#but there WILL be mr mind bookmarks in the future!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robynlilyblack · 2 years

Text

Forever and after

James Potter x fem! reader

Summary: Y/n overhears James' confessing he wants kids one day to Sirius and Remus and freaks out a little

Warnings: swearing, mentions of eating, periods and sex, fears of pregnacy, pain and giving birth, James being the best boyfriend, established relationship, hurt/comfort, quick proofread

A/n: 1.5k words, in all honesty I have the same fears as the reader here, thank you for the request, I hope you like it x

Navigation | James Potter Masterlist

You were a bundle of comfort, the height of cosiness with your fluffy blanket around your shoulders, covers up to your waist, book in hand with a little bowl of goodies in an arm’s reach. James was in the living room with Sirius and Remus, playing some muggle game Marlene let them borrow…although it was more like stole along with her console in order to beat her high scores

“Fuck you, you utter wanker! Why’d ya do that? I had it!” you giggle at Sirius’ exclamation, even harder as he says he’ll be filing for divorce when you assume Remus takes the control and must beat score

Your hand dipped into the bowl, feeling around for a few seconds before you lower your book and find yourself pouting at the empty bowl. Slipping in your bookmark you wait a moment, deciding if more snacks was worth the coldness of leaving your snug little fort…and when your stomach squeaks you have your answer

Flicking off the cover and blanket you grabbed the bowl and slipped on some big fluffy socks to protect your feet from the icy cold tiles of your kitchen. Walking through you tried to stay quiet, not wanting to disturb James’ games or risk ruining one of their runs

“Guys keep it down will ya” you hear James say as you reach the kitchen “My girls either reading or trying to sleep” your heart flutters, smiling like an idiot as you grab some more snacks

“Simp” Sirius teases

“Fuck off you’re one too Mr Puppy” your boyfriend counters and you stifle a giggle

“He’s right” Remus chips in, the controllers stick still flicking away

“Who’s right?” they both wonder

“Both” he says casually before you hear the control drop and Remus grumble a ‘hey’

“You guys want to try the other game before you leave?” James says standing up and clicking open the disc box

“Yeah sounds good”

“Will y/n mind us staying? I feel bad that's she’s just in your room alone” Remus says and you smile, remember just how sweet James’ friends were

“No she’ll be okay with it. I’m pretty sure she’s having the time of her life, she looked so cute and cosy when I brought her snacks earlier, completely in love with that book of hers” he says a little dreamy and you shamelessly delay your journey back to your bedroom

“And your completely in love with her” you can almost feel Sirius’ eyebrows wiggling

“I am” your heart bursts “She’s the one, I just know it” and just before you felt like your heart couldn’t explode anymore he adds “Imma marry her and…I might even have a ring in mind” he says last but tentatively

“Siriusly?” Remus asks

“He is and I am” you wished you could shake your head at the pun but you could only hold your squeal and hug the bowl to your chest

It was at that moment you also decided to leave, not wishing to know his full proposal plans so you can still be surprised when you heard a question that made you stop just before closing the bedroom door

“So, can we predict little Prongs and Y/n’s running around in the near future?”

The length of time felt endless as you waited for his answer, but when it came you wished it hadn’t

“I hope so”

You gently closed the door, sliding down it and placing the bowl to the side, closing your eyes as you tried your best not to cry but fail miserably. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be a mum, you liked the idea of having kids but it was the idea of being pregnant and giving birth terrified you. The toll it would take on the body, the changes that took place, both temporary and permanent, the pain that came with it and lasted long after

You just didn’t think you could bear it, and now you were scared James would leave you, which was, really, a ridiculous notion, but your rational brain had long left the building now

After wiping the tears best you could, you climbed back into bed and shut off the lamp. You weren’t able to fall sleep but you managed to hold back the tears despite the sinking feeling in your gut. Short time later you heard Remus and Sirius leave, quickly followed by James coming into the bedroom, actions becoming much quieter when he realised you were ‘asleep’

He potters about, getting ready for bed and changing into pyjamas before you feel the dip in the bed and the covers lifting.

A warm arm wraps around your waist “Are you asleep?” he whispers, checking

When you don’t say anything, his arm just pulls you a little closer, head coming over to kiss your cheek when he must feel it. The stickiness from your tears and he gently turn your face towards him, thumb running over your cheek

“Love” he tries, kissing your forehead once more so you scrunch your nose and eyes and pretend to wake up “Hi” he gifts you a smile and another kiss but to the nose this time

“Hi” your voice a little hoarse and his eyebrows crunch

“Sad part in your book?” he asks so concerned and innocently you can’t help but begin crying again “Aww baby” he pulls you into his arms, letting you cry into his chest

“I’m so sorry Jamie” your murmur between the sniffles

His hand comes up to cup the back of your head “Want me to beat the authors arse? Even if their dead I’ll find their ghost you’ll be surprised how many of them are wizards” he assures but instead of a giggle he’s greeted with more crying and you holding him tighter

Now he knew something was wrong

“Y/n” he gently coaxes your head back so he can see your face, wincing at your shining cheeks and eyes “What happened?” he asks softly

“I…” you close your eyes, feeling two tears to fall down, one trailing the bridge of your nose

“Take your time” he brings your hand up and kisses your palm “We have all night” and when you open your eyes he’s smiling

“I overheard you talking earlier” you confess and his smile falters, what you can only describe as fear and disappointment entering his eyes

“What did you hear?” he wonders, to which your heart breaks as he tries his best to smile

“That you wanted to marry me and have your…kids” you say and his eyes close, grip a little tighter

“I know we’re young” he starts “I can wait as long as you want whenever you’re…ready” then his face looks pained “...that's if you want to of course” his fingers play with yours, clearly terrified of rejection and it destroys you

“I want to” you say without thinking, you did want to marry him, and to an extent maybe even raise kids if you could ever get past it but as he said you were young, you didn’t know if you even wanted them.

His eyes go back to you, a breath releasing as his shoulders relax “You do?” he cups your face, lights lighting fiercely when you nod in his oh so light grasp “Thank merlin” he pulls you in, cheek squished against his own “Sorry” he lets you go when you whine a little at being held to intensely

“No, I am” you’re sniffling again now and he looks so confused “Jamie it was the second part that freaked me out” you admit timidly

“Having kids?” you nod, looking almost ashamed “That's okay” he says shocking you

“It is? You aren’t mad?”

“Never” he says firmly, shaking his head “Love I’d be honoured if you wanted to have kids with me but you don’t want them that's okay too. I just want you. Forever preferably but realistically as long as you can put up with me” he says simply and you melt into his arms

Your leg comes around him, hugging him so much he falls onto his back, chuckling a little bit as you cling onto him like some kind of kola

“Hi” he smiles down at you when you move to rest your chin on his chest

“Hi” you smile back

“Can I ask one thing?” his thumb flicks over your cheek

You nod

“Is there a specific reason or do you not fancy them?” he asks softly, that smile still on his face

“It’s not that I don’t want them” his eyebrow raises “I’m more put off by the making of it” you confess earning a quizzical look

“Love I think you’ll find you enjoy that part quite a lot” he can’t help himself, not when you bury your face into his chest and he can feel the heat radiating off those pretty cheeks

“Jamie” you whine into his chest

“What?” he plays dumb, mostly so he can cheer you up a bit “Thought you liked being all fill-” you cut him off, hand slapping over his mouth before retreating��

“Sorry” you apologise in case your hurt him and he can’t help but peck your lips while chuckling

“You’re so cute ya know” he pecks them again, revealing in your bashful look before saying “Jokes aside. Are you saying it’s pregnant that’s scaring you?”

“And birth” you add

“Course” face softening as he nods “I can’t imagine how scary it would be for you, I mean I get worried when you’re cramps are bad, I’d probably drive you nuts if you actually were pregnant” that makes you giggle causing him to smile so brightly before he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead “You know we can always adopt if you want? Or there’s surrogacy if we want one that looks like us…well you I’d want them to look just like…” he suggests and you get a little overwhelmed just not in the way he mistakes it for “Aww love I’m sorry it was just a suggestion you don’t…” he backtracks seeing the tears

“No” you gently cut him off, wiping the tears before you explain “Its not that, they’re happy tears”

He sighs in relief “Thank merlin I never want to be the reason you cry” he holds your closer “Please know though if you decide that isn’t not just pregnancy and you don’t want them at all you won’t lose me, I meant when I said forever”

“Thank you” you smile, heart thankful you found someone so loving, tomorrow you would expand on your fears and he would listen never pushing, but for now all you said is “I love you Jamie” before resting your cheek on his chest

“Love you more” he kisses the top of your head

“Forever?”

“And after”

Thank you for reading ♡

#james potter x reader #james potter and reader #james potter and you #james potter #james potter and y/n #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james x reader #james and reader #james x you #james x y/n

543 notes · View notes

detectivecarisi-1 · 1 year

Text

The Senator’s Daughter Chapter 2 (Bodyguard! Dave York x Female Reader

AN: Lol I am alive. Honestly, I am even surprised this took as long as it did, but I transferred from my old job teaching at a middle school (after a student threatened to stab me lol) and moved to a high school, so I had to completely restart my curriculum, which, if you’ve been following me, is why I’ve been having a bit of a mental breakdown as of lately. But being at the high school has been so much better for me, so I am finally back to writing! I appreciate you all for your patience, and if you’re reading this, thank you for coming back :) I am currently figuring out how to make a masterlist, so hopefully that gets up soon. I have alot of oneshots in mind for Din Djarin (my beloved) and Joel Miller�� But we’ll see if I ever have the time to write those. I know there’s a ton of new people to the Pedro Pascal fandom so... that makes me a little nervous. But, stay tuned! Thank you again! - Megan

Rating: M for language, and discussions of drugs and alcohol. Future chapters will be explicit, so 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS DNI\

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: A lot of language (sorry, I have the mouth of a sailor, it’s hard to write without it), Eventual Smut (18+ FOR THE WHOLE SERIES), AFAB! Reader, HUGE divergence from canon, MeanDom!Dave York, Dom/Sub undertones, Brattysub!Reader, legal age gap relationship, Enemies to lovers, Mentions of drug/alcohol abuse, self-destructive behaviors, corrupt cops (probably only in this chapter), Politics lol, Minor violence (probably?), eventual mentions of parental abuse.

Tags: @fatimaisabelpascal

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, feel free to dm me!

________________________________________________________________

“Sir, yes, sir” she says before slipping into the connected bathroom to shower. Dave starts to turn away, to give her some form of privacy, but Senator Leland grabs him by the arm before they could leave. Dave watches, as the strict father act Leland was putting on earlier melts away, as he slumps against the wall near the bathroom door.

“I just… I wanna make sure she gets in okay.” Just like his daughter, Senator Leland looks completely different than how the news channels show him. Where she looks younger, and softer than the washed-up party girl TMZ shows, Till Leland looks more exhausted, and unsure of himself, compared to the confident, perfectly styled politician he saw on MSNBC. Dave, after years of service in the CIA, has a certain skill for reading people, and Dave doesn’t see Mr. Leland as a slimy, sure of himself politician, he just sees a tired father. His shirt is wrinkled, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looks exhausted, like he has been up all night. Mr. Leland stands, close to his daughter private bathroom, waiting for the sound of the shower to turn on, with one of his hands pinching the bridge of his nose.

Dave takes his time to look around the girl’s room. Just like the girl herself, her room is nowhere near what Dave would’ve expected. Despite the shoes in her bed, and the mascara stains on a pristine white pillowcase, her room is perfectly kept. She has a makeup desk, with a few photos of her smiling next to a small white dog. On a shelf above her bed, she has a collection of stuffed animals, each one seems to be placed carefully, with the smaller ones in the front and center, while the larger ones are arranged in a neat row behind them. He spots a bookshelf in the corner, with a few cookbooks, The Great Gatsby, and War and Peace, Dave raises his eyebrows, genuinely impressed when he spots a tasseled bookmark, sticking out of the book, she’s almost finished with it. Dave had expected her room to be a complete mess, with dirtied clothes, bottles of pills and alcohol, and the trash overflowing, but this is the room of a normal girl. She continues to defy his expectations.

Finally, the shower starts, and Dave watches the senator’s entire body relax with relief. Senator Leland turns to Dave, “You have kids, Dave?” Dave nods, “two girls.” The senator nods… “so you… understand what I’m trying to do. I just want to make sure she’s okay… I don’t know what else to do.”

Dave doesn’t respond. Dave would stop at nothing to ensure their safety and their health. Dave has killed for much less, but for his daughters? He would make anyone, anyone who even looks his daughter’s direction with a sense of malice, suffer until they are begging for him to kill them.

He looks at the senator, he sees a distraught father, desperate to save his little girl from her own self-destruction. Dave thinks… If this was his child, he would burn down every nightclub in the state and nail her door shut. Perhaps Till Leland’s plan is just a little more level-headed. Dave has never been the best at controlling his temper, so a he understands the Senator, sure, however, he still questions how things could’ve gotten this bad with the girl.

Dave simply sets his jaw, and nods.

The senator runs a hand through his hair, sniffs and turns to Dave, shifting back into the smooth-talking senator Dave met earlier that morning. “Let me show you around the house. I can show you where you’ll be staying.”

They leave the girl’s room, and Senator Leland leads Dave to a room, only across the hall from the girl’s room. Leland opens the door, revealing a simple, but still beautiful bedroom. There it’s painted a soft gray, with dark wood floors, clearly original with the house, Dave can tell they’re aged, even though they had clearly recently been polished. There is an oak desk along the front wall, and a queen-sized bed with a white comforter on the opposite wall, with a simple nightstand beside it. Senator Leland breaks the silence “It’s not much, I know. Before my dad passed he stayed here full time.” Leland opens a door in the back corner, “You have your own restroom, shower, bath, anything you need. Dave don’t hesitate to ask for anything else. I know this job isn’t the same as a simple celebrity escort. I want to make sure you are well taken care of, so you can take the best care of my daughter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You step out of the shower, confused, and more hungover than you’ve been in your life. You look in the mirror, and oh great you look just as fucked up as you feel. Incredible. Thinking back to the mysterious “Mr.York” in your room, you feel the heat of embarrassment warming the back of your neck…

No big deal, just saw the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and what a great first impression, vomiting in a trashcan… things could be worse… hopefully.

You look in the mirror, trying to piece together the night before, attempting to shake the weight of shame, and embarrassment that’s currently making you want to melt into the cool tile of the bathroom floor. It only worsens when you remember the look on your father’s face, he hasn’t looked that disappointed since… well ever. Some shit went down last night and its driving you crazy that you can’t remember a thing.

“Whatever… can’t get worse than this.”

You throw on some clean pajamas and stumble downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you enter the dining room, you spot Mr. York and your father, facing the stairwell, looking like something out of a sitcom’s “intervention” episode. If you weren’t so nervous, (and not insane) you would consider looking for a camera.

You get your first, clear-headed look at Mr. York, and, somehow, he's even more attractive when you’re (mostly) sober. You feel a little insecure, seeing him so perfectly put together and unaffected, and here you are, with your knees turning to jell-o.

Despite your distraction with Mr. York, you can still feel the tension in the air.

You walk up to your father and wrap him in a hug, that he doesn’t return, “Morning, old man. What’s the deal? Polling numbers down?” Your dad chuckles dryly “yeah, well, they’re about to be at least.”

His voice is raspy, he sounds exhausted. You hate that he feels like this, and, although you’re not exactly a genius, you know it’s somehow because of you.

You raise an eyebrow, and plop down on the seat across from your father… You pretend to think deeply for a moment, before gasping, “Oh, shit, they found out you did acid at a Nirvana concert in 91’?” you ask, trying desperately to lighten the mood.

“It was the Smashing Pumpkins, sweetheart, you know this. But no, that secret is locked away.” He smiles, and for a moment, he seems like it's just a normal morning, and that everything, deep down, is okay. But his face falls again, and he reaches across the table to grab your hand. “Honey… I love you very much, you know?”

Oh shit. This is bad, this is really bad.

You feel the color drain from your face, and your blood turns cold. You don’t trust your own voice to come out without squeaking, so you just give your dad a nervous smile.

“You… you got arrested last night. You were found passed out in front of a nightclub, and when the cops came to help you up… you dropped a small bag of pills.” He refuses to meet your eyes, he’s chewing his lip, and takes a deep breath before he continues, “If it weren’t for the fact that Office Benson was on the scene, you would’ve been charged. Benson owes me a favor so, he confiscated the pills and let you off the hook, but honey… you had Percocet on you. Where did you even get them?”

Your head is swimming. This makes no sense, you would never, ever, get hooked on meds like that. Alcohol? You admit you tend to overindulge, but opioids? No. No way, never in a million years. You’re trying to make sense of this situation in your head, trying to figure out how to explain to your dad that you would never, you could never do that to yourself, or him. You’re shaking your head, and tears you refuse to let fall start to burn your eyes… All is made a little worse when you look up at Mr. York, who is staring at you with the coldest eyes you’ve ever seen on a man. He’s judging your every move, he looks disgusted by you. You make eye contact, hoping he’ll soften up, but no, he just stares you down until you nervously look away.

You turn to your father, hoping that he starts laughing and this is just some sick tactic to make you straighten up, but he instead looks at you with red eyes, and “Honey, I’m just so worried about you… I can’t lose you.”

Fuck… you need a drink.

Everything, from the very moment you woke up, has just been too much. You want to leave, go to some shitty bar downtown, take a couple shots, numb these feelings that are currently making that sour taste at the back of your throat return, and maybe then you can have a civil conversation.

But it's 9am and your dad would probably die of a broken heart in front of you.

Or worse, Mr. York looks like he could kill you himself.

Instead, you resort to trying to talk, your voice warbled the tears you apparently can no longer hold back, “but… I don’t do drugs, dad, you gotta believe me I… I don’t do drugs.” Maybe if you weren’t so overwhelmed, things may have been a little more eloquent, but all things considered, you’re pretty proud of yourself for getting through that in one piece. Considering how much you feel. You feel like a child, you’re embarrassed, and scared, and… you can’t even begin to figure out how to process this.

Your dad straightens up a little, and he clears his throat a little.

“I know, honey, I know. They did a drug test, last night at the station, you’re cleanBut someone gave these to you, and you took them. You’re losing yourself, honey, you may not see it now, but I have to watch you slowly destroy yourself, I can’t do it anymore.” He stops for a second and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, takes a deep breath, and like he’s presenting a new bill to the Senate floor he says, “honey, you have now made it clear to me that you cannot control yourself. This is no longer a simple rebellious phase.You may not see it, but I know are going to end up killing yourself and dragging me down with you if you keep going like this. You have shown me that I cannot trust you to stop, and that you will push things further and further with no regard for yourself or others. So, this is Dave York, he’s going to be your bodyguard until after the election.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so maybe you could have handled your response better. But fuck this. Fuck Percocet, mega-fuck the person who gave them to you, and seriously fuck Mr. York.

After your dad broke the news that Mr. York was essentially going to be following you around, no privacy at all, to make sure you’re in, what your dad calls, “in a better place mentally and physically”, it’s all a blur of you screaming, “fuck that”, “absolutely not”, “I’m not a fucking child”, and “I’ll do what I fucking want”. Your dad, during your (admitted) tantrum, argued back trying to reason with you, but even more infuriating, Mr. York just sat, watching you with those cold, judging eyes. His lack of response only makes you angier, you want to affect him, you want to see him get up, and tell you to get over yourself, or explain why him being your bodyguard is great, hell, even if he just laughs and agrees with you, that would’ve been better than him sitting, completely still, while you have a complete breakdown in front of him.

After your dad yelled “I won’t let you kill yourself this way, you hear me?” you just… gave up. Stormed upstairs, where you are currently screaming into your pillow.

You fuck up one time, and all of the sudden you lose all your privacy?

Okay, sure, maybe this isn’t the “one time” you fucked up. But you’re 21 years old living in Virginia Beach, where there’s literally nothing else to do except go out and drink till you blackout, but, who even cares?

You’re losing your mind. You’re shaking, and crying, and, screaming in the pillow did nothing to help the very apparent emotional break you’re currently experiencing.

Nah, fuck this.

You walk over to your dresser and pull out the flask you take with you to clubs sometimes, you’re not even sure what this is filled with anymore, and honestly? You don’t even care. You need to calm your nerves, and you’d take a shot of fucking rubbing alcohol right now if it was offered to you.

You’re about to take a sip, about to let whatever this mystery liquor is burn down your throat, to soothe your nerves…

“I’m going to need you to put that down.”

That’s… definitely not your father’s voice. And of course, as if he appeared torment you further, you see Mr. York casually standing in the entrance of your room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

How did he even get in here so quietly?

“Fuck off, Mr. York.” You roll your eyes, “I’m in my own room, I’m not hurting anyone, get off my back.”

He doesn’t respond, just stands and watches you, like he knows that enough to make you break.

He’s right.

“Jesus Christ! I don’t need this! I don’t need a ‘bodyguard’! I don’t need you! What I need is to just… fucking calm down I can’t think straight, and I’d be a hell of a lot better if it weren’t for you standing here like a fucking serial killer. Get out!” You’re screaming at him, of course having your second temper tantrum of the morning.

And just like always, he just stands there, his arms crossed, not the slightest bit moved by your outburst.

“Are you all done?”

You laugh bitterly, “fuck you. Mr. York.” You look up at him, challenging him to say something back to you, to finally acknowledge your frustration.

He shrugs, “the little temper tantrum you put on downstairs not enough for you? Had to do it again? Are you so pissed off that you didn’t get your way? You think you can just scream your way out if it? Keep trying, maybe eventually it’ll work.” He’s leaning against your bedroom door, and he said that all like he was just reading the forecast for the week. He doesn’t even sound mad, just annoyed, as if the very fact he has to speak to you is an inconvenience to him.

Okay… so maybe him just standing there is better than him being affected by you, when he just stood there, it was a lot less embarrassing, hurt a little less. He’s staring at you, with his hand held out, waiting for you to pass over the flask, “you gonna hand that over to me or do I need to take it from you.”

You hand him the flask and get back in bed.

#Dave York #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york smut #dave york x afab reader #bodyguard!AU #Pedro Pascal #enemies to lovers #dave york fluff #slow burn #The Equalizer 2 #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #my work #My writing #smut #pedro pascal smut

138 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 3 months

Text

Five Fics Friday: January 26/24

Happy Friday everyone! It's been a long week, and I'm looking forward to eating up a great new fic! Check out these fics to start off your weekend, and I hope you'll come back on Sunday for a new list!!

Enjoy!

MARKED FOR LATER JOHNLOCK

The Edge of the Sea by weeesi (E, 16,659+ w., 7/12 Ch. || WiP || Pre/Post-TRF, POV John, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Pining John, Jealous John, Sherlock/Victor Trevor, Grief/Mourning, John's Trust Issues, Closeted John, Character Study, Panic Attacks) – Sherlock is dead. The next week passes in a blur. Mycroft invites John not to come to the funeral if he’d like, except for the fact that Mrs Hudson needs an escort and he’d really rather get through it than wonder forever what it would have been. He goes, and sits, and contains, and pours a cup of scalding-hot coffee down his throat which he hopes will burn down the tumble of nerves and anger and the type of sick-sadness he can’t examine too closely and the other feelings he won’t even acknowledge. He misses not missing him all the same. John spends the next two years alone. Sherlock doesn't.

The Man in the Iron Collar by Mamaorion (M, 128,771+ w., 29/? Ch. || WiP || 1800s Steampunk England Magical Realism AU || Circus, Faries, Flying, Soulmates, Murder Mystery, Prophesy, Healer John, Mind Reader Sherlock, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Animal Transformation, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates, Freeing Prisoner, Bullying, Kidlock) – The magical worlds of Faerie and humans have been separated by the Wall for over 1,000 years, but halfbloods, half-Faerie/half-human hybrids, continue to trickle into this magical, steampunky 19th century England. Healer Captain John Watson discovers a telepathic halfblood imprisoned in a traveling circus. While he tries to unravel his mysterious connection to this wild man, the two are pulled into London's halfblood underworld. A wave of serial murders will take them beyond the Wall and into the ancient battle between humans and Faerie.

MARKED FOR LATER GOOD OMENS

post-professional endeavours by darcylindbergh (T, 8,949 w., 3 Ch. || Comedy, Fluff, South Downs Shenanigans, POV Outsiders, Real Estate) – Red, you are the green tea latte to my hot cocoa. I can't believe we've been nearly three years in the soup together. I hope you enjoy this one!!

Mint Tea by CopperBeech (E, 23,006+ w., 8/? Ch. || WIP || Human AU || Cottager Aziraphale, Gardener Crowley, Light Dom/Sub, Dom Crowley, Sub Aziraphale, Top Crowley, Face-Fucking, Deep Throat, Consent, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Gratuitous Sex, Intercrural Sex, Quickies, Rough Sex, Baked Goods, Phone Sex, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Edging, Aziraphale in Lingerie, Nipple Play, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Cuddles, Stargazing, Picnicking) – Workaday clerical drone Aziraphale Fell unexpectedly comes into a cottage in the South Downs. But life is as drab as ever, and worse, a disastrous decision has left him with mint running rampant through all the beautiful plantings. It's clearly time someone got him- er, his garden - under control.

RECENTLY BOOKMARKED LOKIUS

more than words by unintentionallyangsty (T, 4,716 w., 1 Ch. || LOKI SERIES || Lokius, Post S2, Slow Romance, Awkward Romance, First Dates, Awkward Flirting, Attachment Issues, Abandonment Issues, Touch-Starvation, Slow Dancing, Shyness, Insecure Loki, Anxiety Attacks, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Hugs, Getting Together, Future Fic) – After everything - in spite of everything-, there are only a few words that have truly gone unspoken between Loki and Mobius. And, in spite of Loki's famed "silver tongue", none of these words ever seem to come easily. Luckily, Mobius is patient. They have all the time in the world, after all.

#five fics friday #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #lokius fic recs #good omens fic recs

28 notes · View notes

hibiscera · 3 years

Text

City of Wizards 🌙✨

Bookmark design! Just put it up for pre-order in my shop, the link is in my pinned post. 😊

#cookie run #moonlight cookie #wizard cookie #cinnamon cookie #cream puff cookie #blueberry pie cookie #prophet cookie #mir art #2021 #fun fact originally i was gonna do mr mind bookmarks #but then i realized..... i need to make money #but there WILL be mr mind bookmarks in the future!!#step 1 make mainstream dc merch step 2 make everyone love the worm #merch

243 notes · View notes

sturchling · 3 years

Note

Based on that salt trope where Marinette gets kicked off the class trip so she decides not to help plan for it or do fundraisers? Then the trip ends up not happening due to not raising the money or not preparing anything? The class always gets angry at Mariette for not helping them, but what if Marinette pointed out that it was Bustier's job to help them, not hers?

Marinette was furious. Lila was up to her old tricks. She had convinced the entire class to kick Marinette off the trip. She had told them that she didn't feel comfortable going on the end of the year trip if Marinette was going too. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause trouble. But she has been so mean to me, I think I'll just sit this out." The class, however, was quick to offer a different solution. They decided to get Marinette kicked off the trip. They approached Mrs. Bustier and explained everything.

The next day, at the end of the school day, Mrs. Bustier made a very public announcement of her decision. "Class may I have your attention? Marinette, it was brought to my attention that some members of the class aren't comfortable with you being on the end of the year trip with us. With that in mind, I want to ask you to be the bigger person and sit this trip out." Marinette was very upset. This was supposed to be the biggest trip yet. A week long trip to Los Angeles, with a lot of fun activities all over the city. And besides, Marinette is the class rep and Mrs. Bustier would expect her to fundraise for this trip! "But Mrs. Bustier I-"

"No buts Marinette. Now, I am asking nicely and for you to be the bigger person. Be an example for the class, and do the mature thing and skip the trip so everyone else can enjoy it. If you don't, I will just go to Mr. Damocles and have you officially removed from the trip, but I am giving you this chance, please don't make me regret it." Marinette wanted to argue, but knew it wouldn't get her anywhere. So, she just quietly nodded her head. The class snickered as the bell rang and they were dismissed.

Marinette raced home, clearly upset. Her parents saw her face as she rushed in and knew they needed to speak with their daughter. So they finished with the few customers they had, and closed the bakery for a little while to check on her. They found her in her room, crying on her chaise. It didn't take much prodding from them for Marinette to tell them everything. They were livid at how Mrs. Bustier had spoken to their daughter and what she had asked of her. It was completely unfair, and wrong of her to ask that in front of the class. "And the worst part is she is going to expect me to still help with the fundraising even though they won't let me go!" Marinette dissolved into a new round of tears, as her parents thought of what to say. Finally, Sabine spoke up. "Marinette, you don't have to help with anything. If you aren't going, than you aren't helping pay for it, simple as that." Marinette whipped her head up and stared at her mom. "But mom, I'm the class rep, I have to help-" Tom stepped in, "No, you don't have to help. If they don't want you on the trip then they do not deserve your help. Besides, it is your teacher's job to help with fundraising. She will handle it."

After a little more back and forth, where Sabine and Tom learned the extent of the extra work Mrs. Bustier had been giving to Marinette, they finally convinced Marinette not to help with fundraising. So, for the next several weeks, the class went about their lives, thinking they were going to have a great trip. but then they got the shock of their lives.

At the half way point of the year, they had a meeting to go over the trip. Marinette sat in the back, just reading a book and ignoring their conversation, determined to stay out of it. Mrs. Bustier started off the meeting, asking how much money the class had raised. They reported their numbers, which was about the same they had made last year. Of course, now that Marinette wasn't over working herself to make up the difference, they were significantly short of their goal. The class started to worry about money and why they didn't have enough this year. It always worked out and they made the same amount as last year, so why were they so short? "Don't worry class. I am sure that Marinette has gone above and beyond like she always does and can cover the difference. Just like I am sure she has made reservations for everything and has a great trip planned."

The class looked up at her expectantly. They may have kicked her off the trip and think she is a horrible bully, but they had to admit that the girl was the best at fundraising and planning. But they didn't get the reassurances they were hoping for. Instead, Marinette just disinterestedly looked up from her book, and said "No." before returning to her reading. The whole class was stunned. Mrs. Bustier recovered and forced a smile. "What do you mean 'No' Marinette?" Marinette sighed, placing a bookmark in her page before gathering her things to leave. "I mean no. No I haven't raised any money, and no I have made any reservations or plans." The class was horrified and instantly started yelling.

They called Marinette every horrible name they could think of. Saying how selfish she was and she should have been working just as hard as them all this time. Marinette, feeling frustrated, slammed her book down on the desk. "Why should I have done anything for this trip? You all kicked me off of it, remember? Why should I spend my time raising money and planning a trip that I won't be a part of. Besides, that isn't my job. Mrs. Bustier is the one who is supposed to help with fundraising and she is the one who is supposed to make the reservations, not me. I only ever did it, because I knew she wouldn't. But that isn't my problem this year. Good luck getting everything ready. This late in the year and this far behind, you will need all the luck you can get." With that said, Marinette grabbed her things and left, leaving the class in horrified silence.

They hadn't realized that Marinette wouldn't help with fundraising after they told her not to come on the trip. They thought she would be mad, but still help to try and convince them to let her come. They supposed that was a bit naïve of them. But now what are they supposed to do? Mrs. Bustier was just as lost as they were. When Chloe was rep, her father always handled everything. And when Marinette became rep, she took on all the extra responsibilities Mrs. Bustier didn't want, specifically funding and planning the class trip. They would be hard pressed to get everything set up for their trip to LA with the time they had left. The class bombarded Mrs. Bustier with questions, that she had no answers to. Now what would they do?

As Mrs. Bustier predicted, they weren't able to salvage their amazing trip to LA. They tried, and raised a lot more money, but it wasn't enough. They ended up having to settle on spending a few days at Disney World Paris. It was an okay trip, but not nearly as cool as LA would have been. When the class got back to school, they were ready to tear into Marinette for ruining their trip. But when they arrived, they found that Marinette had transferred out of their class and had made a bunch of new friends in her new class. For a long time, anything the class tried became a disaster, as Mrs. Bustier hadn't had to do any of this kind of work in a very long time. Lila was left stewing in her rage. When she got Marinette kicked off the trip, she never expected things to go this wrong. Her dreams of an amazing adventure in LA with Adrien and the class were destroyed, and any dreams she had of amazing future trips were likely going to remain simply dreams. All because she got Marinette kicked off of a trip.

740 notes · View notes

nationalharryleague · 3 years

Text

Ivy: Chapter One - Incandescent Glow

A/N: Chapter One is here!! I’m so excited to share this with you all and I hope you enjoy it!! You can find the rest of my writing in my masterlist and I would love love love to hear what you think about it in my ask! Thank you so much for reading I hope you enjoy it!!

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist

Chapter Pinterest Board

Before their paths had crossed, she had resigned herself to an existence void of the excitement, passion, and the simple enjoyment of a life in love that she consumed every day in her books. Their worn and yellowed pages held stories of adventure, mystery, and her personal favorite, romance, etched onto pages that held the ability to transport the novel’s reader. She turned to their worn leather binding as a way to escape her own dismal and boring life, living vicariously through star crossed lovers, double agent spies, and explorers who had set out to find the fountain of youth.

The tall tales were never enough to fill the void or tame her desire to escape, but they placed a temporary bandage on the wound she would rather keep covered.

She spent most of her time among her books, curled into the small pink velvet couch that sat next to the large fireplace, immersing herself into the words on the page and the silence that surrounded her, as she reveled in the warmth of the open flame. The library was the one place in the large estate that felt like a home to her. Books lined the walls, placed carefully into floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Most of them had been read through already, patiently awaiting their turn to be picked up once again for her to experience another journey through their pages.

She chased a homey solace within those four walls, a comfortability she could never obtain anywhere else on her husband’s large estate. The mansion was a massive stone fortress that sat on acres of land she had never been granted permission to fully explore. The greatest freedom allowed to her were the well mannered and dignified walks she took around the garden, sometimes a trip to the small stream that ran across the edge of the property with a book tucked into her basket; but as winter fell, as it always did, she was forced back into her library.

Snow fell gently outside, covering the large and manicured lawns with a bright white blanket of quiet, but her concentration and tranquility were startled away from her when three too loud knocks fell onto the large mahogany door. She knew the knocks well, and exactly who they belonged to. They were the only ones that ever seemed to disturb her.

“Dear,” she heard her husband, William, call through the door. “May I come in?” He was boring and overbearing, but he was always polite when it came to her library. She could give him that.

“Of course,” she hummed in a slight annoyance, hearing the door swing open with a creak, as she tucked her bookmark into Gulliver’s Travels’ well loved pages. It was hard for her to tear her eyes from the book, not yet fully out of the story land she had been consumed by for hours now, but when she did, she was met with two men instead of one.

“I wanted to introduce you to the new groundskeeper, Mr. Styles.” William spoke far too loud for her quiet room and in his usual dull tone, which was somehow made even more boring by the beautiful man standing next to him.

Mr. Styles was striking.

He had chocolate brown curls that fell in tousled waves pushed back from his forehead and vibrant green eyes that zeroed in on her with an intense but friendly gaze. A polite smile graced his pink lips which caused a pair of dimples to ghost over his cheeks, softening his rather imposing large figure.

He was tall and had broad shoulders and muscular arms that didn’t completely fit into his vest and suit jacket, and she could tell he was uncomfortable in such formal dress. He stood perfectly straight up and down, like any sudden movements might bust him out of the most likely hand me down outfit, and his slightly awkward appearance made it difficult for her to fight off a more than friendly smile.

She moved towards him, the pink roses embroidered on the delicate white fabric of her dress falling down around her as she stood from the couch, and with a greeting knod of her head, she extended her hand towards him to delicately shake. His hands were frozen as he took her hand and bowed his head to her, a side effect of the snow blanketing the ground outside, but they were also strong and calloused.

Their contact shot a spark up her arm, assuredly from the cold of his fingertips.

“It’s delightful to meet you, Mr. Styles,” she spoke with a soft but confident voice, bowing her own head towards him gently as he released her hand.

“Thank you for having me, Lady Taylor,” he spoke smoothly, with a deep and musical voice, his sharp jaw brushing against the starched high fabric of his collar. She liked the way he spoke and made a note to make sure she heard more of it in the future.

She hoped she had controlled her face and didn’t outwardly cringe when he called her by her formal title and her husband’s last name. It was an identifier she deeply loathed, representative of all she had become. She looked forward to whenever they got a moment away from her husband and she could ask him to call her Y/N, similar to moments she had in the past with all of the staff in the mansion.

“Of course,” she smiled. “We’re glad to have you.”

“He’ll be staying in the cottage on the east side of the property,” William informed her, bringing her attention back to him.

“That is the one near the stream with the ivy on it, if I’m not mistaken. Correct?” she directed her question towards her husband, toeing the line of an appropriate amount of small talk, while also encouraging the conversation to move fast so she could return to her book.

“That’s the one,” the dull man answered with a nod. “I’m going to show him to it now. I wanted to introduce him because you might be seeing him around the estate.” He paused, stepping closer to her and she felt her muscles tense slightly. “We wouldn’t want you getting startled by a stranger, now would we, darling?”

“No, we wouldn’t,” she answered with a tight lipped smile. She could never get used to his patronizing tone, even after three years as his wife. With a deep breath, she steeled herself as he got even closer, reaching his hand out and pushing a curl that had fallen from her gathered bun at the base of her neck behind her ear, then pressing a kiss to her cheek that lasted far too long to be in front of a guest. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment and she watched as Mr. Styles’ gained an uncomfortable blush to his as well.

With a patch of dampness still clinging to her cheek, William backed away and returned to their new guest’s side.

“It was lovely to meet you,” the new man said, a seemingly sympathetic look in his eye. “Your library is beautiful.”

His complement of her books brought a hint of joy back to her features. “Thank you very much. If you ever need anything to read, I may have something you could borrow,” she chuckled, raising her hand to gesture towards the rows and rows of books. “I can only read so many at a time.”

“I will keep that in mind,” he said, his lips perking up in a sideways smile that showed off one of his dimples.

William left the room without anything else to say, Mr. Styles following soon after, but for some reason she could not shake the sound of his voice and the look of his dimple from her mind. Even when she settled back down next to the fire, knees tucked up beneath her and Gulliver’s Travels back in her hands, his face remained. She found herself rereading sentences two or three times before comprehending them, her focus lost to the handsome man who was now living in the small ivy covered cottage. She was intrigued.

A few days passed before she saw him again.

Once again, he had roused her from a book while she read, making an awful scraping noise as he tried to remove the ice hanging from the outdoor windowsill of her library. He must have been watching her through the window because when her head shot up to investigate the noise, he already held an apologetic look in his eyes and mouthed ‘I’m sorry!’ to her through the window. He looked quite cute like that and she couldn’t help but release a laugh.

She decided to abandon the epic love story she had been consuming, choosing to focus on another object of interest as she moved towards the large window and opened it. A frigid wind seemed to slap her in the face, making her realize just how red his nose was. She could only guess how cold he was and how long he had been scraping ice off the house in only a flimsy wool coat.

“I am so sorry I disturbed you, Lady Taylor,” he profusely apologized, but she only smiled in return.

“No trouble at all,” she shook her head. “And please call me Y/N. I’m only Lady Taylor in front of my husband.”

His face held a slight surprise, obviously unfamiliar with such a casual relationship with his bosses. “Oh, alright then, Y/N.” He held a shy grin on his face as he looked up at her through the window, extending a hand for her to shake. “Well then, call me Harry.”

Harry, she repeated to herself. It suited him. She liked his name and the way his strong jaw and pink lips moved when he said it.

Their hands met in a less formal handshake this time, her body hanging halfway out the window into the cold to reach him. The same shocks made their way up her arm again and she blamed them on his frozen hand.

“Harry,” she started, liking the way his name felt on her lips. “You seem like you are about to freeze to death out there. Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea?”

She knew her husband wouldn’t be home for at least another hour, a result of meticulously monitoring his schedule for the last three years in an effort to appreciate her limited freedom to its fullest. William was a creature of habit, spending every Wednesday across the county with his younger brother in his own massive home; allowing her time to relax, no longer held to the absurdly formal high standards her husband held for ‘the lady of the house.’ And today, she decided she could exercise that freedom by inviting Harry in for tea.

“I couldn’t,” he tried to politely deny, bound by strict rules of etiquette in ‘high society,’ whatever that meant.

“I insist. You look frost bitten.”

When he nodded his head in concession, she couldn’t help the bright and triumphant smile that stretched across her features.

It wasn’t long before she was leading him through the massive home towards the servants quarters and her favorite part of the mansion: the kitchen. As they walked, they moved under ornate arches and impressively high ceilings, passing walls decorated with portraits of her husband’s dead relatives that seemed to judge the two commoners as they passed. She assumed her husband hadn’t given Harry a tour of the main house, as every time she snuck a peak at him, his eyes were wide in amazement at the lavish home.

The deep maroon satin fabric of her dress flowed behind her as she led him down winding hallways and past massive grand staircases. The grandiose decorations and atmosphere began to dwindle as they made their way to the servants quarters, the house taking on a much more bare-bones look. The hallways were smaller and left a pale white, a stark contrast to the brightly colored walls that lived in the rest of the house.

He followed her down a small spiral staircase that opened into a kitchen that emitted a welcoming warmth the rest of the sterile house lacked. A large stone fireplace was set into the wall to their right and copper pots and pans hung from the walls. A large cabinet held stacks and stacks of dishes of every sort and a perpetually bubbling pot of water hung over the open flame. But the centerpiece of the room was the long wooden table that was covered in flour and surrounded by smiley women kneading balls of dough.

“Hello sweetheart!” chimed one of the women from the table, her older round face framed by grey hair holding onto flushed cheeks and a wide smile. Her grin seemed to calm an anxiety that was perpetually inside her. “How are you doing today?”

“I’m doing very well. Thank you, Mary,” she smiled back at her. “How are you?”

“She’s been talking our ears off all day, Y/N,” the youngest girl, Grace, piped up from across the table, her long black hair pulled from her face in a ponytail that reached her bum. She couldn’t have been older than 16. “Thank goodness you came down here to distract her for a moment.”

“Oh hush, Grace,” Mary playfully scolded her before turning her attention back to Y/N. “My boy had the highest marks in his class this week. Isn’t that just incredible?”

“That’s fantastic!” she exclaimed, knowing how hard the boy had been working on his studies as of late from how highly his mother always spoke of him.

“It’s all because you let him borrow your books,” the older woman said in a softer and more sincere tone. “He reads them so fast now and his instructors are so impressed.”

“I am always happy to lend them to Robert. He’s such a good boy. I always miss him in the winter when it is too cold for him to come to the grounds to play.”

“Spring will be here soon enough,” the last woman at the table, Siobhan, spoke up in a thick Irish accent. Her fiery red curls were pinned up on top of her head and flour was smudged onto her freckled nose.

“The almanac predicts that we should have an early spring this year,” Y/N heard Harry’s deep voice cut into their conversation behind her. She watched as all the eyes belonging to the women at the table went wide in his direction like they hadn’t noticed him prior.

“Ladies, this is Harry Styles,” she introduced him, turning back to face him just long enough to take in his shy and somewhat awkward wave to the women. “He’s the new groundskeeper.”

“What happened to John?” Grace asked in a slight whine, her face falling in disappointment at the news.

“She had a crush on John,” Siobhan cut in quickly to give Harry context. And while Grace denied her infatuation with a defiant ‘did not,’ her cheeks betrayed her as they turned a beet red.

“William said he got married or something of the sort,” Y/N lied, knowing William had fired him during a particular mood swing. While she held a deep distaste towards her husband, she was afraid to hint at that to the women in the event they didn’t follow his explicit orders due to their second hand dislike of him. She would never forgive herself if they happened to lose their jobs because of her.

These women were her only friends and she cherished them.

“Good for him,” Mary said before quickly turning her attention back to the curly man in the corner, staring at him intensely, as if she could see all his deepest secrets if she just looked hard enough. “It’s good to meet you, Harry,” she finally spoke, voice holding a motherly suspicion. “How did you become a groundskeeper?”

He seemed shocked that anyone would ask him a question at all, stammering slightly as he answered. “I always enjoyed being outside when I was a child, and as I got older, I found that I had quite the green thumb,” he spoke shyly, pulling his hand from behind his back to flash the ladies a thumbs-up. “I started working on estates a few years ago and I send whatever I can back to my mum and sister in Cheshire.”

At the mention of his mother and sister, Mary’s face softened. All in the room could tell that she had deemed him trustworthy and respectable, pushing away her worst nightmares of him having bad intentions on the estate she ran inside and out.

“What a good boy,” she spoke jovially, like if she was closer to him she could have pinched his blushed and dimpled cheeks.

“Well,” Y/N began in an attempt to change the subject, “Harry has been out in the cold for who knows how long so I’m going to fix us up a cup of tea.”

“Y/N, that is what we are here for,” Siobhan said, letting out a chuckle.

“Oh no,” she waved her off, making her way towards the cabinet and retrieving a sachet of her favorite tea and a teapot. “You’re all busy and I am very capable of making my own.”

She felt Harry’s eyes on her, surely confused about the relationship she had with her staff, as she skillfully navigated around the kitchen. She knew she looked out of place wearing her formal dress, a jeweled belt even wrapped around the empire waistline, as she moved about with the women in aprons covered in flour. But she felt comfortable here, like she was experiencing a loving hug from an old and less stressful life she once lived.

Soon she was holding a silver tray with an ornately decorated tea set delicately placed upon it, Harry trailing behind her while she carried it back to her library without spilling a drop. He continued to watch her with an inquisitive eye as she expertly crafted teas for both of them, although she knew his chill had long left his bones, before she settled onto her pink couch, Harry sitting in a matching armchair across from her.

“The way you are looking at me makes me think I owe you an explanation,” she smirked over her tea cup as she brought it to her lips.

“Ma’am,” he began, but corrected himself to “Y/N,” after she shot him a playful yet disapproving look. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Fine then. I’m just going to talk to myself and if you happen to hear details about my life that might help you understand me and this house a bit more, then so be it.” She spoke calmly, with a regality that she had spent years perfecting.

Harry’s lips perked up with a closed lipped smile that seemed to say ‘you got me’ and an attentive gaze, signalling her to go on.

“I think it is probably quite obvious at this point that I did not grow up in wealth like this,” she started, ready to explain herself to the man across from her for some reason she couldn’t pinpoint. “I’m friendly with the staff because I was one for most of my life. I was a servant girl growing up, very much like Grace. My family did not have much other than too many children and I left home to start work in estates like this one when I was 11.”

He watched quietly from his seat, not giving her much of a reaction at all.

“I met William when I was 17, when I started working for his aunt in her home. He tried to propose, for the first time, after I knew him for three weeks, but his mother said no because I wasn't born into the nobility. And honestly, I was relieved because I did not like him one bit.”

Harry let out a small chuckle at her words that quickly and involuntarily brought a grin to her face.

“His mother died two years later and he proposed again, no longer needing her blessing as he then became the head of their family. He offered me the world if I were to accept. He told me that we would travel and see the sights and that he would support my dream of becoming a writer. But most of all, he promised to take care of my family financially.” She took a long sip of her tea and swallowed hard before finishing the most painful part of her story. “So I accepted, but he never followed through on any of his promises.”

“William isn’t a bad man,” she continued, “although he isn’t a particularly good one either. He likes control of his house and his wife. It is I that made a naive promise to him and I have spent every day of the last three years paying for it.”

She watched as Harry’s exterior softened slowly as she spoke with radical honesty, looking like he wasn’t sure what to say that could comfort her. While she retold the story in a calm, cool, and collected manner, she hoped she was able to fully conceal her true hurt that attempted to fight it’s way to her face.

“Well,” she said with a cheerful new tone to her voice, brushing off her somber and self-pitying mood, “now that I have spoken about myself and you may have heard some of it, would you like some more tea?”

He raised his eyebrows inquisitively at her sudden change in tone, but decided not to push it any further. “I would,” he nodded. She felt his eyes on her as she stood up and made her way back to the tea pot, wishing she could read his mind. When she returned, she poured his tea carefully and went to set the pot back down, but she was stopped when his hand grasped onto hers.

His skin was now warm, hot even, from his tea cup; but the same shocks still remained when he touched her. She couldn’t help but notice how well her hand fit in his. Her eyes first found where he held her, both of his hands cradling one of her’s gently, then they flickered to his face. Emerald green eyes bored into her own, that surely held an element of shock in them at their contact. His face was soft and sympathetic as he looked up at her from his seat. “Y/N,” he sighed, goosebumps forming over her arms as she felt his warm breath float over her skin. “I’m sorry.”

Before she could answer, she heard the familiar roll of the wheels of her husband’s carriage begin to crunch on the gravel outside the window. Her eyes shot towards the sound coming from the circular driveway and she regretfully peeled her hand away from his own, immediately missing his warmth.

“You have to go,” she instructed softly. “Head out the door to your left, make a right at the end of the hallway, and then head down the second staircase. There’s a door that leads out to the back garden on the left.” Her directions were detailed and concise, like she had used the escape route herself many times.

Harry quickly scurried out of the chair and towards the door she was now holding open for him, but before he made his departure he turned back to look at her one more time. “Thank you for the tea, Y/N,” he said, previous panic traded for sincerity on his face.

“You’re welcome, Harry. I quite enjoy your company,” she confessed. “We will have to do this again.”

He smiled softly before turning on the ball of his foot and taking off down the hallway. As he rounded the corner and disappeared, she heard the front door open and William’s lumbering footsteps clomp onto the shiny marble tile of the foyer. Her eyes flickered back towards the two tea cups that sat on the small table in the library, knowing if William came to find her, he would inquire about who she had tea with. Gritting her teeth and letting out a sigh, she made her way to the front door to greet him. But not before she closed the library door tight behind her and made a mental note to ask Mary to retrieve the cups.

“Hello my dearest,” she breathed through her perfectly rehearsed smile. “How was your visit with Gregory today?”

“Fine,” he dismissed, leaning in to kiss her cheek and scratching her skin with the stubbly mustache he was desperately trying to grow for some reason. “What’s for dinner?”

“I can go ask Mrs. Jefferson if you would like,” she offered, always feeling odd when she referred to Mary by her last name. He didn’t answer her with words, just a negative grunt that she assumed was denying her attempt at escape.

“Is that a new corset?” he asked abruptly and she watched in disgusted horror as his eyes settled in on her chest. She knew that she was just a warm body to him most of the time, but his grotesque excuses for manners always shocked her.

She pressed her lips together into a hard line, holding back every awful thing she could think of that she wanted to spit in her husband’s direction. Instead, she just sighed and gave him a kurt “yes.”

“Alright,” he grumbled. “They looked bigger. I thought you might finally be pregnant.”

Just the thought of being pregnant with William’s child made her want to refund her lunch onto his riding boots. She could only imagine what a child consisting half of him would look like. She hoped it wouldn’t inherit his bulbous nose, or his beady eyes, or his sparse black hair that seemed to be perpetually greasy.

She prayed every day that the rank smelling tea Mary gave her to drink every morning was enough to stave off a pregnancy forever. It came from a healer woman a few counties over, that some insisted was a witch, but the tea had kept her from falling pregnant so far and she had no plans of stopping her morning routine anytime soon. She didn’t care if the woman was Satan himself, as long as she never began to swell with whatever creature William routinely attempted to put inside her.

“No.” She tried to sound regretful. “I started my cycle this morning.”

“Too bad,” he said, eyes still staring down the front of her dress. “We will just have to keep trying.”

He eventually stopped oggoling her, starting down the hallway and leaving her in the foyer without another word. She let out the sigh of relief that she always did when he left her, releasing the tightly wound ball of stress inside of her that tightened whenever he was near, but she felt it return to her when she sat down at the long dining room table for dinner later that day.

She sipped her wine carefully, watching her husband scarf down his meal at the other head of the table, thankful for the long wooden surface that kept her far from him. But for the first time in forever, her husband and his revolting habits were not at the forefront of her mind.

Her thoughts were occupied almost exclusively by Harry. Surely it was because he was new, like when a little girl receives a new doll and it becomes the center of her universe until the novelty wears off. She also realized she knew almost nothing about him, cursing herself for overrunning their conversation with her own story before they were rudely interrupted. But the small fragments she did know about him, like his love of nature, the care he took for his mother and sister, and his general kindness and care for those around him, had begun to take root in her brain and she just couldn’t shake him.

“What are you thinking about?” William seemed to shout across the table, pulling her from her dreamland.

“I was trying to decide what china pattern we should use for this year’s spring gala,” she lied seamlessly.

“There will be no spring gala this year,” he said with a mouth full of food. “I’ll be in France on business.”

The spring gala was the highlight of her dismal life and she couldn’t help but feel like she had just been punched in the gut by the news. It was a celebration on the spring solstice that the Taylor family had been holding for the last century and was the most lavish and exciting event of the year. There was endless food and drink among lively music and beautiful opulent gowns, but most of all, there were people. This party was a priceless connection to the outside world and to have it ripped away like this was heartbreaking.

“But I’ve already had a dress made,” she weakly argued, picturing the light blue satin ball gown overlaid with a delicate white floral lace.

“You can wear it next year. I have to go to France for six weeks.”

“What is in France that is so important?”

William let out a frustrated huff and looked up from his plate for the first time to shoot her a threatening glare. He was not used to this sort of push back from the usually docile woman, even if her passivity was a meticulously rehearsed act. “A lady should not concern herself with her husband’s business.”

Knowing not to push the conversation, she kept her mouth shut but shot him angry daggers for the duration of the meal. She barely touched her food, but she continued to drain and refill her wine glass.

He pushed himself away from the table after his plate was all but licked clean, looking over at her crossed arms and slumped drunk body in the chair at the other end of the room. “I know you enjoy the gala,” he spoke as gentle as his brooding voice could. “But we will not be discussing this manner any further.”

“Fine,” she said curtly. When he turned to leave the room, she childishly stuck her purple tongue out behind him. She listened to the small bursts of air Grace released next to her, stifling laughter. She grinned lazily at the young girl clearing his plate. “What a pompous knob,” she muttered as she pushed herself away from the table and exited the grand dining room through the opposite exit William had taken. She heard Siobhan’s delicate footsteps following behind as she marched towards her bedroom, the thoughtful woman knowing she wouldn’t be able to undo her tightly laced corset with her currently clumsy fingers.

Siobhan held her hand and securely guided her up one of the many massive staircases that inhabited the mansion, saving her when she tripped on the fabric of her dress. Y/N was thankful for her support, but couldn’t stop thinking about how her contact with Harry felt earlier in the day felt so different. She had originally attributed the electric feeling to the cold, and then considered it a result of not being touched by another person in so long. But Siobhan’s hand did not hold the same sparks.

She stood facing the mirror in her bedroom and stared at herself as Siobhan carefully removed the layers upon layers of her clothing. Her fingers skillfully released the corset from her body and Y/N took in what felt like the first real breath she had taken all day, leaving her in the bright white shift dress that was the first layer she put on every morning.

“Siobhan,” she spoke softly as if she didn’t want to disturb the silence, “do you believe in true love?”

She was quiet for a moment before she answered. “I think I do.”

“Do you think everyone gets to have it?”

“I think everyone has chances, but not everyone actually gets it.”

“Do you think a life with William is a life worth living?”

Y/N’s own question startled herself, her lips letting the words materialize and fall from them without her consent. Her eyes fell towards the floor, unwilling to make eye contact with the other woman in the mirror after the jarring question.

“Y/N, you have had a tad too much wine tonight to be asking big questions like that.”

“I know.” Her voice was just above a whisper and laced with shame. “Will you get me my nightgown? I want to go down to the library and read before bed.” Siobhan nodded behind her, slipping the lilac fabric and wrapping a cream colored night robe around her, before helping her back down the stairs and into her library.

She ripped a dark red leather bound book off the shelf, not particularly caring what it was called or what it was about, plopping herself down on the ground next to the warm fireplace. She just needed to be somewhere else, transported far away from the nightmare that had become her life.

It took three pages before tears began to prick at the back of her eyes. This book wasn’t a tale of pirates, or war, or mythology; it was a romance, one she had read before. It told of a soldier returning home from war to rescue his one true love from a domineering stepmother, sweeping her off her feet and escaping to start a new life together. She remembered that they lived happily ever after at the end.

She couldn’t help the jealousy and sadness that boiled within her, mourning for a love and a life she would never get to have. She would be trapped within the giant fortress that had been designed to keep enemies out, but had ended up keeping her shut inside with her own nemesis. She grieved for a life she would never be able to experience.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted her wallowing. She didn’t recognize it. Mary knocked loudly, but only once, and William always knocked three times, with Grace and Siobhan usually knocking softly twice.

She unwillingly dragged her still wobbly limbs off the ground and made her way towards the door. When she opened it, she was met with the bright green eyes that had been stuck in her head all day.

“Harry,” she greeted with a weak smile, trying her best to wipe all her tears off of her hot and angry cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping to borrow a book from your collection, but I can come back later,” he said hurriedly, eyebrows knitting together as he took in her tears.

“No, come in,” she said, sniffling and stepping aside so he could enter.

“Y/N,” he said with concern in his voice, his gaze narrowing in on her like the books no longer existed, abandoning his original goal of the visit. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, not sure if she was telling the truth or not. She held her robe close to her body, trying to hide herself from embarrassment, refusing to make eye contact with him and directing her attention towards the walls. “Uh-,” she stumbled over her words, “what kind of book were you looking for?”

He got the hint to stop his line of questioning about her emotional state, turning his body to face the walls as well. “I was going to ask you for recommendations.”

Her heart swelled with his words. No one had asked her about her opinions on anything other than drapes or china patterns in years. In this house, she was meant to be a proper lady, and proper ladies weren’t allowed to have brains with real thoughts or opinions.

“I have a few,” she cleared her throat. “I keep my favorites on this shelf,” she said, directing him to follow her. The shelf was at eye level for her and when she went to stand in front of it, she felt Harry hovering over her shoulder, his warm breath falling over the skin on the back of her neck. He was too close, far too close for ‘proper society,’ and too close for a married woman to be to a single man. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to move back because all she wanted in the world was for him to move even closer.

“These are adventure stories,” she stammered and pointed to a few, thrown off by his proximity, “and these are mysteries.” He hummed in her ear as she spoke. “And these,” she spoke softly and pointing towards the largest section of books, “are romance.”

She stepped aside so he could examine the spines of the novels, watching closely as he recited their names under his breath, perfect pink lips moving smoothly as he spoke quietly. She couldn’t take her eyes off of them. She jumped when he moved to grab a book off the shelf, breaking the trance she had fallen into as she took in his incandescent glow.

“I think I’ll take this one,” he said just above a whisper when he turned back to face her, his face hovering only inches above hers. Their faces were so close, one move and their lips would connect, indulging herself in her wildest fantasies since she had met this man only days ago. He brought the book up beside their faces and she quickly stole a glance.

Pride and Prejudice, was embossed in gold on the dark purple cover. It was new, but had quickly become her favorite romance of all time.

Her eyes connected with his once again, taking in the mischievous glint they held and the boyish smirk that had found its way onto his lips. His smile was contagious, her previous angry tears swapped for a small grin of her own. “Who doesn’t love a romance?” he asked her, smirk turning into a dimpled grin.

She wanted to reach out and grab him by the lapels of his jacket when he stepped back from her and pull his face to meet her own. She wanted to tell him not to go, to lock the door, and take her on the couch. She wanted to ask him to take her far away from this fortress and never return again. But she didn’t. She just let him walk to the door, a new book tucked under his arm.

“Before I go,” he said abruptly, turning around once again to face her. “I have a question.”

“I have an answer,” she quipped, earning a laugh from the man that sounded like the most beautiful symphony she could have ever imagined.

“There’s ivy crawling up the house on the east wall. Would you like me to take it down?”

His words reminded her that he wasn’t some gallant rescuer coming to save her from a loveless marriage and bring her to a better life. No, he was the groundskeeper of her husband’s estate. Her heart sank slightly, but she was glad to be back in reality.

“Let it grow,” she instructed softly. “Let’s see where it goes.”

Chapter Two

Reblogs and feedback mean the world!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fic #harry styles series #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles reader insert #harry styles AU #one direction fanfic #one direction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles slow burn

334 notes · View notes

idanit · 3 years

Text

possibly underappreciated Good Omens fics I enjoyed once upon a time

Indirectly inspired by a video series about fanfiction I watched, I decided to pull together a list of Good Omens fics I have bookmarked as stories I enjoyed, but which have less than 250-300 kudos at the time I’m writing this. No particular order. They’re accompanied by short excerpts from my private fic reading notes (not originally intended to be read by anyone but me, mind), sometimes slightly edited for clarity—and, sometimes, the comments I left on the fics.

This list sat in my drafts for a long time and the recent S2 announcement reminded me of it. I’d love it if it inspired you to do something similar! Spread the love.

And mind the tags, please.

△ = general and teen ▲ = mature and explicit

thermodynamic equilibrium ▲ 7K the author has such an ear for dialogue and is unapologetic about what they want to write the characters like. They think of the characters as a mix of TV and book canon, but they feel like a homemade blend to me. (...) It’s very funny.

such dear follies ▲ 6K I can really picture this Aziraphale—Crowley as well, but her especially. She’s rather distinct. (...) Nice writing.

The Words Were With - △ 1.2K post-Blitz vignette, Aziraphale realizes what he feels and wonders if they're human enough for this. I liked it, and I liked the tag "transhumanism, but in reverse?", too—what an interesting idea. I'd say it's a vignette in a dire need of a follow-up, but, well, there's the show. The show is the follow-up. It fits very nicely within the canon and I totally believe it could have happened, like a deleted scene.

Gossip and Good Counsel △ 19K/? I love their companionship and how they're set up to be opposites by the management even though they get on pretty well. It feels very in keeping with the canon, but I feel like the fact that it's an F/F set in this particular time period adds a meaningful layer to the situation. It's women supporting each other in the world of men, working with the personas that are created for them, but, privately, being normal, well-rounded people. (...) and of course your writing is always a pleasure to read. (...) SDHDGDHDHDG Maisie is truly an Aziraphale.

Crowley Went Down to Georgia (he was looking for a soul to steal) △ 6K This was nice. Based on a song I didn’t know. Crowley goes to a funeral in the USA, one of a fiddler he knew and lost a bet to once. (...) The fic has not one but two songs composed for it and embedded inside it and that makes it even better. I really enjoyed the experience.

The Thing With Feathers △ 18K WARLOCK you'rE HORRIBLE AND I LOVE IT I would read an entire novel-length fic just of Crowley fighting his battles with Warlock. Written like this? It would be a blast. (...) The OCs are believably characterized and well-loved by the story. (...) Everyone seems to need a friend in this house. (...) This was so fun, and at the same time, their mission has weight here (...) We wonder about what the future holds even though we know it.

Here Quiet Find △ 11K This fic aimed for my head and the aim was sure precise. It was a story of Crowley sensing Aziraphale's distress and finding him in a self-quarantined English village in the seventeenth century, tired and anxious. It's hurt/comfort, so there was washing and bedsharing and I had to love it, so I did.

outside of time △ 2K Post-Almostgeddon, (...) nicely-written, short, but strung with a soft kind of tension and unspoken words. There's no drama, just "can we really", and "do you really" of sudden freedom. They fall into being inseparable. Book canon, which I like for this story (sitting on a tarmac). I liked the footnotes. There's a mention of Eliot. All in all, very much yes.

She'asani Yisrael △ 2K It’s Crowley going through a two-hour service and drinking blessed wine. He also keeps an eye on a boy he was asked to. It’s 1946. It was pretty good, so far the best Jewish GO fic, I think, from the ones I’ve read.

To Guard The Eastern Gate △ 11K I loved it. You really made Sodom feel lived-in; the description of Keret, Hurriya and Yassib's house and relationship were great. I got attached to both them and the city (...) Aziraphale and Crawley’s interactions were generally very entertaining. I laughed (...) Your rendering of their voices just lands so well (...) But then oh, the entire ending (...) hurt, hurt a lot, and your descriptions are so vivid.

If you’ve been waiting (for falling in love) △ 14K AAAAA a good ending line. The whole paragraph, in fact. I love a good smattering of philosophy in my fics, and this was really nice. I can get behind Thomas Aequinus's and Crowley's view on eternity. It's (...) a pretty simple fic (...) - the courage to express yourself and take a risk is awarded with winning what was at stake by the virtue of reciprocity - but the way it was intertwined with a study of how they would experience a forever was done well.

Holy unnecessary ▲ 2.2K It's well-written. (...) this is my type of sexual humour if I have any. So subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. Lovely.

The Parting Glass △ 17K Through the ages, they're dancing around their relationship until after the Armageddoff. (...) Wow, this was really, really nice. Very simple in its concept and nothing I haven't read before, but very well-executed. (...) AAAAH I LOVED the first chapter. I always like abbeys as settings, that's a given, but the banter, the good writing, the moral ambiguity!

Name The Sky △ 33K This Crowley is different, but very intriguing. Without his sarcastic talk, and much more animalistic. (...) I love how expressive Crowley is. (...) This fic has a very nice balance of drama and levity. I don't love Crowley-before-the-Fall stories very much, but with this execution I can read about it. (...) Okay I've read Crowley offering fruits, and even Aziraphale biting fruits, but the two of them sharing the apple? Outstanding. Ingenious. What a take.

A Flame in Your Heart △ 5K post-Blitz (why are so many dance fics post-Blitz?), they go to the bookshop and have an actually believable conversation. Then they dance the gavotte. It was really nice! Believable writing, emotions, the dancing! (...) Of course it's too early for them, (...) but the author's note? yeah.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me ▲ 32K At this point it's just reading original stories with characters with names and some personality traits that I recognize. (...) I really enjoy this, the careful dance, the opposition between their views. (...) This is well-written, wow. (...) it's not an easy read (...) this story feels very believably 50s, but also reaches out to the present time.

Liebestraum ▲ 10K/? It really is like music. I'm enjoying the writing a lot. (...) oh my actual god. This, this? Wow, uh. This came for my throat. (...) THE MUSICAL COMPOSITION, THE MOTIF RETURNING, THE AUTHOR KNOWS WHERE IT'S AT (...) Excellent. This hits the right beats so precisely, (...) and with feeling, too.

Down Comforter △ 2.4K and they lay down in angeldown, a soft rug ‘neath their heads– alright. Well, Crowley lies under Aziraphale's wing on a Persian rug after the Apocalypse, and they talk (...). It was sweet.

The Corsair of Carcosa △ 5K Crowley wakes up from a nap, visits Aziraphale for some drinking, and they read The King in Yellow that he happens to own. Good writing, so I'm bought. Aziraphale mentions Beardsley, so I'm bought twice over. My god, a discussion of etheral/occult madness? Caused by some wrong/true reading? Yes.

Very Good, Omens! △ 6K It's rather well-written, well-pastiched. People don't do that too often, nowadays - try to write in the style of a particular writer. (...) I love wordplay like this.

Reviving Robin Hood: The Complicated Process of Crème Brûlée △ 30K it's well-written (...), has a rhythm to it, and quiet humour. (...) Finally some nice, good, light writing. The attention to detail! (...) I'm still reading most of it aloud, the rhythm of it compels me to. (...) okay this does sound like Pratchett&Gaiman, the Good Omens itself (...) The fic is meandering, hilarious, sensitive in all the right places, and overall lovely.

my dear acquaintance △ 1K Oh. Oh. Yes, yes! Aziraphale in Russia, Russia I've never been in, but I can feel the snow and the evening of. Very real, and the bar, too. Attention to detail - vodka flavoured with dill, what on earth? Yes. He would totally have a distinct taste in operas and he would totally complain about a subpar one. I'm glad Tchaikovsky's there.

there is a crack in everything △ 1.8K This was good! Ah. Inspired by a comment (...), I went looking for Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese fics—really, what a big brain moment someone had and why have I never thought to look for them? This is Crowley getting suddenly anxious and Aziraphale going out of his way, through all his layers of not-thinking and denial, to console him. I also really liked how the Arrangement is a carefully unacknowledged partnership-marriage.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars △ 6K No conflict, no plot, one tiny arc like a ripple on the surface of water on a calm sunny day - of Aziraphale discovering Crowley’s scars. It's the South Downs and it's early summer. They bask and swim in a spring. Non-sexual nudity, love in the air like a scent. Nice.

Nineteen Footnotes In Search Of A Story △ 0.4K This is a Good Omens story told only through footnotes. Your mind can fill in the gaps. Fascinating (...). Also, it’s an experiment so apt for this particular fandom.

Hell on Earth △ 6.5K Oh, I loved it! How could I not love it: it's Beelzebub-centric, it's historical, it has classical painting, and even a hilarious scene with a cuneiform phrase, as if I didn't enjoy this story enough already. There are so few Beelzebub fics out there and I find searching for them very difficult (I accept recs if anyone has any), and it's such a shame, so this was really like a gift to the fandom. I absolutely adore the way you portrayed them, small, frightening, powerful, and confident. Also, it was super fun to see how different Crowley seems when we're not in his POV or in a story about him and Aziraphale. (...)

Go Up to Ramoth-Gilead and Triumph △ 24K Daegaer is... pure class. (...) hdhdhdh what pfttt why you so funny (...) I love this Crowley. (...) This got unexpectedly intense. (...) I love the little nods to the fact that Israelites, especially the poorer ones, still believe in other gods. I also really like that they sleep on roofs. It's just the kind of detail that grounds the story and shows that the author is, in fact, a historian.

#good omens #good omens fic rec #fanfiction #fic rec #idanit reads #i also have a multifannish F/F rec list in the works #all my bookmarks are private but i feel the need to share the love

64 notes · View notes

catboygretzky · 3 years

Note

best stucky fic recs pwease

Okay, disclaimer, these are all like five+ years old (which is the best Stucky era, imo) and definitely not the only ones I enjoy; these are just a few in my bookmarks on ao3.

In no particular order besides the order I bookmarked them and under a read more because there's a shit ton of them (really, it's a lot):

- hold me until we crumble; Not Rated, 23k

“Sam told me you were watching Antiques Roadshow,” Natasha says, shaking out her hair. “I assumed it was a national emergency.”

- despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained); Explicit, 72k

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

- family means no one gets left behind or forgotten; Teen, 11k

“Why did you think I wouldn’t like you for being gay?” Steve asks gently.

“You’re Captain America.” Eli’s got his teeth clenched and is resolutely looking ahead. “You stand for truth and justice and the American way. You stand for American morals. You stand for…” he shrugs awkwardly. “Not people like me.”

Steve blows the air out of his cheeks slowly, trying to figure out how to keep the anger out of his voice so Eli doesn’t think it’s at him.

Or, Steve comes to terms with his new world, and gains some children in the process.

- Mistake on the Part of Nature; Teen, 1.3k

Steve takes in Bucky's betrayed look and Sam's confusion, follows Sam's gaze to the pile of mangled fruit in the trash can. Sudden comprehension fills his face.

"Oh," he says. "Bucky found out about bananas."

In which an American icon is mourned. But probably not the one you're thinking of.

- Swear Jar; Teen, 1.5k

Bucky isn't the only troll in the future.

Steve has a Swear Jar and he makes the Avengers pay up every time they cuss.

- Barnes & Rogers and the Goddamn Truth; Not Rated, 19k

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

- perfectly right wrong number; Teen, 32k

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

- The power of the right shirt (a.k.a. God bless America); Teen, 1.2k

"He just…" Phil trails off, mouth gaping. He is staring at the field outside the house, eyes glazed.

Clint sighs. "Yeah, he just ripped a log in two with his bare hands."

- To fill it up with something; Teen, 21k

A fateful encounter with Dr. Strange leaves the Winter Soldier transformed, and Bucky Barnes reunites with Steve Rogers in a most unexpected way.

“Steve brings the puppy inside, into the apartment that doesn't quite feel like home no matter how much he's been trying. He isn't used to being alone. Before the war, he always had Bucky, and his mother until her death. During the war, Bucky was there, too—and the rest of the Howlers, of course—but Bucky always meant home. (And well, maybe Steve's already got a name for the puppy in mind)."

- build it bigger than the sun; Teen, 10k

“Yeah, because nothing says heteronormative like living in Dupont Circle for two years and wearing skin-tight shirts to hit on hot airmen when you go running in the morning.”

“Look, I know you’re being sarcastic but I really don’t get how no one picked up on that.”

Steve and Bucky try to work out their relationship. The Avengers keep getting in the way.

- Memories Circle (Like Birds of Prey), Teen, 32k

Everything seems to be going right, Steve's fighting with his Commandos, they've saving lives-- until Steve falls from a train, is taken prisoner, and turned into the Winter Soldier. Meanwhile, Bucky takes up Steve's mantle as Captain America, and thanks to Zola's experiments, he gets dropped into a whole new time, only to cross paths with a Steve who doesn't know who he is anymore.

Essentially, the events of CA:TFA, mild mentioning of Avengers, and CA:TWS but with Steve as the Winter Soldier and Bucky as Captain America

- The Gentleness That Comes; Mature, 9k

Steve Rogers never really views the things he had to do to get by before the War with any sort of shame or embarrassment. People ask him for his opinions on modern issues in interviews, but Steve has gotten good at talking around those types of questions. Fury insists that there's no way to answer them without casting a shadow of controversy across the reputation of the Avengers, and that's the last thing Steve wants.

But then a sex tape is released featuring Tony Stark in bed with another man, and Steve can't stay quiet any longer.

- salt for the sea; Mature, 7.5k

Natasha comes home with intel regarding the fate of the Winter Soldier; Steve leaves to go and avenge Bucky Barnes.

“It's a list of everyone who was involved in his death, and a rough timeline of everything that happened beforehand,” she tells him.

“And the notebook?”

“I explained what they did,” Natasha says, “The blank pages are for you to explain what you do to them.”

- Lone Cat and Samurai; Teen, 8.4k

"We lost Kitten America sir!" Junior Agent blurted out. Then turned an unlovely shade of purple. "I mean, Captain America. Who’s a kitten. Because magic. Sir."

- Waiting To Prove You're Not Alone; Explicit, 41k

Months after he woke up on the banks of the Potomac, when a reporter mistakenly assumes Steve would disapprove of homosexuality being as accepted as it is in the modern day, Steve accidentally snaps and unleashes his real opinion on the matter... and with that, a secret he's hidden for over eighty years.

When that secret comes looking for him in New York, Steve can only hope that he can get a second chance at saving his best friend, even if it means keeping his heart in check.

“Yeah, back in my day it wasn't tolerated, and because of that I knew from the minute I figured it out, that I’d never get to tell my best friend that I loved him, and sure enough, he died without knowing that I’d been in love with him for a decade."

- I'm Not Sick (But I'm Not Well); Mature, 30k

Steve Rogers doesn’t meet Bucky Barnes in the 1930’s. Instead, Steve meets him April 17th, 2012.

Well…sort of meets him.

In actuality, Bucky had almost hit him with his truck.

Or: The fic where millennial Bucky Barnes nearly runs over a freshly thawed national treasure, and what Steve Rogers did to adjust to modern NYC during those two weeks before the events of The Avengers.

- pure as the driven slush; Explicit, 11k

He should have worked it out sooner. But then, Steve always was a sneaky little bastard—had to have been, just to survive this long.

For the SteveBucky Fest prompt, "Steve is quite experienced while Bucky's never gone beyond second base with anyone".

- Let's Be Exposed and Unprotected, Explicit, 5k

Bucky’s pretty sure he should be into getting fucked through the floor while walls explode around him like in that Mr and Mrs Smith movie that Clint loves. But he likes it like this. He likes being on his back with Steve looming above him, big and naked, blocking out the rest of the world.

- Man of Steel; Explicit, 6.7k

It’s like Steve looked at his metal arm and thought ‘Challenge Accepted.’

- 5 Times Steve Got Arrested and 1 Time They All Did; Teen, 4.9k

What it says, 5 times Steve Rogers ended up in jail (with and without Bucky) + 1 time all of the Avengers got arrested with him.

- the best of you; Teen, 16k

Bucky is on a mission when he gets the call.

They tell him that Steve has been compromised.

[The story wherein Hydra captures Steve to create a new weapon. Bucky, alongside the rest of the Avengers, come together and work through the fallout.]

- pull apart the dark; Teen, 79k

Steve's unending faith in his best friend was beginning to look less like hope and more like fantasy. When they'd caught the Soldier – in a fire fight that still gave Sam nightmares – the only thing the man seemed to recall was how to hit exactly where it hurt.

Four months later, Barnes still refused to speak English. Refused to heed anything but Steve's voice.

So, all in all, it was not a great time for Hydra to attack New York. All in all, Sam really wished they'd just killed him, instead of turning Captain America into a baby.

- Not Another Supersoldier Fantasy; Explicit, 8.9k

Bucky finds a popular sex toy modeled on Captain America's own anatomy. Well, isn't this just perfect? Because even after all this time, he still hasn’t seen Steve’s supersoldier cock. But apparently in this day and age anyone with $29.95 can get a decent replica. The unfairness of this is of galactic proportions.

- the blood of the covenant; Teen, 7.5k

Steve has a "thing" for hot water.

Or, Sam Wilson adopts Steve Rogers.

- Mighty like Love, Mighty like Sorrow; Teen, 19k

After freeing himself from the Russians' mind control, Bucky is left at loose ends, drifting through the decades. Still, he's in no hurry to take up Nick Fury's offer to once again fight the good fight -- especially not when Fury has the nerve to put some imposter in his best friend's old suit and send him out to fight against Chitauri.

- Read Me Like a Book; Gen, 1.5k

In which Bucky accidentally becomes a book collector, because when the universe gives you a million biographies about your boyfriend, you go bookcase shopping. And then he finds out about The Grenade Incident, and the boys actually talk about it like actual adults. (Somewhere, Sam sheds a proud tear.)

- the broadest stroke of color; Gen, 16k

Sarah Rogers always loved Steve's hands.

"Your hands will do a lifetime's work," she'd say. "Remember to do the work you can for those you love."

Almost a century later, Steve does just that.

[The story wherein Steve draws comics for Bucky to help him recover his memory. Through a series of events, the issues are leaked, and Steve finds himself reviving the Captain America comics. He still isn't sure how that happened.]

- If You're Loved By Someone (You're Never Rejected); Teen, 9.4k

You’re fifteen when you realize why you stare at Bucky’s lips more than normal when he laughs and when he says your name. You lean into his shoulder when you walk next to him and when you’re sick you don’t fight off his soft hands. You tease him, he teases back and being around him is so easy you forget what it was like to live without him. You can’t remember life pre-Bucky and it scares you.

- Unusual Weather; Explicit, 8.7k

Bucky’s been at the Avengers Tower for three weeks before he finally gives in to Steve’s gentle coaxing and Stark’s cheerful waving of fistfuls of circuits, and lets them scan the arm.

It doesn’t go well.

- this city bleeds its aching heart; Explicit, 35k

The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.

- Good Boy; Explicit, 13k

Bucky is still adjusting to life with the Avengers, and Steve is willing to do whatever it takes to make him feel comfortable. Increasingly, though, what seems to make him comfortable is strangely intimate.

Surprise, Steve! You're a gentle dom and Bucky wants to be your pretty pet!

- Brooklyn; Teen, 8.8k

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

#told you it was long as shit #fic rec #stucky #mcu #what do people have tagged #fsdjghk whatever

58 notes · View notes

likeahorribledream · 3 years

Text

The One That Got Away

Chapter 7: Number One

Summary: Charlie tries to settle into her new routine, without Bucky. As she's finally getting back on track, she has to go on her first date with Potential Future Husband Number One.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: A little bit of angst, one jackass, worst mother ever.

The two weeks following the fight, Charlie spent her time either at work or with Steve. As she had promised him, she did all the research she could to find the best training possible with what they had.

The training was going well, both her and Steve were sore pretty much all the time. After a week of working out with him, she had decided to be the ‘’brains’’ of the operation and leave the ‘’muscles’’ part to him. She was way too out of shape for boot camps. Steve was happy to have her around to help him, whether she was working out alongside him or cheering him on while he was doing the exercises she was telling him to do; it was nice to be able to spend more time with her.

It took almost a week of them hanging out together every afternoon after work before he started to see a change. Slowly, his friend was coming back to him. She started to smile again and the first time she laughed he grinned non-stop for 5 minutes. It took her a little more than a week before she stopped waiting for Bucky to show up. She had been waiting for him outside every day for lunch, but he never came. Whenever they were working out in the park together, she was always hopeful that he would join them but he never did. Steve knew it was hard for Bucky to stay away and he was impressed that he had managed to do it for this long.

Every time he had seen Charlie searching for Bucky and looking sad when she couldn’t find him, Steve had wanted so badly to tell her why Bucky had said what he had said and did what he did but that would only push her towards him and ruin all the efforts Bucky had put towards protecting her, so he never said anything. In a way, he was relieved when he noticed she had stopped looking around the park in the hopes that Bucky had finally changed his mind but it also saddened him because he knew it meant she was starting to move on.

When Bucky asked about her and how she was doing, he never knew what to tell his friend. Should he tell the truth and say that she was still sad, making him feel more guilty in the process or should he lie and say she was fine, which he knew would make Bucky feel better and worse all at the same time. Bucky wanted her to feel better, he hated knowing she was still in bad shape but if she felt better, it meant she was forgetting about him and just the thought made him want to cry. Steve avoided answering by only telling his friend what the two of them had been up to with his boot camp, being careful not to tell him anything about how she was feeling. None of the answers he had for Bucky would make him feel better.

Ever since her fight with her parents, Charlie had been more distant towards them. She ate dinner with them every night, per their request. She waited until they told her she could excuse herself before walking away from them. She knew she was on thin ice and that anything could set them off, so she played the role of the dutiful daughter, doing everything they said as soon as they said it.

Charlie came back to her room after dinner. She had been sitting in bed, reading, for an hour before a soft knock was heard at her door. She put her bookmark between the pages open in front of her and closed the book, putting it on her lap. She told the person to come in and was surprised to see her mom. Ever since that night, her mom had been avoiding her. If she had something to say, she would send her father to tell her and Charlie was fine with it. Her mother wasn’t really high up on the list of people Charlie tolerated at the moment.

Mrs. Mathews looked at her daughter, no emotions showing on her face and stepped into her room to stand at the foot of her bed.

‘’This Saturday, you have your first date.’’ Her mother announced, like she was talking about the weather. As if it was nothing when she knew how much it would affect her daughter.

Charlie felt bile rise up in her mouth and her stomach dropped. She knew this moment was coming but a small, naive part of her had hoped they had changed their mind. Her mom kept talking, telling her all about her date. His name, his age, who were his parents, what job he had and where they were going. Charlie forced herself to listen to her mother but none of what she said completely registered with her and as soon as the door closed behind Mrs. Mathews, Charlie had already forgotten everything except that she was going on a date with Potential Future Husband number 1. She knew she was being childish but she refused to learn their names. She had named them PFH number one through five.

Having lost interest in the book she had been reading, she decided to go to bed instead. She put her book on her nightstand right on top of the one that had been laying there for the past 2 weeks. The book that Bucky had started reading to her. She turned off the lights and closed her eyes. She hated the fact that just the thought of Bucky made her sad, she hated that she missed him when he had made it blatantly clear that he couldn’t care less about her. That night, Charlie once again fell asleep with the images of Bucky telling her she wasn’t worth his time replaying in her head, ignoring the stubborn tears that were falling despite her eyes being closed.

Charlie’s co-workers knew something had happened but didn't know what it was. Just that it was bad, bad enough for her to close in on herself and put up her guards. She had even asked to be moved from the front desk to the back office and only work on the patients’ charts and files. The only person who was aware of the situation was the owner of the clinic, her dad’s friend who had hired her. He was on strict orders to fire her the moment James Barnes would show up at the clinic.

Everyone was worried about her, but they knew better than to ask questions. The whole energy at work had shifted, having lost their sunshine; the one person who could make anyone smile through a bad day or through pain. If someone was having a bad day, it stuck with them until the end of their shift because the only person who always knew what to say or what to do to lift their spirits up was hiding in an office, far from them.

They were just as surprised to see that no one was coming in to see her anymore. The friend that used to come eat lunch with her every day was gone and their most regular patient, Steve, hadn’t been seen in weeks. Although it seemed like the two were connected, it was just that Steve was focusing all of his time and energy on his training and didn’t want to risk ruining all of his hard work by getting hurt in an alley fight.

The next day at work, Charlie seemed even more closed off. Her co-workers had slowly started to see the old Charlie coming back to them but all of that was gone overnight. She came in, said a quick good morning to everyone and disappeared in the back office for the entire day. When they saw her again, it was at the end of the day when she left. She wished a good night, to no one in particular and walked out.

She walked straight to the park to meet Steve. No matter how bad her mood was, she never stood him up and always showed up to his training.

When he saw her arrive, he instantly knew something was wrong. Where there usually was a smile, he found a small pout; her face frozen in a frown. Her shoulders were slightly slouched and there was no energy in her steps whatsoever. She stopped walking and started looking around for him, he waited until their eyes met and waved her over.

As she walked over, she gave herself a small inner pep-talk to get into a good mood. Steve had been an amazing and supporting friend with everything that had happened, she knew she hadn’t been the best of company and brought down the mood so she forced herself to smile before reaching Steve and faked enthusiasm.

‘’Hey Stevie.’’ She greeted him, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

‘’Hey Char.’’ He smiled softly at her before bringing her into a hug. ‘’What happened?’’

She hugged him back, sighing. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ She whispered.

He took a few steps back to look at her. ‘’What are you apologizing for?’’

‘’I’m always in a bad mood lately, I always have problems. I’ve been a bad friend and I’m sorry.’’

‘’You don’t have to apologize for having a hard time. What you’re going through is not easy.’’ He hugged again before letting her go completely. ‘’So, tell me.’’

She motioned for them to start stretching, she was in a mood where she needed to blow out steam and working out with Steve was the perfect solution.

‘’I have my first date on Saturday.’’

Steve stopped stretching, looking at her with sadness in his eyes.

‘’Oh.. Char.’’

‘’It’s fine. We knew it was coming.’’ She tried to shrug it off.

‘’Wanna talk about it?’’

Charlie shook her head no.

‘’Wanna sweat about it?’’ He joked.

Charlie’s only answer was a big grin.

They spent the rest of the afternoon working-out, well Steve was working-out while Charlie was cheering him on, completely out of breath.

‘’I didn’t think I would ever be in a better shape than someone else.’’ He laughed in-between reps.

She stuck out her tongue at him. ‘’Ha. Ha. Ha. Aren’t you a funny one, Rogers.’’

‘’I know, I’m hilarious. It was about time you acknowledge it.’’ He smirked.

She rolled her eyes at him, smiling.

‘’I guess I was too blinded by my own flawless sense of humour to notice yours.’’ She shrugged.

Now Steve was the one rolling his eyes and laughed, pointing at his own head.

‘’How’s your ego? Good? Does that big head of yours make it difficult to walk through doors?’’

‘’My ego is fine, thank you for asking and yes, it is difficult sometimes, some door frames are smaller than others but I just learned to side step. I’ve gotten excellent at it.’’

Steve whistled, his eyes focusing on her head. ‘’Fascinating. I think I can actually see it grow before my very eyes.’’

‘’Aren’t you supposed to be training right now?’’

‘’Aren’t you?’’ He shot back.

Charlie gasped dramatically and they both started laughing. Steve went back to training, finishing today’s boot camp before falling to the ground, sitting next to his friend.

‘’You’re getting better every day Stevie. I’m proud of you.’’ She smiled.

Steve blushed at the compliment, not that anyone could notice, his face already red from all his hard work. She forced him to stretch afterwards, even if he kept complaining that he was too exhausted and he didn’t need to stretch even if deep down he knew he would be less sore the next day.

They walked home in silence, aside from their giggling. Anyone who saw them wouldn’t be able to tell that these two were full grown adults by the way they walked, shoving into one another; their steps going in every direction but a straight line, and by how they acted.

After an eventful walk home, they stopped a block away from Charlie’s house. It had become where they met and where they said goodbye, Steve didn’t come over anymore. They hugged once last time and went their separate ways.

Charlie felt so much better. All the laughing and running around almost made her forget what was waiting for her at home. Almost. But tonight, she couldn’t be bothered with it all. She had just had one of the best days in a long time and she was determined to not let anything ruin it. She was careful not to do or say anything that would set her father off, as soon as it was possible she disappeared to her room and finally let herself relax once she had closed the door.

She was getting ready for bed, brushing her wet hair from her, very much needed, shower. She was looking at herself in the mirror and being tired, she zoned out. Her eyes weren’t focusing on anything in particular, looking in her mirror at the reflection of her room behind her. She was looking around, still through the mirror, when something caught her eye; bringing her out of her thoughts. She gently placed the brush on her desk, to its rightful spot and turned around. She started looking around again, trying to find what had caught her attention but she couldn’t find it. She took a few steps to the side, when she saw it again. Something was shining in the light from her room. She walked over and picked it up.

Her locket.

She closed her fingers around it and brought her hand to her chest, where the locket usually would be and took a deep breath while closing her eyes.

‘’I’m sorry Gran. I know it meant a lot to you, it meant a lot to me too. I really wish you were here right now.’’ She whispered, almost inaudibly. ‘’I miss you.’’

As she opened her eyes again, she tried to think of a place where she could put the necklace. Somewhere that she would know it was safe, hidden from her parents but where she would still have easy access to it. Her eyes fell on the books piled up on her nightstand, finding the perfect hiding place. Her parents never looked through her books, they would never bother themselves trying to find out more about her interests.

She took the book that she had started reading with Bucky and found the page they were on. She hid the necklace in between pages, as close as possible to the bookbinding to not make it too obvious that it wasn’t closing completely because of the pendant. Closing the book, she put it back where it had been; under the book she was currently reading.

She fell asleep easily that night, feeling more at peace than she did the night before and every other night before that.

Saturday came around quickly, too quickly. Like everyone else, Charlie always looked forward to the weekend but not this time. Steve had tried to reassure her, saying it would go smoothly and that maybe she would even like him but she knew that if her parents had chosen him for her, he probably didn’t have anything in common with her but everything in common with them.

The pit in her stomach made it more difficult to get excited and to get ready. Even though she had half a mind to not put any effort on how she would look, she knew it would only mean more trouble for her so she decided to look her best, as if it was a real date. A date she wanted to be on with a man she liked.

She looked at herself one more time in the mirror to make sure her hair was secured into place, that her eyeliner looked good and that her dress looked flawless; not a wrinkle in sight. After all, she had to show her ‘’housewife potential’’. She heard knocking at the front door and took a shaky breath. She grabbed her clutch and opened her bedroom door, cringing at her father’s loud laugh. She walked downstairs, avoiding to look at the man waiting for her as long as she possibly could, that way she didn’t have to talk to him. Instead, she focused all of her attention on her feet as she walked down. It looked completely natural, like she was simply trying not to trip. Unfortunately, she reached the first floor and finally had to look up.

Number One looked handsome, too handsome. He had a smug look on his face, the kind of look that screamed ‘’I know I’m hot, I’m a big shot and better than you.’’ and Charlie hated that. It was going to be a long night.

She shook his hands while her dad was introducing him, honestly she wasn’t really listening and just nodded politely when he asked if she was ready to go.

He told her parents he would bring her back no later than 10pm, then shook her father’s hand. He turned around, opened the door and walked outside towards the cab that had been waiting for them; never looking back to see if she was following him. She followed not long after, a bit disappointed that he hadn’t opened the door for her and let her walk out first, guiding her with his hand resting on the small of her back like gentlemen did. Like James Bucky did.

The restaurant was nice and very expensive. The waiter walked them over to their table, right next to the window that looked over the street from where they had just come from. She followed the waiter, looking on the tables around to see what looked good. Great, she thought, ridiculously small portions. I should have eaten before this. Although it was really ‘’unlady-like’’, Charlie liked it. She didn’t care about the name of the restaurant or how much everything cost. She cared about actually eating and loving the food on her plate. That wasn’t going to happen tonight.

When they reached their table, Number One pulled out a chair and sat down. He didn’t pull out her chair, he didn’t ask her which seat she preferred; the one facing the wall or the one back to the wall. He barely even looked at her. Leaving her with the chair against the wall, she started walking over to sit but was stopped by the waiter who gave her a small smile. He pulled out her chair for her and waited until she was comfortably sitting before leaving them. She thanked him with a small nod and looked at the man sitting across from her, there was no doubt in her mind that he didn’t want to be here either. She wondered why he accepted to do this, clearly he had to be coerced into it otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

She was surprised to learn that he was here of his own free will.

‘’I like those kinds of dates, '’ he started. Dates, plural. Not his first time doing this.

‘’I like to see what kind of sad woman needs her parents to set her up on dates with men.’’ He snickered. ‘’Couldn’t find anyone to love you on your own uh?’’ He added with a mocking tone, pouting to mock her even more.

As rude as he was, Charlie sincerely didn’t care about what he said. He didn’t mean anything to her and his opinion meant even less.

Her eyes drifted to the window, watching people walk by as they looked curiously into the restaurants. Human nature, always so curious. The man in front of her kept talking, never noticing that she wasn’t listening to a single word he said.

The people on the street were much more interesting than he was, she was almost amused; a small smile at the corner of her lips. Her arm was resting on the table and her hand was under her chin, holding her head up. The small smile quickly faded when her eyes met with someone’s on the street. She sat straighter in her chair, her hand falling on the table. The pit in her stomach got even worse, the lump in her throat that had rapidly formed made it hard to swallow or breathe.

It was the first time she had seen him ever since that night almost 3 weeks ago. Bucky.

They both froze into place, even though a window separated them. Her heart started beating faster, just as his did too.

He had managed to avoid running into her for the past 3 weeks. Avoiding every place he knew she went to often, taking a different way home in case Steve would be bringing her over as he lived close to him. He thought that going out for a walk on a Saturday night would be safe, she usually spent her Saturday reading books or by sorting them and rearranging her shelves. He really didn’t expect to see her and the way her expression changed, Bucky knew she hadn’t expected to see him either. He finally broke eye contact, looking her over. It felt like he hadn’t seen her in months, when in reality it had only been a few weeks.

He noticed how dolled up she was and how beautiful she looked. He started moving before he even realized it, walking towards her.

When Bucky broke eye contact, Charlie also took the time to look him over. She wondered if his hair had always had that cute little curl at the front of it. As he started walking closer, her heartbeat picked up. Her heart was beating so fast and so loud that she was sure everyone in the restaurant could hear it.

That’s when he finally saw him; the reason that she was out on a Saturday night, the reason why she looked so beautiful. Number One.

It was like he had been in a trance when his eyes met hers, for a few moments he had forgotten why she wasn’t in his life anymore and why he couldn’t hear his favorite sound again, the sound of her laugh but when he saw the man sitting across from her, everything came rushing back and he was brought back to reality.

He stopped walking, meeting her eyes one more time; so many emotions went through his head and showed in his eyes. He sincerely hoped that everything he had wanted to say and every apology he had been dying to confess could be seen in his eyes.

Then, he turned around and walked away, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.

Charlie spent the entire date thinking about Bucky and the look in his eyes. He looked so sad but why? He never cared about her, he told her so himself. Hundreds of questions were running through her mind while she ate. She had barely ordered anything, she had lost her appetite.

When the check came, she was glad she did. Number One paid for his half and then pointed to Charlie, talking to the waiter like she wasn’t even there.

‘’She’ll take care of the rest.’’ He said, with a smirk.

The jerk. He wanted her to not be able to pay, to ask him to pay for her half because she didn’t have any money. He wanted her to feel humiliated. Can’t find a man and can’t pay for yourself? Pathetic. She could almost hear him say those words, his smug expression said it all.

Charlie looked at the waiter with a big, genuine smile on her face before grabbing the clutch that rested on the table next to her and opening it.

‘’With pleasure.’’ She said, pulling out a few bills and handing them over to the waiter.

He stopped smiling instantly, clearly angry that she hadn’t needed to beg for him to pay for her meal. It seemed like her parents had left out the part about how she worked everyday, which almost meant she got a paycheck every other week.

Now, he was the one feeling embarrassed. She had completely turned the situation on him and he ended up looking like the cheap date who couldn’t afford taking out women in places like the one they were in right now.

The waiter looked down at Charlie, grinning. He had seen and heard everything Number One had said and done since they had walked in and he was glad to see her put him back in his place.

They walked out of the restaurant and Charlie swore she could see smoke coming out of his ears. He waved over a cab and turned his face to look at Charlie.

‘’You can find your own way home.’’ He said coldly before sitting in the cab and closing the door, telling the driver to go.

Charlie sighed. Although he was extremely rude and she absolutely despised him, she really didn’t feel like walking home alone. Especially not in this dress and those shoes. Her dinner had been expensive and she didn’t have any money left to get a cab.

‘’What a jerk.’’ She said out loud, angry.

Suddenly she felt someone behind her, standing close to her. Too close. A hand rested on her left shoulder before it ran down her arm, fingertips brushing against her skin. They were the kind of little touches that would have made her swoon if she hadn’t been so terrified.

‘’Bad date?’’ Was whispered in her ear as the hand on her left arm reached hers, closing around it.

***

As I promised yesterday, chapter 7 is here! I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think.

34 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Hades and Persephone

Summary: Rachel works at her family’s bookstore where she’s surrounded by stories and myths all day. So what happens when Camden Town’s myth, Alfie Solomons, walks in.

//Totally inspired by Hadestown, who am I even kidding?

The little bell above the door jingled as someone entered. Rachel was hidden behind a stack of books so she couldn’t see who was coming in the bookstore.

“'Morning!” She called brightly so they knew the store wasn’t empty.

Heavy footsteps walked across the creaky, uneven floorboards accompanied by the soft brief thud of a cane. Along with the footsteps was the clicking of toenails on the wood, the clanging of metal, and the distinct sound of a dog panting.

“You allow dogs in here?” A gruff voice asked.

“Oh, uh, sure.” Rachel rounded the front counter to greet the customer properly.

Alfie Solomons was the myth of Camden Town. The bogeyman, the shadow in every alleyway. His reputation was menacing and nearly everyone in the community had a story about him.

And yet, he didn’t quite look the part of a monster. He was a bit intimidating in the flesh, but he was just a man. A bit shorter than she anticipated, yet well-built and wearing simple clothing.

The dog beside him gave him a more humane look about him. The dog was big but had a kind eye to him and as he panted and slobbering, he appeared to be smiling.

Rachel was a little frightened to talk to the man, even if he did appear less wicked in person. “I-that’s a very nice dog you have.”

“Yeah, thank you. Name’s Cyril.” Alfie peered at the young woman. “You’re not usually here, are ya? Never seen you ‘fore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m the owner’s daughter, Rachel.” She didn’t know why she was apologizing.

“Right, well your father gave me a book and it was utter shit,” Alfie replied.

The comment made Rachel’s spine tingle in fear. Would a bad book warrant Alfie to do something in retaliation? Would he burn their store down? Kill her father?

“I’m sorry I could refund you or-”

“S’alright, love, just wanted something better.” He walked further into the bookstore, looking around the shelves of new and used books.

“Oh.” She let out a soft sigh of relief. “Well, what do you like to read?”

“I like good books.”

Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, don’t we all?”

He turned into one of the aisles to scour the bookshelves. Cyril followed obediently.

“Do you like fiction?”

“Yeah.”

“Historical fiction?”

“Sure.”

“Well, we have new works. All Quiet on the Western Front. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

“Hm.” He grunted, still browsing the shelves. “What’s that about then?”

“The war if I’m not mistaken. Many people have enjoyed it, my father hasn’t been able to keep it in stock for very long but we just got some new copies.”

“Nah, nothing like that.”

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice and Rachel could only surmise that he was a veteran. “Further back then.”

“Sure.” His heavy boots trailed through the store, studying titles on the spines of books.

“I may have books on the royal family’s history.” She turned into the aisle only to see him disappear around the corner into the next one. Another grunt told her she was still heading in the wrong direction, so she put out a wildly different option. “Antiquity?”

It seemed to pique his interest. “Anything good?”

“Well, I’d only suggest good ones to you, I know you don’t like bad books.” She found him in the next row of books.

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well, not anything too long, yeah. M’very busy.”

“What about a collection of myths?” She offered; glad she was finally narrowing down what he was really looking for. “I find they can be enjoyable but not very tedious to read.”

He turned to look at her, curiosity in his eyes. “You sound very educated, anyone told ya that before?” He wondered.

“Well, I…” She shrugged. “Figure growing up with an infinite number of books around me would teach me a thing or two.”

He only grunted in response again. “Rare to find a very educated girl ‘round here. Your parents must not be very Orthodox, letting you get wild ideas from whatever book you can grab. Y’know there are some very scandalous books out there, love.”

She laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m aware, but every book has at least some little tidbit of information we can take away from.”

“And what do you think I’m gonna take away from these myths you’re offering me, aye?”

“The Greeks used gods to highlight man’s true nature in all its forms. Their gods were more relatable, better suited to explain how the world came to be, and how it works. So, I suppose it’s a commentary on mankind.”

He seemed impressed with the way she spoke, his brows lifting. “Right, well I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I?”

“I suppose so.” Rachel turned so she could look through the store’s catalog and find the book.

Alfie lingered by the front counter as she looked. He rested an arm on the counter and leaned over to see Rachel’s little setup. She had a cup of tea that was quickly cooling beyond consumption next to a book that had a ribbon in place as a bookmark. Curious, and a little neglectful of common courtesy sometimes, Alfie reached over the counter to pick up the book and see what it was.

This Side of Paradise. By F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Alfie read the dust cover with a frown.

Rachel returned with the book and saw him examining the book she was in the middle of.

“You like books ‘bout the war?” He asked, not looking up when she walked over.

“I wouldn’t say I like them but there’s a lot to learn from them.” She said, a bit taken aback at how at home Alfie made himself with her things.

“Yeah? Like what?” He turned the book over a few times before setting it back down next to the cup and saucer.

“The-I apologize but were you in the war?” She asked hesitantly. The last thing she wanted to do was try and assert her opinion on the war when she was in the presence of a veteran, especially if the said veteran was a notorious gang leader.

“I was a captain.” He made himself busy by looking around the rest of the shop, never meeting the shopkeeper’s daughter. “I wasn’t promoted by obedience or anything of the sort. I was promoted because I kept me men in line and I weren't dead. I don’t pretend to know why the fuck we were over there or what I gained from it. But that’s where I was for a number of years of me life.”

Rachel wondered if he had always been the way he was before the war or if fighting had disillusioned him. Nevertheless, she was certain that in all the stories she’d heard of Alfie, she never once heard that he was a captain in the war. “I suppose I won’t know what you know but I learn what I can from books like this.”

Alfie didn’t respond to that. “That for me?” He pointed to the book in her hand.

“Oh, yes, this is what you might like. Although, please let me know if there’s something else you wanted me to suggest for the future.” She handed the collection to him and went behind the counter to ring up his order.

“Right.” He examined the book like the one she had been reading, turning it over. “So your parents are Jewish then?”

Rachel paused as she was writing up the invoice. She wasn’t sure what she had said that would warrant the topic of religion. “My mother is, but my father isn’t.” She explained.

“Ah, another good Jewish woman snatched up by a Christian.” He tutted.

“He doesn’t believe in God.” She shrugged. “It’s the one thing they never agreed on.”

Alfie looked mildly amused. “And what about you? The half-theist, half-atheist?”

“You said I sounded well-educated. But I don’t have spiritual answers.” She smiled slightly. It was a strange conversation to have with a customer but she was oddly enjoying it. Alfie kept her on her toes, it wasn’t some mind-melting boring conversation about popular books. He was intrusive with his questions but almost in a well-meaning way even if he came off a bit gruff.

“Well, how about that.” He snorted. “I suppose books don’t have those sorta answers do they? Just scripture.”

“I do find it interesting that you’re a spiritual man who is buying a book about a polytheistic culture.” She said, continuing with the invoice.

“Well, figure you can read about it, right? Ain’t much of a sin if you know it’s utter garbage. It’s entertaining, innit?”

“Hm.” She nodded. “Eighteen pence.” She handed him the receipt.

Alfie dug into his coat to retrieve some coins. “What’s your favorite book, then?”

“I don’t have one.” She took the amount from him and put it in the till.

“Aye? Girl with infinite number of books at her disposal doesn’t have a favorite book?” He chuckled to himself. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

“I don’t pick favorites. They’re all different so why compare them?”

Alfie didn’t respond again. He looked down at the receipt. She had carefully written out his full name. He was certain that although she had given her name, he hadn’t returned the favor. “You know who I am then?”

“Pardon?” Rachel shut the till closed.

“Never mind.” He shook his head and pocketed the receipt.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rachel was minding her own business on her balcony. She was tending to her flower boxes trying to keep the little flowers alive in the smoke of London. It was her quiet time before opening up the shop downstairs. But there was a certain someone who didn’t care about store hours.

There was a sharp whistle from the streets below. “Oi!”

Rachel turned with her watering can in hand. “Oh, Mr. Solomons, good morning.”

“Gotta bone to pick with you, Miss Watkins!” He shook the book of myths towards her.

Rachel was a bit amused, albeit terrified. She didn’t recall giving him her last name. But the way he stood there with a grumpy look on his face made her stifle a giggle. Cyril was beside him, as per usual, his tongue lolled out as he happily panted.

“We open at nine, Mr. Solomons.”

“Right, well I’ll make sure that our conversation is over before nine.”

“Alright then.” She set her watering can down and ducked back inside. “I’ll just be a minute.” She called out the window before shutting it.

“Rachel, who’s that shouting outside?” Her mother was sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of tea.

“Just a customer, mum, I’ll handle it.”

“You don’t have to open for another hour.” She reminded her.

“It’s alright.” Rachel assured her and went downstairs to the shop. Pulling out her keys, she opened the front door up. “Come on in.” She allowed Alfie and Cyril inside. “Was there something wrong with the book?” She asked.

“Have you read the one about Hades ‘n Persephone?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s a fairly popular one.” She agreed, not sure where he was heading with the conversation. But she allowed him to lead as if it were a dance.

Alfie set the book down on the front counter. “S’bullshit, innit? I mean, what am I supposed to think ‘bout it, aye? Ain’t romantic, ain’t heroic. Just a right shame, innit?”

“I mean…” Rachel shrugged. “It’s tragic. Lots of Greek stories are tragedies.”

“But he lets her out for however many months, yeah, so what? I’m supposed to think he’s some sorta hero for letting her go then locking her back up again?”

“Every piece of writing is supposed to elicit a reaction from the reader. I think this myth has done its job with you.” Rachel pointed out, not sure how else to placate him. She couldn’t exactly change a myth to suit his needs.

Alfie snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Do you sympathize with Hades or Persephone?” She went around the corner to tidy up a bit as they spoke.

“Who could sympathize with Hades, aye? Fucking god of death, ain’t he? Not supposed to sympathize with men like that.”

Men.

The use of the word men was very telling to Rachel. So, she probed deeper. “Hades isn’t the god of death really. He is the god of the dead and he’s the god of the underworld. The Greeks didn’t see him as evil, but they didn’t want to attract his attention either.”

“So, what makes him evil was kidnaping a woman,” Alfie concluded.

“Yes, but there was humanity in him. Didn’t you see that?”

He scoffed and picked up the book to flip through it carelessly. “Ain’t seeing any humanity here.”

She gently took the book from him and turned to the myth. “Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, god, and feel kindly in your heart towards me. Be no so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods. Those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, shall be punished for evermore.” She read the passage.

Alfie’s brow furrowed. “He still did what he did.”

“Yes, but the Greeks were dramatic.” Rachel shut the book. “If you’d like me to find you another book…”

“You knew who I was the first time we met.” He interrupted her with something that had been weighing on his mind.

“Well-yes. I’d heard a lot about you. It’s nearly impossible not to hear anything when you live in Camden.” She shrugged.

“You weren’t afraid of me though.”

Rachel lost her train of thought when their eyes met. Before, he had been flitting about the store so she hadn’t been looking at him long enough. But now, well now she could see the ocean in his eyes. Just enough of the shop’s lights got under the wide brim of his black hat to reveal his true eye color. They were certainly green but there was a wave of blue running through them as well.

He raised an eyebrow at her when she went completely silent on him.

“Oh uh…no. I guess not. Why do you ask?”

He just chuckled; a bit bewildered. “You’re braver than most men are, love.”

“Should I be afraid of you?”

“Well, s’pose I ain’t the god of death or the dead, or whatever you said.” He looked amused, almost like her blind bravery was funny. “Don’t make me a saint though.”

“You’re only a man.” The words sounded foolish when Rachel heard them out loud, but Alfie seemed to enjoy her candor.

“Fucking hell, you’re something else, ain’t ya? Must be that half-Jewish half-atheist in you.” He shook his head and ran a hand over his beard.

“Maybe, Mr. Solomons.”

“Yeah, well you can call me Alfie.” He said, suddenly becoming a little less intimidating than he usually was. He was certainly struck by the young woman. So much so that it threw him off balance.

“Did you get the sense that Hades was lonely? The Greeks paid him no attention because they were so fearful of him. Perhaps he thought that if he found a woman to give him comfort, he wouldn’t be so lonely and he wouldn’t care if people were afraid of him. Now he didn’t go about it a good way, but maybe that’s why he did it.”

Alfie cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket. She was getting right to the root of his being, passing through all his barriers and finding a nice cozy place in his heart. He was fucked. No one had ever gotten through to him so easily, if ever. “You get lonely all ‘round these books?”

“Always,” Rachel admitted with a shy smile. “When I was younger I used to use books to escape but now I’ve learned that life is just too hard to escape when you’re older.”

He fidgeted, scratching his cheek and messing with Cyril’s leash. “Yeah, I suppose I could understand that.”

Rachel could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying. I get lonely too.

“If-well I s’pose it would be nice to have someone to talk to ‘bout books. Can’t find enough people like that, now can you? So maybe I could stop by every so often, keep ya company.” He offered as if he was doing her a favor. When in reality he was being a bit selfish.

She smiled sweetly. “I’d like that.”

“Right.” Alfie took the book of myths. “Well, I’ll finish this and let you know what I think, ‘bout the rest of them, aye?”

“Alright.”

Alfie gave her one last look before leading Cyril to the door, letting the bell jingle as they left.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons one shot #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #tom hardy #tom hardy character #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfiction #one shot #peaky blinders one shot #hades and persephone

268 notes · View notes

chiaki-translation · 3 years

Text

4th Anniversary The Key to Daydreaming: Secret Key - Event Translation

Aye~ I have nothing to say, but if you would have realized, the event is divided into a few parts. The first part will be these 2 chapters called Secret Key, followed by Spring/Summer/Autumn/Winter story, followed by the so called epilogue. Following this though, I will be translating in random order (actually based on which troupe I like most first *cough cough*). But yeah, unless other translators pick it up, I will slowly do these per troupes. Also, remember that the event story is voiced in the game, so you can listen while reading my translation for better experience.

Without further ado, Happy 4th Anniversary to A3! and enjoy~

4th Anniversary The Key to Daydreaming: Secret Key / / Spring’s Door / / Autumn’s Door / / Winter’s Door / / Opening the Future Door with You

TN: The direct translation of the event title is supposed to be ‘Your Voice that Opened the Door’ but I decided to use the actual title since it’s given in the event title.

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber’s Entertainment

Secret Key

Tsumugi:

Eh, everyone’s already gathered here.

Tenma:

That’s fast.

Banri:

We set it at 1pm though.

Sakuya:

We somehow gathered 20 minutes earlier than expected.

Tsumugi:

I thought I could take a look at the flowerbed first, that’s why I came earlier.

Tenma:

I was thinking of reading scripts in the courtyard.

Banri:

I was just taking a little break.

Sakuya:

Me too. The weather looks good, I was thinking of just relaxing on the bench.

Tenma:

Well, let’s wait until Director is here then.

Tsumugi:

Right.

Banri:

By the way, Sakyo-san said that he will replace old equipment, so we should list up the stuffs that we need.

Tenma:

Even if we list it up, I have a feeling that they’ll end up getting rejected.

Tsumugi:

Sounds like he will check it thoroughly.

Banri:

Well, there’s no doubt that he will bizzarely sieve the list.

Sakuya:

Speaking of equipment, it seems like a lot of chairs in the rehearsal hall are infested by moths…

Tsumugi:

The bench in the courtyard is also quite old, it’s getting dangerous.

Tenma:

If you say so, the sofa in the lounge is getting too flat as well.

Banri:

If it’s the lounge, I kinda want a projector.

Sakuya:

Projector?

Banri:

We have a lot of people, moreover we’re all guys, it’s so suffocating to gather just for everyone to look at that one small television.

Sakuya:

True that… It’s always a struggle to get in front of the television.

Tsumugi:

Yeah, I’m kinda troubled, it’s hard to watch even reference videos…

Tenma:

If we have a projector, everyone would be able to see, it sounds great.

Banri:

Right?

Tenma:

But, will Sakyo-san even say ok to that?

Sakuya:

It might be impossible…

Tsumugi:

Sounds like he would tell us to bring it up again after the television broke.

Banri:

After it’s broken huh…

Sakuya:

Eh!?

Tenma:

You’ll get found out immediately.

Banri:

Tch.

Sakuya:

This should be more or less all of the things we need.

Banri:

We managed to squeeze a lot of stuffs there, I wonder if we can pass about 80% of them.

Tenma:

Right, Tsumugi-san, are you sure it’s alright not to ask anything for your gardening?

Tsumugi:

Yeah…

Ah, speaking of which, I found something interesting recently.

Umm, I saved it last time…

Eh? I wonder where it is.

Tenma:

Save? Like a screenshot?

Banri:

If you’re looking for your bookmark, it’s over there.

Tsumugi:

Ah, let’s see…

Oh, it’s here, look at this.

Sakuya:

“Mix Flower Box”?

Tsumugi:

It seems to be a box of assorted seeds, there are a lot of different seeds inside, but we won’t know until it blooms so you can look forward for the seeds to bloom.

Tenma:

Oh, sounds interesting.

Tsumugi:

There was a time when Citron-kun bought a seed that he didn’t know what kind of flower will bloom…

Before the flower blooms, I feel the excitement every day, like opening an unknown treasure chest. I thought it was good.

Sakuya:

That feeling, I feel that I can understand…

For me, the days I spend in this theatre troupe feels exactly like that.

Something unpredictable happens everyday, it’s so exciting, and in the end, they will become treasurable memories.

Tenma:

That’s true, life here’s pretty unpredictable.

Banri:

There’s just too many guys who have nothing to do.

Tsumugi:

You’re right. Everyday’s an exciting one.

Tenma:

Director too, I wonder how she can deal with all the members with these quirks.

Banri:

Well, it was the members that she gathered in the first place.

Sakuya:

Haha, you’re right.

But, I think it’s thanks to Director too that we can live like this everyday.

Tsumugi:

Speaking of which, it’s already 1pm now…

Director’s late.

Banri:

--Ah, a LIME message.

She said she got held back at work and she wants to do the leader’s meeting on another day.

Tsumugi:

Director seems pretty busy recently.

Tenma:

Fleur Award requires a lot of recognitions and connections, it seems that she’s trying to get us to appear in a lot of performances.

Banri:

We have to be able to live up to Director-chan’s expectation as well.

Sakuya:

You’re right. I definitely want to win the Fleur Award.

Manager:

Oh, why are you guys gossiping about Director in this kind of place~?

I guess when you’re with each other for a long time, there would be a lot of things to say huh~ I see I see.

Banri:

No, it’s not even close.

Manager:

It’s fine! I’ll definitely not tell anyone!

Tenma:

Don’t say as if we’re badmouthing her!

Tsumugi:

We were talking about how Director is very busy nowadays for the sake of our theatre troupe.

Sakuya:

We also have to try our best for Director’s sake.

Manager:

I see…!

If that’s the case, that’s the perfect topic…

Sakuya:

Eh?

Manager:

There’s a bit of an issue over here…

Tenma:

Ugh, who would have thought that we would end up organizing the warehouse again…?

Banri:

It’s a chaos as per usual.

Sakuya:

I feel that I’ve just cleaned up recently though…

Tsumugi:

I wonder where all these stuffs came out from.

Manager:

Actually, I was looking for something, so it gets a bit messy here…

Banri:

It’s not just a bit.

Tenma:

What are you looking for?

Manager:

You see, one of the condition for the act off with the first generation was the rehearsal video of the first generation that Mr Kamikizaka asked for.

I was asked by Director to find it, and I’ve been forge—I mean, I can’t find it alone.

Sakuya:

So you forgot about it…

Banri:

It’s troublesome so you leave it alone, then you ended up forgetting huh.

Manager:

We, well, let’s leave it at that! For the sake of our Director who has worked hard, I need everyone’s help!

Tenma:

Is that how you’re supposed to convince us.

Banri:

There’s no other choice.

Tsumugi:

If it’s for Director, I do want to try looking for a bit.

Sakuya:

Let’s do our best to find it!

Manager:

Thank you so much!

The first generation’s stuffs are at the back.

Tenma:

Oi, by behind you mean…

Banri:

How are we supposed to get behind this pile of stuff.

Tsumugi:

I guess for now, let’s clean up from the stuffs that we can reach.

Tenma:

I wonder when the storage will finally be cleaned…

Sakuya:

It’s not here…

Banri:

If we can’t find it after this much searching, I bet it’s kept somewhere else.

Manager:

That’s weird~…

I’m sure, I put it in this storage room somewhere…

If it’s not here, is it in that warehouse, or maybe it’s in that shelf…

Tenma:

You’re too vague!

Manager:

I’ll go take a look at the warehouse over there!

Banri:

Sigh, can we even find it.

Tsumugi:

Eh, isn’t this a projector?

Banri:

Oh, it’s a bit old, but it’s a pretty good one.

Sakuya:

So we also have this kind of thing here.

Banri:

Sakyo-san doesn’t seem to know about this too.

When I have a screening last time, I was still wondering whether I need to rent it or not.

Tenma:

Rather than that, what should we do with the search now?

Should we try looking at different place?

Tsumugi:

You’re right.

We’ve already searched here--

Sakuya:

Ah! It’s here! I found it!

It’s at the most back, there’s a cardboard box with documentary written on it. Isn’t this the one?

Banri:

When he said the back, does it really need to be the most back.

Tsumugi:

It seems that there are a few videos of their past performances and practices here.

Tenma:

For now, I’m glad we managed to find it safely.

Banri:

Hmm? What’s this box.

Tsumugi:

It’s locked.

Banri:

It’s a dial-type lock huh.

I wonder if there’s something precious locked inside?

Tenma:

It looks like Hakkaku-san’s treasure box.

Sakuya:

I feel kinda excited somehow.

Tsumugi:

Ah, there’s a memo pasted there.

Tenma:

“One day, surely—”

What is it about?

Tsumugi:

It’s the hint about the lock maybe.

Banri:

‘One day surely’ huh.

It doesn’t feel like a code.

Tsumugi:

How about taking the words literally?

‘One day surely’… Maybe it’s about something that was unreachable in the past.

Sakuya:

Something that the first generation didn’t get to reach is--

Tenma:

There’s only one thing that came to mind.

Banri:

It’s this isn’t it.

“FLEUR”

Sakuya:

It’s opened!

Tsumugi:

Inside is… Another treasure box?

Banri:

Is it a matoryoshka or something.

Tenma:

This box doesn’t seem to be locked though.

Sakuya:

Is the content another treasure box?

Tenma:

No, it’s a key and a video tape.

Manager:

I’m sorry, I was trying to find it in the warehouse over the—

Eh? You found it?

Banri:

It’s here, but there’s also a weird box inside.

Manager:

Ah! That is--

Director:

(It’s finally my day off after a long while, what should I do today I wonder.

*LIME ping*

--It’s from manager)

Manager:

I managed to find the first generation practice video that you asked for!

Director:

Eh!? Really!?

Manager:

I left tape on the table in the courtyard, please take it later.

Director:

(Courtyard?)

Manager:

I’ll leave it up to you~

Director:

Understood.

Director:

(Why is it the courtyard though…?

Well, it’s fine.

I’m here anyway, I kinda want to see it soon, let’s go get it now)

Director:

Hmm…

Ah, it’s here.

(Eh? There’s a key placed here… Whose key is it?

There’s no keyholder though, I have no idea what key is this…)

Manager:

Ah, Director~

So you found the tape~?

Director:

Yeah, it’s here.

Thank you so much.

Then, there’s this key that’s placed with it, do you know who it belongs to?

Manager:

E, eh~!? A key you say~?

Hmm, I have no idea at all~

Director:

(He sounds a bit too monotone somehow…)

Manager:

If it’s an important key, someone might be troubled out there, why don’t you go check the room one by one and see how they’re doing~?

Director:

Eh? I don’t need to do that, I’ll check with everyone through LIME--

Manager:

It might be a key to a secret room that they don’t want other people to find out about you know!?

Director:

(What kind of room is that even…

Well, there are some people doing errands now, it’s true that a key is something private as well, I guess I’ll go and hear from them directly.)

Then, I’ll be going.

Manager:

Have fun~!

Director:

(Which room should I start with--)

#a3! translation #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! 4th anniversary #a3! event #a3! game

37 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

hey do you know any johnlock fanfictions, that are very slow burn and at first it's just sherlock being sad that him and john are never going to get together (maybe after the wedding or something) but have a happy ending? (possibly with 100k+ words)

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhh I like to argue that ALL my slow burn recs are especially painful, LOL LOL!! I didn’t have a lot of over 100 K ouchie-burn fics, so I’ve decided to quickly go through all my fics tagged “slow burn” and give you all the fics I KNEW gave me too many feels when I read them because of the burn!! So I hope that’s okay!!

And as always, Lovelies, I’ve certainly missed a lot of fics because of improper tagging or just too many sleepy nights skimming my bookmarks, so feel free to add your faves!

BURN SO SLOW IT HURTS