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demigodreading · 3 years

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Saving Mini Benson Pt:1

Request: From @youngjusticeimaginesus: Hi, I was wondering If maybe you'd be willing to do a oneshot where Olivia's daughter gets kidnapped by Lewis instead of Olivia?

Summary: That’s right my favorite peoples... This is going to be a two part mini series because there was no way everything that I needed to say could be done in a one-shot! I won’t go into much because I don’t want to give it away but please note THIS PART IS A DOOZY! The next one may be worse but still this arc made me cry in the show and I cried writing this

Characters: Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, Amanda Rollins, Nick Amaro, William Lewis, Donald Cragen, Reader

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Daughter! Reader

Warnings: MAJOR Violence, Guns, Cigarette Burns, Episode Spoilers, Alcohol, Smoking Weed, Mentions of Shootings, Death, William Lewis, Mentions of torture... (I Think that covers it but if it doesn’t please let me know)

Word Count: 2320 (Like I said.. there was no way this was gonna be just a oneshot.)

And with that all being said: Let’s jump into it.

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Olivia and her daughter rarely fought but when they did neither one wanted to admit the other one was right. Olivia loved and hated her daughter for being so similar to her. Even now as she watched the miniature version of herself stalk the interview room the exact same way she would send her heart racing. Usually the similarities would result in a smile but not today. Today Olivia’s vision was a deep red as she confronted her daughter.

“Y/N you were caught smoking weed underneath the bleachers during class! So not only did you break one rule you broke two!” Olivia shouted, folding her arms.

“Wow glad that you know how to count,” Y/N mumbled looking out the window.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Look mom I just don’t get what the big deal is? It was one joint. One class!” Y/N retorted, throwing her hands up, “I am a straight A student who has a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”

“Yes, because Barba stuck his neck out on the line for you and put in a glowing recommendation,” Olivia spat, “What you did was careless. You could have ruined everything that was given to you.”

“You know for once in your life could you ever be fucking proud of me! I do everything that I can do to make you proud and yet at the end of the day I am never fucking good enough for you.”

“That’s not…” Olivia went to argue but was interrupted by Cragen opening the door.

“Olivia we got a problem. I need you right now,” He said, then shut the door without waiting for an answer.

“Just go save another poor unfortunate soul mom. Don’t worry about your daughter. I’ll pick up my own pieces like I always do,” Y/N said, wiping tears from her face as she grabbed her coat.

Y/N stormed from the room before Olivia could stop her. She made her way through the precinct eyes trained to the floor as her mother’s voice rang out, “You better head straight home Y/N! We are not done having this conversation and you are grounded!”

Choosing not to say anything, Y/N merely raised her hand in the air flipping her mother off before the doors shut with a loud slam behind her. Tears made dark spots on the concrete as Y/N made her way back to their apartment. Even the noises of the constant car honks and people screaming couldn’t drown out the voices in her head today. Failure. Waste of space. Stupid. No one. Unwanted. Unloved.

It was the repeated song that kept her feet moving forward until she finally placed her key in the lock. She threw her bag by the kitchen island and threw her keys on the counter. She was about to turn on the living room light when a noise caught her attention.

“Hello? Hello?”

As she turned the corner her vision was filled with the sight of a gun pointed right at her temple. A smirk crossed William Lewis’ face as he looked at Y/N, “Ah welcome home Little Benson. I was hoping that it would be your mother who was walking through the door but I guess you will have to do.”

Y/N went to scream but instead Lewis jammed the gun against her throat, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One small slip of my finger and your mom will be left with a new kind of art all over her walls.”

Y/N let a single tear roll down her face before Lewis’ gun made contact with her skull and the whole world went black.

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Olivia had already tried to call Y/N twice but it kept going straight to voicemail. The last known location had been their apartment so at least she had the sense to head straight home. The guilt in Olivia’s stomach was insurmountable. Watching her daughter explain that she never felt like she lived up to her standards. Olivia had promised herself when she had Y/N she would never end up like her mother. Yet there she was shaming her child for one mistake. Y/N was more than just a good kid, she was excellent. She was smart, beautiful, humorous, kind, and so much more. She was everything Olivia could have ever hoped for. Knowing that her daughter thought she wasn’t proud was the worst pain she could have.

After the third call Olivia finally decided to leave a voicemail, “Y/N I know you are mad but I need you to know something. I am proud of you and will always be proud of you. You are the best daughter and the most amazing human. I was rough on you early. Please let’s talk through this. I’ll be home soon with your favorite Chinese. Just don’t do anything stupid? I love you.”

When she hung up the phone she placed her head in her hands and let out a large sigh. Fin placed a reassuring hand on her back, “Liv, it is going to be okay. She is just being a teenager.”

“No Fin, you should have seen her. It was like I was physically taking her heart out and ripping it in front of her. I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean any of them… I was just upset.”

“She knows, they always know.”

Olivia merely shook her head and began to gather her things to head home. She walked out of the precinct without a goodbye and headed down the street to Y/N’s favorite Chinese place. They knew what she was going to order as soon as she walked in the door asking where Y/N was. Liv pushed off their question and scrolled through her phone as she waited for the food. Y/N’s phone was still off giving Olivia an eerie feeling as she finished the walk to the apartment.

Once inside she noticed Y/N’s bag on the floor and her keys on the counter. There was a sudden rush of cold air that made her notice the window that was open to the fire escape. She shut it quickly and then moved to Y/N’s room. The door was still open with everything the way she had left it that morning. Once her calls were unanswered Olivia opened the window again crawling onto the fire escape. Sometimes Y/N would go to the roof to watch the sun slowly crawl behind the buildings.When she reached the top however she was met with an unsettling emptiness.

Olivia reached for her phone to call the only person who was able to calm her anxiety lately, “Amaro, Y/N isn’t here. I can’t find her. What if something happened to her?”

“She probably just went to a friend’s house to get away,” Amaro replied stirring the contents of his drink, “She will be back in the morning just to relax. Sleep off the anger and come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

Liv pondered this suggestion over and over deciding what she should do. When the silence became too long Amaro interjected again, “Liv, I’m serious. You two had the biggest blow out that I have seen in awhile. Give her time to be mad at you and think. If you smother her she might only push further away from you.” She thanked her partner for the advice and then shoved her phone back in her pocket taking a sweep of the roof once again. Finally she slowly made her way back to the apartment shutting the window with a slam before locking it. Olivia wandered over to the kitchen moving the cereal that covered the top of the fridge to get to her secret cupboard. From the opening she pulled a large bottle of her favorite red wine. She popped the cork and decided to forgo a cup taking a long swig directly from the green glass. A large sigh escaped her lips as she plopped down on the couch going over the events of the day in her head.

As the contents of the bottle slowly drained till there was nothing else Olivia realized her fears were all coming true. She was becoming her mother. A woman she never once wanted to be. Three empty bottles later she finally curled under Y/N’s sheets crying into her pillow until she finally was able to fall asleep.

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The next morning when Y/N did not return and her phone was still shut down all bets were off. Olivia was furious but more importantly she was terrified. Something was horribly wrong. Her morning was spent talking to Y/N’s two best friends and searching their houses for her. When that search was unsuccessful Olivia went to the school hoping Y/N had gone there. However, she had been absent all day and there hadn’t even been a call to excuse her from the day.

When the morning bled into the afternoon Olivia was running around the city to all of Y/N’s usual hangout spots. The search of the library told her that Y/N hadn’t been there in over a week. The local bakery hadn’t seen her in three days. The coffee shop where Y/N always bought Olivia’s coffee when she came to see her at work had seen her two mornings ago but nothing since then. Even the old lady that had Y/N over twice a week to help her with errands and chores around the house hadn’t seen her.

It was dark by the time that Olivia fell into her desk chair at the precinct. With her head in her hands she let the tears fall. A whole day was gone and there was still no sign of her daughter. If she had been kidnapped they were running out of time and losing it quickly. The longer she was out there the longer the person had to get away with whatever they wanted.

The squad huddled around in Cragen’s office looking at Olivia curled over her desk. Rollins was the first one to speak, “I bet you Lewis has something to do with this.”

“And what makes you think that?” Amaro asked, “There are plenty of people who could have a vendetta against Liv.”

“It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah well have you ever considered the idea that maybe Y/N just ran away,” Amaro retorted.

Fin, Cragen, and Amanda all turned towards Amaro, shocked. Cragen was the first one to speak, “I know you haven’t been here long Amaro but this isn’t Y/N. Something is horribly wrong and we are going to figure out what is going on. Fin and Amanda go check out Lewis’ usual hiding spots. I’ll take Liv through her apartment once again to see if we missed anything.”

“And me cap?”

“Amaro… you stay here and set up a tip line,” Cragen responded curtly and then they all disappeared to find where Y/N had disappeared to.

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Y/N woke with a jolt as she felt cold water splash her face. She was met with Lewis staring only a couple inches away from her face. He grinned and grabbed Y/N’s chin as she tried to look away, “Well well there. Looks like someone is finally awake. Feeling thirsty?”

Y/N nodded her head yes waiting to scream as he curled his fingers around the edge of the duct tape. As he was about to pull it away he jammed a gun against Y/N’s throat, “Make any noise and I will shove this gun straight down your throat.”

Finally when he pulled the tape away Y/N spit right in his face, “Just shoot me already if you are going to threaten me with it.”

“And miss out on all of our fun Mini Benson. I think not. There is plenty that I want to do to you before then.”

Y/N began to panic as Lewis lit another cigarette. She remembered the way the others had burned against her chest and sides. She had lost count after twenty perfect circle burns and after the second pistol whip to the face she had passed out a second time, She couldn’t go through all of that again.

“My mom knows I am missing and she will be out looking for me. Just let me go and she will never have to know that you did it. Please,” YN begged.

“What is she going to think about that bruise on your face? Or the marks on your skin? I can’t let you go… plus I know that you both fought before you came home. I bet you that she thinks you just ran away and are leaving her,” Lewis chuckled.

“How.. how did you know that we fought?

“This lovely voicemail your mother left you,” Lewis said, placing your phone against your ear.

Tears began to run down Y/N’s face as she heard the apology her mother had sent her. Damnit! Why did I have to fight with her? We could have avoided all of this. Is the mantra that ran through her head as Lewis slammed the phone against her head and threw it at the wall.

“She isn’t coming for you,” Lewis snickered.

“Please… just let me go. I will do anything.”

Lewis pulled his gun and placed it against Y/N’s scalp, “You are still bargaining with me? Really. We are way past that baby.”

“I am the daughter of an NYPD detective. A decorated well known detective. My mother, her partner, her squad, the entire department will hunt you down. You think that you’ve put people through hell. It will rain back down on you.”

“You know what… let it rain,” Lewis said and then hit Y/N once again making her world go black for a third time.

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emitheduck · 3 years

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So. We're Soulmates? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: my first soulmate AU, and I figured it was finally time, and bucky deserved one lol. no spoilers whatsoever

Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate’s birthday tattooed on your arm ---

March 10th, 1917.

(Y/n) had always thought, there was no possible way that the universe had ever, ever gotten her soulmate’s birthday right. When everyone was celebrating that their soulmate was around the same age as them, she got to look down in horror as she could practically see her soulmate’s life fly by. There was legitimately no possible way that her soulmate would even still be alive.

The rules of the soulmate were strange, and no one ever understood them or questioned them. It was found out sometime in the 80s that the dates on peoples forearms weren’t random--but the birthday of their soulmate. Because the universe was a cosmic nightmare, when someone’s soulmate died, the numbers went with them.

That’s what made this so strange.

Either (Y/n)’s soulmate was hanging onto life support, or the universe had fucked up and decided it was going to trick her into thinking she could find happiness like everyone else.

She had these feelings up until she got the faithful call one day, that she had landed the job with SHIELD and found out that she would be working in the helicarrier during the attack on New York. And that’s how she met Steve Rogers.

“You know, it’s kind of funny.” Steve sighed with a chuckle, shaking his head as he followed (Y/n) who was leading him to where he would be staying.

“What is?” She asked as she typed in the access code for one of the doors as they walked.

“The number on your arm. That’s my friend’s birthday.” Steve was smirking as he walked into his room. “I mean, it was his birthday.”

(Y/n) looked down at the date on her arm and sighed, her hand instinctively covering the date. “You sure he’s dead? Not some hundred-year-old veteran in a nursing home that you haven’t checked in on or something?” She was trying her best to not sound horrible for joking about his friend's death, but he seemed almost amused by her banter.

“Last I checked, he’s dead. I watched him fall off the train and everything.” He told her as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “His name was Bucky.” He told her as she turned around to leave, watching her stop for a moment to listen before she left.

Steve’s words always lingered in the back of her mind ever since that day on the helicarrier. She had seen the Bucky memorial spot in the museum, and the day she found out that he was alive, she would never forget (mostly because when it happened, she had dropped the bottle of wine she was holding on the floor and spent hours picking up tiny shards of glass).

The year was now 2023. Five years after the blip, and (Y/n) now fully retired from SHIELD. She left on good terms, but the years of working were just exhausting. Especially now that she came back after vanishing for five years and had to rebuild her life all over again. At least they were respectful, and were happy to give her the pay that she had missed out on.

It was hard enough having to deal with knowing all your close friends sacrificed themselves for the whole world, and not being able to do anything about it. That was the reason that kept her up most nights. The guilt of feeling like she could have done something, but never got the chance to, was the hardest feeling.

That’s what led (Y/n) to walking aimlessly around the grocery store at almost 2am. When she couldn’t sleep, sometimes the best thing to do was walk around pushing the cart and praying that the LED lights would calm her down enough to go home and face the empty apartment.

What she didn’t expect was turning the corner of the frozen section and crashing her cart into someone elses. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” (Y/n) apologize as she looked at the man in front of her. “I should have been looking. I guess I’m just tired.”

“I’m probably just tired too.” He chuckled, pulling his cart away from hers. Both the carts were empty anway. “You come here to walk around at night too?”

“How could you tell?” (Y/n) laughed, running a hand through her hair as she looked him over. He looked familiar, and knowing her luck he was some assassin that was stalking her, and came here to finish the job.

He motioned to their empty carts with a bob of his head. “Something about just pushing the carts around and listening to the crappy music makes me feel better too.” He smirked as he never broke eye contact. “Also, people normally buy food when they’re shopping.”

(Y/n) sighed, nodding. “You caught me. I’m just here to wander.”

“It’s okay. I am too. Sometimes staring at the TV isn’t enough.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he broke eye contact to look where his hands were gripping the handle of the cart. “Sorry, I’m just rambling I guess.”

“No, I get it.” She laughed it off, knowing it was late and sometimes people just kept talking when they were tired. “My names (Y/n).” She smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He seemed to hesitate, but reached out and shook her hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

She could feel her mouth go dry. “Bucky?” There was just no, possible way that this was the man who has been in the back of her mind for years on end.

“I’m guessing you know who I am.” He muttered, already preparing himself to turn around and forget this interaction never happened. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait! No, I didn’t mean it like that.” (Y/n) exclaimed as she held her hands out to stop him from leaving. “I just have heard so much about you--not the way you think, it sounds so weird. I talked to Steve about you once, way back before the battle of New York.”

She peaked his interest at the mention of Steve. “You knew Steve?”

(Y/n) nodded. “He told me all about you. Look, I even have your birthday on my arm.” She told him, lifting up her sleeve to show him the date on her arm, watching his eyes go wide out of shock. “Steve liked to always tease me that I had your birthday, and I always told him that I probably had some old man, sitting in some hospital bed, decaying before our eyes. Wow, I am rambling, I am so sorry. I should leave.” She was bright red as she decided to just leave her cart where it was and accept the humiliation and leave.

“No, you don’t have to go.” Bucky told her, gently grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. “I guess now that you showed me yours, I’ll show you mine.” He grinned as he let go of her arm, using his left hand to pull up his long sleeve. There on his arm, in bold black numbers was (Y/n)’s birthday clear as day.

“Do you maybe want to go get coffee at that 24 hour place across the street? We might have a bit we need to talk about.” She was dumbfounded. Steve would always tease and joke, telling her that Bucky was her soulmate just because it was the same birthday on her arm. But due to the fact that he was presumed dead for so long, (Y/n) never thought anything of it.

“Are you going to come inside? I’ve been holding the door open for almost a minute.” Bucky asked, laughing a little uncomfortably as he watched the woman just stand at the door of the diner. She didn’t even remember the walk to get there.

(Y/n) blinked, rubbing her eyes as she nodded and walked inside. The sign said seat yourself, and she found a nice seat by the window for the two of them. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a little speechless.”

He chuckled as he shifted in the booth. “I’ll be honest. Me too.”

“So. We’re soulmates.” She shrugged, feeling uncertain of herself. Finding her soulmate was never the first thing on her mind, because she never actually thought that she would find him. Sure, the universe also had a way of making the two cross paths at some point, but because of the age, she never cared.

“When I used to see the date on my arm, I thought it was a joke.” He told her, mumbling that he wanted a coffee when the waiter walked over and asked what they wanted. “She wants a coffee. Two cream, one sugar.” He said as the other man nodded and walked away.

“How did you know my coffee order?” She asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Bucky opened his mouth like he was about to speak but sighed. “I legit have no idea. My brain was working for me, and it just came out.”

(Y/n) laughed. “I mean, we’re cosmically linked so it does make sense.” The coffee was set down in front of them and she smiled as she held onto the mug. “Is this when I ask if you can tell me about yourself?”

“Where do I start?” He asked as he set his coffee down after taking a sip. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but I go by Bucky. James is only for when shit hits the fan I guess.”

“I think I prefer Bucky.” She smiled, watching as his cheeks turned red for a moment.

“What about you Doll? What fun thing do you have to tell me?” Bucky asked her with a smirk, making it her turn to blush.

“I worked for SHIELD, that’s where I met Steve. But then there was that time we found out that Hydra was inside of SHIELD, and technically you tried to kill me.” She pointed out, watching as he put his head down in shame. “But that’s all in the past now. I’m not that person anymore.”

He took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. “What changed?”

(Y/n) sighed, shaking her head as she held onto her coffee mug for warmth. “I was pretty close with Steve and Natasha. Tony helped me get the job at SHIELD, too. Three people that I looked up to more than anything, were gone before I ever got a chance to say goodbye.” She told him, knowing that there would be no more tears left to cry. Her tear-ducts seemed to stop working after she had cried for days straight that they were gone.

“I wasn’t very close to anyone but Steve, but I do understand how you feel.” He told her, leaning across the table to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Do you live in the city?”

“I live pretty close to Hell’s Kitchen.” She told him, watching as he nodded. “I’m guessing you live in Brooklyn?”

He looked a little surprised, but still smiled. “How could you tell?”

She smiled back, a little shy. “Some part of me just knew, but the other part of me heard Steve talk about Brooklyn all the time. He loved it there, and I guess I thought you did too.”

“It’s definitely still amazing, but a lot has changed. I’m still getting used to it all.” Bucky confessed, putting down some money for the coffee as they both finished and stood up from the table.

(Y/n) checked her phone and sighed at the time. 3:30 in the morning, and there was no way she was going to sleep now. Now, she was going to ride the train and hope that the rocking of the subway would be enough to turn her mind off for a while. “I should get going. It’s getting late, and I’m taking the train back.”

He nodded, seeming a little uneasy that she was about to leave. “Do you maybe want my number? We could meet up someday, maybe get to know eachother better?”

She grinned as she handed him her phone. “Put your number in.” She told him as they traded phones, smirking as she put in her contact. “I put my information as (Y/n)-Soulmate, just in case you seemed to forget.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Bucky chuckled as he looked at her contact. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Considering the fact I’ve known you for a few hours, and I’m already completely head-over-heels for you, I don’t think you have to worry.” (Y/n) told him, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye for now, but not bye forever.”

Bucky was grinning like an idiot, and he knew it. “I like the sound of that. I still just can’t believe I found you after all these years.”

“You better believe it, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

MASTERLIST

#bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x reader #marvel #reader insert #reader #bucky imagine #falcon and the winter solider #winter solider x y/n

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bxthharmon · 3 years

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Pink Champagne (1) - Benny Watts x Reader

Words: 2154

Series Warnings: Drinking, substance and alcohol abuse, addiction, smoking

Pt. Warnings: implied alcohol abuse, smoking

A/N: idk how regular updates will be and idk where tf this is going but here we are lol

“masterlist”

“You’re a woman.”

The twelve year old looks up at the speaker, her mother, apprehensive. She does not consider herself as a woman, not yet anyway. Besides, the older woman was drunk - but then again, when wasn’t she?

“Not only that, you’re a pretty woman, with a kind heart. You’re just like I was.” the mother props her head up with her hands, elbows on the table as she faces her only daughter. “Men will use you. They will hurt you and bring you down and they will break you because they can. Don’t let them. Don’t let them hurt you, be strong. You have brothers, and they are strong, but not like me and you are strong. They fight with their fists and think with their dicks. Us? We fight with our words and think with our brains. Keep your head up, don’t let them push you around.” the women, staring at each other in a conflicting sense of understanding and resentment, stay silent. The mother, resenting her child for still having the opportunities that she missed, and adoring that her daughter could still be something. The young girl, resenting being told how to live her life, but adoring the fact that her mother cared enough to tell her things like this.

The mother, always the first one to break, stands, stretching, then reaching for another bottle.

Paris was everything that was expected. Y/N shopped and drank and fucked in that oddly cinematic way that everything in Paris happened, wasting two months of her life partying. She did a photoshoot for a new advertising campaign for a fashion house she is the ambassador for, and as always, got bored. After six weeks, she wound up in the same position she had been in so many times before, stocking up on months worth of wine, then finishing it within two weeks. After two months in Paris, she lay on top of the covers of her bed, wondering if she should have taken Beth up on her offer. She hadn’t spoken to any of her American friends since she left, and of the people she had seen in person, she knew that they had no connections to her American friends, so she felt safe.

Out of alcohol and cigarettes, she considered sending the door boy to get some, or even going herself, and decided to do neither. It was at this point that she realised that she had eaten a sum total of four things in two weeks, all of which were snacks, and was drinking herself to death. She decided that she wanted French toast and that overly fancy Columbian pressed coffee from the cafe down the road. She would get cigarettes on the way. So she dressed and left, greeting the surprised door boy on her way out. She bought her cigarettes, ate her French toast, drank her coffee, then considered her next move.

London was out of the question - she’d only just remembered that she’d sold her apartment. That left New York, Los Angeles or Beth’s offer of Kentucky. Los Angeles never ended well, and she didn’t want to get dragged into anything by her manager. Kentucky or New York? She would have to call Beth to decide.

So she traipsed back to her glamorous apartment and dialed Beth’s number, letting it ring out a few times before giving up. So Beth wasn’t at home, was she just out, or in New York? She knew the only way to find out would be through Harry or Benny. She chose Harry. Things between her and Benny were… well, she didn’t know what they were.

“Y/N?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am though - you never call.”

“Phone calls are so much hassle.”

“More hassle than seeing people in person?”

She paused, unable to outwit him, especially given the hangover she could feel creeping up on her. “Is Beth in Kentucky at the moment?”

“Beth? No.” he answered, “Why?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“She doesn’t have any tournaments, so New York, why?”

“I want to see her.”

“Why didn’t you just call Benny?”

“Don’t worry, thanks though.”

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. Bye.”

“Bye?”

She slammed the phone into its holder, sighing loudly.

She’d always known she would have to see Benny eventually, but even after over two months since that night, she wasn’t ready. Besides, what was to say he wanted to see her? She slumped down into the armchair next to her phone, surveying her room and realising that he had been right - so had Beth - her drinking was getting out of hand. She stood with determination, picking up clothes from around the room and stuffing them into her wardrobe, which was already overflowing, and picking up all the bottles she could find to fill a couple of large paper bags. When she was done, the room felt cleaner, and she dragged the two paper bags out of her apartment and pushed them down the rubbish chute. She returned to her apartment, rummaging around to find a bag in the depths of her wardrobe. Once she had, she carefully picked out clothes, knowing that once she was back in America, the press would be all over her. She had clothes at Benny’s anyway, but she hated travelling without a suitcase - it made her feel bare. Before she left, she grabbed a pair of sunglasses and straightened herself out, checking that she was definitely wearing shoes and that her outfit all matched.

She carried her suitcase down with a little struggle, gave a couple of euros to the door boy for no reason in particular, and caught a taxi to the airport. The taxi driver, having recognised her instantly, seemed restless and kept telling her about how his twelve-year old-daughter wanted to be a model just like Y/N. She brushed it off, paying him well and buying the next flight she could at the front desk, rushing through customs to catch it. She tried to ignore the looks and comments she got as people realised who she was.

She didn’t sleep on the flight, instead ordering drink after drink, wondering what her mother would say if she could see her only daughter. Or Beth for that matter. She didn’t have to wonder what Benny would say, he had said it plenty of times before. When she left the airport, a crusade of reporters were awaiting her, and she had almost forgotten how the press could be. She persevered to a yellow cab, and let it take her to Benny’s. Standing outside, the harsh cold of autumn pushed her towards the door. She descended the steps, pausing when she reached the door, hearing four or five voices inside. Jesus, the whole gang was here. She steeled herself, knocking sharply and stepping away. The door opened abruptly, Beth appearing, at first confused, and then elated. She launched herself at Y/N, the two clinging to each other. Beth stepped back, scanning her friend over, and glancing towards the door. “You look more put together.”

“I don’t feel it.” Y/N admitted, hating the analytical look everyone seemed to give her these days.

“Why are you back here?” Beth murmured, her words kinder than they sounded, “I thought you were in Paris.”

“Well, I was. Then I ended up spending two weeks drinking myself half to death without leaving the room, and thought maybe it was time for a change of scene.”

“You can’t keep running from yourself, it’ll get you nowhere.”

“I know that.”

“Beth!” the two girls turned, “Are you alright out there? Who is it?”

Benny’s voice, so recognisable, turned into the actual person. He was standing, jeans, a black top and layered necklaces, shock registering on his face. Y/N, who hadn’t proper registered that she was seeing him until that moment, looked like she wanted a black hole to appear beneath her. Pink tinged her cheeks, embarrassment unfamiliar to her, and she stood up straighter, faking confidence.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Benny.” She glanced back at Beth, who looked away.

“Wait, is that Y/N?”

Arthur and Hilton appeared, and then Cleo, grinning with a drink in hand.

“You’ve been in Paris, eh?” she said, “Of course, you always seem to be there when I am not.”

“I wish you had been.” Y/N grinned, hugging Cleo tightly.

Benny, having come to his senses after the initial shock, stepped forwards, “A drink?”

Y/N looked at him pointedly, “You never have alcohol in this place.”

“But these three always bring some.” he nodded to the three stood next to her with drinks in hand.

“You not drinking at home really sucks ass.” Y/N groaned, concocting herself a makeshift cocktail with the ingredients she had to hand.

“You know, most people don’t usually have those in pint glasses.” Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Y/N shrugged.

“I’m not most people.” she took a lengthy sip, ignoring the worried glances that her friends shared.

“So,” she looked up from her drink with a bright expression, “what’s going on in the chess world?”

“Well, we’re training Beth.” Benny explained.

“What for? She’s better than all of you.” Y/N frowned, and Beth smirked.

“Paris.” Hilton clarified, the prideful chess players ignoring your comment.

“Let’s do a simultaneous!” Benny offered.

“Cleo, Y/N, are you joining?”

“You know we can’t play.” Cleo reprimanded, the pair of you sitting down near the game and watching with interest.

“All of our friends are nerds.” Y/N sighed, “Look at them!”

By the time Beth had beaten the other three chess players eight times, Benny gave up. He had decided that Beth could ‘do it’, but was also getting distracted by the fact that Cleo and Y/N had found his records and were blasting The Doors as loud as they could and dancing around his living room. When the game was finished, the apartment was filled with the sound of Soul Kitchen, and any ability to concentrate on the game was impossible. Y/N was standing on his coffee table, eyes closed, bottle in hand, hips swaying. Cleo had her arms in the air, swaying with the rhythm, and the two girls seemed so lost in the music that the four surveyors were almost scared to interrupt. Y/N, murmuring the familiar lyrics, took a swig of the bottle and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a drag, only then noticing that her friends had stopped playing. “Join us!” She laughed, reaching over, grabbing Beth’s arm, pulling her up onto the table, and trying to get her to dance. At first, the woman only swayed, but found herself dancing more excessively. Cleo took the task of dragging the boys in, and soon the party of six were all laughing and dancing. The song began to draw to a close, when Alyssa turned to Benny, “Got any of The Beatles?”

He pointed to the stack of records, preoccupied with trying to stop Cleo from spilling her drink. Y/N found the Abbey Road album and the dancing picked up as the apartment began to fill with cigarette smoke and Y/N retrieved some whiskey. She drank straight from the bottle, and continued to dance, pushing off the gently guiding hands that Benny was attempting to provide. At some point, Cleo, Arthur and Hilton took their leave, and Beth turned the music down, leaving Y/N with her bottle and cigs as she joined Benny in surveying the drunken girl.

“I haven’t seen her like this in a long time.” Benny observed, and Beth sighed.

“She tries to hide it from you, she knows how you feel about it.” Beth explained.

“I didn’t realise it was this bad.”

Beth looked back at her friend, “She’s worse than I was.”

Benny scoffed a little, “I don’t know how to help her.”

“Wait,” Beth raised an eyebrow mockingly, “You, Benny Watts, wanting to help someone? That’s never happened before.”

“I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

“That’s different.”

Benny sighed, “Where are you going to sleep now that she’s here?”

“I can find a hotel?” she offered.

“Not this late. I’ll sleep on the blow up, you two sleep in my bed.”

“Okay.”

Beth walked up to Y/N, gently prying the bottle from her hand, Y/N turned to her, taking her in with wide eyes - she was always childlike when she was drunk. She watched curiously as Benny began to pump up the blow up bed, and Beth turned the music off. She let Beth sit her down on Benny’s bed, pulling her own clothes off and replacing them with one of Benny’s shirts while Beth helped Benny get all the leftover bottles in the bin. By the time Beth was back in the room, Alyssa was passed out on the far side of the bed, curled up into a tight fetal position. Beth lay down next to her friend, the familiar scent of alcohol conflicting her in both comfort and disgust.

#the queens gambit #the queen's gambit #beth harmon #elizabeth harmon #benny watts #benny watts x reader #benny watts x you #benny watts x y/n

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george-mackay-macfine · 3 years

Text

Let's play a game. Prt 4.

A/N: Sorry it took so long, I had uni but how are you all liking the story and the characters?

Tag list; @neocil @cjand10 @queen-bunnyears @rebelflower19

If you want to join the tag list let me know.

"Let me in, Edwards." Hastings continued to bang on the door.

"No," I called back at him. "I don't want to spend another night in your bed. Never. Ever." Back braced against the wood.

"Don't lie. You'll make the baby Jesus cry."

"Shut up, Hastings." I turned, fingers digging into the wood grain as I stood on my tippy-toes watching him. There he was out in the hallway, one arm resting on the other side of the door, his teeth showing as he laughed all too easily at his own dumb joke. "I'm not opening the door, so you may as well leave." He rolled his eyes, looking at the peephole. "I'm serious." He stood there for a minute, contemplating the options I'd given him.

"Fine." He pushed away from the door. "Have it your way." and then he was gone, disappearing down the hallway.

"Alone again, finally." I pushed myself away and walked back into my kitchen, where my frozen meal sat on the cutting board. I'd been reading the directions before Hastings had so rudely interrupted me. "Heat on high for ten minutes… ten minutes." I picked the box up and looked at it. "You're supposed to be easy and quick!" I cried at it as if it had the ability to apologise for the disgusting amount of time I was going to have to wait for it to heat up.

"I am sorry about this." I heard Hastings voice from the hallway. "Forgot my key again." Jude Hastings says what now?

"It's not a problem, Jude. I'm just happy you and Darcy finally got over your issues." The voice of my too sweet, too kind, too naive landlady Patricia Gregson cooed at Hastings. "And what you have planned for the night, It's the least I can do after the effort you've gone through." Was the last she said before the door swung open.

"Honey, I'm home." My own personal demon smirked, stepping into my house. My domain. He was not allowed in my house. "What are you doing there? I told you I was taking you to my apartment for a special dinner." He walked in like he owned the place.

"Hi Darcy, sweetheart." Patricia waved from the hallway. "I was just telling Jude here how happy I am for the two of you." She smiled happily. "If my Colin was around to see you two now." She shook her head, her eyes glazing over to another time. She pulled herself back, shaking her head, looking at both Jude and I. "He'd be so happy to see this. We always knew you'd wind up together."

Oh, Patricia. If only you knew.

"Yeah." I nodded my head, unable to break her heart. "It's a shock to us all." I walked over to where he stood and slung an arm around his waist. "Thanks for letting him in." I smiled through gritted teeth. "I must have been in the bathroom when he was knocking."

"You've been peeing a lot lately." Hastings looked down at me. "When was your last period? You don't think-"

"I better be off, lots to do." Patricia reached in and grabbed the door handle, quickly pulling it shut behind her. When I'm sure she was gone, I pushed Hastings away from me, shoving him hard.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"What?"

"What?" I mimicked his stupid voice. "You just insinuated to my landlady that I am with child, you absolute dickhead."

"Sorry." He snorted.

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, sorry." He turned away and started to look through my house. "You packed your bag yet?"

"You know I haven't." I sighed.

"Well, go pack one." He put his hands on his hips, his shirt lifting as he moved to reveal the slither of flesh that I have a distinct memory of running my tongue across last night.

"Look, Hastings… Tonight really isn't a good night." I ran a hand through my hair. "I have to be at work early tomorrow, and it's just… I don't know how ready I'll be to teach a group of kids if I don't wake up in my own bed, and I'm still tense from a sleepless night lying beside you." I admitted. "I know what the whole game is, but I don't know if I can play tonight-"

"Darcy." He stopped me mid-speech. "Don't worry about the game. Your job's more important." He pointed through to where my bedroom was visible. "Besides, your bed looks comfortable, so I don't mind. I'll sleep here." He shrugged, walking into the small kitchen. "We'll order some food because that looks like unappealing crap… watch a movie, and then I'll woo you to death." I watched him. For the first time in a long time, I watched Jude Hastings rifle through the assortment of take away menu's I had hanging on the fridge. His body looked abnormally large in the small kitchen. "Aha." He cheered when he found a menu he liked. "Chinese." For the first time in a long time, all I could think was maybe this wouldn't be the worst night ever.

"What are you doing."

"Ordering us Chinese." He waved the menu. "Still a fan of chow mien?"

"You remember?"

"You ate it every Friday for a year." He winked. "And I have a good memory."

"I see your good at self-encouragement."

"It's not the only thing I'm good at." He smirked, holding his phone to his ear. "I'm also good at rescuing a damsel in distress from a microwave meal."

"I'm not going to sleep with you again, Hastings." I walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine, grabbing the nearby glasses. "So this whole thing, the hot guy coming to order Chinese food with his dreamy bedroom eyes… It won't work."

"You think I have dreamy bedroom eyes?" He gave a lopsided grin. "Hi yes," He spoke into the phone. "Can I order a delivery please." I tuned him out as I poured the two glasses of white wine and sat down at the small island bench. I wasn't even sure if he drank wine, but it was open, and I wasn't one to waste alcohol. "It'll be about fifteen-twenty minutes."

"Okay." I passed the second glass of wine to him, taking a large sip of my own.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Only if it's a good one I don't want anything subpar." He moved, sitting beside me on the second chair. His glass of wine clanking against the bench as he moved. He leaned in, his free hand brushing hair behind my ear, teasingly slow.

"If you think I was giving you bedroom eyes before." He chuckled lowly, head dipping so our eyes were level, the very tip of his nose bushing mine. "Then you won't believe what it's like when I really give you bedroom eyes."

"You think you're so smooth, don't you."

Part of me really wanted to see those bedroom eyes, the other part of me knew that I may not have the will to not sleep with him again if I did.

"I don't, actually." He pulled away slightly. "But I'm trying to win your heart, and your beautiful, so I'm going to tell you."

"Are you drunk?"

"No." I leant an elbow on the counter, laying my head in my hand looking up at him. "And tomorrow morning, I'm still going to be sober, and you." He shook his head, looking up to the ceiling. "You… You are still going to be beautiful." Am I imagining this, or is THE Jude Hastings giving me a compliment.

"Woe." I couldn't help the smile that came to my face. A big smile, one that felt like it was the first genuine smile I'd had in years. "You really are a smooth, smooth man Hastings."

"Why do you never call me Jude?"

"Why do you hardly call me Darcy."

"Because you call me Hastings all the time."

"I only call you Hastings because—"I stumbled. "I don't know I've just always called you Hastings." I sat up, pulling one of my knees up into my chest. "Who knows, maybe one day I'll call you Jude."

"I think my heart would stop if you ever did that,"

"How do you think the town is taking the news of our epic romance?"

"Well, I checked the obituaries this morning, so far we haven't shocked anyone to death yet."

"So you're saying we've failed." I laughed. "A day of pretending to be a couple and no one has rolled over and died?" I gasped.

"Maybe that means that we need to step it up, huh?"

"Flattering, but I am not interested."

"Honeybird," Another new nickname? Calm down Edwards. "You looked me in the eye a little too long to not be interested in me."

"You're really trying this aren't you." I waved a finger between us.

"Trying what?"

"To get me to fall in love with you." A smile pulled on his lips, not his usual asshole smirk, but a genuine smile, the one that to make butterflies launch themselves all around my stomach.

"It'd be an honour to have the Darcy Alice Edwards fall in love with me, so I'm going to give it my all."

"As it would be an honour to break your heart, Jude Alexander Hastings."

"So you do know how to say my name." He sat back, arms crossing over his chest as he looked me feigning shock. "I'm also going to need you to tell Sato that Fredrick isn't my real middle name."

"No." I began to pick at the hem of my nightgown, thankful he'd given me a Segway comment from the conversation that was getting all too serious too fast. "I don't think I can do that,"

"What is the obsession."

"With?"

"Telling people I have that heinous name as any part of me?"

"I like the idea of all these girls being so enraptured by Jude Hastings, picturing themselves as Mrs Jude Hastings, then having that dream crash and burn around them when they think that your middle name is Fredrick… I mean the name isn't exactly a turn-on." I shrugged. Hastings watched me for a moment, studying me as if this was the first time he, a male, had ever come in contact with me, a female.

"You really are evil." His hand stretched out, his fingers tapping against my temple gently. "This brain in here, it was made for terrible, terrible things,"

"Not terrible things." I denied. "Just terrible things when you're involved."

I needed him to stop touching me, because the slight rub of his fingers over my skin made flashbacks from last night pop up all over my brain, which caused my heart rate to increase, which caused me to want to see if he was as good as he was last night sober, which was a horrible thought to have indeed when you're dealing with a childhood enemy.

"More wine." I stood and walked back to the fridge, ignoring the half-open bottle on the table. I needed space from him.

"There's wine here." I kept my back to him, walking to the small sink and standing in front of it. I needed my space. I hated Jude Hastings, with a passion… But something inside of me wanted to let him in, let him change my mind about him, or at least let a part of him in… "Darcy." His voice was suddenly behind me, his hands on my hips, the edge of my shirt lifting as he held on.

Stop it Darcy. Stop thinking with your metaphorical dick.

His right hand left my hip and went to the hair that covered my neck, pushing it out of the way. My hands gripped onto the bench tighter, as I told myself over and over not to turn around, not to face him because if I did then that was it. We'd end up in my bed, our incoming food forgotten. But then his lips touched my neck and my knees went weak as my head lolled backwards resting on his shoulder, and I wasn't sure I was in the mood for Chinese anymore. I turned around, looking up at Hastings.

"Do you want to know what I think when I think about you, Darcy?" He whispered, his hands pushing the hair behind my ear as I numbly nodded. "I see the little girl who wore a sunflower sundress and ran around my parents' backyard like a kid on a sugar high." I knew the exact dress he was talking about. "The little girl who I got Christmas photos with every year up until we were thirteen… That was when you started to hate me." He was right. "You will always be the little girl I had a crush on when I was eight."

"You… You had a crush on me?" A smile that made my heart race spread across his lips.

"Only the biggest one, you were the cutest girl I'd ever seen."

Don't fall for it Darcy, this is all part of his big old plan to make you fall in love with his stupid squishable face.

"Dinner will be here in a minute. I'm going to wash up." I sidestepped around him and made my way to my small bathroom. "Get together, Darcy." I muttered, leaning against the door as soon as I'd shut it, disconnecting myself from the girl who was just fawning all over Hastings. "Fuck," I walked over the sink and took a look at myself. My cheeks were flushed and my hair was slightly puffed from where Hastings had moved it aside to kiss my neck.

Involving parents and colleagues was a level of dirty. Inflicting emotional bullshit from the past was a whole new level of dirty. Clearly, Hastings had no problem playing that card.

If he really thinks he can get me on the sentimental crap just because I'm a woman, then I'm going to use the greatest weakness of a man against him.

"Hastings, you are going down." My hands gripped onto the edge of the sink as I formulated my plan. Thankfully years of watching Hastings be a man whore in front of me I knew exactly what to do to get his blood pumping.

"Darcy," His fingers tapped against the door, "Dinner is here."

"You start." I walked over pulling the door open wide. "I'm just going to change." I walked past him and into my bedroom, shutting the sliding doors that cut it off from the rest of the apartment, making sure I left a sizeable gap for any peering eyes - trust me, there were going to be peeping eyes. "Where are you," I muttered, looking at the pile of clothes I'd discarded before I'd begun cooking today. I needed Hastings shirt. "Bingo." I spotted the white material underneath my jeans. Stripping from the dress I made sure the straps of my bra - I'd paid a lot for it once upon a time, I needed it to come through for me - could be seen, or at least enough for Hastings to see through the thin fabric of his shirt. Pulling it over my body, I fastened the buttons before pulling a pair of white socks over my feet. I could feel his eyes on me as I stood back up, fixing my hair and pulling the shirt down.

Play innocent, Darcy.

"Smells good." I called out as I turned. There he was, standing at the kitchen bench filled with Chinese take out watching me. His eyes looked drastically darker and I don't think it was just because of the distance between us. I pushed the doors open trying to control the smile that wanted to break out on my face as I walked over to the bench. "Yum." I picked up the container of chow mien. "You not eating?"

"What I want isn't exactly on the menu."

"Oh?" I picked up the menu and waved it. "They're usually pretty good. You could have asked them to make it." I lifted myself up onto a clean spot on the bench, crossing my legs underneath each other. "I'm sure it could have been on the menu."

"Darcy," His eyes were travelling all over my body. "This isn't fair."

"What I'm going to eat all this Chinese, and you don't get any?"

"Yeah." He picked up a nearby carton and shoved a pair of chopsticks inside. "Something like that."

"I can't wait for bed." I lifted one of my arms above my head and stretched, cool air hitting the newly exposed skin. "I'm so beat."

"Fucking Christ." He mumbled, shaking his head.

Darcy - One.

Man-whore demon - nill.

"Language." I quipped, picking a noodle from the carton and popping it into my mouth. "Mhhhmm." I moaned excessively at the taste. Turn it up, why don't you, Darcy.

Good luck not busting a nut tonight, Hastings.

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #Dylan O'Brien story #Dylan O'Brien Head Cannon #dylan o'brien x reader #Calahan Skogman #Calahan Skogman imagine #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Imagine #Harry Styles one shot #Dylan O'Brien One shot #George MacKay #George MacKay imagine

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edgeofmyniall · 3 years

Text

The Arrival: Part One

Poppy Horan knew two things: one, life sucks in the manner of doing taxes and avoiding death at all costs, and two, she would rather stick a dull, rusty spoon in her eye than to get out of the car.

Poppy sits in her car as the white crystals fade down on the steaming metal. Even though the heat was on high, she still feels the biting wind through her car. In reality, Poppy knew her heating system works perfectly fine , but it is the anxiety that makes her bones shiver under the many layers of clothes that she’s bundled in. The steering wheel seems to almost freeze under her gloved hand as she grips it tighter. With her elbow propped on the middle console, her other gloved hand taps her temple rhythmically as she awaits for the dreaded moment to appear. She couldn’t help to feel that her skin was ice.

She looks out the window when a pair of headlights pulls onto the snow covered street and without realization, her heart skips. The car slows as it passes her own and that sudden fleeting moment of hope or despair, Poppy didn’t know, went as quickly as it came.

It isn’t often that Poppy is able to sit and enjoy the weather, but as she reflects on her life and tries to convince herself to go inside where her friends are waiting for the rest of the party to join, she can’t help but to hate the position she’s in now.

Because if she got an invite, so did he.

That’s what happens when you marry inside the friend group. You get invited to places and events together even if the two parties are, in fact, divorced.

To give her friend’s the benefit of the doubt, Poppy knows that none of them have the slightest clue about the divorce. There were merely just rumors and claims floating around news articles and social media. None of them know about the constant fighting and the arguing that ensued all hours of the night when Niall would come home late smelling of perfume that Poppy would never dare wear. The crying turned into silent treatments that remained until they both signed their names on the piece of paper that quoted irreconcilable differences as the reason why the two should no longer be together.

Would Niall bring her? The woman he left Poppy for? He couldn’t be that naive to bring the absolute chaos to Justin’s wake, but it would be like Niall to pop the surprise on every one at a time that they least expected it. Poppy had thought about calling the closest hotel to book a room, but what if Niall had done the same thing? Would he bring the bottle of wine that made Poppy first question the health of their relationship?

Her finger taps on the window trigger, debating if she should at least step out for a quick smoke. She hated the thought of the musky smell lingering where his cologne still hung to the leather almost as if she was ruining the memory of Niall. The Niall that once loved her. Poppy sighs before shutting down the engine and steps out into the winter morning. The quiet suburban street watches Poppy as her car chirps at her. She leans her back on her passenger door and lights up a cigarette, breathing in the nicotine. Her body falls into an ease, letting the tense aches of her muscles to relax and her hand finds the two silver rings that hang around her neck. She keeps them on a low chain, a secret that only she knows about, not daring to let the world know of her failure and shame that she couldn’t make a love like the romance novels work. They had been picture perfect in almost every way before she gave up the fight. As her fingers play with the cool metal, her mind wanders into a place that is dangerous:

The past.

Five Years Ago

“And do you, Niall James Horan, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The priest looks over to Niall who stands proud in his tuxedo as he looks his bride in the eyes before he answers the easiest question with a smile.

“Yes.”

“And do you, Penelope Jane Myers take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest turns to Penelope who is glowing from happiness as she looks at the man of her dreams. The world stops turning as she takes in this moment: the way the one curl of Niall’s hair won’t stay in place no matter the amount of gel he uses, the way his blue eyes are shining at her, the small croak of his voice when he read his vows of the crumpled, folded paper- a sure sign that he had rewritten everything he was trying to say. They had spent months planning the wedding: getting the invitations right, the seating charts, the ordering of decorations. Niall insisted that Poppy make the whole idea of the wedding a big deal, but over and over again she told Niall, “I could care less about what it looks like as long as I’m with you. Forever. That’s all that matters.”

In hindsight, she should have known better. She looked at Niall for the last time as a single man before saying, “I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Niall cupped Poppy’s cheeks and pulled her in swiftly for a kiss that would seal the promise they both made before the crowd and God.

When they finally reached the small room upstairs after walking out of the chapel, they breathed a sigh of relief. They were both nervous to start their lives as a married couple even though for them nothing changed except for the legal matters. Niall never asked Poppy to sign a prenup. She had helped Niall start his business up so he felt that she should get at least half of everything that he had because without her support and encouragement, they would not be where they are today.

“I’ll call Sam in the morning to get everything set up at the office. You just need to come by whenever to sign the papers,” Niall whispered as his hands rested on the crook of Poppy’s hips. Her heart fluttered as Niall caressed the falling brown tendril out of her face.

“I don’t need any of that. Just you is all I want,” Poppy breathes, her breath hitching as Niall kisses her fully, his tongue tasting of mint.

“I love you times infinity, my darling. Forever.”

Forever came sooner than intended. On the breath of an everlasting promise, the word forever suffocated and shattered all over the hands that tried to keep a marriage from falling apart.

“Jesus, Penelope, you’re still going at it with those things?” A sudden familiar voice pulls Penelope out of the dream she was reliving. Her hand clutches the rings as she throws out the half lit cigarette, her heart racing. “You’ll end up killing yourself with those.”

Niall stood in the snow just a few feet from her in a gray trench coat with snowflakes that had caught in his hair from the short distance he walked from across the street. The week old scruff and dark circles under his eyes were a given sign of no sleep. Stocks had fallen and the business hadn’t been doing so well in the past couple of months. There had been frantic emails that Poppy was still receiving about emergency meetings from the decline of sales. The board of directors, including Poppy, were called to meet in person to discuss options. Niall had always poured his heart and soul into his work so much so that two had become one, and now as he stands in front of his ex-wife, she witnesses the perfect example of an ill fated work marriage. His body seems to want to lunge forward, to wrap his arms around his once best friend, but he stops himself and looks at the woman with the permanent sad face. “How are you?”

“Been better,” Poppy, still clutching the rings in her hand, turns to her ex-husband. His hands were stuffed into the silk pockets as the cloud of breath left his body. He looked irritated at best, like coming to one of his best friend’s wake was an inconvenience to him, but that was no longer Poppy’s worry. “You look like shit.”

It was a lie, a false statement that she said aloud to convince herself to stop looking at him in the way she once did. He looks just as good as the day she met him.

Seven Years Ago

Poppy trudged against the rain, hoping to make it to her professor’s office on time. She had been running late due to the fact that she overslept after pulling an all nighter to finish the essay that was due only a few minutes from now. Pen and paper, the professor had said, he would not accept anything less than pen and paper. She had only five minutes to cross the muddy lawn and enter the building only to run up three flights of stairs to hand in the paper in person to either her professor or the aide. Her heart racing, she ran as fast as she could across the slippery grass that would only stain her sneakers that she had gotten from her mom on her past birthday. She hated running across the grime, but it was the fastest route to get to the gray stone building that lurked over her, awaiting for her to fail. Stepping inside the building, Poppy nearly slipped on the mat that was wrinkled on the newly polished floor. Her shoes squeaked as she began the trek upstairs taking one last look at the elevator in hopes that someone had fixed it after all the days it had been broken. The faded paper sign was still hanging on the metal doors as Poppy’s heart lurched forward. Three minutes left and the biggest grade she needed was about to be late.

A group of freshmen descended down the stairs in a form that could only be the walk of shame. They didn’t move over to let Poppy pass so she let them push past her. Her back arching into the railing as she watched the clock tick forward. It was as if time stood still in the final seconds of her deadline. Finally free, she ran as fast as she could, pushing past students and professors, unbeknownst to her she nearly pushed over her own, and left wet puddles on the floor when she reached the darkened office of her professor. Closing her eyes, she sighed as she slid down the wall facing the office. Bringing her knees to her chest, she dropped her head in the sanctuary of her ownself and began to cry softly. She hadn’t made it on time and surely now, she would fail the class she needed the most to graduate.

A small whistle came from around the corner. Poppy peered over her arms with blurry eyes to see the aide coming back to the office. He hadn’t noticed one of his students on the ground when he turned the key. As he turned the lights on in his small office, he quickly grabbed his jacket that he had come back for. It was when he was leaving that he saw the tear stained face of one Penelope Myers.

“Penelope, what are you doing here?” Niall squatted down in front of Poppy and offered a hand to help her up. His touch was gentle as Poppy stood and wiped her tears. “I’m too late, aren’t I? Now I’ll never graduate on time and I’ll have to repeat the class again and hope to God I’ll never oversleep again which is a big, fat lie to you, me and God himself.” Niall cupped Poppy’s arm and gently squeezed.

“Late?”

“The paper. The one that’s worth half my grade? I’m late.”

“Do you have it?” Niall asked as he looked Poppy in her reddened eyes. “Why does it matter? It’s late. Professor Lawernce won’t approve of it. First rule of his stupid syllabus.”

“Do you have it?” Niall asked again. His blue eyes seemed to flicker as a smile crept onto his face. Now was not the time to laugh at Poppy’s failure.

“Yes, but it’s probably wet from the stupid fucking rain.”

“Let me see it,” Niall smiled. Poppy’s brow furrowed in confusion, but bent down to retrieve the paper anyways. Only the corners seemed to have gotten wet and as she gave her essay to the man who comforted her, her heart raced. Tapping his watch with his finger, Niall says, “By the looks of my watch, it says you’re right on time.” He winked and turned to place Poppy’s essay in the mix of the other essays that had been turned in on time.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Poppy didn’t realize what she was doing until she had done it. She wrapped her arms around Niall and buried her face inside the crook of his neck, taking in the deep musk of his cologne. “You are a lifesaver Niall. I owe you big time.” Poppy pulled away suddenly and straightened her clothes as Niall’s gentle grasp lingered. She hadn’t wanted to let go.

“You can treat me to some drinks later on. My friends and I are going down to a local pub and you buy me a round and we’ll call it even.” Niall extended his hand so Poppy could shake on their business agreement.

“The name’s Poppy, by the way,” she said after shaking her newfound friend. A thought of what his lips taste like lingered in her brain. “Only my grandma calls me Penelope. It’s too old for me.”

Niall turns to lock his office door and smiles, “Old or not, I like it.”

“You might want to put those on,” Niall nods to Poppy’s closed hand. “Still gives the facade.” Poppy swallows the last bit of pride that she has left and nods. Her hands shake, not from the cold, but from the fact that it’s been almost a year since she last saw Niall. It was when he had the movers box all of his stuff and take it away in the moving truck that she saw him. He had gotten a tan from his vacation down in Cabo and he had thought Poppy wouldn’t be home.

“Thought you were gone to Amelia’s so I was going to leave this instead.” Niall handed her the note and walked to his car without another word. It was when he was pulling out of their driveway that she read the scratchy handwriting on the crumbled piece of white paper:

Poppy entered the house alone and was left with all of their belongings staring at her broken heart. She could hear them laughing at her failure and every vase, picture, and wall decoration dug deep into her soul watching her as she slid down the bare white wall of their living room as she cried with rage filling her body. She never wanted these things, but Niall gave them to her anyways. He always wanted her to have the nice things in life, but Niall had been so consumed with the warped accusations and thoughts that Poppy only loved Niall for the things he gave her that he overlooked the value of their friendship and relationship. Poppy grabbed the blue and yellow vase that Niall gave her for their first year anniversary after their wedding and threw it as hard as she could against the wall that held their wedding picture. The one where he cradled Poppy’s face so delicately that one would assume she was made of glass while he looked at her with life and love, all consuming and enduring, like she was the only person in the world.

It was never the same.

“Can you help me? I can’t seem to get it.”

Niall sighs and walks over to his ex-wife, snow crunching under each step. He could hear his heart roaring against its cage. He had locked his heart away when it came to Penelope, tortured it for still feeling the way he does for her- for her shallow love.

“Weather’s supposed to get bad. Heard on the news it might be a storm later on,” Poppy’s voice cracked under the slender touch of Niall’s. He’s trying to steady his breathing, to keep himself under control, but the smooth skin on the nape of Poppy’s neck brings back too many memories he thought he washed down with alcohol.

“Since when do you watch the news, Penelope?” he quirks, a small smile growing on his face. She’s trying to make an impression that she’s grown from the divorce- that she is independent, but Niall sees through the facade. She’s always been independent in her own way, and that was one of the many things that Niall loves about Poppy. Loved. He reminded himself. He loved her. He now loves Shelby.

“It was on the radio, meathead. I hope you know that people can change, Niall. They do it all the time.” The way his name hangs on her lips burns her- the taste of yesterday drowning in today. He unclasps the necklace when the front door of the blue townhome opens, letting the roaring laughter and music flood into the quiet snowy street.

“There’s the two love birds. Thought we might have missed you. Come inside before you both freeze,” the olive skinned woman that they both knew as Amelia shouted. Her shawl was wrapped around her body to hold off the harsh cold wind for the few moments her head had poked through the door. Niall’s smile vanishes as quickly as it came before Poppy turns to look at the dismal face of her ex-husband.

“Put them on quick. And put on a happy face; we’re the love birds, after all,” Niall growls as he picks up his luggage. Poppy pops the trunk open and Niall quickly takes a hold of her bag. They walk up the front stairs in silence, suitcases rolling, and before pushing the red front door that was left ajar, Niall places his hand on the crook of Poppy’s back and she swears that Niall’s eyes flickered with natural joy when she looked at him. Swallowing hard, Poppy feels as if this weekend is an endless cycle of boxing matches with the odds stacked against her, and with no one in her corner, she is about to step into the hardest round of her life.

taglist: @niallerlover, @yourpolaroid07

#niall horan #niall horan au #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fanfic #niall horan imagine #niall horan 1d #1dff

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k-llama-llama · 4 years

Text

Ladies’ Night

Monsta X AU: 8th member

Zoey x Monsta X

Things get wild at a Sumi x Zoey girl’s night.

A/N: ALSO FYI check out my patreon (patreon.com/kllamallama for exclusive posts!)

Requests are CLOSED…but your feedback is still super important to me.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“That’s how you dress for girl’s night?”

Zoey didn’t look away from the mirror to respond to Seungcheol. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Just that I know for a fact you’re ordering food, and I’m concerned for the health of the delivery man.”

Zoey turned, finding him smirking. “You’re being an idiot and you’re supposed to have left already.”

“Dokyeom’s running late.” He answered. “But seriously…that’s your outfit. I thought you were going to be posting selcas and stuff.”

“I am. This outfit is super cute.” Zoey looked back into the mirror. She’d gone for some short black shorts with white stripes down the side and a bandeau top. Her legs, arms, stomach and back were completely exposed. It was par for the course for Zoey, but a lot for just casually walking through their apartment complex.

“You look hot.” Seungcheol promised. “I’ll get out of here soon.”

“You’d better. The first rule of girl’s night is that-“ A knock sounded at the door. “Do me a favour and let Sumi in while I pick a lip gloss.”

“I got it.” Seungcheol patted her butt and then walked out of the closet, heading towards the door.

“Who’s ready to-“ Sumi trailed off when he opened the door. “I thought Zoey said you were going out.”

“I am.” Seungcheol rolled his eyes, stepping aside to let her into the apartment. “You look lovely, by the way.”

“Aw, thanks Cheol.” Sumi was wearing a matching set of pink shorts and a tank top, each with a trim of pink fur. She had a bag hanging from her hand that looked to be holding a couple of bottles of wine.

“You guys are really going to drink that much?” He gaped. “There’s only two of you.”

“Exactly.” Sumi winked. “So we’ll have to get beer with dinner.”

Seungcheol shook his head. “I don’t know why I try to understand you two.”

“I told you to give up on that.” Zoey said, walking into the room. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hey, Zo.” Sumi grinned, heading towards the fridge.

“You’re heading out now?” Zoey stopped in front of Seungcheol, tugging lightly on the front of his jacket.

“Yes, I’ll get out of your way.” He laughed. “I’m going to crash at the dorm, so just call if you need anything.”

“Will do.” She stood on her tip toes to press a kiss to his lips. “Have fun.”

“Be safe.” He licked his lips, tasting her lip gloss. “Is that the new strawberry one?”

“Yes. You like it?” She grinned.

“Love it.” He kissed her again.

“Just a friendly reminder that I’m still standing right here.” Sumi called, already pouring a glass of wine.

“I’m leaving.” Seungcheol promised. “You’re in charge, Soo.”

“Roger that.” She saluted him with the bottle.

The second the door closed behind him, Zoey turned to her friend, a grin spreading across her face.

“Now, as I was saying.” Sumi held out a glass of wine to Zoey. “Who’s ready to party?”

“Me!” Zoey clapped taking the wine and taking a generous swig. “Yum.”

“It’d better be. It was expensive.”

“We need something to chase it with.” Zoey pulled out their folder of takeout menus. “What are we feeling?”

“Jajjangmyeon?” Sumi suggested.

“Ooh, sounds good. I’ll get beer too.” Zoey pulled her phone out of her shorts, dialing the number.

“And I will pull up the first of many movies.” Sumi clinked glasses with Zoey before ducking around the counter and heading for the couch.

“Are we finishing the Twilight marathon?” Zoey asked.

Sumi sighed. “Can we watch that later? I have a better movie to watch.”

“Go for it.” Zoey lifted the phone to her ear, waiting for it to stop ringing.

Sumi pulled up Magic Mike on Netflix.

“We’re watching strippers?” Zoey exclaimed.

“Um…can I help you?” A voice said through the phone.

“Oh my god, sorry. Yes.” Zoey turned away from the TV, blocking out Sumi’s barely concealed laughter.

“How long until food?” Sumi asked when Zoey finally put the phone down.

��Twenty minutes. They’ll call when they’re here.” Zoey dropped down onto the couch. “Seriously, Magic Mike?”

“Yes!” Sumi exclaimed. “To get us in the mood.”

“For Twilight?”

“Obviously.” Sumi pouted. “Please? I never get to watch it at home. I think Changkyun gets a little too into it and YinYin just spends the whole time criticizing their dancing.”

“How often do you watch this movie?” Zoey asked.

“Like once a month.” Sumi smiled. “Come on – I’ll let us restart the Twilight marathon afterwards. And we’ll be drunk by that point and Twilight is always better when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t know…” Zoey pretended to think about it.

“Please….” Sumi leaned her head on Zoey’s shoulder. “I’ll pay for the food.”

“Deal.” Zoey snapped her fingers. “Let’s go. We’ve got twenty minutes of strippers before the noodles get here.”

“Let me get more wine!” Sumi shouted.

The only managed to get about ten minutes into the movie before the call came for the food. Zoey reluctantly put down her second glass of wine and grabbed Sumi’s wallet, heading out to the elevator.

“Do I have to pause it?” Sumi called after her.

“Nah – just keep going.” Zoey answered, shutting the door behind her.

She did pull some looks when she stepped into the lobby. To be fair, she wasn’t wearing much, and her cheeks were tellingly flushed. But she found the delivery man with no problem and he politely averted his eyes as she paid for the food.

“I come bearing-“ Zoey’s gaze shot to the TV as soon as she entered. “Wow that’s just a naked man right there, isn’t it?”

“Hm?” Sumi was shaken out of a daze. “Oh, food.”

Zoey sat back down, taking a sip of her refilled wine glass before she started to open the dishes.

“Dinner’s served.”

“Huh?” Sumi’s attention was once again on the film.

“Are you and Changkyun having problems, because you seem really thirsty right now.” Zoey handed her friend a pair of chopsticks.

“Don’t talk about my sex life over dinner please.” Sumi smirked.

“I’ll just text your boyfriend and find out.” Zoey scooped up some noodles. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Sumi downed her glass of wine and dug into the food.

Zoey woke up on the floor, very thankful for the plush rug that she’d insisted they purchase. There was a throw blanket covering half of her body, but the rest was still hanging off the couch where it was covering Sumi.

Her head was pounding, and she winced at the light from the window.

“Sumi?” She reached up, smacking the girl. Her voice was hoarse. “You awake?”

“Urgh, I wish I was dead.” Sumi groaned. “What happened?”

“Your stupid wine happened.” Zoey closed her eyes. “I feel like shit.”

“Well you both look great.”

Both girls opened their eyes, finding Seungcheol leaning over the back of the couch.

“You’re home?” Zoey said weakly.

“Considering it’s one in the afternoon, yeah.” He held out two small yellow bottles.

“Don’t show me alcohol?” Sumi turned away.

“Hangover cure.” He dropped one on her before tossing the other to Zoey. “Figured you would need it.”

“I love you so much.” Zoey said, trying to open the bottle with weak hands.

“Even I love you.” Sumi said. “Will you open this please?”

Seungcheol opened Sumi’s bottle for her. “You got your’s, Zo?”

“Mmmhmm.” She pushed herself into a sitting position to take the shot. “Hey, did you bring food with you?”

“How can you even think of eating?” Sumi gagged. “I think I’m going to hurl.”

“Not on the carpet please.” Seungcheol deadpanned. “And I’m going to order something, now that you’re both awake.”

“You waited? That’s so sweet.” Zoey smiled at him, aware that she looked like death.

“I had a late breakfast, and when I got home I checked to make sure you guys were still alive and I’ve just been working.”

“We get it – you’re perfect!” Sumi groaned loudly. “I will also have some of whatever you order.”

“Cool.” Seungcheol patted Sumi on the head. “You might want to clean up. Your boyfriend is coming over.”

“What, he is?” Sumi shook her head. “Why?”

“Because he couldn’t get a hold of you or Zoey this morning. So he called me.” Seungcheol started collecting empty bottles. “Go shower.”

Both girls started to stand up.

“Not together!” He exclaimed. “Woah, are you guys still drunk?”

“A little.” Zoey took a seat at the kitchen counter. “You can go first, Soo. He’s already seen me look gross.”

“Thank you.” Sumi walked away towards the bathroom.

“I can do the dishes.” Zoey offered weakly, resting her head on the counter.

“I like these glasses.” Seungcheol said simply. “How about you just concentrate on not throwing up.”

“I’m trying, believe me.”

“Oh, and Zo?”

“What?”

“I got a weird text from you last night. Something about ordering a pole?”

Zoey shot up. “I didn’t.”

“You did. Why, did you-“

“I may have drunk ordered a stripper pole.” She jumped off the stool, running for her phone.

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Five: The One with the Burnt Pancakes

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2516

Coming out of a divorce unscathed was more uncommon than its counterpart. Typically, a bit of baggage attaches itself to one or both parties. No matter whether or not divorce rates are through the roof in today's modern era, it still hurt more than words could describe. Especially when it's due to an affair. It creates this sense of unworthiness, and as though you weren't good enough. And when the pair has a child, it makes it ten times more difficult. Knowing that you'll have to break it to the child that their parents will no longer be together, and that they will most likely spend more time with one in comparison to the other.

But, when your child already has a bit of distaste towards your partner, it can make the blow a little softer. Sure, every mother wants their child to have a relationship with their father, other mom, etc. Whatever the situation is, parents, want that. They want to be able to see their child's face when they see their ex-spouse, but sometimes, there's nothing you can do about it. Especially when your ex never put in the effort, to begin with.

Above all, your perception of love changes. and that's exactly what happened to Lily. She lost all belief in herself and didn't believe she could ever find someone who would love her, along with the baggage that she carried alongside her. And that broken heart that she has yet to mend, and honestly, she wasn't sure if she'd ever find someone who could help. To cup warm hands around the two halves and hold them together until they combined once again.

Other things she deemed impossible, was her sitting in a kitchen with the avengers. Earth’s mightiest heroes. The people that destroyed an entire army. travelled to space. Some even having been ripped out of time and thrown into different roles and periods. These people had stories people couldn't even dream of, lived lives people only wished to be able to experience. And here sat Lily, a single mother of an 11-year-old boy, who lived in a domestic area, and worked as a pediatrician. She was minuscule in comparison to the Gods and soldiers that sat around her.

"So, is Hunter’s father around?" a soft voice asked, an accent dripping from the words. It had pulled Lily out of her thoughts of astonishment, as she tried to wrap her head around what was currently happening.

"Hm? Oh, no," Lily spoke, her voice as soft as the gentle ripple of a pond, while she sipped the coffee they had given her. Glancing up, a few of the superheroes looked at her with inquisitive eyes, wondering where he may be, or if he even was to be anymore, "We uh, we divorced four years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the girl continued. Lily had placed her as Scarlet Witch, or Wanda Maximoff. Hunter adored her. He ranted and raved about how cool her abilities were and how she could probably take down an entire army by herself if she wanted to, "He's cute. I've always wanted kids."

Lily nodded along as the conversation continued around her. She stayed as silent as a sleeping lamb, her green eyes glancing around as she tapped her fingers against her coffee mug. She wasn't sure what they wanted her to say. It had been proven time and time again that Lily was the farthest from a talker. Deep inside of her mind, the little voice of self-doubt had convinced her that no one cared about what she had to say. That the only reason people even spoke to her, to begin with, was because it was polite. But she's also been told that the world around her found that shy demeanour endearing, and mysterious. As if she held secrets behind those sealed lips when in reality, Lily was scared that if she spoke, she'd create secrets. Letting the world in on the pain she hid, that she kept locked away in a vault deep within her mind. protecting herself from being destroyed again.

"...So if you ever need a babysitter," Wanda’s voice sang again, yanking Lily away from her deeper thoughts once again, as though the two were tethered. the young blonde's attention perked up as the young girl continued speaking, "I'm your girl."

Was the Scarlet Witch, offering to babysit Lily's eleven-year-old? As in, seriously? Like to pick him up or come down from upstate New York to deliberately take care of him? If it weren't for the fact Lily rarely left the house, and if she did, it was with Hunter, she may have considered the idea. But Lily wasn't one to go out. The noise that came along with the idea of partying or going out on the town always got Lily's heart beating at a much too fast pace. If she was going out, it was to gen's cafe, or with three glasses of wine down and a whole bottle to go. The world was loud and intimidating, and could easily crush Lily's fragile heart and mind with a simple touch. And where would that lead her? Nowhere good, that's where.

"Oh that's sweet, but I don't typically go out, and when I do, he comes with," Lily stated, lips forming a tight smile as she ran her finger along the circular hole atop her mug.

"Really? A girl that's as beautiful as you must get tons of guys and go out on dates. and I see no ring on that finger," the infamous Tony Stark teased while shifting his weight to look at the blonde, "unless there's already a lucky fella."

A laugh of almost disbelief escaped through Lily's full lips as if the idea of Tony Stark calling her beautiful was too good to be true, "Oh no. my best friend tries but I don't date. Already have my hands full with work and Hunter."

"Where do you work?" Steve's voice now chimed in, pushing off the counter he leaned on as Bucky worked away, staying silent. He hadn't spoken a word to Lily since Steve walked her through the threshold of the kitchen, merely a gruff hi before returning to the feverish work he was doing on the pancakes. It was as though he was trying to make them perfect.

"I'm a pediatrician at Mount Sinai Kravis Children's Hospital down in Manhattan," Lily answered, her eyes averting from looking at any of the intimidating people around her. Why were they so interested in her? Why did they seriously care so much about her personal life? She just brought Hunter here for a tour, not an interrogation...was this what people did? Like...they wanted to learn more about her? It didn't make sense, she was pretty basic. There was nothing special to her, Lily thought.

"Oh, that's awesome. I have a few-"

"SHIT!"

The large outburst caused everybody to immediately turn their attention to where it came from. Behind the counter, Bucky was waving smoke away from his face that seemed to be billowing from the pan on the stove. He burnt the pancakes. Lily felt a small smile tug at the corners of her lips as she watched him throw a towel at the counter, his face turning a crisp shade of red, like a cherry. The moment his eyes landed on her though, his entire body lit up in a hue of pink it seemed. He grew flustered, biting down on this ever so soft lips he had. Lily was only human, she couldn't help but avert her eyes down to the thin layer of skin. And as if on cue, Wanda let her voice ring through the kitchen.

"Damn it, Barnes! I told you not to cook, and you decide to challenge your abilities in front of our guest?" The ginger exclaimed while standing from her chair, going to help the built man clean his mess.

A few of the others in the room whined, and Lily guessed they had been waiting for a bit to eat. She felt a twang of guilt deep within her, as though it was her fault. But it really wasn't, she wasn't the one making the pancakes. no, she was merely answering the personal questions they all seemed to have for her, as well as constantly glancing at the hall or behind her to see if Hunter was on his way back. Instead, he was now outside with Sam, looking at all of the different artifacts and things that weren't able to be kept inside of the compound.

"You much of a chef, Lily?" James Rhodes (Warmachine, she reminded herself), asked. No matter the amount of mental effort it took, Lily couldn't help but allow the tinge of rose to decorate her full cheeks. They seemed to want to get to know her, and she felt almost...accepted? No, maybe more so welcomed, by these beings of immense power and ability. She allowed her shoulders to relax, and her grip on her mug lessened.

"Nothing impressive, but I do know my way around a kitchen," she responded, tilting her head to the side, causing her blonde locks to dance across her shoulder, "Most nights, I try to make homemade meals for Hunt and I. It's important for a child's development." she finished but noticed how all of their eyes were glued to her. Raising her left eyebrow ever so gently, she let a giggle escape from her throat, "but sometimes I give in and order pizza."

"You should help Bucky out, he's never been the best cook. Got used to boiling everything in the forties, so he makes a mean hot dog," Steve teased, sauntering over in all of his Captain America excellence, "Anything else? Completely lost on him."

"It's a good skill to have. But difficult to master, I suppose." Lily shrugged, crossing her legs over one another as she rested her elbow on the glass table, cupping her chin as she sipped the hot liquid in her cup. She couldn't seem, however, to take her eyes off of the culprit of the burnt pancake smell. The way the muscles in his neck rippled whenever he clenched his jaw. How his metal arm glinted as a small stream of light entered through a window, creating a bright reflection. How his scruff along his chiselled chin seemed to be a bit overgrown underneath.

Her mind began to wander momentarily, a gentle and soft vision dancing itself into her brain. Him sitting on a chair in her bathroom, Lily sitting comfortably on his lap, facing him. His eyes sleepy and his hair unkempt. Her skilled and nimble hand resting on the side of his face as she trimmed underneath his jaw, getting those areas he seemed to miss. His lips parted as he seemed to slowly drift off again, as though Lily's gentle hands were willing him to...

A hand waving in front of her face snatched Lily out of her odd fantasy land. She cleared her throat and looked around her, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, as though she had been paying attention to the whole conversation she just missed. Holding her lips inside of her mouth, Lily shifted once again in her seat, attempting to play it cool as the blush that had formed on her cheeks seemed to grow rapidly.

"Sorry, could you repeat what you said?" she asked, her voice weak as her eyes shifted to look at the man behind the counter once again. She couldn't help it...he was beautiful.

"I said you should help Buck out making the pancakes. Most of us haven't eaten, and if you're as good as you say, maybe you can help." Steve grinned, a knowing glint in his sky blue eyes. The way he looked at Lily, as though he could see inside of her head, sent a shiver down her spine. The idea of anyone knowing where her mind just wandered was basically mortifying for her. Being such a conservative person, the idea of that getting out? Yeah, no.

"Oh no I shouldn't...I'm positive he's capable of making pancakes." Lily chuckled, her voice cracking halfway through. This caught everyone's interest, and Lily had to hide her face with her mug as the dark liquid slid its way down her throat.

"He isn't. We don't normally let him in the kitchen. C'mon Lily, show us whatcha got." Steve continued to pry, leaning back in his chair as the others encouraged the entire idea.

Lily's head turned back to where Bucky stood, an almost pleading yet bashful look gracing his perfectly sculpted features. Just the way his eyes seemed to call out for her, was enough to allow the eldest Osborne to give in to the peer pressure of her new acquaintances. That was something Lily believed to be impossible, being friends with these heroes. These people that laid their life on the ground multiple times, saving her and her son by protecting the world around them. She was in debt to this group, everybody was. They've kept them protected for countless years. But how would one even begin to thank them?

"Okay okay, I'll do it," Lily mumbled, finishing her drink before pushing herself out of the chair that probably cost the same amount as her dog. She pulled a hair tie from her wrist and securing the blonde locks at the nape of her neck as she gracefully floated towards the kitchen. Glancing around, she couldn't help but let out a laugh at how expensive the items around her were. Sure, she didn't live in a house with run-down appliances, but these were top-of-the-line, high-end, see-on Food Channel things. A far reach from Lily's budget, "Well, first of all, Bucky, you need to turn on the fan."

After preparing everything to ensure not only safety but also to optimize space and time, Lily turned towards the man she had just moments ago daydreamed of. For a moment, she found herself lost in those steel-blue eyes he had. As though he had captured the moon and made them his own, adding a tinge of the blue from the sky above. How with every flicker across her face, a story was told. The pain and suffering he had endured etched into the dips and creases of his face, especially around those beautiful orbs. A part of her wished that the other members of the group were gone and that she could grip the sides of his face and kiss those lips he kept licking. His tongue darting out to wet them, creating a slight chapped ring around the pink layer of skin.

"Hey if you two are done gazing into the eyes of each other and looking like Hollister models, the rest of us are hungry." Starks’s voice rang, snapping Lily out of the trance the ex-soldier had put her under for a few seconds.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, coke can," Bucky muttered while turning his gaze away from Lily's and focused on washing the blueberries, "I'm just cleaning fruit."

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 4 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: brief mentions of death

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

Chapter 4: Cornflowers Means ‘Delicacy’

Thomas felt as if he’d gotten Martha’s blessing to pursue Alex. He had wanted to before, but he’d felt guilty towards her, so instead he had riled the other up and argued with him.

But now…

With their tentative friendship evolving every day, the sudden email reminding him to keep living seemed like a sign. Maybe that was stupid, but Thomas was going to cling to it. Though he had to figure out how to work up the courage to flirt first.

He was absolutely hopeless at the whole thing. He’d started bribing Alex with food, making sure the other ate lunch everyday as a way in.

It was a slow process, but yesterday Alex had shown up at his office with a bag with two bagels in it when Thomas had gotten lost in his work and forgotten the time. He’d shrugged: “Seemed only fair to chip in myself for a change.”

Instead of using it as a way to thank him or something, Thomas had made a joke about Alex finally stopping with mooching off him, which had only earned him a small shove, before they had started an argument about the usefulness of the hole in the middle of a bagel.

Thomas was close to ripping his hair out in frustration.

Martha had flirted with him, he had never done this. He had no clue what he should be doing and James was absolutely no help. When he had asked him the man had simply said: “Too aroace, Tom.”

So now he was going to the one other person who could help him with this, but by God did he dread it.

“Hi, Thomas, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello, Angie,” he replied, holding up a bottle of red wine, “Can I embarrass myself again and have you tell me I’m stupid before helping me?”

Angelica grinned: “With love. Here, come in.”

Thomas came in and dropped the wine on the kitchen counter of her apartment, before throwing himself on the couch with a groan. That earned him an eyeroll from Angelica, who poured them both a glass of wine, before pushing his legs of the couch and sitting down.

“Pizza and a romcom?” she asked, phone already in hand.

“Yeah, let’s be fully trashy,” Thomas agreed.

“You love trashy.”

“I truly do.”

Angelica ordered the pizza and waited for Thomas to leave behind the shelter of a pillow. He finally did and took a large gulp of his wine, before he said: “I don’t know how to flirt.”

“What?” out of all the things, Angelica had not seen that coming, but the realization hit her: “Oh my God are you trying to shoot your shot with Alex?”

“Maybe?” his voice was unsure and small and Angelica was living.

“Are you for real?” she exclaimed, “Tell me everything! Leave out no details. Holy fuck, this is great.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said miserably.

“You can’t just ask me about advise to flirt with a guy, whom you’ve been crushing on for years while claiming you were never going to go after it and expect me to not get excited about it, Thomas. I mean come on, what changed?”

“I mean, me and Alex are kind of friends now and then-” he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to tell Angelica about the email from Martha, “then I got a reminder- it’s a long story.”

“Tell me,” Angelica demanded.

“You remember Alex brought Philip with him to work?” Thomas began.

“Yeah, that was four months ago, though.”

“Well, me and Alex talked and I told him about Martha, because Philip had told me about John, remember that?” he asked.

Angelica nodded.

“He called me,” Thomas went on, “It was John’s birthday and he was struggling and I had told him he could always talk to me and stuff, so he did. We bought Philip a Halloween costume and then we went to John’s grave so that he could show it to him.”

“Oh shit,” Angelica took a big gulp of her wine, “That’s a lot heavier than I was expecting, sorry. I didn’t know that part, he told us he handled John’s birthday well.”

“I mean, he did, sort off,” Thomas said, “Don’t let him know you know, I don’t know if he wanted me to tell you. But in the end it was a good day.”

“John loved Halloween.”

“Thought so, Alex mentioned Philip getting excited about his costume,” Thomas told her.

Angelica cringed in sympathy.

“Anyway, we spend John’s birthday together and after that it was different in the office and stuff and I brought him lunch-”

“You brought him lunch!”

“He had forgotten, what was I supposed to do? Was that weird?” Thomas sounded scared, Alex hadn’t seem to mind and he did it after. WouldAlex be mad at him?

“No, no, not bad,” Angelica quickly assured him, “Just sweet.”

“Then why did you react like that?” Thomas hissed, stress outing itself.

“Because I haven’t seen Alex eat in break room since forever,” Angelica replied, “He deflects every time I asked, we were already planning an intervention or something.”

“Oh,” Thomas didn’t know what to say to that, “Well, you don’t, he’s been eating fine.”

“Thank God for that, Eliza can be scary.”

Thomas huffed out a laugh at that, before proceeding: “So, I brought him lunch and he thanked me and said that I could call him if needed too.”

“How precious.”

“So I did,” Thomas decided that after sharing about John’s birthday to Angelica it would only be fair to tell her about himself as well, “Because Martha had send me an email – it was a site thing, send emails to the future and stuff – and, well, that was an unexpected punch to the gut.”

“Are you okay, Tommy?” Angelica’s brows were concerned, “I didn’t hear you about it.”

“It’s fine, Angie,” he assured her, “Me and Alex watched movies all day and just reminisced about her, it was nice. But in the email, Martha told me to move on from her.”

“She knows you too well,” Angelica smiled softly, she had known Martha herself and had seen first hand how devastated Thomas was after her death.

“Yeah, so that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past few months, but I. Can’t. Flirt,” he fell back dramatically once more.

“God, you’re hopeless,” Angelica said, “Luckily I am here to save you, I am the best wingwoman known to man.”

“I hope you’re right, because being friends with Alex is killing me. Do you know how cute that motherfucker can be?” Thomas told her, “He has these big ass smiles and these little giggles and they are designed to kill me.”

Angelica smiled fondly, slight hurt in her eyes as a different person with the same complaints flashed in front of her eyes.

The bell rang and Angelica quickly got their pizzas before she sat down to form a game plan, which she privately named ‘Plan Jamilton’.

“Okay, so first up, what is a regular day with Alex like? So an office day, but then I don’t have to hear about your boring meetings unless Alex is involved,” she asked.

“I get in, he’s usually in the break room getting coffee, we talk – well, argue, but not mean – about whatever, we work, we eat lunch, then work some more, then I tell him to home if it’s not Tuesday or Friday, because he goes home earlier on those day, because he has to get Philip from school,” Thomas listed, then shrugged: “Meetings are still the same.”

“Huh, is that why I couldn't find him last Tuesday?”

“Yeah, normally Philip gets picked up by one of his Aunts or Un- you know that, sorry,” Thomas cut himself off.

“I know the others pick Philip up from time to time and that Alex hires a babysitter, I didn’t know there was a pattern,” Angelica confessed, “I’m more the fun Aunt that shows up from time to time with presents, Eliza is more the overly involved Aunt, but that’s fair since Philip was in her for nine months.”

“Touche.”

“Anyways, you and Alex seem to talk a few times during the day. Morning and lunch and before he goes home, all good opportunities,” she suggested.

“I’m aware, but then I’d have to know what to say, don’t I, Angie,” Thomas pointed out.

“Alex is a natural flirter, give him a push and he’ll do most of the work.”

“But then what do I do? How do I react to him flirting? That’ll be bad for my soul,” Thomas whined.

“Think of it like banter, you two do it all the time,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “Just maybe make it a bit more suggestive here and there, add innuendos. I think you can manage that.”

“And what if Alex thinks it’s weird or if he’s just doing it because he’s flirty?” Thomas worried, “I mean, you said it yourself that he’s naturally flirty, what if he doesn’t think anything of it and then I am the weird one and he hates me.”

“He’s not going to hate you, you idiot,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “He likes you.”

“What? How do you know that?” Thomas needed answers and he needed them now.

“Technically, I don’t, but-”

“Then you have no ground to stand on and I shouldn’t risk it.”

“Let me talk, Thomas Jefferson,” the full name shut him up, “As I wanted to say: Technically, I don’t know for sure if he likes you, but he has stopped complaining about you and last week he said you might have shit ideas on company policy, but you had great taste in classical writers. He loves classical writers. That’s huge for him.”

“That’s hardly anything, Angie.”

“And Laf asked me what was up between you two,” Angelica played her ace.

“Laf thinks there is something up between us two?” Thomas took the bait as predicted, hopeful puppy eyes that shouldn’t be adorable on a 6’3, grown man.

“Yeah, he said – and I quote – Hm, did you notice anything off between mon petit lionand our dear Thomas, those two seems to be getting closer,non?”

“Your French accent is horrible.”

“Not the focus, Tommy. The focus is that he wiggled his brows about it.”

“He wiggled his brows?”

“Yes, he only does that if he is super certain of his observations or if he knows something. I’m still figuring out which one it is,” Angelica informed him.

“So maybe Alex said something to him?” Thomas suggested.

“Maybe, but you’d have to ask him.”

“I’m not going to ask him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is a nosy Frenchman, who doesn’t know when to stop meddling and he’ll embarrass me in front of Alex, I’m sure of it,” Thomas whined.

“He’s not that bad, Thomas. Get over yourself,” Angelica told him, taking a bite out of her pizza slice.

“No, one time I told him I was considering celebrating my birthday and he threw me a huge surprise party – granted, it was sweet of him, but also no, not for me – with like a live band and stuff. It was way too much.”

“Okay, so maybe not ask Laf directly,” Angelica conceded.

Thomas eyes suddenly lit up with inspiration and he exclaimed: “You could ask him!”

“No!” Angelica protested immediately.

“Why not?” Thomas was pleading now, “For me.”

“Because then he’ll know for suresomething is up and talk to either you or Alex and then your whole plan will still be ruined,” Angelica explained, “You just need to trust me and flirt with Alex. I swear it will be fine.”

“But what if it isn’t?”

“Then I’ll get you ice cream and chew out Alex,” she promised.

“I hate it when you make a point,” Thomas complained.

“And I hate eating without playing a movie, we both make sacrifices,” Angelica rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed as she took another bite of her pizza, almost as if to make a point.

In the end they did watch a movie. It was a shitty romcom, as promised, and every time someone flirted Angelica rated it and advised for or against the method. Thomas wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle or hug her.

He still didn’t say anything for almost a week and a half, until he found himself in the printer room with Alex.

“Honestly, Thomas, you can’t possibly think that saying a cloud and rain are the same makes any sense,” Alex rolled his eyes, pushing some buttons on the printer.

“No, just think about it, okay? Clouds are water, rain is also water, correct?” Alex grudgingly agreed, “A cloud is basically water floating around until it gets cold and falls, so therefore rain is basically just a cloud falling.”

Alex paused, processing his words, before he said: “Oh my God, shut up.”

“Make me,” Thomas had been so caught up about winning their argument that he hadn’t even thought before letting the slightly suggestive words slip out.

Now they both paused. Thomas looked shocked at his own words and Alex studied him curiously, his eyes scanning him up and down, before he smirked and asked: “Is that a threat or a promise, Tommy? Because you really shouldn’t say things you can’t deliver on.”

Then he grabbed his papers and left Thomas gaping like a fish on dry land as he tried to process the entire interaction.

Alex was internally panicking as he hightailed out of the room, hoping to leave Thomas before the man had gathered his wits again. Sure, Thomas might have started it, but Alex had taken it a level further.

He’d wanted to flirt with Thomas, but they only just started to be friendly. Well, maybe not just, but it wasn’t as if they had stopped being rivals that long ago.

It was just…

It was just that Philip had really liked Thomas, he was still sometimes asking about how Mr. Thomas was doing. And the man had done so much for him on John’s birthday. And he had looked so vulnerable with the email and Alex had never seen that side of him and his stupid crush was developing at an alarming rate. And he didn’t want to acknowledge it or make it real, but…

Butnow he might have made it weird.

Fuck, what was he going to do? Oh, wait, Eliza was picking up Philip today – normally he would do it, but school ended early that day so Eliza had offered – and it was after lunch, so he wouldn’t see Thomas today and he could talk to her and have a plan tomorrow.

With that in mind, he tried to forget about the whole incident and work till the end of the day, losing himself in his work and hoping he wouldn’t run into Thomas.

He left at five on the dot and at half past five he was knocking on Eliza’s door. She opened, but before she could say anything he blurted out: “I flirted with Thomas today. I think he started it, but now I’m thinking it might have been me.”

She blinked, then blinked again, before she pulled him into the house: “Tell me everything. Is this the great Mr. Thomas Philip was telling me about? The one you’ve been crushing on and didn’t tell me and I had to hear about from Herc?”

“Maybe?” he squeaked.

He and Philip ended up eating dinner with her and Maria and afterwards Maria watched a movie with Philip, sending them a knowing look that made Alex blush.

Alex had known Eliza since Freshman year in college. He and her had hit it off right away, even dated for a while, but then John had taken a break from the army to study and- well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.

The point was Alex told Eliza everything. She’d been the first to know he fancied John, had helped him pick an outfit for their first date, had been there for ring shopping and wedding planning. She had carried Philip for nine months for Pete’s sake.

Yet he had hesitated with telling her about Thomas.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but if he told her it would be real, because telling her made it real and he was scared of this being real.

But now it was going to be real.

It was going to be real because Thomas had said something slightly suggestive and Alex had taken that as a sign to blatantly flirt with the man. It was going to be real, because he was going to tell Eliza.

Fuck.

He started up slowly, hesitating about certain parts, what to say and what not, but in the end the words started to flow out of him like they always did.

Alex told Eliza about how he’d thought Thomas was attractive, but had pushed that down with the personality, but then he’d been nice to Philip and that had stirred something inside him again. He told her about John’s birthday, the endless jokey lunch discussions, Martha’s email, how he the feelings had been building up until he had blurted out his comment that day.

All throughout Eliza just listened and nodded along until his word vomit session was over and he just sat there and breathed.

“It sounds to me,” she began carefully, “like you really like Thomas and that he is a good influence on you. And if I understood correctly, he has proven himself to be willingly involved with Pip. He sounds like a catch, ‘Lexi.”

“He is,” Alex sighed with a smile, then slightly sadder he added, “I just don’t know what to do. I might have scared him off today.”

“Come on, don’t be so deprecating. I knew you in college, you can woo him,” Eliza encouraged him teasingly.

“Wow, thanks, ‘Liza,” he huffed.

“I’m serious, ‘Lexi. You can flirt and you know it, you’re a charmer if you want to be, when you’re not, you know, forcing people to have opinions they need to defend,” she said, “Though, Thomas already knows that, since-” she gestured vaguely, “since you two do that.”

Alex laughed at that, before he turned more serious: “What if I fuck this up, Betsy? What if I do something wrong? What if Pip gets hurt by this? I don’t know how I’d live with myself if this hurts him.”

He only called her Betsy if he was really worried about something.

“Hey, Alexander, look at me,” if he was calling her Betsy, she was pulling out full names, “You’re not going to fuck this up, you just need to be patient for a moment.”

“Have you been hanging around Burr?” Alex groaned.

Eliza rolled her eyes at him: “No and just because you don’t agree with someone doesn’t mean they can’t have a point.”

“He should have points, ‘Liza, that’s the entire point,” Alex told her.

“I am not having this discussion with you right now, we were focusing on something else,” she knew deflection when she saw it, “We were talking about Thomas and you wooing him.”

“What? Do you have a battle plan or something?”

“Of course I have.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”

“You could stand to mention it more,” she smiled, “Now, you are flirty, which is great everyone will say that you are. He knows Laf, he’ll ask if he’s curious and Laf is how we keep tabs on him. Trust me, he will come talking if Thomas ever asks him anything like that.”

Alex laughed: “Remember when Herc said he had a date and Laf showed up at the restaurant in a disguise to check on her, because she had ‘weird vibes’?”

Eliza snorted and nodded at the memory, before moving on: “So we have a route of communication, sort of, to tell how the flirting is received. If it’s good, you can ask him out. If not, well, I have ice cream and a shoulder to cry on.”

“Betsy, you are the best of women, honestly. If you weren’t so gay, I’d marry you,” he told her with a grin.

“Like I said, you’re a charmer,” she ruffled his hair, before ushering him and Philip – who had been elated about the later bedtime – out the door while reminding him to tell her everything from now on.

He left with that promise to her and a lighter heart.

The next day started like any other, with Thomas finding Alex in the break room like nothing had happened. For a moment Thomas worried the other was going to pretend that nothing had been said, crumbling his resolve to start flirting today.

“Hi, Alex,” he decided on his normal greeting, just to test the room.

Alex turned and smiled – it was that stupid bright smile that did things to Thomas – then said: “Hi, you’re looking good today? New pants?”

They weren’t new and Thomas knew that Alex knew that, because it was an outfit he’d worn many times. The comment eased some of his anxiety about this as he replied: “No, but glad you’re finally appreciating my impeccable sense of style.”

The eyeroll Alex gave him couldn't have been stopped even if he tried, so he just winked: “Nah, you still dress overly colored. Maybe I can help you find a better sense of style. Those pants would have to come off for that, though.”

Then he sashayed away like he hadn’t left Thomas blushing, pouring coffee over his hand because he wasn’t paying attention to the coffeepot.

And for the next few daysit continued like this. Their arguments that had turned into banter had now turned into flirting.

They were dancing around each other like teenagers afraid to be rejected for prom and the whole office had probably caught onto it. Alex was sure of that with all the looks knowing they were getting.

This was confirmed when Washington made him stay after a meeting in which some flirty comments had slipped into their debate, he raised a brow at Alex and asked: “What happened to the ‘nothing like that, sir’?”

Alex blushed heavily and squeaked: “Back then it wasn’t.”

“So it is like that now?”

“Sir,” it was a whine and Alex would deny it later.

“Alex,” Washington just replied, completely nonplussed.

“Ugh,” Alex groaned, this softly said: “Maybe? Not yet. I don’t know.”

“Well, Thomas is a good man, be kind to him,” Washington told him, a slight warning in his tone, before he got protective, “And be careful with yourself too, son.”

“I’m not-” Alex cut off the standard reply, because it was really not true at this point, so instead he nodded: “I will, thank you, sir.”

Washington send him away with some paperwork and an order not to stay late again and Alex promised he wouldn’t, because he was picking up Philip today and he had promised the kid they could go to a park after school.

Philip was so excited to see him and Alex pushed him on a swing and caught him when he wanted to jump off.

During dinner Philip asked: “How is Mr. Thomas? He was nice, why doesn’t he come around again? He came that one time and you are friends now, right? Why doesn’t he come around like Uncle Herc and Uncle Laf do?”

“It’s a bit complicated, Pip,” Alex said after a moment, “Me and Thomas are friends, but it just never flowed like that.”

“You always says I can change my own path, why can’t you?” God, sometimes Pip was too smart for his own good.

“I’ll see if he wants to come to movie night with your Uncles and Aunties. Does that sound fun?” he might regret this, but the look on Pip’s face was worth it.

He didn’t approach Thomas directly, with all the flirting he didn’t want it to come across as asking for a date. If he was going to ask Thomas, he was going to ask it better than that. Instead he approached Angelica: “Hey, Angie, can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“For movie night, I, uhm, well, I wanted to ask Thomas to come, but that’s weird, because it would be me asking, so I wanted to ask if you could invite him to come along?” Alex hoped she would say yes.

Angelica smiled pleasantly and Alex dreaded her answer: “Why is it weird when you do it?”

“Come on, Angie,” Alex whined, “I’m sure you and Eliza gossip about me. You know what this is about. If I ask him out, I’ll do it differently than a group movie night, because Pip wanted to see him again.”

“You’re gonna ask him out?” Angelica asked excitedly.

Alex cursed his stupid mouth and said: “Maybe. It’s still new and stuff, but eventually, yeah, it’s the plan at least. Don’t tell him though, please.”

Angelica cooed: “You are too cute. I won’t tell, don’t worry.”

“Will you ask him?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” maybe there was a bit too much force in the words, but Alex didn’t care.

That Friday Alex was more anxious about movie night than he had any right to be. It was usually hosted at his house so that he could put Pip to bed on time, before they watched non-kid movies, though everyone had a soft spot for the animated movies.

He had checked everything over multiple times and the only thing distracting him was Philip’s latest car parkour.

Herc arrived first, sweeping his nephew into his arms and being a calming enough presence that Alex had relaxed by the time Eliza and Maria along with Peggy showed up.

Then Angelica arrived with Thomas in tow. He greeted Alex awkwardly: “Sorry, is this okay? Angie said it was, but I don’t want to intrude.”

Luckily Alex didn’t have to answer, because Philip came running: “Mr. Thomas! Mr. Thomas, I have started keeping my drawings in this book and it’s already pretty full, do you want to see? We’re going to watch Mulantonight? Have you seen Mulanbefore? Did you like it?”

Thomas smiled: “Hey, kiddo, how about one question at a time? I’d love to see your drawings.”

Philip cheered and dragged Thomas away, who send Alex an apologetic look, though Alex didn’t mind having the pressure of him. He was distracted by Angelica: “That went well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you dork, it’s going fine,” Angelica assured him, “Now, I want something to drink. Do you have popcorn?”

Lafayette arrived last. By the time he came knocking they had all the snacks set out and the movie was waiting. He bustled in: “Bonjour, Bonjour, sorry I’m late. There was traffic and I was sleeping.”

“Uncle Laf!” Philip was off the couch and at Laf’s side in seconds, these nights would always make him excited enough that he dropped off early.

“Ah, mon petit neveu, how are you?” Laf hugged him tightly.

Philip babbled excitedly: “I’m going to become an artist. I showed Mr. Thomas my drawing book and he says they’re really good and my teacher says so as well.”

“Mr. Thomas?” Laf asked, he hadn’t been around often lately with his job keeping him busy and traveling. He had seen something was up, but he hadn’t gotten the note that the two were doing something about it and he hadn’t heard Philip about it yet either.

From the couch Thomas spoke up: “Hi, Lafayette. How was your week? Heard they needed you back in Paris?”

“Thomas! What une surprise!” Laf said and they had a conversation, which was more an interrogation how he’d ended up here. Alex saved Thomas by telling the nosy Frenchman that they were worked together on his financial plan and Thomas was not so bad ‘yes, Laf just like you said, I know.’

Movie night went great, they watched Mulan first and Philip kept asking Thomas questions throughout the entire movie, which Thomas answered dutifully. This amused the other adults greatly.

By the end the excitement had died down and Philip was nodding off. Alex left Eliza in charge of refilling the snacks, while he got Pip ready for bed.

When he got back the only spot left was right next to Thomas, he suppressed an eyeroll at his friends antics and sat down, knowing Laf would be all over this when the night was over. But for now he didn’t care.

He and Thomas had watched movies together before, albeit under different circumstances, but it was nothing new. Though he had forgotten how warm Thomas was and – now that he thought about it – he was kind of tired.

Slowly he slid sidewards throughout their viewing of The Patriotuntil he was leaning on Thomas’s shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open. In the distance he felt something shift and the he slid further, a warm arm resting over him before he drifted off completely.

When he awoke it was dark and he was tucked in on the couch, cold and alone.

He sat up in confusion until his eye fell on a note in a familiar cursive handwriting that was too pretty to belong to someone in this century. It read: You fell asleep. We thought it better to let you be. Thanks for inviting me, I had fun. Sleep tight. x, T.

And honestly that little ‘x’ shouldn’t have made Alex blush. He looked up to a picture of John and whispered: “My dear Laurens, I think I’ve fallen in too deep already.”

The picture didn’t reply, instead John’s smiling face stayed static, but Alex still found it comforting to have John looking at him with something akin to encouragement. John would want him to be happy, he had always tried to do what he thought to be best for Alex, for Pip.

“You’re right, Jacky, I shouldn’t be dancing around this,” he said, “It’s just hard. And I’m scared,” he huffed a laugh, “Isn’t that ironic? After everything I’ve been through the great Alexander Hamilton is scared of asking someone on a date.”

He paused for a moment then said: “Don’t look at me like that, you asked me on our first date, you rash motherfucker. Don’t think I’ve forgotten you springing it on me when I was almost collapsing after finishing a paper. I got you with marriage, though, so even-Steven.”

It was comforting to talk to a picture of John, it was different when talking to his grave, less heavy when not surrounded by stones. Was it probably slightly strange? Yes. But Alex had been strange his entire life.

“Maybe I should be a bit rash for once, pick up your slack,” he told John, ignoring that his friends always said that they were both too rash and it was bad for their health that the two of them got along so well, “I think I’m doing it.”

That weekend he made a plan, had to double check something with Philip and worry-rant at Eliza, she was a great listener, he truly loved her.

Then Monday morning it was time, God he was nervous as he waited at Thomas’s office, where the man usually dropped his stuff before starting his day.

“Hey, uhm, this might be weird, but Pip told me about the vase in your office and if I remember correctly it was empty Friday, so I got you these,” Alex held up a bouquet of purple flowers, “It’s- they’re cornflowers, I hope I remembered correctly.”

Thomas took them, a bit stunned, his eyes slightly sparkling.

“I looked up their meaning. They mean ‘delicacy’, but also ‘be gentle with me’ and I thought that very fitting, because you’re – this is sound weird – but you’re very cute in an ‘I want to protect you’-way,” Alex was stumbling over his words, “But it’s also a request – the ‘be gentle with me’-part, I mean –because-” he swallowed and hesitated, “Well, you see, I- I was wondering if you- you would like to go on a- uhm, on a date. With me. This Friday. If you want. You don’t have to of course, maybe I’ve read this whole thing wrong and that’s fine, but if you do want to then I’ll be happy- more than happy, actually-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I’d love to go on a date with you this Friday,” Thomas told him, blush coloring his cheeks and a bashful smile tugging on his lips.

Alex grinned the grin that did things to Thomas as he replied: “That’s- Yeah, great, I- uhm, I’ll text you details?”

“Yeah, okay. Then I’ll go put these in water. Thank you, Alex, they’re beautiful,” Thomas walked away, flowers in hand, planning to yell at Angelica through the phone.

Bit of a more lighthearted chapter after all the grief and angst lmao

Also, always lovely when I get to the part of ‘and now they flirt’ only to realize that I do not know how to flirt and I have no clue how to write it. Ooof. So shout out to time skips xp

Side note: this → “well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.” is not invalidating the fact that Alex is bi, just that Eliza wanted to prove to herself that she wasn’t a raging homosexual while Alex wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t in love with John.

Also I thought it was very funny that they thought to use Laf to keep track of the other, only for both to tell him absolutely nothing

#RR writing #tw: grief mention #Alexander Hamilton #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #Jamilton #thomas jefferson #angelica schuyler #eliza schuyler #Philip Hamilton #Lafayette #marquis de lafayette #george washington #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 4 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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440mxs-wife · 3 years

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The Hunter’s Princess Chapter 1: Another Dimension

Pairing: Dean x OFC Kira (eventual), Prince!Dean x OFC Lady Kira. Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Prince!Sam Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Gabriel, King!John, Queen!Mary, Lucifer and assorted minor characters.

Chapter 1 Word Count: 3800

Warnings: Mention of parents’ death, a little angst, mostly fluff. Each chapter will have individual warnings as needed.

A/N: This is from some material that’s been rattling around in my head from another project that changed direction. Couldn’t let all this content go to waste, though, so here it is. It’s a work-in-progress, and I will try and update as regularly as I can. If you want to be tagged in this series, send me a message!

Thank you and happy reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Kira Thomas was bored.

There hadn't been a hunt in over a month and she was starting to get cabin fever. Dean was giving the Impala a tune-up, while Sam was catching up on his serial-killer documentaries. Rowena had stopped by to research something in the Book of the Damned for some crazy spell she was working on. Castiel was off who-knew-where, doing who-knew-what, and Kira didn't want to bother him just because she was bored.

Gonna have to find something to do, she thought to herself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira Thomas had been in the hunting life with the Winchesters for as long as she could remember. Her parents, James and Ava, were among the top hunters for their generation, but semi-retired so that they could start a family.

Once Kira reached a certain age, her parents resumed their hunting career. That meant Kira was often left in the care of their friend, Bobby Singer, owner and operator of the local scrapyard. Bobby was a gruff old man and mumbled "idjits" a lot, but one look at Kira's sweet face and he melted.

Another hunter, John Winchester, also sometimes had to leave his sons, Sam and Dean, in Bobby's care. John was on the trail to hunt down the monster that killed his wife and the mother of his sons. This was how Dean met Kira.

At first, Dean didn't want to have anything to do with Kira. She was three years younger than he was, and only one year older than his brother, Sam. She followed Dean nearly everywhere, wanting to do whatever it was he was doing. If he was running errands for Bobby, Kira wanted to tag along.

When Dean started weapons training to prepare him for going on hunts, Kira was right there, training along with Dean. More than a few times, Bobby was able to give Dean a batch of grief because Kira had performed better than he did. Those were the days that Dean tended to give Kira the silent treatment. Until she figured out how to bake a pie, that is, then all was usually forgiven.

The day his dad took him and Sam out on the road with him, Dean was heartbroken. It meant that he wouldn't see Kira every day and didn't know when he would again. Kira didn't know it, but Dean's feelings for her had grown beyond that of her best friend. And Dean had no idea that Kira had begun to realize that her feelings for him had shifted to more-than-best-friend territory.

After Bobby died, Kira settled into her own room at the bunker, where she continued to hunt with Sam, Dean and now Castiel. There were so many times with Dean and Kira, the line between friendship and more was very nearly crossed. Drunken near-confessions of love, shameless but harmless flirting and lingering touches all had a way of building up. Everyone was telling the two of them to quit tiptoeing around each other and take the leap of faith, but neither of them could.

Until something happened to force the issue.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira wandered the halls of the bunker, and for some reason stopped in front of Room #17. It was the room occupied by boxes of her parents' possessions. Boxes that were full of the things left to her after their house was sold. She had never had the time or courage to go through the boxes, but for some reason, today seemed like the day to do it. Kira took a deep breath, turned the knob on Room #17 and flipped on the lights.

Dean had finished giving the Impala a tune-up and had returned to the inside of the bunker to get himself cleaned up. He noticed how quiet it was and thought it was odd that Kira didn't have any music playing. Dean decided to shower up then go looking for Kira to see if she would want to watch a movie together. Maybe then he'd have the courage to tell her how he felt about her.

When he was properly cleaned up, Dean went from room to room, trying to find Kira. He didn't find her in her bedroom, the kitchen or the firing range. As he walked back to his room, he heard soft laughter and occasional sniffles coming from Room #17. Dean poked his head in and a smile broke out across his face.

"Hiya, sweetheart," he said softly, not wanting to startle Kira.

Kira hastily wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath before looking up. "Hey, Dean. Everything okay?" she asked.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Whatcha got going on here, darlin'?" he inquired.

"Well, seems like everyone had something to do today, except me. I started wandering the halls and ended up here. It occurred to me that I haven't gone through any of these boxes of my parents' stuff since they died. Figured it was about time I did," Kira finished.

"There's no reason to push yourself if you're not emotionally up for it. But, if you're set on doing this, I'm here for you," Dean remarked.

"If you're all done with what you had going on, then yeah, I'd love the company," Kira replied with a smile.

Dean and Kira each opened a box and started looking through them. Most of what they found was paperwork, like Kira's old school report cards, along with some photographs. A couple of the boxes had some old lore books. Dean placed those boxes by the door and made a mental note to take them out to the library later.

They were down to the last two boxes, which contained items found in Kira's parents' bedroom. The really personal stuff, like her dad's cologne and her mom's hairbrush. Towards the bottom, Kira found her mom's jewelry box. She knew her mom had some heirloom jewelry, passed down from each generation of mothers to daughters.

One piece in particular caught her eye, and that was her mother's locket. She carefully drew it out of the box and dangled it in front of her face, then fastened it around her neck.

"Whatcha got there, sweetheart?" Dean asked.

"It's my mom's locket," she whispered. Kira popped open the locket to reveal her tiny kindergarten photo kept within. "I never asked what she kept inside, and she never told me. Just that it would be passed down to me when it was time," Kira recalled. For some reason, the locket started to glow in her hand. "Dean...." she said as she held it up for him to see.

"What's--I think you'd better put that back in the box, honey, nice and slow," Dean remarked with more calm in his voice than he currently felt.

"Dean! I can't take it off," Kira exclaimed as she started to phase in and out of sight.

From the library, Rowena's head shot up and her eyes glowed purple, a sign that she was in the presence of a powerful magic. "KIRA!!" Rowena shouted as she ran down the hall to Room #17. She got to the doorway in time to chant something in Latin, then Kira completely disappeared.

"KIRA!! NOOOOO!!" Dean roared as Rowena slumped to the floor.

Sam came rushing around the corner. "What the hell just happened?!?" he thundered then looked around the room. "Where's Kira?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Dean growled. "One minute, we're going through these boxes of her parents' stuff, and she came across her mom's jewelry box. The next minute, her mom's locket is glowing around her neck and she disappeared! Oh, but not before Rowena here cast some spell that I have no idea what it does," Dean retorted.

Rowena slowly rose up from the floor. "It was a tracking spell. Your wee Kira is fine....for the moment. Her mother's locket is a powerful charmed object that's been passed down from one generation to the next. It allows the wearer to move between dimensions, which is what each mother is supposed to tell her daughter. Unfortunately, Kira's mother died before she could explain," she shook her head sadly.

"So this whole multiverse is an actual thing? She can travel to other places, other timelines?" Sam asks.

"Look, who cares, we need to get Kira back. Rowena, do whatever hoodoo voodoo you have to do to get her back," Dean ordered. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to call Cas to see if he could somehow help. He had no idea what it was going to take to get Kira back....assuming they even could do so.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira tilted the mug as she held it under the tap and began to fill it with the frothy amber liquid. She looked around to see if she could figure out who the drink belonged to. Her eyes settled on the outstretched hand of a dark-haired man with squinty dark eyes. He paid for his beer, grumbled his thanks and returned to his table.

With no customers to serve for the moment, Kira reviewed her surroundings. It was a decent sized pub, with four taps for beer, a jug of wine for the more adventurous and a bottle of what looked like scotch. There were seven seats at the beautiful mahogany bar, with several tables on the main floor. Two men were occupied by a dart board in the corner, while four others were huddled around a billiards table.

A woman with curly strawberry blond hair came up to the bar carrying a tray with empty glasses. "Oy, Kira, those blokes in the corner were getting kind of fresh. One of them tried to back me into a corner and pinch me backside!" she exclaimed.

Kira looked at the two men playing darts. For some reason, one of them looked familiar, like she'd dealt with him before. "Don't worry, Ella, I'll take care of it," Kira promised, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Kira walked out from behind the bar and over to the men in the corner. Loudly clearing her throat, she demanded, "Excuse me, which one of you has been harassing Ella?"

The shorter of the two men sauntered over to me and stood so close that Kira could smell the number of drinks he'd had. "Why 'ello, there! Fancy a throw at the board, Love?" he held out the dart with one hand while he tried to pinch Kira's backside with the other.

Since he was so close, Kira grabbed his ear and pulled upward. "I believe I told you that if you misbehave again in my establishment, you would be kicked out. You tried to pinch Ella's and my backsides tonight. That counts as misbehaving, so you are leaving," Kira said as she dragged him towards the door. He tried to squirm out of her grasp, but she held tight and kept moving until she was able to throw him out of her pub.

His friend started to intervene, but Kira cut him off with a death look. "Unless you want a piece of this, I suggest you back off," she remarked ominously. He had the good sense to return his attention to the dart board. After throwing out the offending individual, Kira dusted off her hands on her apron and returned to her place behind the bar.

As the night wore on, Kira busied herself cleaning the glassware and wiping down the bar as customers started to filter out. Just before closing, the door burst open and a woman with long wavy red hair sauntered in. She was wearing a dark-colored cloak, a long pink dress and carried a large satchel. She eased up onto a barstool near where Kira was working and said, "Kira, dear, we need to talk."

"Rowena," Kira whispered.

"How in the name of holy water did you get here, Rowena?" she hissed.

"Just before you disappeared, I cast a tracking spell on you, dearie," she replied. "How much do you remember before you ended up here of all places?" she asked.

"Last thing I remember is Dean and I going through some boxes of my parents' stuff. I came across my mom's jewelry box and found this locket," Kira lifted it to show Rowena. "It started to glow, I called for Dean, then I ended up here," she finished.

"Well, let's start with the basics. What do we know about this place?" Rowena asked.

"From what I can tell, I'm the owner of this pub. I have three servers that work for me, Ella, Jolene and Miranda. Apparently I've kept my hunting skills, because I just threw out a drunk moron just by holding on to his ear. He was pinching backsides without permission," Kira remarked.

As Kira finished bringing Rowena up to date, two new customers walked in. One was taller than the other, with chestnut hair and hazel colored eyes. The other wasn't as tall, but not short by any means. He had dark blond-ish hair with bright green eyes.

"We're almost closed up, gentlemen, but you have time for one or two drinks before last call. What'll it be?" Kira asked.

"Well, what do you have for beer?" Mr. Green Eyes inquired.

"That depends. We have four of them on tap, and it depends on whether you like it light and crisp, or dark and chewy," Kira quipped.

"Hmm, interesting description, I like it," he continued. "Surprise me, as long as it's not the dark and chewy one," he grinned.

"Can do, and for you sir?" she asked Mr. Hazel Eyes.

"I'll go with scotch, neat," he replied.

"On the way, thank you sir," Kira acknowledged.

Kira pulled the tap to fill a mug of beer for Mr. Green Eyes, and when that was done, she poured the two fingers of scotch for Mr. Hazel Eyes. Kira placed the drinks in front of them, and they paid the tab for the drinks.

"Excuse me, Kira?" Kira looked and Rowena was trying to get her attention. "Might I have a word with you, dearie?" Rowena asked.

Kira walked down to where Rowena was sitting and asked her what she needed. "Those two men? They are not what they seem," she said mysteriously.

Kira looked at them and asked, "What are you talking about? Come on, Rowena, they're a couple of guys who stopped by for a drink late one night," she remarked.

"There's something familiar about them. Can't quite put my finger on it, but it's like they're men of great importance," Rowena insisted.

"Rowena, they look like two regular guys. A little family resemblance, brothers or cousins maybe, but normal, thirsty guys," Kira observed. Wait a minute....Nah, it couldn't be.

Kira was finishing up her chat with Rowena when she heard, "Oy, Lady Kira?" Jolene motioned with her eyes that Mr. Green Eyes needed a refill on his beer. Then she took the next round of drinks out to a table.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kira could see Mr. Green Eyes had nearly finished his beer. After he drained the last drop she took his mug, dropped it in the dishwater and picked up a fresh one. "Same selection?" Kira asked.

"Depends. Which one was that?" he asked with a grin.

"I started you off slow. That one was the light and crisp. I'll pour you the next one, and maybe I'll let you name it," she teased.

"You're on, Lady Kira," he smirked.

A sharp pain pierced Kira's head, momentarily clouding her vision. She grabbed the edge of the bar to keep her balance. Suddenly it dawned on her who these men were. It was Sam and Dean, but also....not them. Like Rowena said, something familiar about them, but they're more than just hunters in this dimension.

Kira poured his beer, but before handing it to him, she leaned in so her face was a few inches from his. "Listen. We keep the 'Lady' part of my name a secret. If everyone knew who I really was, I couldn't do half the things I do for these townfolk. I don't want recognition for any of what I do. I try to make their lives a little easier with some charity while letting them keep a bit of their pride," she finished. As Kira plunked the beer down on the bar, some of it sloshed over the edge, hopefully conveying her annoyance.

Rowena flagged Kira down again. "Now do you believe me, darlin'? I saw that look on your face. You know that's Sam and Dean, but they're different here than they are at home," she remarked.

"Yes, I'm with you now. They're still hunters, but that's not all they are. Like they have a more important 'day job'," Kira mused. "Although Dean in any dimension is still going to be a smart ass from time to time. Likewise, Sam is still the more cautious of the two," she replied with a soft laugh.

At that moment, the door opened and a man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes stepped in. "Sirs? I think it's time we set out for home," the man said.

"Just finishing up one for the road, Castiel," Dean replied. He drained the last of the beer from his mug and tapped on the glass to get Kira's attention. She looked up from the mug she was drying off and tilted her head. "Thank you for the hospitality this evening. Hope to see you again," he said as he winked at her.

"Safe travels, gentlemen. May your journey home be swift and free from incident," Kira remarked as they departed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira looked around to see that the rest of her customers had also made their way home, or at least out of the pub. Jolene, Miranda and Ella picked up any remaining dishes and brought them up to the bar. While Kira washed the glassware, Miranda cleaned tables while Jolene swept the floor. Ella took care of the restocking duties, checking the taps and bringing up another bottle of scotch.

When all closing duties were done, everyone filed out the back door and went their separate ways, except Rowena stayed with Kira. They walked towards a large carriage house not far from the pub. Kira pushed open the heavy, decorative oak door and was immediately greeted by her house manager, Alfred. "Good evening, Lady Kira. I see you've brought a guest with you. Will she be staying long?" he asked.

"Good evening, Alfred. May I present Lady Rowena of the Scottish Highlands. She will be staying with us for an undetermined amount of time. Please see her to one of the open rooms upstairs, while I check in with the rest of the staff," Kira requested.

"Very well, Lady Kira," Alfred replied. To Rowena, he said, "Should you be in need of refreshment or anything else, please be sure to ring, madam."

"Thank you, dear. I am a wee bit tired, so if you could please show me to my room. Lady Kira, I shall see you in the morning," Rowena promised. Kira nodded in agreement then headed off towards the kitchen.

After a quick meeting with the staff, Kira learned that a morning supply run would be needed to replenish some of the items in the pantry. It was in need of coffee, flour, sugar, most of the basics, including fresh vegetables. Kira provided her head chef, Stefan, with the funds necessary to purchase what was needed at the town market in the morning.

The head housekeeper, Coraline, notified Kira that sheets had been freshly laundered. There also were plenty of clean towels in the wardrobe in each room. Once she got the full report, Kira trudged upstairs to her room. She didn't even bother to get dressed in her nightclothes. She pulled back the blankets and crawled beneath them. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the three men approached their destination, they were greeted by Collins, the head of the stables. He was a short, white-haired man who had worked for the family for many years. He remembered when the figures approaching on horseback had been mischievous young boys. He felt privileged to see them grow up into the fine young men they were today.

"You boys had better get on up to the main hall. Your parents have been looking for you, and they are not too pleased at how late you've been out," he gently chided.

The men dismounted from their horses, so that Collins and one of the other stablehands, George, could lead them to their stalls. As they walked from the stables to the main hall, they thought back to events of the past evening.

They were called in to take out a vampire nest in one of the eastern provinces. There were only supposed to be seven or eight vamps, which was certainly manageable for the three of them. Turns out there were more like twelve, which made things a little more difficult, but not impossible.

They approached the main hall where their parents were waiting. The green-eyed man walked up to his mother and knelt before her, touching the backs of her outstretched hands to his forehead. He repeated the same gesture with his father, as did the man with hazel eyes. The blue-eyed man knelt before them, but crossed his chest with his right arm, placing his right fist above his heart.

Their father looked sternly at his sons as he settled back in his seat. "Do you mind telling me what the crown princes of this land have been out doing at all hours of the night?" he asked. "Your mother was worried sick about you, pacing the floor until word arrived that you had come home!"

The hazel-eyed man spoke first. "Father, we received word of an attack in one of the eastern provinces. On our way back, we happened to stop by a pub owned by a woman named Kira. Had a couple of drinks, then Castiel told us it was time to go back, so we left," he explained.

"Is this true? Dean?" his father, King John asked.

"Yes, Father, Samuel is correct. The threat in the eastern province has been neutralized. For now, anyway. I had a couple of beers in the pub and was enjoying some nice conversation with the owner before Castiel pulled us away," he grumbled.

"If you had just told someone where you were going, I--we wouldn't have worried so much," explained his mother, Queen Mary. "Your father and I have a matter of great importance, which we would like to discuss with you. Castiel, would you please excuse us?" she asked.

Part 2 here!

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#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester #spn #au supernatural #The Hunter's Princess series

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apothecarinomicon · 3 years

Text

Spring week 4 part 3

After my hectic experience with the marshbloom, I decided to take a day for myself. Greenmoor isn’t anywhere near the ocean, but Meltwater Loch is big enough that I figured a day spent there could be considered a beach day. And after the couple of weeks I’d had, boy did I need a beach day.

But anyone who’s read this far ought to be familiar with my luck by now. There’s a lot to record, but I’ll try to get it down in order.

────⊱⁜⊰────

It was a beautiful day—clear blue sky, warm air, and (at least when I first arrived) no one around at Meltwater Loch. I spread out a towel on the beach and laid down for a good session of sunbathing. I’ve never been one for tanning, but simply laying doing nothing while being warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze felt absolutely decadent.

After a while of simply existing, I became aware of the sound of a bird calling above me. I cracked my eyes open and recognized the large forms of a pair of gull-drakes flying overhead. Gull-drakes are a strange hybrid, both reptilian and avian. Their torsos and wings are feathered, while their heads, tails, and talons are scaled. They do have beaks like gulls, but their tails are prehensile like their alleged draconic ancestors’. I say ‘alleged’ because no one knows how the hybrid gull-drake came into being. The sheer anatomy and scale discrepancy between the average seagull and the average dragon fossil (they were much larger in ancient times than the pocket-sized lizards we have today) seems to rule out any cross-breeding. Additionally, the typical combination of traits displayed by gull-drakes is too awkward and ungainly to be the result of natural selection. And yet, there have been records of the gull-drake’s existence for just about as long as there have been records—the third-oldest surviving written document, in fact, is a bestiary which includes them along dozens of other species, most of which are now extinct.

Nature is a strange thing.

Digressions aside, there was a reason this caught my attention. Gull-drakes are scavengers, and have been known to leave catches uneaten while they go out to hunt for more. It’s just an evolutionary quirk—they prefer to feast only once per day. This means that, as they leave their nests unattended, some other opportunistic creature could come by and steal their catch.

It’s easy to identify a gull-drake nest, too—they tend to be very large, and are often positioned balanced atop large, pointy rocks. If a gull-drake catches you stealing, though, it’ll chase you and squawk at you and try to peck you until you drop the stolen goods and flee. They’re not too smart, though, so hiding in nearby foliage (say, a patch of large ferns) will fool them easily.

All of this to say, I managed to get myself a shock fish without a rod, all while only getting chased a little ways by a jealous, stupid bird.

────⊱⁜⊰────

As I returned to my towel, I heard an unusual sound—the put-put-put of a motor. Machinery of that kind is a fairly new invention, and unless you know how to make it, very expensive.

The woman driving the boat certainly looked like she knew how to make a motor. She was dwarven, with russet hair and a long beard, both held in thick braids. She was (as dwarves are) rather short—I'd estimate maybe one-and-a-fifth meters tall, and nearly as wide—with large hands and feet, and limbs thickly corded with muscle. She wore dark green coveralls and had a fairly heavy-duty fishing rod held in one hand so that it rested on her shoulder.

She shut the motor off as she neared and called out to me, asking if I was the village witch. I said that I was, and she told me that she was friends with my crocodilian patient. She thanked me for helping him, and said he would have been a goner without my potion-making skills. I demurred just a bit, saying I wasn't the only healer who helped him that day. She scoffed and dismissed my humility outright, saying that I might as well have been the only one—that without my care the village doctor wouldn't have been able to do anything.

She introduced herself as Janneth Hillhorn, and I told her my name in turn. She asked what I was doing out by Meltwater Loch and I told her I was taking a day off. She let me know that her cottage was just around the other side of the lake, near Glimmerwood Grove and right on the border of Blastfire Bog, and that I should feel free to stop in any time. I thanked her.

At this point, there was a tremor in the water. It couldn't have been an earthquake because the land wasn't shaking, but the water abruptly became much more active. Ocean-like waves crashed into the shore and Janneth held tight onto the sides of her boat, doing her best not to capsize. I would have been quite alarmed in her situation, but Janneth barely seemed preturbed. I asked something along the lines of "what the blight is going on?!" As the water settled, Janneth told me that this was a common occurence on Meltwater Loch, a quirk that—many said—was due to the emotions of its guardian sea-dragon, Bàs Bàta. I found this explanation rather silly, reminiscent of an old wives' tale. I'd never heard of a sea-dragon before, and given that the name ‘Bàs Bàta’ directly translated to "boat death," I figured it was just a local story told to frighten children and dismissed it out of hand.

Astute readers should be growing worried for me right about now.

Janneth offered to give me one of the fish she'd caught as a thanks for helping her friend. I initially refused, but she insisted. She looked through her basket and pulled out a dentist crab. The gel their claws produce is good for the mouth and plenty else besides, so I accepted and thanked her. She thanked me right back and said (perhaps jokingly?) not to run afoul of Bàs Bàta while I was out by the loch. I forced a laugh as she sped away.

Once she was out of sight, I collected some claw gel from the dentist crab and released it back into the water.

────⊱⁜⊰────

There was another rumbling as I made my way back to the beach, and as it abated I saw something bob up to the surface of the water close to the shore. It presented itself, et cetera et cetera, I waded in to see what it was.

I scooped it out of the water and found myself holding a glass bottle, like the kind that rum or sweet wine would come in, sealed with a cork and containing a rolled-up sheet of paper. Of course, I opened it immediately. I found that the sheet inside wasn’t quite *paper,* but something more slippery—maybe made of seaweed? It did have writing on it, though. As I unfurled it, a few things that looked like pebbles fell out. I barely managed to catch them before they hit the surface of the water. I put them in my pocket for safe keeping.

The writing on the note was as follows, with no spelling changes by me:

Let it be known that I fink this whole exercise is stupid. And pointless. And probly meant as some kind of sick, twisted punishment. No one but little kids believe in terrafolk, so I don’t know why the instructress is making us do this.

Even if anyfing could live above the water, there’s no way its advanced enough to read. How would it get all the minerals it needs wivout processing the water?

But anyway. I guess I ave to fulfill the prompt.

Me name is Genoveva, I live in the I.S.A.C.S. (that's short for 'Isolated Sovereign Aquatic City-State, but we all just pronounce it like 'Isax") and I’m in the fifth year of me education. I hate me name. I wish I could ave somefing exotic like a John or a Steve or a Sarah, but I’m stuck wiv boring old Genoveva. If you’re somehow able to read this, that must mean you ave schools on the surface, too. Wat ar they like? Ar they as boring up there? We all ave to sit in a circle and listen to the instructress drone on and on and on.

I live wiv me merma and me perpa and me two baby brothers. Do you ave family? I've got loads of cousins too.

On the rubric it says I ave to include a small gift, so I'm putting some fossil fish scales in wiv this letter. I found em on me way to school this morning and there not of use to me, but I figure you probly don't ave fish on land so maybe scales ar valuable up there.

If you're inclined to write back (no pressure), you can just pop your note in the bottle and put it back into the water. It'll find its way to me—there's magic all around, don't you know.

Signed,

Genoveva Galbrait, 5th year

[An accessible version of this letter can be found here.]

The letter obviously has some pretty complex implications. An entire society under the surface of Meltwater Loch, entirely unaware of the world above the surface beyond fairy stories? What must life be like down there? What kind of society must they have? How do they supply food? Get rid of waste?

What resources might be available there that can't be found on the surface?

I decided that somehow I was going to find a way to visit ISACS, and learn everything I could about it. I bet that would impress the University of Arcbridge. I wasn't sure how I would breathe under the water for long enough, but I was determined to find a way.

Take your final guesses now what happened next.

That water-quaking started up again, this time stronger than before. Waves crashed against the beach where I stood, and I felt a great vibration in my chest and in my head.

And then, it broke the surface of the water.

Giant and blue-green and serpentine, Bàs Bàta rose up before me. A blighting sea-dragon, it stood straight up in the air at least twice as tall as my cottage—and that was just the part of its body I could see. Its head was shaped like the tip of an arrow, with three great spikes sprouting out of the back (the outer two longer than the middle one). It let loose another deep roar, dousing me in spittle. It thrashed about, causing great waves to crash onto the shore, and through my shock I realized its movements might be less characteristic of anger than of pain.

My suspicions were confirmed when it roared again: one of the fangs right near the front of its mouth was missing a chip, and had a great crack running nearly all the way up to the root. That had to hurt. I'd never treated a non-humanoid before—or, for that matter, a cracked tooth—but I realized even past the moral obligation to help, there was no way I could access the underwater city-state without calming Bàs Bàta down.

I found out later, after I'd scrambled away from the lake and sprinted back to the cottage, after wiping the saliva off of me and getting at least some of it in a bottle for potion use, that the saliva was actually a really useful ingredient in treating shattered teeth. As it turns out, it's a pretty strong painkiller. Unfortunately, I knew I'd need more than just that to make a cure, and with the sheer size of Bàs Bàta, I suspected I'd need to make more than one potion.

That will have to be a longer term project, then, because the events of my relaxation day have worn me out. I've got to get to bed. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

⇦●〇●⇨

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destroy-the-cannon · 3 years

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IT’S HERE!

Hey everyone! It’s finally happening. The long awaited Olivia x MC fit is happening. I’ll leave the rest of my thoughts as the bottom as not to bore you, but I’ll put one tiny thing here: there’s actually no Olivia in this chapter. I know, I know! She’s the whole reason you’re here. But I had to do a chapter without her to set up for something you’ll see in a future chapter. I promise, it’ll prove worth your wait. Anyways, without further ado, let’s get to it!

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, queer romance, eventual lemon(s).

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, death, illness. Language.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Paige couldn’t remember a time in her life when she wasn’t working towards something. She busted her ass all through highschool, working her way into a scholarship at a decent university. From there, she had concocted a simple, five-step plan:

-Graduate with honors

-Get into a fantastic business school

-Get an amazing, ultra-high paying job

-Pay off debt

-Buy a good house for her parents, and live out the rest of her life comfortably.

But no. Nearly a month after she graduated from college, her dad got diagnosed. As he spent more and more time in the hospital, the bills rolled in. Charge upon charge upon charge, until Paige’s mother had spent up their retirement funds and was looking into getting a second job. So, naturally, Paige stepped up. She got a job working at a tiny bar downtown, and sent her every spare dime to her family, rooming with strangers, because all her friends still lived back home in California.

And then, just as Paige thought her existence couldn’t get any bleaker, it did.

She was sent one final charge, then never any again.

After that, she threw herself into working extra hours at the bar, no longer having the energy to look into jobs anywhere else. For two years, she worked and slept, worked and slept. The only person she ever really talked to was Daniel, a friend who was good for cracking jokes and aimless chatter, but not ideal as emotional support. So, completely on her own, she did her best to heal. She cried till she couldn’t, screamed, cried some more, and did anything she could to try and lessen the complete suffocation that was her grief. Each day, she did whatever she could to wake up feeling a bit lighter, until she felt almost nothing at all. It took two years, but she was finally starting to feel like a person again.

That’s when she met three of the five people who were going to change her life forever.

That day, it was just the men who happened to be in the restaurant. This did make sense, because it was a bachelor party, after all. Not that that was easy to tell, just looking at them. Their clothes ranged from a simple denim-and-white-jeans look to a three piece suit, leather shoes, and a pocket square. Honestly, who still wore pocket squares? Paige shuddered just looking at it. It seemed that she was dealing with a typical group of douchey, overgrown frat boys. It would suck while she was serving them, but usually at least one of them would remember to leave a decent tip. She sighed and strode over, pulling out her pad.

“Hi, what can I-” She broke off for a tiny moment before resuming. “What can I get for you today?” Trying to cover her tracks, she flashed a bright smile.

The reason she had broken off was sitting there, watching her. He wasn’t dressed particularly flashily, in his garnet sweater and khakis, but he had an air of quiet importance about him, something almost noble. His posture was perfect, his hair done with not a strand out of place, a neatly shaved face, a perfectly straight and clean collar. It was the little things about him, things that one didn’t typically find in a crappy downtown bar, that made Paige even warier. He grinned a small, curious grin at her. Before she could respond, the man in the suit began to speak.

“So firstly, I’d like to ask about your wine. I’m assuming there’s a separate list?” Mr. Denim and a (quite cute, actually) guy in a black button down traded amused glances over Sir Suit’s shoulder.

“Sorry, we don’t. We have a good selection of beer an-” He cut her off with a horrified look. She’d never seen such a prim rage before; she had to stop herself from snorting.

“There’s nothing else? I’ve never even heard of some of these labels before! I’d think I’d like to speak to your mana-”

“Tariq.”

The sweatered man, the quiet one, lay a hand on Mr. Suit’s shoulder. His voice was warm, strong, and seemed to contain just a hint of some foreign accent that Paige couldn’t place. He smiled apologetically at her.

“That’s completely fine. We’ll take a bottle of your finest whiskey, and four glasses.”

“Great. Will you be having anything to eat with that?” She was making some strangely intense eye contact with The Sweater (she’d have to try and catch his name) when Tariq cut in obliviously. She was really starting to hate this guy.

“Yes, we’ll each take a filet mignon, medium rare, prepared with a bearnaise sauce.”

Paige blinked. The man smiled blandly at her as though this was a perfectly normal request.

“Sir, the closest thing we have to a filet mignon is the deluxe burger.”

Now it was Tariq’s turn to blanch in horror. “Burger?”

“Sounds great! We’ll take four.” Mr. Denim cut in, shooting a glare Tariq’s way.

“Right then. I’ll go put your order in, and I’ll be right back with that whiskey.”

She turned and made her way back to the kitchen, trying to fight back the smile that threatened to take over her face. Taking out Tariq, this seemed like a group of pretty decent guys. Usually, she expressed nothing more than a vague sort of interest in customers, a kind of unattached curiosity. But listening to them laughing and yelling, she couldn’t help but to want to pull up a chair and join them.

Sighing, she pulled out their glasses and whiskey. She was putting in their order when she felt eyes on her. Without moving, she peered out of the corner of her eye.

The three friends were talking, except for the quiet one. His eyes traced the curve of her neck, and her spine tingled with awareness of his every move. She arched her form just a bit, trying to be as subtle as she could, and his eyes slipped lower.

Just as she was about to turn, his friend elbowed him. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the quiet one smiled and turned his attention back to the group. She didn’t miss how his eyes fluttered back for just a half second, darkening, before he focused back in on the booth’s conversation.

She sighed, and grabbed the whiskey. Oh, well. This was going to be a boring night, but hopefully, in terms of tip, a fruitful one.

* * *

“Excuse me?”

Paige turned to find the sweatered man from before.

“I think we’re about to head out, and I didn’t want to do so without apologizing.”

The bar had emptied out completely, and the two were completely alone. Sweater’s friends were jostling around out front.

“Apologizing?” She frowned. “For what?”

“Well, I know we kept you late, and my friends can be pretty…” He paused. “Demanding.”

“Demanding, huh? Well, it was nothing I can’t handle. I’m used to it by now.”

“Well, be that as it may, I’d still like to apologize. We’re about to head out to a club right near here. Could I buy you a drink?”

“Which club are you going to?”

“Oh, well…” He winced. “We were actually hoping that you could help with that. We’re not from around here.”

“In that case, I know just where you should go.” She scanned him with a critical eye before making a decision. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy that would particularly enjoy some wild party spot. There’s a great little secret cove right near here you might like.”

He grinned in relief. “That sounds amazing. I’m getting just a bit tired of the traditional bachelor party antics. Why don’t you lead the way?”

“Sure, that sounds awesome! Let me just get out of this uniform, and we can get going.” She turned to go, then stopped short. “Before we go, can I get your name? I’m Paige.”

She turned to offer her hand, expecting a firm shake. To her surprise, he leaned down and actually kissed her knuckles. An honest to god bow-and-kiss. As soon as he’d done it, his eyes widened in embarrassment before shrinking into a wince. “Sorry, that’s an, ah, custom. Where I come from. It’s tradition. I just- just forgot you don’t do it here. I’m Liam.” He was clearly quite mortified, but Paige smiled. She thought it cute, and made her feel oddly regal. There was something so gentle in the gesture, it was almost reverent. Sweet. Grinning, Paige ducked back into the backroom, changing into an emerald-green dress she kept in her bag. She paused for a moment to check her reflection, fluffing out her hair and dress. Confident, she followed Liam into the night air.

As soon as she stepped out, the first thing she heard was: “Daaang! The waitress is hot!”, quickly followed by a more earnest: “That uniform didn’t do you justice.” Before she could respond, Liam stepped forward.

“Hey. Paige is a guest among us, and I doubt she appreciates you commenting on her appearance like that.”

If he didn’t before, he now had her full trust.

She was pretty used to receiving comments like that by now, and it didn’t particularly bother her. At least these guys didn’t seem to have any cruel intent. She got much worse in clubs or on the street. But it was rare to see another man stick up for her like that. Liam barely even knew her, and yet he was ready to call out his friends for her. Instantly, she found she liked him even more.

The guys stuck their head down and muttered apologies. They seemed sincere enough, and clearly eager to earn a fresh start, so Paige let it go.

“So, the waitress is coming with us?” Mr. Denim piped up, looking Paige over.

“Actually, we’re going with her. She’s picked out our next destination.”

“So she’s our tour guide now.” Denim raised his brow. He didn’t seem malicious, per se, just skeptical.

“Hey, Paige very graciously agreed to show us around, so play nice.” Liam turned to her. “Lead the way!”

“I’d love to, but can I get the rest of you guys’ names first? I can’t be referring to you three as ‘you there’ this whole night.”

“I’m Maxwell! Maxwell Beaumont.” Button Down grinned and shook her hand enthusiastically.

“I’m Drake Walker.” Denim stepped forward and also shook her hand, though much less enthusiastically.

“Great. And you’re Tariq, right?” She pointed at the third man, who was smiling at her in a way that did actually make her just a tad uncomfortable. He nodded, his smile growing.

“Awesome. Let’s get going!” She spun around, and they followed her into the night.

* * *

They emerged from a small swath of greenery into a beautiful little cove. The starlight shone on the ocean, and the whole place seemed mysterious and magical. Like anything could happen.

“We should build a bonfire!” Drake looked happier than he’d been all night.

“I am will not be engaging in manual labor.” Tariq looked like he was about to throw up.

“I forgot who I was talking to. What I meant was, I’m going to go build a bonfire.” He practically skipped off. Paige could’ve sworn she heard a giggle. The men turned to take in their surroundings.

“This place is awesome! Skinny dippiiiiiing!”

“Keep your pants on, Maxwell.”

Liam turned to Paige as the other two bickered. “Thank you for taking us here, Paige. I can tell the guys are enjoying themselves already.”

“Forget your friends. Do you like it here?”

“I love it.” He was completely sincere.

“This is my secret spot, so I’m really trusting you here.” She was teasing, but he looked her directly in the eye as he responded. “I will do everything I can to be worthy of that trust.”

There was a moment there, where he held her gaze. But he looked away and turned his eyes to the sky as he spoke.

“There’s only one problem. How am I supposed to buy you that drink now?” He’d made his tone light as meringue, but there was a tiny crease between his brows.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll just keep owing me.”

“Seems fair enough to me.” They stood together for a second, until Drake called out.

“Guys! The fire’s ready!”

He beamed as he motioned for them to sit. His proud beam suddenly reminded Paige of a particularly peppy golden retriever. She stifled a giggle as she tucked her feet under her.

“Hey, can I ask you guys something?” She had grabbed one of the beers Drake had insisted they get from a convenience store on the way. She sipped from the bottle, trying to appear casual. Maxwell looked up from one of the pop-tarts he had picked up. “What’s up?”

“Well, what’s up with you guys? What’s your deal?”

As soon as she asked the question, the atmosphere shifted noticeably. The air grew thick with tension. The boys traded nervous glances, each one visibly uncomfortable. Finally, Liam spoke.

“Guys, it’s fine. She deserves to know.”

“Are you sure?” Drake’s puppy-like grin had vanished, replaced with a look of guarded skepticism.

“Positive.” Liam nodded, and they all turned to her.

“Okay. Paige, there’s something you should know about us.”

“Alright…” It suddenly occurred to her that she was on a remote island with four strange men who were now all staring at her, and why did she think this was a good idea? She tried to tamp down her growing panic.

“As you know, we’re not from here. But where we are from, specifically, is... Cordonia.”

“Okay. And this is a secret why, exactly?”

Liam shifted again. Clearly, there was more.

“Well, we’re not just tourists. I mean, we’re not really, ah, average citizens.”

Hm. Well, that wasn’t too surprising. Liam’s controlled manner, the way Maxwell kept looking over his shoulder, Tariq’s pocket square. But what, exactly, did this all mean? They were either spies, mega rich, or criminals. She waited for them to go on.

“What I mean by that is… well, we may have left some things out in our introduction. Drake really is Drake Walker, but the rest of us are different.”

Maxwell piped up. “I’m Sir Maxwell Percival Beaumont. Of Ramsford.”

“I am Lord Tariq Nadar, of Larada.” He bowed and leered at Paige in a way that caused her stomach to lurch suddenly.

“And I am Prince Liam Cicero Constantine Rhys, prince of Cordonia.”

Prince of Cordonia. The way he kissed her hand. The way the other men seemed so keenly aware of his every command. His cordial behavior. She had been flirting with a prince. An heir, she guessed.

But, if he was an heir, then that could mean-

Oh, God.

“Whose bachelor party is this?”

To her horror, Liam raised his hand tentatively.

“It’s mine.”

Shit! Ew, ew, ew. Her opinion of him dropped right down to the ground. Of course he was fucking engaged. He had been flirting with her, checking her out, and he was engaged! Fuck that, fuck him. She hadn’t even been that into him, so any disappointment she may have felt was swallowed by anger and disgust. She was almost ready to leave when he jumped in, probably sensing her rage.

“I’m not engaged. I mean, I will be, but I don’t actually have a fiancé yet.”

Oh. She lowered herself back onto the log, smoothing her pinched features.

“But wait. That doesn’t make any sense. Why have a bachelor party if you’re not even engaged yet?”

“That’s what you're concerned about? Not the nobility thing? I mean, I would- ow! Drake!” Drake elbowed Maxwell into silence before turning to Paige to explain.

“Liam’s at the age where it’s finally time to pick a future queen. The social season begins the day after tomorrow, and by the end of it, Liam’s gonna have a bride. They try to win the favor of the king and queen, catch Liam’s eye, demonstrate their queenly abilities through a series of competitions, blah blah blah. We’re throwing a bachelor party now because the next one’ll basically just be a press event with a bunch of nobles he barely knows.”

“Oh.” It was all she could manage to say. What the hell was she supposed to say? This was a huge bomb to just drop on her casually.

“I hope you don’t think we’re trying to fool you. If that is the case, it’s completely understandable-”

“I believe you.” Oddly enough, she knew they weren’t lying. Somehow, in her bones, she just knew. These were genuine nobles, ones she’d just happened to somehow convince to spend the night out together. Her, the broke, tired waitress. Intellectually, she knew this was an absolutely wild and preposterous thing she was doing, but emotionally, that just wouldn’t register. This felt right, like an evening out with three old friends and one Tariq.

But then again, this was different for them. They weren’t used to spending time with people like her. She was suddenly keenly aware of her own casual behavior, how she’d treated them like any old group of people. They weren’t. She started to gather up her things, fussing with her bag. She should leave them. Why would they want to spend time with someone like her?

“Does this mean I should have been curtseying? Bowing? Using your proper titles?”

“Well, personally, I wouldn’t have minded if you had-”

“Shut up, Tariq.” Maxwell twisted towards her. “This night has turned out to be awesome. You’ve turned out to be pretty awesome. And it doesn’t have to end! Let’s stay out! Just keep thinking of us as regular tourists. Don’t go.”

“I-” She stopped. “Okay. I’m staying.”

Her answer seemed to have surprised her as much as it did them. But she meant it, truly. She was having fun, and as weird as this night had turned out to be, she felt like she had made friends. Real friends, not work ones. This night would become a cool story she told at parties, and these people would become ones she’d wonder about and obsessively google for years to come, she was sure. So she didn’t leave. She sat with them, and it was one of the best nights she’d spent in a very long time.

* * *

“Paige! Wait up!” Paige turned to find Maxwell running after her. Her face split into a surprised grin. “Maxwell! What are you doing here?” He bounded up with a bright look about him. “I’m here for you! The plane leaves in like half an hour, and I wanted to catch you before we left.”

It was the morning after the bachelor party, and Paige was trudging to work. The sidewalk was choked with people rushing from place to place, and Maxwell was struggling to hold his ground.

“And why did you need to catch me, exactly?” Surely, from the beam on his face, he wasn’t just delivering a lost earring? Hope started to tickle at her insides, though what it was for, she had no idea.

“I wanted to make an offer. Obviously, it’s totally cool if you want to say no, and there’s no pressure or anything, but I had to ask.”

“Okay…” What was he doing?

“Come with us.” Her expression must’ve been absolutely shocked, and he hurried on upon seeing it.

“Liam looked really happy last night. Like, uncharacteristically happy and smiley. And you seem really cool, so I got to thinking. You could come with us. You’d be sponsored by House Beaumont, and you’d have a real shot at it! It wouldn’t be easy, since you’re not technically nobility, and House Beaumont is kind of-” he stopped himself. “Um, I mean, it would be hard. Is what I’m saying. But cool! Fun! Are you in?”

“Sorry, what is ‘it’, exactly?”

“Oh, yeah, shoot. Liam’s hand in marriage!”

Liam’s hand. In marriage. The sidewalk seemed to spin. She liked Liam just fine, but marriage? There was no way. She knew it, deep down in her soul. She wasn’t going to marry him, and she never would.

She glanced back over her shoulder, back at the bar. The whole place seemed grubby and hollow. Daniel was wiping away at the counter, a faraway expression on his face. He was dreaming of an out. They had dreamed of that out together, on mornings like this.

Paige pictured elegant palaces, glamorous parties, beautiful people. She imagined dancing the night away, drunk on champagne and laughter. She imagined stolen corridor kisses and secret rendezvous in lavish gardens.

She turned back to Maxwell.

“I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes. I’ve got some packing to do.”

Son that was the first chapter! It’s out a bit later than I’d like, but it’s out! Sorry again about the Olivia thing. I promise, she’ll be a key character in chapter two.

I’m really new to publishing my stuff, so if you have any tips or suggestions, please let me know!

#slow burn #enemies to lovers #olivia nevrakis #choices stories you play #the royal holiday #the royal romance #trr au #trr mc #trr #the royal heir #choices fanfiction #choices fandom

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captainseaweedbrains · 4 years

Note

Prompt: this bag said it would keep my food cold for 3 hours, it lied.

Thanks for the prompt, friend! I hope you like it. It was a lot of fun to write! :D

Can be read on Ao3: x

Katniss and the No Good, Lousy Rotten Day

Katniss was having a no good, lousy rotten day and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed with three bottles of wine and pretend that she didn’t get chewed out in front of her whole department and had her budget threatened. That her car didn’t die in the left-hand turn lane on the busiest intersection in town. And that she most definitely didn’t catch her no good, lousy rotten boyfriend cheating on her in the supply closet with one of the interns. Nope. None of it happened. Today was fine.

“Rough day?” Peeta asked when she limped in through the door, her hair disheveled and her pants soaked because—oh yeah, she fell in a puddle when her heel broke stepping out of her Lyft, twisting her ankle in the process. Such a great day all around.

Grunting, Katniss hobbled over to the kitchen table, the closest piece of furniture near her, and collapsed into a chair. Her ankle throbbed. Her ass was sore and wet. But most hurt was her pride. It had taken a beating like no other today.

No good, lousy rotten day.

“Rough day?” Peeta asked again from the couch, watching TV. From the sounds of it, he was watching some cooking challenge show. She threw her broken shoe at him because he sounded way too smug for someone who clearly had eyes. To make her day even worse, she missed him by a lot and hit the sole lamp in their living room, causing it to fall off the side table and crack in half. “Waita go, Everdeen,” he chuckled, shaking his head. She groaned in darkness now, the only light now coming from their TV. She couldn’t even aim right today, her one natural gift gone. Destroyed by the day’s shittiness.

No good, lousy rotten day.

Peeta patted the spot next to him on the couch, his smile welcoming under the TV’s light. She considered hobbling off to her bed and telling him not to disturb her, but she really needed her best friend’s comfort after this hellhole day. His arms were open and she hobbled right into them, resting her head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing circles up and down her arm, like he always did when holding her like this. Her eyes closed at the touch, his hand bringing on a familiar warmth only Peeta seemed to emulate. He didn’t ask why she was wet or why she threw a shoe at him. Years of friendship didn’t require instant explanation. He knew she’d spill once she had calmed down enough to explain without getting super worked up again. Sometimes that took minutes, other times hours, but she always told him everything eventually.

She was so lucky to have him here.

They sat together in darkness, their bodies pressed together as they watched TV. Katniss was right. He was watching a cooking show. It wasn’t the type of thing she’d pick for herself to watch, but watching Peeta watch it was something else entirely. He always denied doing it, but he liked to list back the recipes the contestants spoke of, like saying them aloud will help him commit it to memory, and critique certain techniques he didn’t agree with. Peeta was an intense Food TV junkie and it amused her to no end how seriously he took it.

Tonight as he parroted back the recipes, she focused on the way his deep voice reverberated, the way his free hand would motion to the TV in exasperation because a contestant thought it wise to use the microwave instead of setting a low flame. Her arms tightened around him, content. Nothing was better than familiarity on a no good, lousy rotten day and next to her family, she knew Peeta best. He was a constant in her life and she was so grateful for it. At least some men could be depended on.

The show switched to commercials and he looked down at her at last, his eyes asking if she’s ready to talk.

She was.

Katniss extracted herself from his embrace, a bit reluctantly because her damp clothes caused a chill and Peeta was her infinite amount of warmth. “Why waste money on a heater when I have a Peeta?” she used to tease in college when they were living together in the world’s shittiest apartment, barely scraping by. Everything used to break down and both their families were tight on money to just loan out a couple hundred for repairs. They had to make do with what they had and most times in the winter, it meant huddling together in the same sleeping bag for warmth.

“So today…” Peeta started for her, twirling a bit of her braid around his fingers.

“...was the shittiest of shitty days to have ever shitted,” she finished sourly, always one with her words.

His eyebrows knit together in concern, a frown tugging at his lips. His silent concern was enough to break the dam and she went on to explain how both Snow and Coin chewed her out in front of the whole department, questioning if she was even qualified to lead a group of its size. Then when she tried defending her reasoning, they casually mentioned budget restraints and perhaps cuts would have to be made for next fiscal year in order for the company to stay afloat.

“And then my car died at Six Corner on my way back from their office,” Katniss continued, feeling more lousy as she went on. “I know you kept telling me it was a death trap on wheels and that I should have gotten a new car years ago, but please don’t tell me ‘I told you so’ because I don’t think I can handle that right now.” At this point, Peeta had retrieved her emergency stash of Ben & Jerry from the freezer and she was stuffing her face into the double-chocolate brownie goodness with agusto.

“It was the worst,” she continued, mouth full of ice cream. “All these cars were blaring at me and flipping me the bird, like I purposely let my car die in the left-hand turn lane! Don’t say anything!” she snapped, pressing a sticky finger to his lips. His eyes widened at the touch, but he remained the good listener he always was, letting her blow off steam and stuff her sorrows with ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream.

“But that’s not even the worst of it,” she sighed, blowing at her bangs that desperately needed a trim. “Cato cheated on me.” It was hard looking at him for that. Peeta warned her from day one not to get involved with Cato, saying he wreaked of sleazebag and booze, but she just shrugged his concerns off, wanting something entirely different from her failed relationship with Gale, and she was far too into the crazy sex they had to pull the plug. Cato was the rebound mistake she let linger for too long. And now she got hurt because of her own stubborn stupidity.

“Katniss, I’m so sorry.” Much to her relief, it sounded like he truly meant it. His deep voice didn’t seem to carry any contempt toward her and he reached over for a hug, pulling her close. Her arms instinctively wrapped around him, her face pressing into the crook of his neck. Peeta gave the best hugs. His warm, strong arms easily encased her, reminding her of being wrapped in a really soft blanket, and he always smelled faintly of foods—sweet sugars or savory spices, it didn’t matter. He always smelled of it and she loved that about him. A little taste of home.

His large hand rubbed circles on her back now, not saying anything else as she sat there in his arms, the cold from the ice cream container numbing her still damp pants. They sat like that for a while, his TV show returning and ending. Another episode started up, but Peeta didn’t push her away. He never did. Even when she dug her own grave, Peeta was climbing in next to her, offering a hand of support.

“It’s stupid,” she mumbled dejectedly into his shoulder, his shirt soft against her cheek. “I knew he was a jerk, but I didn’t think I’d care this much, you know? Why do I care this much?”

“I think we naturally expect the good from people,” he said quietly, still rubbing her back. “It sucks when we’re proven wrong about them.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe she subconsciously expected Cato to be a semi-decent guy and not cheat on her. Was the bar really that low for her now? She tucked her head back into his neck, needing another moment of this before facing the reality that yeah, her standards in the past few years have really gone down.

“Hey, Katniss?” he asked after sitting like this for a while.

“Hm?”

“Can we move your ice cream? I’m all here for your sweet fix and hugs, but it’s getting a bit cold down there.” And in true Peeta Mellark fashion, he was able to get her to laugh on one of the worst days she’s seen since moving back after her bad breakup with Gale. Teasing if he wanted her heating pad to warm him back up, she moved the melting ice cream on the coffee table and smiled at him.

She was so lucky having him in her life. He’d been such a constant in her life, always caring about what was going on, offering his advice where he could. She’d done a lot of shitty things in the past, some even toward him, but Peeta never held it against her. Even when she rightfully deserved his anger, he was still there. After all these years. Ready to lend a helping hand.

This was why she loved him.

Wait, what? Her eyes widened in surprise. The thought had come so quickly, but it felt natural to think. Like it’d been sitting there, deep in her head, for a while. Of course she loved him. He was her best friend! She’d told him “I love you” countless times over the years, most being when she had food coming her way, but this felt different, staring at his white bluish face. This felt like the other love. That love. The one she remembered feeling with Gale and before him, Thom.

She chewed at her thumbnail, her eyes darting away.

This was bad. Really bad. This was how her and Gale had started and that went south fast. They weren’t friends anymore, the breakup was so bad. If something like that happened to her and Peeta… She wouldn’t know what she’d do without him. Without his kind words and affectionate gestures. The idea was hard to swallow.

“Feeling better?” he asked, smiling a little, unbeknownst to the world shaking revelation happening in her head. His hand squeezed hers in good spirit.

Katniss looked at how his hand rested over hers, her tiny fingers peeking out. Her pulse quickened. Like the dam he helped open earlier, it felt like something else had broken inside her, flooding her with emotions she didn’t even realize she’d been feeling. His hand felt so nice resting over hers like that, and a small part of her wished he’d take it and press his lips to it. Like the gentlemen did in those silly period dramas he was always having her watch when it was his turn to pick a movie out. Would he be weirded out if she did that to him? Just picked up his hand and kissed it?

Stop it! her mind screamed, resisting any urges of kissing her chapped lips over his hands. Friends are off limits. These things never end well.

“Katniss?” he asked, that concern back in his voice and—okay, yeah. He really needed to stop talking so she could process this flood of emotions.

“Hmmm?” She looked up at him, her eyes still wide.

“Are you feeling better? Do you want me to order a pizza? I’ll even order your nasty pineapple pizza, if that will cheer you up.” God, could he please stop? He never let her put pineapple on their shared pizza unless she really needed the pick-me-up. He really was too much.

“Mhm,” she smiled a bit too brightly. “Sounds good. Love pizza. You know how pizza makes me horny—I mean happy! Pizza makes me happy!” Now he was looking at her like she’d grown another head. “Pineapple pizza is perfect, Peeta,” she breathed. “Thank you.”

He still looked at her strangely, but shook his head in amusement at her weirdness and shoved at her playfully before getting up to go order the pizza.

“Mind if I talk about the betrayal I felt today?” he asked from the kitchen, the sounds of drawers opening as he looked for a pizza coupon.

“Bold word to use on a girl who found her boyfriend in the supply closet with the barely legal intern,” she said, her voice sounding high-pitched. “Can it top that?”

“Absolutely.” His head popped out from the small service window dividing the kitchen from the living room, his phone pressed to his ear. “This bag”—He held up a purple lunch bag she recognized from his many online purchases—“said it would keep my food cold for three hours. It lied. It wasn’t even two hours and my smoothie felt like it’d been baking in the car. You can bet I gave them a strongly worded review and—hi! Yes, I’m calling to place an order.” He smiled that charming smile he always wore whenever they went out to eat somewhere, despite being on the phone, and god. She knew he was handsome, but how had she not noticed the dimples in his round stupid face before?

Katniss leaned forward on the couch, her hands pressed to her forehead, and groaned. She was totally screwed.

Stupid, no good, lousy rotten day.

#everlark fanfiction #the hunger games fanfiction #everlark fanfic #jroseley #asks #my writing #prompts #I hope you like it!

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