Banner, stay behind.”

Fury’s tone mixed with Tony’s eyes shooting daggers initiated an uncontrollable eye roll from the Hulk. This outta be good. As everyone else made their way towards the door, Steve huffed unsure of what was about to go down knowing it wasn’t good news.

Natasha was the last of the bunch remaining. Her hand grasped the knob in hopes of hightailing it out of the stuffy office before hearing Tony’s callous voice; “Ah ah, Romanoff. You seriously didn’t think you’d get off that easy, now did you?”

“I don’t see how this has any ties to me. I don’t know what—”

“What I’m talking about? Of course, you do my dear, you’re not that dull. Or did sleeping with Cap disable your inability to decipher between respectful decency?”

Nausea caught in Steve’s throat as his eyes met Natasha’s. Fuck. Bruce lounged in his chair with a satisfied smirk; Steve had the sudden urge to punch him but withheld…at least temporarily.

Tony and Fury resembled two very pissed off individuals; each leader trying to top the other. Silence encapsulated the room, everyone stared at one another unsure of how to proceed with the events in place. So, Director Fury stepped up first; “Can anyone tell what the hell is going on with the lot of you? Wait a minute, don’t answer that. I already know some of you have already lost your damn minds.”

“Language.”

“Language my ass, Rogers. Since you so kindly volunteered to share first, please do so.”

His breath staggered, his jugular beginning to pound under his skin, sweat beaded across his dewy forehead. Sink or swim time.

--------

Tags: @kaithezaftig @awesomefanficlover@marvelfansworld@sergeantjbuckybarnes @hista-girl @calwitch @silent-loucidity@flightofthefantasies @lovely-geek @shannon124 @hulksmashin-bannerpackin@siren-queen03 @heyiamthatbitch @girls-inred @kielemarie @donner5822 @sophiria @iluvsumbucky@xstevenat @artemis-lana @bla-369 @itsallyscorner @jay-the-mothafuckin-gay @artemis-lana

109 notes · View notes