#James does that line 'your grandmother smiles in a way she thinks is comforting' and it's like BIG OOF

[pagesofkenna]

I would die for Honda Torikoshi

[sweeethinny]

James is Dating - Part 2

I love part 1, but I felt that Ginny's reaction to that was missing, so here goes, one more mother and son moment between James S. and Ginny

Part 1 | AO3

read bellow the cut :)

'Busy?' Ginny said, head into James' messy room, looking for him in all that mess of clothes, gifts, new things, and a lot of other things he kept inside.

'No. Do you need anything?’ He stepped out of the small closet by the window, still wearing only the old, dirty paint-dry shorts he had used to help build the new house for Sir, their dog.

'Do you want to go with me to the market? Your father asked me to buy more ice cream, fish and beer.' Today all the Weasley and aggregates would gather at the Potter house, Harry seemed more anxious than ever to open the new room, which was now not just a forgotten room at the back of the house, with everything that couldn't fit in the attic, which almost never had the windows open. It was an appropriate place, with comfortable armchairs, a wallpaper of flamingos that Ginny had chosen and an incredible view of the pool and the sunset.

'Sure, I'm just going to put the shirt on ... will I meet you down there?' She nodded, closing the door and walking to the stairs.

It had been a day since James told Harry that he was dating and so far he has remained silent to Ginny, which saddened her a little, since James always told her several things. She waited patiently after dinner, guaranteed to get James to help clear the table with her, and yet, today during the morning run, she tried not to say too much, hoping that he would bother with the silence - as he always did - and talk about the news she already knew.

Harry summed up what the two of them had talked about and how happy James looked about how it all went down, but Ginny wanted to hear directly from him, not just what her husband remembered.

Harry couldn't tell if James had that sparkle in his eyes that she saw appear during one of the dinners, while he and Mira talked softly in the other corner of the table, and her son seemed to almost sparkle every time she laughed. Or when he hurry down the stairs while the owl hooted to announce it arrival with the mail. And Ginny wouldn't even comment on the time she caught him looking at Mira' breasts. It was a quick thing, while she and Mira talked about Quidditch, the girl fixed the collar of her sweater, without any apparent malice, and out of the corner of her eye Ginny had been able to notice the movement of James' eyes.

She wanted to laugh and make some comment about it, but the boy soon managed to get them off track and take Mira away from Ginny, saying they were going to play Quidditch - and they went.

Mira was a girl that Ginny had been cheering James on to notice her, since the first day Ginny met her, she was a sweet person, and it was understandable that even Scorpion, always tried to be around her on vacation. She was also beautiful; tall, almost the same height as James, with blonde hair similar to Fleur's, but more wavy and messy than the perfectly smooth strands of her sister-in-law, dark eyes that seemed almost unreal, and a way of behaving that exuded confidence. Not much to detriment her, just enough that she could survive the world without being too affected. And she was smart, which was a very important point for Ginny not to worry about.

As far as James talked, her mother was a witch and so was her stepfather, while her father was a muggle, as were her grandparents. They even got to know her mother on a day when they went to get Mira to go with them to the Quidditch Cup, the woman had studied in the same year as the twins but was a Ravenclaw, just like her husband.

Mira was the perfect girl that Ginny could have imagined for James.

Okay, aside from the fact that maybe she was in as much or more trouble than the boy, but it was something to let go of.

'Is Dad going to make fish? I thought Teddy had convinced him to make that meat pie,’ James appeared, startling Ginny who was concentrating on watching the yard through the big window in the living room.

'You know what he looks like, when he put something on his head, forget it.' She turned, smiling at the boy and giving him her arm to hold, in order to apparate to the dark and safe alley where they landed. The market was a block and a half away, but today was a Saturday during the holidays, which meant crowded streets and long lines for even the simplest things.

'Excited to start classes?' She asked, needing to restrain herself from releasing a million questions about the courtship he had kept hidden for so long.

'Yes, at least I’m not going to see Professor Johann anymore, which makes me very happy. ’

'I thought you liked DADA.' The two stopped in the fishmonger line, surrounded by conversation.

'I like it,' James shrugged, fussing with his hair like his father did, almost making Ginny laugh. 'But he is very annoying, and he hates me.'

'I doubt it.'

'I'm serious, he hates us all but Mira, but it's because she and he share the same terrible taste for books, and they've been reading the same saga lately, but if it weren't for that, he would make her organize more than thousand of his books in alphabetical order too, as he does with us. '

‘And what does he tell her to do?’ Ginny wanted to jump for joy because they were talking about Mira, knowing that now it would be much easier to pull James’s secret.

'He almost never gives her detention, really, it's almost like he was blind to her walking down the corridors or in the forest at night, but the times he had to do that, Mira said that she just kept separating the tests by year and home' James denied, looking incredulous.

'Well ... and what would she be doing in the hall at night? Or in the Forest? ’

'Nothing I know of, of course.' James smiled in that way that always made Ginny and Harry watch, his eyes shining in something malicious, as if hiding to death what the hell they were up to at school. 'I am usually in my room, you know? Respecting the schedule and sleeping early. ’

‘Oh sure, I sure believe that,’ She smiled falsely. 'Will Mira come to dinner?'

'No, she traveled to her uncles' house in France, her cousin just gave birth to a baby.'

'Hm ... We should go to France for the next vacation, it is a pretty beautiful destination, especially in the summer.' James smiled in agreement, but if Ginny knew her son well, he was not thinking about French landscapes. 'I like her.'

'From whom?' The boy looked at her, curious, as if he were caught in the act.

'Mira. She is very kind to us. ’

'She is like that naturally.' James defended her, even though Ginny was not implying anything.

'A great quality, by the way ... And she is beautiful.' James' cheeks turned pink, but he continued to look confidently at all the fish exposed in the ice basins, it was almost their turn.

'Scorpion agrees with that, I think I saw him looking at her legs more times than I can count.' He looked at Ginny, his brown eyes looking so much like the ones she saw in the mirror when she caught herself thinking about Harry as she dressed for her class, trying to ignore how all the girls seemed to like him now that he was in sixth year and had grown up.

'And you? Do you agree?' She took a risk, biting her cheek to contain her smile when her son's face caught fire.

'She is my best friend.'

'Hermione was Ron's best friend.' She shrugged. ‘That didn’t stop him from finding her beautiful.’

'Daddy told you, didn't he?' James stared at her as if Ginny had just said that she knew his biggest secret, eyebrows raised.

'Did he tell what?' Before James could speak, however, the fishmonger called them.

They didn't waste a lot of time in the market, exchanging few words while choosing the products and then paying, walking at a slow pace and almost as if they were postponing their return home, feeling the breeze of that summer night, and seeing the city brighter and more awake than ever.

James didn't open his mouth, seeming to think well before speaking, but Ginny wanted to laugh and ask her son if he thought she was an idiot and that she hadn't realized that overnight, there were pictures of him with Mira in his room, especially the one of the two in Hogsmeade where he had his arm around her waist.

'He told you what I told him.' The boy finally spoke, and Ginny stopped walking, thinking that if they went home, there would be no way to talk without Albus, Lily, Harry or her whole family arriving and hinder, then, she preferred to stop and sit on a bench that was in front of a square they used to run, discreetly putting a spell so that the fish that would not spoil by staying out of the ice.

'Yes.' She looked at him as soon as they were seated, smiling from ear to ear. 'Your father is a gossip, you know that.'

'What do you think?' James also smiled, but his cheeks were flushed.

'Well, I like Mira, and as long as it doesn't interfere with your studies or hers, everything is fine. I've been waiting for this for some time.' The boy laughed, denying and looking at the lake that shone ahead, lit by the various lampposts.

'Her grandmother wants to talk to us.'

'Grandma?' James nodded, laughing even more.

'She says she wants to meet our family, said she is tired of just hearing about the Potter but never sees them in person.' The two laughed. 'It's all right? Are we going to have dinner with them after they get back from the trip?’

'Of course, it will be a good time, I'm sure.' She sighed. 'Do you like her? Isn't it just something to pass the time?' Ginny didn't know if she would be able to overcome the disappointment she would feel if James did that, even though she thought it unlikely that he would be able to play with Mira's feelings like that.

'Nooo, I really like her. We get along well.' He looked happy, in fact, during the Easter break he looked a little miserable, and Ginny wondered now if it had anything to do with her. James was no longer hiding in the room and remaining silent and scowling in the corners

'Good, because I like her very much, and we would fight if you were playing with her.'

'It is more capable of her making me cry than the other way around,' he joked. 'But I wouldn't have told you if it was nothing.'

'You didn't tell, your father told me.'

'Yeah, whatever.' He shrugged. 'I think I was embarrassed... Lily made the whole trip miserable, sitting in our compartment just to provoke, talking nonstop to Mira.'

'She's jealous of you, you're her big brother.' Ginny smiled, remembering how sulky her daughter was every time James went out with friends and she needed to stay. 'You did the same with Teddy. It's normal.'

'But it sucks.' He made a face. ‘Albus wasn’t like that when he heard.’

'He's better at hiding his feelings, we'll have to wait a few more weeks to find out.' The two were quiet, the music from the pub across the street was loud, as were the laughter and conversation, and Ginny almost started to worry with when it would James who wanted to go to places like that, wondering if she would stay up all night like she did when Teddy first went out.

Not that she didn't trust James, but it was still a little disconcerting to look at him, and realize that he was no longer that little boy who hugged her legs whenever he was embarrassed.

'Are you happy?' She looked at him.

'Yes.' James smiled, that shy dimple appearing on his left cheek. 'I was afraid that she would reject me. She’s a little scary. ’

‘But she didn’t reject it.’

'Yeah, something like that... She tried, and we fought, but then everything went well and I kissed her.' He smiled sheepishly, making Ginny laugh and that maternal concern dissolved a little.

'Well, this is what matters.' She stood up. 'Come on, let's go before your dad pulls out his hair and calls the Aurors to look for us.'

'He wouldn't do that.' The two walked to the alley.

'Never doubt Potter' drama.' Ginny lined them up, James holding her arm. 'I'm happy for you.' She kissed her son's forehead - which was almost starting to get taller than she was - and apparated them back to the house.

[marquiswrites]

Out of Time [2/25]

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Shuri, Doctor Strange, Original Female Character/OC

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader,

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: Language

Author’s Notes: So guys, I got some pretty bad news regarding my grandmother. I am going to try keeping this up on one per day, but at this point I make no promises.

-------------------------------------------

Chapter Two: Decorating the Tree

One thing was certain, they were in no way moving this coffin until they had a better understanding of what was inside. 

Bucky had immediately suggested calling Shuri, while Rhodey had been the one to suggest calling in Dr. Strange. Sam was holding out against hope that Thor would show up, despite the fact that he had gone off with the Guardians of the Galaxy. 

Turns out that only Bucky and Rhodey had gotten their wishes. A second quinjet coming to drop off Shuri, while Doctor Strange would be teleporting in shortly. Sam and Bucky sharing worried glances with each other while they waited, both unwilling to move too far away from the coffin, if only to be certain that it wouldn’t vanish and make them look like idiots the minute they turned around. 

The quiet quinjet engines signaled the arrival of the Wakadan princess, Shuri climbing easily down the ladder that had been staged by the crew that Sam had brought with them. Work lights beaming through the previously hidden chamber, though the mist remained, giving it an almost ethereal effect.

“You white boys always come up with the most interesting things. But is this truly what it takes to get you around for a visit, brother?” She tsked at Bucky with a laugh, enveloping her adopted brother in a warm hug before coming to stand before the coffin, lifting her arm to bring up the Kimoyo beads. Letting them scan over it. “She is alive!”

“It’s ancient magic.” Dr. Strange responded in his deep timbre. Stepping through a newly summoned portal, a book covered in nordic runes in one hand. “And powerful. Not something I would expect in a location like this…”

“I think we could pick up on that from the fact that she’s not exactly in cryo, doc.” Sam raised a brow while nodding to the coffin. “What we need to know is who, and why she was putting out a signal about germans in an old world war two hospital.”

Bucky frowned further, drifting to the side of the coffin opposite Shuri. Wiping his hand to clear away the fog once more, your eyes closed as though he had only imagined them being open. “She’s wearing a nurses uniform… Still has blood on it. Likely was stationed there at the hospital. Got.. caught up in whatever this is?” “No.” Strange countered once more, summoning the casting circles to his hands, waving one across the coffin. “This is being powered by her own spirit. She’s maintaining the spell… It is similar to that of Loki from Asgard in signature. Though unless she shares his Jotunheim inheritance, I am uncertain as to how.” “Great, so we gonna have another Asgardian show down?” Sam sneered slightly. “Or do you think this one is a little less psychotic?”

“I think the only way we are going to know, is if we wake her. So rather than talking yourselves in circles, how about we get a move on.” Shuri rolled her eyes at the men. Tapping along the purple screen before her. Then lowering her bracelet to tap against the coffin, a soft hiss indicating the cracking of the seal. Each of the others twitching with varying degrees of subtlety. Making Shuri roll her eyes once more. “She may take some time to wake-” Your gaze snaps open almost immediately. 

----

You look to the owner of the voice that had managed to break the seal on your spell. Watching her as you pushed aside the lid of your coffin. Carefully sitting up, only to hiss in pain. Hands fluttering over the wound at your side, the reason you had cast the spell to begin with, to buy you time. 

But how much time had you lost?

A hand at your shoulder broke the train of thought, following it to its owner, and… 

“Gwaine!” 

---

The girl threw herself at him before he had a chance to react, wrapping his arms instinctively about her to keep her from falling over. Bucky felt the softness of her lips press to his, stiffening in surprise, unable to react further until the kiss had been broken. 

“Gwaine, I hadn’t thought I would see you again!” She gave a soft sob and was suddenly burying her face to his shoulder, Bucky looking up to the others in an absolute panic. Starting to tremble softly in her hold. His discomfort more than obvious to everyone in the room but the ice girl.

Sam gave a subtle cough. “Pardon, ma’am, I think you might be a bit mistaken. Not sure who this Gwaine is, but-”

“Ser Gwaine, of Camelot. He was a knight of the round table.” Rhodey made his way into the chamber, taking the metal ladder slowly, raising a brow at the scene but cocking a grin. 

“Yeah, definitely not Barnes then.” Sam sniggered softly, though still watching the pair of them. “But I doubt that’s what she would mean anyways…”

“You might be surprised.” Strange hummed, watching the girl curiously. Thumbing over the cover of the book. “But I believe that this is a discussion better held in a more comfortable setting.”

Bucky swallowed tightly, nodding to the sorcerer. Gently grabbing hold of her shoulders to pull her away. “Hey doll, we’re gonna get you somewhere safe, alright? Just need you to trust us awhile.”

“I would trust you to my dying breath.”

---

You had meant what you said, and yet… 

Something was different this time. He had seemed surprised to see you. His eyes were that of a stranger, however kind, there was no trust there. Gwaine… No… Barnes, they had called him… This was not the man that you had left behind, the man you had searched for once more. As you always did. 

This was not the man that found you again and again over the span of a hundred lifetimes. Something had changed.

Their sorcerer, Doctor Strange, had introduced himself gently to you. Explained that he would be creating a portal for you to travel through. As though you would have no idea what he meant. Of course, you kept this thought to yourself, these were strange people in a strange time, and none of them knew whom exactly they were dealing with. 

It was not their fault that they did not show the proper deference. 

He took you to their home. Well, some of them lived here. You could already tell which did not. The young princess, the sorcerer, neither of them had left any imprint upon this place. The group seemed willing to let you lounge in their living room as they drifted off to another room. Likely to speak about you. A pine tree placed in the center surrounded by couches on each side, the tree near to ten feet tall, and bare still of any decorations. 

The sight of it made you frown gently to yourself. Stepping closer to brush your fingers along the branches. 

“We haven’t quite caught the spirit yet… But Sam said that even putting it up is a start.”

You jumped slightly with the sudden voice. Quickly turning to find it’s owner beside you. Your heart twisting with a yearning ache at the mere sight of him. “A shame… A tree this beautiful should not go bare.”

“If you decide to stick around, and if the other’s end up agreeing that you aren’t a threat, maybe you can help to decorate it, Snowflake.”

“Snowflake?”

“Well, you haven’t exactly given us a name, Doll.” Bucky chuckled as he looked down to you. His gaze warm, but still without recognition. 

“I have had many names… But… I believe that Snowflake might be fitting.” Smiling softly to him before reaching out to touch the pine needles once more. A soft frost beginning to cover the tree. 

“I think that might be counterintuitive.” His lips quirk up in a smirk, even as a soft sense of awe settles over his features. 

“My magic will not harm it. As matter of fact, it will help to preserve the tree. This one will not fade, as so many others do.” Your expression drops, along with the pit in your stomach. Turning your gaze to the now glittering tree. 

“Some things are meant to fade.” Your reverie is broken by the gentle sadness of his tone. Turning your attention to him once more to study his features. The lines of his face, a lifetime etched into a single expression. 

“Perhaps… but there are some things that are not meant to be lost to time.”

“Like you?” His gaze meets yours once more. A burning curiosity hidden within the ice blue. 

“I am no longer as sure as I was once.” You answer truthfully. Though you know that it does not answer the question that he was really asking. “But I can only hope that time will tell.”

“Well… Come on, let’s find you something other than that uniform. Then Shuri can check over your wound. After that, we can see about decorating the tree.”

[chilly-me-softly]

Next Door • Ben Chilwell

"(Y/N) can you get that please? Jane and Rafael are about to get together again" the girl chuckles, shaking her head, damn the day she showed her grandmother that TV show. Then she puts the pen down, her review can wait, and goes to the door. She doesn't even peek in the peephole, sure it's her grandmother's friend. Those two are old friends and they set up a day where they meet and update each other -or rather gossip- about things that happened in the time frame they didn't see.

Instead she finds herself in front of her neighbor, Ben. He stands in front of her with his hands in the pockets of his gray shorts, a blue sweatshirt framed it.

"Hi" she smiles, leaning lightly against the door, she also wears a sweatpants but doesn't fit like the boy’s one in front of her. And she’s almost ashamed of not having checked herself in the mirror, she probably looks desperate with that makeshift ponytail and the glasses. But it's in the midst of the study phase and it doesn't even make too much sense to dress up to despair over books. And then her neighbor saw her even worse than that -cold, gym and embarrassing pajama phase included-.

"Ehm hi" he says, taking one of the two hands out of his pocket for a moment to move it in front of him. He clears his throat, "Tonight ... uhm ... some of my friends will come home. A very small thing, that in reality it's not even a real party but ... ehm ... there could be music and noise"

"It's good, Ben. You know, there is no need for you to come and warn me all the time"

"I know but I do it for your grandmother. I like that lady, I don't want her to hate me” you laugh, you casually pass a finger on the bridge of the glasses to put them back in place.

"Well, that's all. I just went on to say this" he says after a minute of silence, it seemed an eternity for all the thoughts he had managed to formulate.

"Bye Ben" the girl smiles and closes the door as the boy turns himself. She sighs once the door closes and rests her forehead on it. On the other hand, the boy walks through the small space that separates the two houses. Head down and shoulders curved as it swells the cheeks and gradually lets the air out to calm down.

"Who was that darling?" she finds her grandmother in the kitchen intent on pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"Ben, the neighbor" she replies accepting the glass that the grandmother offers her.

The lady sighs, "Ah that boy, he is very nice and kind. Always say hi when we meet each other" she then says happily. And she can't blame her. Since she had gone to live with her grandmother a few months earlier she had finally understood why she praised him so much, so much so that she considered him almost her biological nephew. He is always very respectful, very kind, and worries about her grandmother, even if in theory he would be totally free to ignore her. And to be honest, she doesn't mind bringing him cookies or whatever her grandmother decides is destined for the beautiful brunette next door. Because as she always says ‘We have eyes for a reason’.

"He says tonight he'll make some noise" the girl shrugs to indicate she doesn't care too much.

"If I was a few years younger, I wouldn't mind sneak in" the lady muttering seriously.

"Grandma!" her niece coughed, putting her glass on the counter and wiping away a few tears that had formed at the corners of her eyes from the effort.

"I cook something, do you want a bite?" she continues as if nothing had happened.

"No thanks, I try to do something else before getting ready to leave" but when she gets to the table, the doorbell rings again. She snorts softly, rolling her eyes and starts back toward the door. This time it’s her grandmother's friend, who greets and takes a seat. She is immediately kidnapped by the two women who greet each other as if they haven't seen each other for centuries. She remembers that when she was younger she spent hours looking at them, wanting to capture their secret, in short, she had never had a lasting friendship like that. However, she is so rapt by the two that when she turns to close the door she winces.

"Hi" the blond man greets in front of her, "Ben had also came to invite you but he panicked. So if you want, you’re welcome tonight" it takes a while to fully understand the boy's words, still a little shaken by the ambush. Then she casually throws an eye to the brunette's house seeing that he's quickly approaching.

"I'm sorry, but I have to refuse. I have a bachelorette party to attend"

"Are you getting married?"

"What? No way. My best friend has decided to ruin herself" she chuckles.

"So you're single?"

"Well maybe next time. Now let's go, we still have so many things to organize. Have fun tonight" says Ben in a rush and quickly he takes his friend by the arm and drags him away. And the girl stands there with her mouth open for the sequence of lines in such a short time, before going back into the house and heading back to her table. This time, however, to clean it up and put her things in her room. Believe it or not those last minutes had tired her mentally more than the two hours she had already spent looking at her books and she still had a party to attend.

*

"So?" James asks, sitting on his friend's couch as he pulls a tennis ball into the air.

"What?" confused asks Ben lying on the couch in front of him, the ball comes in and out of his view.

"Didn't your soon to be wife have to arrive today?"

"What the hell are you talking about? Change drug dealer Madders"

"And yet your sweet neighbor thinks exactly like me" the ball stops. He raises his head slightly and sees the grin printed on his friend's face.

"Stop James, it's not funny"

"Have you seen her at least?" he keeps going. He noticed the slight redness on his friend's cheeks and to urge him to speak he throws the ball, only that this ends up straight on his head. The boy groans rubbing the affected part "Are you stupid?"

He continues with his silence so the blond gets up and walks out towards the garden. All Ben knows is that a moment before he is relaxing in the living room with everyone else outside in the garden, while a moment later everyone is returning with a guilty expression on the face and headed for the front door. First, he thinks someone has broken something by playing football, nothing further from the truth. Long story short he was told that they wanted to see his neighbor's niece so they had thought of throwing the ball into their property and going to retrieve it. But they never thought they would hit the girl in question.

He can't believe it, that boy needs a little talk. Because he is sure it was all a James idea. But it's also thanks to him if he starts talking more often with his neighbor.

-

A plastic glass comes straight to his head, "Hiya, are you with us?!" and he shakes his head, he only glimpsed the ball being thrown back and forth in his garden and his head had done the rest.

"Aah I know what you're thinking. Or rather, to whom" James smiles mischievously as he receives a middle finger as an answer.

"Look she's coming back right now" and he doesn't want to give it to him by turning around, it could also be a whole tactic to keep teasing him for all he knows. But when he sees that James isn't paying attention to him, he turns and sees her. Trying to find maybe the keys in her bag, she wears the same dress with which he saw her leave home the night before. Seeing her with the artificial lights of the lamps was another thing of being able to observe her in the sunlight. And he mutters something disconnected to the others, he doesn't even pay much attention to what he says, taking the black half-filled envelope at his feet and heading out.

"Good morning" he stops her in front of the three steps that lead to the front door of her house.

"Hi"

"We were really quite, I swear"

"I'll ask my grandma. I'm heading back now, I don't usually go around like this" she jokes.

"You're beautiful anyway" Ben becomes serious for a moment and she feels blushing, so she murmurs that ‘Thank you’ and doesn't even know if the boy has heard her.

"Hey do you... I was wondering if you had already had breakfast"

"I'm starving" the girl is quick to answer.

"Do you want to go get something?" she nods smiling, "I'd love to. Just let me go get something more comfortable uhm"

And he nods, waiting for the girl who in the meantime gets into the house, throws herself on the bed, suffocating a scream on the pillow and get up to get changed. She loses a few more minutes explaining the situation to her grandmother who encourages her to ‘take something more than a coffee’. Shaking her head she finally comes out of that house finding the boy intent on running a hand through his hair. As soon as the girl had closed the door behind her, he had rushed like a mad man to his, throwing the garbage in some random corner and frantically searching for his phone, wallet and house keys. And he finds himself thanking the hours of training he does every day otherwise he would be about to spit out a lung in front of the girl and has already embarrassed himself enough for that too.

The topics sprout between one bite and another. He tells her about football, his teammates, the scar he made as a child. She tells him about her studies, talks about her grandmother and about the dog she wanted to have as a child. And the two realize how stupid they have been up until then to feel somewhat intimidated by each other. But they're very similar and at some point in the morning they end up comparing her grandmother with James to the point of also drawing up a list of similarities and differences. Result: those two are twins separated at birth. Between the laughter the two set off for home and greet each other with an hug, she leaves him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

She won't be a soon to be wife, but he can work on the soon to be girlfriend for the moment.

[spacerockwriting]

Shedding Courage

Inspired by something myself and @littlerose13writes were talking about today about a HC of Hairdresser! Teddy

Albus stood in the doorway of their flat. He was dreading this visit, this day. He didn’t think he had the heart to make this visit. In all reality, he didn’t want too. He just wanted to continue what he started, do things his own way. He didn’t want to follow the rules, didn’t want to give in to their expectations.

But he had to.

When faced with the consequences of his actions, settling down became the best of them. He had passed the entrance examination of St. Mungos, highest scores in that class. He had moved on to the next level of in order to gain the interview. He had had an interview which went well, with only one complaint.

Albus wished he could have shut his eyes as he listened to his interviewer. He had the acceptable marks, and he had done okay in interviews, despite having what he considered shitty social skills. He could move on to the practical rounds, which if he passed, would secure him a spot as a healer in training. From there he’d do a variety of rounds in different portions of the hospital, earning stripes for his works. Eventually, he’d narrow down his sections he wanted to focus in, then in the end he would be assigned hopefully to his section of choice where he’d do his healing career. Of course, if you had a field in mind you could usually bypass the constant switching of rounds to a lesser amount and request main focus there.

His interviewer had all praise for his marks, his interviews, and his old NEWT level paper he wrote. He had said wonderful things about the brunette, all while giving him a concerning look. He had expressed that he’d love to put Albus in to the next round, however, he felt that Albus didn’t meet the dress code.

His interviewer felt that Albus lacked that professional appearance St. Mungos strived for. He felt that long hair, eyeliner, nail varnish, and the current absent piercings, were not going to help him in the industry. They would make many of the older clients afraid, and didn’t seem to hold that look of cleanliness that hospitals needed to uphold.

His job was dependent on this necessary change. When he confronted Scorpius on it, Scorpius let him cry it out. He rubbed Albus’ back and comforted him, but told him that unfortunately, most careers would follow in a similar path, especially new hires. He then said it was ridiculous to not accept the job based on a haircut, and that he’d be dumb to not show up for the next phase. Scorpius knew Albus would try and hide behind the no, try to remain how he was. He knew however, that if Albus didn’t focus soon, Harry would shove him into some very boring office job at the ministry that would crush Al’s spirit. Going back to the band was a very slim option that would push him backwards rather than forwards.

Scorpius then took charge and firecalled Teddy, setting up an appointment that could very well last all morning. He figured doing it early, first thing, was the best way to get it out of the way. There would be no one there at the time of day, and Scorpius knew this would be best for Al.

“I love you,” Scorpius says, grabbing Albus’ wrist and kissing his forehead. “You’ll be great.” He presses his head against Albus’ and tugs a lock of fallen hair. “See you when you get back,” he whispers into his ear. “Now go,” he pushes Albus into the floo and over to Teddy’s.

Albus pulls and tugs at his sloppy ponytail, hesitating to go in. It’s just Teddy’s shop. He’s been going to Teddy’s shop since he was around ten years old. Teddy had seen him in all sorts of states. Teddy was like his family, surely this would be fine?

Nervously, Albus pulls the band out his hair and reties it back. He does this motion over and over, again and again. Sucking in a deep breath, he gives the door the tiniest push, the bell overtop hitting and making that loud ding sound.

He wonders if maybe he can escape. His dark lined eyes don’t reach up to Teddy’s, but Teddy already notices he’s there.

“Al!” He greets his little brother with fondness. He comes over and wraps an arm around his shoulder for a hug. “Scorpius said you’d be here.” He smiles at his little brother, taking no time gesturing to his chair.

Albus plops down with every bone tense in his body. Teddy drapes the cape onto his little brother and snaps it shut. “Let’s see what we have to work with, hmm?” He asks playfully and removes the band from his little brother’s hair. Teddy wraps it around his own wrist for later. He pulls out a comb and hairbrush, kneading his way through the tangled mess. Albus makes a few sounds and Teddy knows he’s clenching, refusing to relax.

“Merlin’s beard, Al. When’s that last time you had a cut?”

“Dunno.” Albus sulks. “Before tour? Maybe that. I think one o’ us got a trim on tour. Not regularly, but we did a thing where we had a hairdresser an’ she probably did a little cutting.”

“Al,” Teddy says. “Albus,” he sighs. “For fuck sakes Al, you’ve got knots and the worst split ends and dry bits. I know you guys must’ve used some sort of muggle heat tools or something, didn’t you?” He doesn’t let Albus answer and runs his fingers through the length that goes past Albus’ shoulders.

The silence is the answer that Teddy doesn’t need as he pulls the hairbrush out and combs through the strands again. He repeats the motion a few times until all the pieces are smoothed out. He already knows Albus will hate him for this, but Teddy knows just as well as the rest of the family and Scorpius that this is a need for Albus. He will get over it, and it won’t be the end of Albus’ world.

“Al, if you feel the need to do this again, please use the detangling potion. If you can’t use the potion, then I highly suggest deep cleanse shampoos and conditioners. Trims work best of all, but if you’re unable, at least deep condition.” Teddy removes the hair tie from his own wrist and starts combing Albus’ hair back into the ponytail. It looks neater this time around.

But he knows Albus won’t keep it this neat. His hair is far too damaged and messed up. The split ends are outrageously bad and his future job won’t allow this just yet. He can feel the shoulders tense up when he moves the band down and puts a comforting hand on Albus’ shoulder.

He’s seen both men and women enter with anxiety over shedding their past. He’s seen tears from old and young, and he knows it won’t be the last time. He adjusts the strands a little more, adjusting the band a bit more. Unlike his other clients, he doesn’t need to ask if Al’s ready. Just like in Al’s fifth year, this is a necessity, and not a fun transformation. If Al were doing this on a whim because he wanted the change, then Teddy might have put a little more sympathy into the situation. He loved Albus, but he didn’t love this force of the situation. If Albus didn’t do this, he wouldn’t take his job. In the end, he’d get stuck doing boring ministry work, which would probably be the same requirements.

Teddy grips the ponytail with his free hand, holding it tight in his grip as he carefully slices through the strands. Al has thick hair, and it takes minutes to get through the last strands clinging on. The last strands are snipped and he runs his hands through the choppy back. It already feels healthier.

Teddy holds the cut hair up and Albus’ eyes grow wide. “Teddy,” he cries out, hands flying to the shorn locks. His hands struggle to recreate the familiar pattern he used to do. “I wasn’t ready,” Albus cries out, bottom lip trembling.

Teddy absolutely hates seeing Al cry. There have only been four instances where his haircuts have made Al cry. The first one, was his first time cutting Albus’ hair. Albus always cried at his grandmother’s instances, or when he’d come back from the barbershop. The second, was one of the early years where Albus squirmed in the middle, causing his fringe to be shorten dramatically. This in turn caused for his like James floppy hair be cut into something more similar to how his grandmother would prefer. The third time was heartbreaking; Teddy had watched a mournful Albus sob as his preferred long fringe was removed from his head, weak locks being removed and forced into a short style with enough hair remaining to be pushed up in the front. Al looked so young, so innocent with his hair off his face like that; what broke his heart the most was having to work around Al’s hospital equipment.  This was the final time Al had cried in his chair.

“You’ll be okay Al,” he reassures, using his wand to finally start wetting the pieces.  Placing his wand back down, he picks his scissors and comb back up and starts separating the portions of hair, starting to cut. The hardest part was over.

During the cutting, Teddy pauses every now and then to look at Albus in the mirror. The boy’s eyes aren’t as moist, which Teddy expected would happen. Soon enough Albus is vocal again, talking quietly about his band, about his and Scorpius’ ideas for their wedding, and playing catch up over the time Teddy hadn’t seen Al.

When the majority of the overall cut had been completed, Teddy decides to pull out a little packet. He then takes out his bowl, starting to mix some substances together. Albus raises a brow, which moves his eyebrow piercing up. “What’re you doing?”

“I know you know what hair dye is, Al. I hate charming in colour. I like the muggle way better.” He mixes the substances until it looks like paint, grabbing some foil and painting strands.

“But what are you doing?” Albus repeats.

“Adding in some high and lowlights for dimension. Al, tell your idiot friends to stop using you as an experiment. Black hair doesn’t need to be dyed black, and that boxed shit makes your colour flat.” He catches the eye of his little brother. “Don’t be daft, Al. I’m not going to make this something you’ll have to faff about. They’re subtle; it’ll grow out naturally.”

While Teddy prefers almost all muggle ways when doing hair, he doesn’t prefer the time for processing. It takes a long while, and he’s thankful his spells work without interfering with the over all product. He’s also thankful that he doesn’t have to use the shampoo bowls like the muggles do, although he leaves it as an option.

“Pay attention now Al, I’m going to show you how to style it,” he instructs, blow drying his little brother’s hair until it is super fluffy and clean. He then takes his wand and does a small heating charm, twirling his wand up and towards Albus’ face. “It takes a bit of practice, but you can do it. So can Scorp. Then you take this hair potion, just a little,” he stresses, “and rub it through the tops and sides, for texture. If you don’t want to wear it up like that, then it looks fine down, too. Much like you had it in Hogwarts. But the up looks a little more professional.” Teddy tugs at a few side pieces to adjust them into place. He then waves his wand and vanishes the cape and the stray hairs.

“What do you think?” Teddy asks, watching how the boy examines himself. He reaches his hand to the back of his head and a shiver falls down his spine. He hadn’t felt breeze on his neck in years. His head feels lighter, but everything feels different. The black lining his eyes make them pop out more now without hair around them, and his eyebrow piercing isn’t getting stuck in his fringe. He’s anxious about not wearing them for his practical, but he’s perhaps more nervous about removing his eyeliner than his nail varnish.

Albus gives Teddy a weak smile, catching the way the high and lowlights add some dimension to his hair. He’s nervous, that much is still clear. But he has to admit, it doesn’t look horrible, but still doesn’t feel normal.

“Thanks Ted,” Albus says and his eyes fall to twist his fingers nervously.

“Scorpius is going to love it,” Teddy tells him confidently. “I promise.” He goes to wrap his arms around Albus in a hug, going to press a kiss to the side of his head. “You will too, I promise.”

“If I don’t?” The words hang off his tongue nervously.

“Then I’ll morph my head bald until it grows back,” he reassures Albus. He doesn’t think Albus will hate his hair. He knows the style, and knows his little brother. He made sure to keep Albus’ style in mind when he was cutting, even making sure to make his hair longer than he could have done for the style. Teddy then presses the potion to his brother’s hands and smiles warmly at him. “Let me know how your next phase goes,” he says and smiles, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “And what Scorp thinks.” He smirks, and winks. “And don’t forget to firecall if you need help. I don’t mind assisting. I know you’re shit at hair.” He smirks again. “Bye Al.” He gives a wave, heading back to deposit the long strands to the rubbish bin.

Albus anxiously paces back and forth in his flat. Scorpius has been out all day, and he just wanted to get this over with. His anxiety grew with each passing minute his fiancé wasn’t there. As he paced he felt the unfamiliar breeze on the back of his neck, one he hadn’t felt in years. It felt different. He felt slightly off.

After deciding that Scorpius probably wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, Albus takes refuge in front the telly, flipping to some mindless program and watching, even giving in and using his dreaded glasses Scorpius always annoys him to wear.

The program is mindless, something about girls and weddings, which makes Albus question if they have clashing napkins and tablecloths for their wedding. Albus winces and then flinches as soon as he hears the door click. He knows who it is, and quickly sets his glasses down.

His heart starts pounding, and he has no way to hide. He hears another click of the door and a loud call boom through their flat. “Albie? Are you back?” The voice sounds eager, and Albus stands up from the chair and bites nervously at his lip.

“In here,” he calls back, voice cracking.

Feet make their way into the living room and there’s a bit of a gasp and smile. Scorpius’ smile splits his face in half. “Albie,” he breaths in and steps closer to his fiancé. “You look, wow,” he says and eyes his fiancé up and down. Albus turns slowly and Scorpius lets out a little squeak.

“Can I?” He asks, going over to his fiancé and touches the hair. Scorpius lets out a giggle. “You look good,” he tells Albus and smiles big. “Like, wow,” he repeats. “I love it,” he says, and goes to kiss Albus.

Scorpius breaks apart. “I got you something. It’s for the interview. I thought—I thought maybe you’d like to have a new one.” He goes to grab the garment bag and pulls out the dress robe. It’s a deep blue colour. “It’s not a colour you normally wear, but I saw it and I had to. Try it on!” Scorpius holds the robe open and places it on Albus. Stepping back, he beams. The contrast between the robe and his t-shirt and skinny jeans is a drastic one, but Scorpius notes how good Albus looks in it. He smiles proud of himself.

“I love you,” He says to Albus, grabbing his wrists and pressing a kiss to his lips. He gently removes the robe from his fiancé and waves his wand for it to hang up. Scorpius eyes Albus with a twinkle in his eyes. “Can we see how it looks in a different room?”

[royalbluehues]

Join the Promenade

A/N: I had the idea burrowed in the back of my mind for some time now, and omigod its perfect. Everything is perf with Stevie boi. This is also loosely based on Meet me in St. Louis. 

Set in 1902, ‘cuz why not. 

Feedback would be appreciated!

Title: Join the Promenade

Author: royalbluehues

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Pairings: 1900s!Steve Rogers x Reader

“Breath in!” Natasha urged. Your eyes were tearing up as you held on to your bedpost, arms hugging it tightly as she pulled the strings of the whale bone corset. You heard her grunt, and then let you let out a whimper, face contorting into pain as the corset dug in your sides. The force of pulling in opposite directions made the both of you slump forwards and backwards. You knew she had done a well job due to not being able to breathe correctly.

“Now all I have to do is tie it- hold steady once more. If you move, you can undo the lacing.” She stated matter-of-factly.

You nodded, not saying a single word as you felt the her fingers wrap the strings around your torso, tying it into a bow at your back.

“There,” she said, “Now you’re finished. Oh! What wonders it does for one’s figure. You look absolutely elegant!”

You felt a bit dizzy, putting a hand just below your breast, “Nat, I don’t think I’ll be able to pull through with this-”

“Oh, but you must!” Natasha insisted, placing her hands on her hips. She had already donned on her light pink one, moving to your vanity with such ease, you nearly wanted to cry out in frustration at her nonchalant attitude, “I had to begin three years ago and look how easy one can get used to it.”

She had leaned over your velveteen stool, using her fingers to fix the elegant coiffure that sat atop her head. “We have to be a sensation!”

The entire town had been buzzing with excitement for this night to come, and the preparation leading up to tonight had had you wide awake at night.

“Oh, Nat,” you whined, “can’t I be a sensation without the corset?” You moved slowly, your left hand touching the waist of the now more prominent curve of your side as the other held on to your furniture every now and then to insure you would keep yourself upright. The uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling made you frown as you slowly walked to your chaise lounge.

She ran a finger over a wave indentation, “If there is one night you have to put on airs, it positively is tonight. You’re going to be going against Sharon Carter.”

A small wave of anger made you flash deadly eyes at your friend, “Well, I suppose you reeled me in there. Alright.”

Natasha met eyes with you in the mirror as she smiled triumphantly. She turned to skip to your closet where both your dresses were stored. “I am absolutely, positively thrilled for tonight. I’ve already had James Barnes and Clinton Barton ask to dance with me tonight.”

Why on earth were such things even created? You thought to yourself, sitting unwillingly ramrod straight. “I’m sure your dance card will be filled four times over before the evening is finished.”

Natasha laughed, the sound slightly muffled due to her head poking into your closet, “And so will yours!”

“I would be surprised if I even managed to get two names!” You cried, watching as your red-headed companion held your dresses in the crook of her arms.

“Oh, that’s just a load of nonsense. Darling you have a string of beau's just waiting for you to notice them. Just last Tuesday when we went down to the concert men stopped to gawk at you.”

She laid them out on your bed, humming to herself as excitement sparked in her eyes. “Oh this blue will look radiant against your skin, dear.”

You stood, letting out a little ‘oof’ as the contraction of your insides cried out in wanting release. Like a soldier, you dutifully carried on.

“Do you think? Mother picked it out for me. I thought it was a lovely dress, but I feel the neckline is a bit low,” you pointed pointed to the neck.

Natasha laughed, “It’s the fashion nowadays. My grandmother nearly had spilt her tea when I walked out wearing a similar dress. She thinks this age is too scandalous.”

You chuckled, literally taking your breath away. You picked up Natasha’s dress, eyeing it in envy, “Oh Natasha dear, what an absolute darling thing!”

It was cream, the ruffles falling along the shoulders with an olive green ribboned sash that would be pulled from the back. “It’s to fall just below the shoulders. To accentuate the bosom.”

You both giggled, your thoughts straying from the offensive garment pinching at your waist, instead a blossom of excitement now eating at you. “Natasha, do you suppose that Steve will-” You stopped, biting your lip to suppress your smile.

“Sweep you off your feet and kiss you till the morning sun shines?” Natasha teased, her green eyes crinkling at the edges. “I do. I so very much do.”

You softly hit her, a blush dusting your cheeks. “Let’s hurry, so we can fill out our dance cards before other people get theirs filled.”

You and Natasha packed into the carriage that had come by to pick you up, Samuel Wilson assisting you as he requested to put his name on your card. Smiling at him, you promised that he could take your card the moment you would arrive. It was a nice conversation between the three of you as you sat snugly in the open carriage, Natasha and you sitting side by side to keep warm in the oddly chill summer evening.

Upon arriving to your destination, Samuel had parted ways, seeking out other female guests to fill his name on the empty lines.

You and Natasha spoke of finer things, such as the dresses other female guests wore and the decorations in the ballroom, all while filling out the names from men that came to ask you for dances. They were all well dancers, light on their feet and gracious in their movements. You saved at least three lines for Steve.

Natasha called your name from a table she was hovering over, her hand beckoning you. You stood close to her, following her eyesight were a dance card with a small pencil sat. On top of the pencil was the name Sharon Carter.

“What if we gave her-” Natasha paused, looking around to see if anyone was watching you, she leaned in to whisper into your ear, “-just absolute terrible dancers?”

Your eyes widened as you looked at your friend, her mischievous characteristic gracing her features. “Nat! That’s terrible!”

But the idea was amusing- although deep down inside you, you knew it was absolutely wrong of you, but your impulse had better control of you as your lips upturned in a roguish smile, “It’s a completely naughty idea, and God strike me down, but I’m just as tempted in the idea as you are.”

Natasha quickly swiped the small card on the table, her gloved hand moving quickly as you looked out to see if anyone was coming. “Quickly, now.”

Couples had begun dancing, swirling in merriment as the band played lively tunes as the young held smiles and happiness in their eyes this summer night.

She then straightened up, victory shining through her green eyes as she handed you the card. You raised a hand to cover your mouth, “Mike Johnson, Scott Lang, Wade Wilson,” Your voice strained when you read the name of the most obnoxious and vulgar man you knew, “Oh Nat, you naughty thing. It’s too horrendous to look at.”

“Well it serves her right chasing after Bruce when the entire county knows that he is my beau,” She responded apathetically, “And not to mention she was ogling Steven the other day.”

Your eyebrows shot up, the guilt you were feeling quickly fading away. You were not by any means a competitive person, especially when it came to the admiration of the opposite sex, but what you had felt for Steven was something you never experienced before. The way he could turn your knees into jelly and the way his eyes connected with yours sent your heart into a feverish frenzy.

So would anyone blame you for feeling so petty?

“Oh, there she is now!” Natasha elbowed you as she jutted her chin towards the entrance. Sharon was a lovely girl, her fair hair pinned in a low coiffer, while half of it was let loose. She wore a lavender gown embroidered with little rhinestones along the bottom, shining each time she moved. “She even had the audacity to style her hair as mine!”

Natasha’s stubborn dislike didn’t wear off in the year she knew her, always gossiping to you about what she had done and what she could have done.

She gave you Sharon’s card. “Bruce is over by the refreshments. Will you be alright?”

You nodded, “Of course I will. I’ll just float around until I accidentally bump into Steve.” Natasha smiled happily at your response, wished you all the luck, then turned to walk in line of her awkward admirer.

Sharon was approaching the table with the few cards, and behind her, trailing along, was Steven Grant Rogers. You didn’t notice as Samuel approached you from behind, smiling and speaking about dancing. You had faltered, noticing the way both Sharon and Steve spoke together as they were approaching you.

Your eyes looked down to see the cards that sat in your hand, fury taking over your heart, the fire fueling even more as you glanced back up, catching Steve laugh at something she had said. Sam had called your name, and you turned to him, all of your happiness fleeting in a second. Sam was asking you to go and dance the March with him, but that is when the pair of fair haired people came to intervene.

Your name, being called from the lips of the man that had taken your heart tugged your heartstrings in despair. You turned, painting a smile to your lips as you looked up at him. His eyes were sparkling and blue, hair parted and styled in a fashion that you would have turned into a puddle then and there. His suit was sharp, the bowtie sitting comfortably on his chest.

“Steve!” you greeted, hearing the happy facade in your own voice. “How do you do?”

He was standing all too close to Sharon for your liking. “I’m well thank you. And yourself?”

You nodded, murmuring a quick fine, turning unwillingly to the female by his side. “I see you brought Sharon?” Your voice strained, and you hated yourself for being so obvious.

Sharon smiled nicely at you, outstretching her arm to greet you. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she said, “I’ve heard such wonderful things from Steven on the way here.”

On the way here?

Jealousy ate at you as you smiled at Steve, the action not meeting your eyes as you did so. “And I’ve heard wonderful things about you as well, from every man I’ve spoken to.”

Sharon’s smile faltered, offense flashing in her eyes before it went away. You relished in the subtle offense you made, the underlying words meaning of the gossip of her being a loose woman.

“Samuel Wilson,” Sharon’s eye lit up, a blush rising on her skin tone- something you failed to notice.

The three greeted one another, but you were too busy thinking of such awful things of Sharon it would have made your mother flush with embarrassment.

You quickly changed the subject, lightening your tone as friends would. “I hope you don’t mind, but Natasha and I took the liberty of filling out your dance card. Yours was the last left, and we didn’t want you to miss out on the thrill of the night before it ends and you not have anyone to dance with.”

Sharon’s eyes looked at you in gratefulness, “That’s too kind of you!”

You handed her her card, and she took it from you, looking up at Steve. “She surely is a keeper Steve.”

You blinked at her in confusion, the atmosphere suddenly becoming off. “Now, I think we’re all grown up, and as grown ups we must speak our minds.” She took your hands in hers, your light blue silk gloved hands tensing in her cream ones. “That is, if I can say it before Steve murders me.”

Steve looked down at her in question, a frown pulling at the edges of his smile.

“If we only would act grown up, Steven here would be spending the evening with you than with me. He was speaking such wonderful things-”

“Sharon,” Steve interrupted her, embarrassment lacing into his voice and his face beet red. Your face had must have looked just as red as his.

“Well it is how you feel about her, is it not?”

All eyes stared at him, waiting for his response. You especially.

Steve fumbled on his words, raising a hand to pull at the collar of his shirt. You were frozen, looking up at him in shock, waiting to hear his response. “Well, yes. Yes it is.”

Your rigid posture melted in relief, a smile spreading across your features as your heart beat quickly inside you. He relaxed under your smile, a crooked grin that took more of your breath away then the corset did.  

Sharon let your hands go, looking up at the presence you had forgotten was witnessing the whole ordeal as well. “And that leaves me partnerless, but so is Sam.”

Sam was over the moon, taking her hand and pulling her next to him, “I don’t mind that.”

But guilt and shame had tugged at your dress, the invisible beings practically scolding you. You downcasted your eyes from the blonde haired man. You pretended to open look at the name of your card, then, “Sharon!”

You supposed this is what you earned. God did strike you down in a rather cruel fashion. “I think I accidentally switched our cards. I know it says my name but I must have confused them when I was writing in the names of your partners-” you handed her your card, “I’m sorry for the confusion.”

She thanked you and walked away with her arm in Sam’s, the card feeling heavy in your palm. Every terrible dancer was now in your line of fate for the evening, and not a single space left for Steve.

“Well how about a dance?” Steve suggested, looking down at you as if you were the most beautiful thing on this planet.

What would have sent you over the moon made you look down in shame. So you fibbed. “I’m sorry Steve, but I fear I accidently forgot to leave space for you. Natasha was writing the names and gave it to me. I didn’t check to look to see if she left any available spaces.”

Steve’s smile turned into a frown, which made you turn even more red. “Well, that’s alright I suppose.” He sounded hurt, and how you prayed a hole would swallow you up.

A shrill voice tore you from this conversation, interrupting Steve before he could continue. Behind you, a short pudgy man stood waiting eagerly, his polished shoes tapping along with the song.

“Where’s Ms. Carter?” He asked you, “I’ve been waiting and the Grand March is about to begin.”

Another wave of regret and self hatred washed over yourself, “There has seem to have been a mistake, Mike,” you replied sulkily, “I confused mine and Ms. Carter’s dance cards, so I will be taking all her dances.” Your eyes filled with tears, “I hope you don’t mind-”

“I don’t mind at all!” He reached over to snatch you from Steve’s side, dragging you along towards the dance floor, leaving a frowning Steve behind you.

Mike had pulled you flush against him, moving off beat with the other dancers. And that’s how you spent the entire evening, not once spotting where Steve had gone. Oh, how you wished you could just drop dead.

Next, Scott Lang took your hand, never once looking up at you, instead his entire concentration focused on your feet. “Sorry.” He would say when he would step on you.

You forgave him, eyes staring off into the distance, every now and then grimacing when he stepped on your toes. Scott Lang was an incredibly nice man, quirky too, but when it came to dancing, all girls repelled from him like the seven plagues of Egypt.

In the duration of your dance, he stepped on you fifteen times, sorry-ied more times than you could count on both hands, and repeatedly stepped on your gown.

Then, when you thought your night couldn’t get any worse, Wade Wilson came to you. You had forgotten all about him, and you nearly burst into tears as he took your hand in his, his other so high up on your back it must have looked like he was ready to smother you.

It was absolutely ridiculous, the way Wade had sung along to Good Bye, My Lady Love while everyone bore witness to the two of you moving in rapid circles when everyone else was swaying at a much slower pace.

Halfway into the song, a few tears escaped your eyes, hating every fiber of your being and for thinking that you were going to allow Sharon to pull through with this.

God had striked down on you indeed.

Your mortification had finally met its limits when Wade began to move your connected hands up and down in a rapid manner. The entire dance floor erupted in laughter and questioning looks.

Wade had noticed you crying before, and wanted only to continue prodding you. When the song had finally ended, you stepped away from Wade and fled to the powder room.

You sat down on one of the benches, burrowing your face into your hands and cried.

The door opened and Natasha’s voice called you, and you looked up at her.

“Natasha, this night has gone just terribly. I couldn’t do it to Sharon. Steve confessed that he fancies me, and I felt just plain awful about what we did,” you rambled, “and I couldn’t let her take the card. She was so amiable, Nat. And I know I can never meet eyes with her or Steve. And the dancers- my goodness. I wished the end of the world would begin-”

“Oh darling!” Nat was quick to quiet you and wipe your tears. She hugged you tightly, “I don’t know why you didn’t just give her your card-”

“Because I couldn’t, Natasha. What we did was wrong, and you know it.”

“But you said Steve confessed how he felt!” Natasha tried to stop you from bursting into tears, “Surely that has to be an amazing feeling! Bruce has been too shy to tell me-”

You wailed and leaned heavily into your red-headed friend, “Oh! And the way he looked at me! He must hate me by now!”

Natasha pulled you away from her, shaking you a bit, “Don’t be foolish. He likes you. Go out and find him. To hell with the other dances, I’ll dance for you myself it means you'll stop crying. I’m so sorry I chose those men. I can’t lie and say I don’t feel guilty.”

You shook your head, standing to walk to the mirror. “You’d hate me too if you had to put up with their antics. Wade Wilson is out of the way, the rest are somewhat fine. The worst is done and over with. I’m sorry for spoiling the evening.”

You dabbed water under your tear stained cheeks, trying best to fix your appearance. The pompadour your hair was in had a few fly aways so you smoothed those down as well.

You sniffled, frowning each time your thoughts lingered on Steve.

“Oh darling! Please stop crying! You’re going to make me cry too!” Natasha stood by you, face red with shame. “I’m so terribly sorry- I truly am.”

You gave her a small smile in the mirror. “Go back out. I’ll be there in a bit.”

She nodded, not sure quite what to do with herself. You stayed behind for a few minutes, waiting until your cheeks had returned to their normal shade and until the whites of your eyes returned to their color as well.

It was a consequence after all, and you must continue to serve it. At least your mother would have been proud of you, if she ever found out about this ordeal.

You opened the door, nearly colliding with another body as you rounded the corner. Hands quickly went to stable you, and you looked up to find Steve.

“Steven,” you whispered, smiling a bit, “I didn’t see you there. My apologies.”

“Natasha had told me you were crying. I came to find you.” You blushed deeply once more, silently cursing Natasha.

“Oh, it’s fine really. I just needed a moment to collect myself is all.” You explained rapidly, eyes widening as you explained everything.

“I would too, if I had to dance with who you danced with,” he lightly teased, a small smile gracing his features.

But, oh, how right it felt to be in Steve’s arms. You two fit like pieces of a puzzle, and onlookers would have commented how adoringly perfect you two would make as a couple.

He looked down at you intensely, thinking hard and you didn’t want him to break away from you. “Do you mean it?” You asked suddenly, “Was it true what Sharon said?”

The tall blonde nodded, “Every word. You’ve been on my mind since the day I met you.”

You blushed, looking away from him, “Well, if I may be so bold, I feel the same way towards you.”

“Well gee!” Steve piped up, relief mixing in his tone, “That’s swell!”

You ducked to bite on your lips, surpressing your smile. But then your shoulders sagged- “Steve, I don’t want to go back out there. If I have to dance with another man who steps on me one more time, I think I’ll scream.”

Steve let out a breathy chuckle, admiring the way your lips puckered in unhappiness. “Natasha told me that you had reserved quite a number of spaces in your original dance card for me.”

You looked up at him, “Original?”

“Natasha also told me what you both did. Said you felt as guilty as a poor sinner in church and that you took the card.”

You pulled away from him, beet red. “I was-I- please don’t think me a terrible person, Steve. Please. I know it was wrong- but I was jealous and feeling spiteful-”

“It would have been wrong if you had given the card despite feeling guilty. You took the card because you knew it was wrong. It’s what a strong moraled person does.”

He took you in his arms again and leaned down to capture his lips with yours. You froze once more, eyes wide observing the male whose eyes were closed. You relaxed, melting into him just before he pulled away.

“Forgive me,” he smiled, “You’re rather tempting.”

Natasha would have teased you for how you squirmed in delight, hiding your face in his shoulder. “Darling, let’s not go back. I don’t think I would be able to handle dancing with another left footed Johnny again.”

He tilted his head back and laugh, “I’m afraid to inform you that I’m just that. James’ tried to teach me a few times, but I just can’t. ‘Fraid I’d step on your feet.”

“You couldn’t be worse than Wade Wilson.”

He led you outside, the small garden illuminated with dangling lights above. There was no one there, save two couples who were off on their own.

“I would like to ask you a question,” Steve said suddenly, slowly, as if tasting the words himself. “As we’ve come to the conclusion on what we feel for one another, I would like to ask your permission to court you.” He then continued, “I don’t have much to offer; with my mother sick and all. But, in a few years, I plan to join the military, and I’d be able to marry you- darling, say you’ll take me.”

He raised your hands, kissing your knuckles. With the biggest smile you’ve ever worn, you nodded vehemently. Tears flooded your eyes, this time with utter joy. “Of course.”

He leaned down again to take your lips, and everything felt so right.

You were a strong believer in events taking place for a reason, and in the end, perhaps, this was meant to happen. You silently thanked Sharon, and you thanked Nat for her ridiculous and petty plan. For nothing would spoiled your evening now, not now.

Blue lace was pressed up against a black suit, and the summer stars above you sighed in relief at your union.

Masterlist

[inaheartbeat-phff]

Chapter 21

Saturday, February 14 2015, 9:00am

Nottingham Cottage, Kensington Palace

Arabella woke up to a bright bedroom, she didn’t remember sleeping with the blinds open the night before, she also didn’t remember sleeping alone in the big bed. Still with her eyes closed, she felt around the bed, mostly reaching out to Harry's side of the bed, before opening her eyes slowly.

Her eyes blinked as she tried to get used to the brightness before sweeping her eyes across the room. Throughout the room, she can see the place still messy, clothes from last night every where in the room, documents from the parliament piled up on top of the desk at the corner of the room and a little bit of food was still on the table at the foyer of their master bedroom.

Stretching her arms over her head, she rolled over and got out of bed. On her bedside table, she has her phone charged, a lamp as well as a book she was reading before she went to bed. She was reading a book by her dear friend Michelle Obama, that was sent to her early before the release so that Arabella was able to read it. It was called Michelle Obama: A Life. Inside, before the book started, was a written note by Michelle herself to Arabella, it said, "To my dearest friend, Bella. I hope you enjoy this book as much as I do and found it helpful in your journey to leadership. I wish you all the luck in the upcoming days and all the best. Can't wait to see you again, hopefully soon."

She took her phone out of the charging port and sat herself up, leaning on the head of the bed. She opened her iPhone and checked her emails before going on the official twitter and instagram accounts to see what her people have been saying and to find current issue in the pop culture. Things that is somewhat important to her line of work.

After going on YouTube and getting sucked into watching a few beauty videos, Arabella got sucked into watching a few gossip channels and see what the social media world have been talking about her and the people she knows. It funny looking at what normal people think about their day to day lives and when they get things wrong about how her life works. That's why she's making a documentary on her life, so that people can see that she does work like other people, similar but not so similar.

Arabella's work refers to her being the crown princess, she goes to her offices and go to meetings all day, she goes in at 9 am and finishes at 5 pm. Sometimes she has engagements to go to, sometimes she has to stay late. She gets paid for her work, sure some are voluntary works but most of the things she does, do get paid by her government.

Once she finally realize that she's been watching YouTube videos for an hour, she moved on to her messages and go through her family group chats first. She has many group chats. Contrary to popular belief, many if not all of her family members have their own phones and they connect with each other through the group chats.

Arabella has many group chats, she has one with her immediate family, one with her godparents, one with her best friends, one with most of the European royals that’s in the similar age group, one for just her girlfriends and finally one with Harry's cousins and his aunt who is closer to them.

She took her time going through the group chats one by one. She first opened the one with her family in it, her father, grandmother as well as step-mother. The texts that she got were mostly good mornings as well as some happy valentines. Her father asked her grandmother what were her plans today and that reminded Arabella where Harry was. Her fiance is always beside her when she wakes up except the times when he was deployed or if he has an engagement early that morning. Sometimes, even those engagements that are very important, the ones that her Aunt Lilibet usually attends, Arabella goes as well.

Once she was done replying and reading her texts, she stretched once more before getting up from the bed and putting on her fluffly sandals. She then move her way through the room to the coat hanger on the corner of the room, and put on her robes. Her robes were a custom silk robe with her name crystalized at the back and at the front of her robes, on the left side is her monogram engraved. Her robe was a gift to her from Cartier, a few years ago.

She tied her robes and with her phone in her hands, she went to the dining room to have her breakfast. It's a late morning for her, usually she's awake at seven or eight in the morning so that her day can start. Today however, she took her time relaxing and Arabella knows that she has nothing on today, since one, it's a Saturday, and two, Harry made sure she's only back to normal work at the end of the month, starting off with a joint engagement with Harry.

Again, she took her time with her breakfast as well as reading her morning paper. Arabella was sipping her morning tea when her phone lit up on the table next to her plate. She put down her cup and reached over to take the phone. There on the screen is a series of text messages from Harry.

"Get ready by 2, I'm taking you out."

"Dress comfortably."

"Happy Valentine's day baby."

"I love you"

With a smile and a shake of her head, Arabella wiped her mouth and stood up from her seat before making her way out of the dining room and into her walk in closet to find something to wear.

The weather is still quite cold outside so she chose a black turtle neck paired with black skinny jeans some heeled boots. She also took her oversized red coat and brought it out to the her bedroom so she would remember to wear it later on. Arabella then went to the bathroom and did her morning routine (shower, brush her teeth, put on her make up, etc.). She then put on her outfit for the day, some red earrings as well as her boots on before taking her coat and hand bag in her hands and leaving the room.

Arabella went down to the ground floor on Nottingham Cottage.

The cottage has two stories. One ground level and an upper level. It's a small cottage, with only two bedrooms, an office, a big dining area, a kitchen, a pantry, 2 and a half baths, one receiving area, one living room and one tv room. The ground floor has a big dining area, a kitchen, a receiving area, the living room as well as the guest bathroom. The second floor has the two bedrooms and two baths, a small pantry area, a small dining room for just Harry and Arabella for breakfasts and a tv room.

None of her staff actually live in the cottage with them except for Harry and Arabella. Pieter and Mina comes in everyday at 6:30am through the staff door and would leave at 9pm after dinner and once everything is back in its place. Sara and Anna, Arabella's ladies in waiting would usually come in at around 8 in the morning and would leave at five pm. Most of her staff lives in Kensington Palace staff quarters while some is staying at St. James Palace.

When she reached the receiving room at the front of the house, Pieter was waiting for her by the front door with a to go cup of hot chocolate. Arabella handed him her back so that she can wear her coat. Pieter took her bag as well as the hot chocolate and put them down at the side table so that he can help her with her coat.

"Thank you Pieter." Arabella thanked him as she secures her coat around her and was handed her bag as well as the hot chocolate.

"Have a great valentine Ma'am." Pieter bowed to Arabella in which she returned with a smile before going out the front doors and into the awaiting cars with Finn, Max and Lucas.

With Barend and Liam still recovering from the accident, Markus is her primary chauffer. When Arabella saw her three protection officers, she knew that she must be going somewhere and not stay in London. Ever since the accident, if she were to go anywhere outside of London, all her protective officers have to follow her.

Arabella smiled at them and thanked Finn, who opened her door for her before going inside the car. Finn got in to the passenger seat while Lucas and Max went inside the car behind her. Markus started the car and off they go to an adventure that Arabella doesn’t know.

Arabella tried asking Finn or Markus where she was going, but it was to no avail. They wouldn’t budge one bit. Sighing, Arabella looked out the window and stare at the bustling city as they pass by.

Arabella must have dozed off to sleep because the next thing she knew, was that she was being shaken awake by Finn telling her that they have arrived. Stretching a little, she looked outside her window to see that she was at the private airport and that her private jet was waiting for her in the tarmac. Shaking out her hands, she stepped out of the car and looked around her surroundings. Noticing that Harry wasn’t anywhere to be found. She turned back to look at Finn and asked him where her fiance was. To that, he just shrugged and checked the perimeters.

She straightened herself before walking towards the jet and see her staff lining the stairs to greet her. Putting on a polite smile, Arabella greets them and chatted with them a little, trying to get some information out, but it didn’t work as well. They just smiled and kept quite.

Arabella went up the stairs of the plane and to her utmost surprise, she saw Harry inside the plane with his signature blue suit holding a bouquet of white roses. Smiling, she walked towards him and kissed him slowly.

"Hi." She whispered against his lips.

"Hi there." Harry smiled back. "Happy Valentine's day my love."

Smiling up at him, Arabella kissed him softly before saying, "I love you." She then pulled away and took a seat by the window. Harry followed after her and took the seat next to hers. When they finished strapping themselves in, Harry leaned over and kissed her on the cheeks before taking her hands in his and leaned back in his chair.

Arabella smiled sweetly at him before looking out the window.

"Good afternoon Your Royal Highnesses, this is Captain Jones speaking, it's a beautiful weather outside today, the flight will roughly be an hour long for us to reach our destination. Buckle in your seatbelts, we are about to take off soon."

When the captain was done speaking over the intercom, Arabella turned to look at Harry and admire how he looked from the side. His left hand holding Arabella's while the other was on his phone playing candy crush. She admired how his brows furrowed together as he try to figure out what move to make next. How he bit the bottom of his lips and scrunch his nose when he realize that it was a wrong move. The way his jaw clenches and he sighs in exasperation when he runs out of moves. Arabella is utterly and undeniably in love with Harry. There's no doubt about it.

"I can see you staring." Harry said as he continue to play his game.

"I'm not staring, I'm gazing." Arabella said before leaning over and kiss his stubbled jaw. His stubbles stings her lips for a second.

"Hm, well take a picture, it'll last longer."

"If you say so." Arabella then took out her phone and quickly snapped a picture before putting it back in her bag.

Shaking his head, Harry just laughs and continue playing his game. A few minutes later, the flight attendant came by and handed them some hot towels. They then proceed to check their seat belts and asked if any of them wanted any refreshments before take off. Once they collected back the hot towels, the captain announced that they were taking off soon.

The plane increased its speed and started taking off the runway, once they were up in the air and had leveled up, Arabella turned to Harry and start asking him where they were headed.

"So, where are you taking me babe?"

"Why don’t you wait and find out?" Harry said, turning to face her.

"Are we going to Edinburgh?"

"No."

"Amsterdam?"

"No."

"Dublin?"

"No."

"Berlin?"

"No."

"Come on babe, just tell me." Arabella whined.

"Nope." Harry smirked at her.

"Paris?"

With that, Harry turned away from Arabella.

"Ha! It's Paris isn't it? You're taking me to Paris?"

"Well, we'll see about that, won't we?" Harry turned back to look at her.

"Just admit it, I'm right." Arabella said. "You're taking me to Paris for Valentine's Day."

"Yes alright! I'm taking you to Paris." Harry grumbled. Arabella just smiled widely, looking like she just won the lottery. Harry just frowned, feeling a bit put out that Arabella figured out where they were heading.

"Oh, don’t look so glum babe." Arabella poked Harry in the stomach. She then proceeded to unbuckle her seatbelt and lean over to whisper in his ear. "Why don't you come to the room, and I'll make it up for guessing where we were going." She then nibbled lightly on his ear lobe and stood up, went over Harry, making sure to push her behind close to Harry's face as much as she can before walking to the bedroom, swaying her hips.

Harry just followed her with his eyes, checking her out, before unbuckling his seatbelt  and stood up quickly. Following her to the bedroom at the back. He realized that the door was closed and quickly opened it. He then saw her lying across the bed looking very sexy.

"Princess, you've been a very naughty girl." His voice dropped low and husky, closing the door behind him and crossing the room. "A very naughty girl."

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

An hour later, they emerged from the bedroom, both satisfied and a little flushed. Other than that, there is no signs of what happened inside the room. They both head back to their seats just in time for the captain to announce that they were starting their decent.

Arabella and Harry buckled their seatbelts and held each others hands. Harry leaned and kissed her forehead before smiling contently. The plane landed smoothly and when the plane was on park, the pilot as well as the co-pilot came out of the cockpit and lined up against the exit of the plane together with the flight attendants to bid farewell to the royal couple.

Arabella and Harry stepped off the plane and was greeted by the royal car bearing the Netherlands flag. One thing it was missing though, is Arabella's coat of arms. This ensures that even though they get the privileged things such as parking everywhere and anywhere, without them knowing that it’s Arabella and Harry. It's very easy to go places with these flags, even better when she has her coat of arms up there too.

When they were both settled in the car and buckled up, Arabella turned to Harry and asked him more questions pertaining about the day. It's currently one in the afternoon and Arabella start feeling a bit hungry.

"So, where are we going for lunch?" Arabella nudged Harry on his side.

"I'm going to tell you now, so that you wont bother me later on." Harry scratched the back of his neck. "We're staying here over night and head back to London tomorrow afternoon. I booked the Belle Etoile Suite in Le Meurice Hotel. I've got lunch prepared for us there and then we are headed to the Palace de Versailles for a private tour. They closed it down for us today. Then we're going back to the hotel to freshen up for dinner. No I am not telling you where we are going to have dinner."

With that, Arabella just sighed and slouched back into her seat. She leaned up and kissed his cheeks and took hold of his hand. She then looked out the window and see Paris flash through outside.

About half an hour later, they arrive at the Le Meurice Hotel. The General Manager, bell hopper and a line of staff was there to greet them. As the car came to a stop, the general manager stepped forward and the bell hopper, went around the car towards the boot to take their luggage. Arabella didn’t even know that they packed some stuff. They greet the general manager and was shuffled inside, out of the cold and into the warm air. There wasn’t much people in the Lobby, so they breezed through it to a lift at the end of the lobby. It was hidden behind a pillar so if you're not looking for it, you wouldn’t find it. In front of the lift was two security guards standing with their arms together. That made sure that no one can go up. This is a private lift, that can access their suite.

The first thing when Arabella walked into the room, was the main living area place.

The suite have four bedrooms. The master will obviously be for Harry and Arabella. One of the extra bedroom will be their surveillance room as well as the equipment room, where they store their guns and everything. The last two rooms will be shared between the four protection officers that came with them.

Once they've all settled down, Harry brought Arabella outside to have lunch at the terrace by the Eiffel Tower. They had some French Cuisines as well as some champagne.

During Lunch, Harry couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful Arabella looked with the Eiffel Tower behind her. He cant help but sneakily took out his phone and snapped a picture.

After lunch, Arabella went back to the room to change into something more comfortable. She changed into a knitted oversized grey sweater, white skinny jeans and white boots. She also opted to go for hooped earrings and a simple white watch. To top of her outfit, she took her grey long coat.

Once Arabella was ready, they headed off to their destination which was Palace De Versailles. The journey itself took 45 minutes. When they reached the Palace, they were greeted by the guide at the Royal Courtyard.

Harry and Arabella stepped out of the car, and walked towards the tour guide who was waiting at the top of the stairs. When they got close, the guide did a small curtsy and introduced herself.

"Good afternoon, your royal highnesses. My name is Alice Valois and I will be your guide today." She had a soft French accent and shook both Harry's and Arabella's hands.

"Good afternoon." They both answered her.

Once the introductions was done, they started the tour. Arabella has been to Palace de Versailles once a few years ago, for an official visit, but there's something about touring with her soon-to-be husband that makes this tour feel like it was her first time seeing it. As for Harry, this will be the first time he's in France since his mother's accident. He feels as if he was ready for Paris, to see it's beauty that people can see that isn't tinted by his mother's accident. And what better way than to go with his soon-to-be wife.

They started off the tour going to the first floor and into the Royal Chapel.

"Construction of the Royal Chapel was completed in 1710 at the end of the reign of Louis XIV. It was the fifth and final chapel built in the palace since the reign of Louis XIII. The design was presented to the King by Jules Hardouin-Mansart in 1699. The building's overall design were inspired by Gothic architecture. The Chapel was dedicated to Saint Louis, the patron saint of the King and an ancestor of the royal house, and included references to the Sainte-Chapelle of Paris which he had founded. The vaulted ceiling is dedicated to the Holy Trinity. Every day the Court attended the King’s mass, which was usually held in the morning at 10. The sovereign sat in the royal tribune surrounded by his family. The ladies of the Court occupied the lateral tribunes, while the Officers and members of the public were seated in the nave. The king never descended into the nave except during religious celebrations when he took communion, ceremonies of the Order of the Holy Spirit, and the baptisms and weddings of the Princes and Princesses of the Realm which were held there from 1710 to 1789." Alice explained to the couple as they looked around the place.

Once they're done with the Chapel, they moved on to the King's Apartments.

"Louis XIV made several adjustments to his Private Apartments. The most major changes were carried out in 1701 when the King’s Chamber was moved to its current location, in the centre of the façade of the Marble Courtyard. As in all royal residences, the King’s Apartments contained the customary succession of rooms: a Guard Room, two antechambers, a chamber and a cabinet. Access to these rooms was subject to strict hierarchy and controlled by etiquette. Beyond them was the king’s private domain, which, as a matter of principle, no one could enter unless invited." Alice remarked before entering the first room which was the Guard Room.

"Like in all royal residences, the Guard Room marks the entrance to the King’s Apartments. Its decoration is deliberately understated. The king’s guards were stationed here to ensure the sovereign’s protection and were changed over every 24 hours. During the day their camp beds were folded up and stowed away behind screens. The little sculpted decoration there is contains references to fighting, in tribute to the room’s role. A painting by Parrocel that hangs over the fireplace, Battle featuring the King's guards (1684), honours the guards." Alice said as they look around the room.

The next room they entered was The Royal Table Antechamber.

"The Royal Table Antechamber was where Louis XIV used to dine in public from 1690, after the death of the queen and the Dauphine. Every evening a table was laid in front of the fireplace, and the king sat with his back to the hearth. The room is decorated with a series of 11 battle paintings by Joseph Parrocel, and a 12th depicting the Battle of Arbella, by Guillaume Courtois." Alice explained before moving on to the next room which was The Bull's Eye Antechamber.

"The second antechamber in the royal apartments, the Bull’s Eye Antechamber, is named after the circular window which brings light into the room on the southern side. This room was originally divided into two by a partition wall and was composed of the antechamber and the King’s chamber, in which the bed was placed in the left-hand corner next to the current fireplace. Frustrated by the small size of these rooms, which could barely contain all the courtiers in attendance when he got up and when he went to bed, Louis XIV decided to knock down the wall in 1701 and combine the two rooms into one. He moved his bedroom into the following room, which at the time was just a salon." Alice started off.

"The Bull’s Eye Antechamber occupies a strategic position in the Royal Apartments. To the north it leads to the King’s Chamber; to the west, the tall glass windows open directly onto the Hall of Mirrors, enabling courtiers to enter and leave the King’s Apartments; a door in the southern wall to the right of the window leads to the Queen's Apartments, while a staircase in the eastern wall leads to the Dauphin's Apartment on the ground floor." Alice walked around the room and pointed out where the others can be located as she explain.

Arabella and Harry walked around the room and examined the paintings on the walls. Once they were finished, they moved on to the next room which was the King's Bedchamber.

"In 1701, Louis XIV moved his bedchamber into the large room covering nearly 90m² and situated in the centre of the eastern façade of the Palace. Three tall doors at the end of the room leading to the Hall of Mirrors were sealed. Above these, Nicholas Coustou created the allegorical stucco of France watching over the King’s sleep, which hangs over the bed. The King’s Bedchamber is the most important and symbolic room in the Royal Apartments and was used at several times of the day: during the king’s “getting up” and “going to bed” ceremonies, when he dined in private, and when he received certain courtiers or ambassadors. Louis XIV died in this room on 1 September 1715 after a reign of 72 years." Alice explained the background of the room before moving across the room to describe some of the paintings.

After she pointed out which painting was which, they moved on to the last room in the King's Apartment which was the Council Chamber.

"The Council Chamber is adjacent to the King’s Bedchamber and opens onto the Hall of Mirrors. It wasn’t until 1755, during the reign of Louis XV, that it took on its current form when two rooms were combined: the King’s Cabinet, where Louis XIV held his council meetings, and the Cabinet des Termes (a more private space, where the king spent time with his family or certain guests after dinner). The chamber is decorated with fine woodwork crafted by Antoine Rousseau and based on drawings by Ange-Jacques Gabriel. The elaborate motifs illustrate subjects addressed by the king during council meetings, such as war and justice. The room was also used for official presentations, which were a necessary rite for admission to the Court. Madame Du Barry, among others, was thus presented to the King on 22 April 1769."

When Alice finished explaining what the rooms is for, they moved on to the next room. Throughout the tour, Arabella and Harry is holding hands. They held hands while examining the room. Arabella in her mind was noting the history of the place as well as the design. She liked a few of designs the palace has and kept some of it in mind. She also made a mental note later to talk to Jane about contacting their contractor and interior designer so she can revamp her wing in Huis ten Bosch Palace.

When they entered the Hall of Mirrors, Arabella was entranced. It was absolutely stunning and majestic.

"The Hall of Mirrors, the most famous room in the Palace, was built to replace a large terrace designed by the architect Louis Le Vau, which opened onto the garden. The terrace originally stood between the King’s Apartments to the north and the Queen’s to the south, but was awkward and above all exposed to bad weather, and it was not long before the decision was made to demolish it. Le Vau’s successor, Jules Hardouin-Mansart, produced a more suitable design that replaced the terrace with a large gallery. Work started in 1678 and ended in 1684." Alice showed them around the room while explaining what the purpose of the room is.

"Courtiers and visitors crossed the Hall of Mirrors daily, and it also served as a place for waiting and meeting. It was used for ceremonies on rare occasions, for example when sovereigns wanted an extra dash of lavishness for entertainment (balls or games) held for royal weddings or diplomatic receptions. During the latter events, the throne was placed on a platform at the end of the hall near the Peace Room, whose arch was closed off. Rarely has the show of power reached such a level of ostentation. In 1685 the Doge of Genoa and the ambassadors of Siam (1686), Persia (1715) and the Ottoman Empire (1742) crossed the full length of the gallery, under the scrutiny of the French Court seated to either side on tiered seating, before they reached the king. It was also here that the Treaty of Versailles was signed on 28 June 1919, ending the First World War. Since then, presidents of the Republic have continued to receive official guests here."

Throughout the next three hours, the couple toured the entire palace and was awestruck. So much history as well as beauty was in the palace. They toured the War Room, The Peace Room, The Queen's Apartments, The Gallery of Great Battles, as well as the gardens. After the tour was done, they thanked Alice the tour guide and head back towards the hotel to get ready for dinner. Which was still a surprise for Arabella.

When they got back to the hotel, the room was dimly lit, and there was rose petals on the floor leading to the bathroom. Arabella gasped in surprise and turned to Harry.

"Oh Harry." She smiled before tilting her head up and kissing him softly. She then took his hands and followed the roses. It ended up at the bathroom and inside, there was a bath ready for them. It was very beautiful and romantic with the Eiffel Tower at the background. Arabella just fell more and more in love with Harry every second of everyday.

They had a romantic and relaxing bath together and got ready for the surprise dinner Harry had planned for Arabella. Harry had surprised her again with a new dress from Dolce and Gabbana. It was an off shouldered white dress with gold linings and embroideries as well as some flowers at the top half of the dress. The dress itself was tight at the top until her upper waist and then it flows until a little after the knee. She paired the dress with a white Badgley Mischka heels that is embroidered. She also wore a cape like coat from Vilshenko, that’s colored black and has some flowers down the upper middle part. She paired her outfit with some diamond necklace, a simple one, her engagement ring, the cartier LOVE bracelet that has A&H engraved on the inside as well as diamond drop earrings  

The engaged couple left the hotel once both Harry and Arabella was ready. The journey itself wasn’t long. It was less than ten minutes, even with traffic. The whole ride to their destination, Harry kept Arabella distracted by tracing figures on her arms and her having to guess what he drew. Once they have arrived at their designated destination, Harry asked Arabella to look outside the window.

"Oh Harry." Arabella whispered underneath her breath, looking up the Eiffel Tower in awe.

"Come on." Harry said as he opened his door and try to get Arabella out as well. "We're having dinner up there."

"But, how? Won't there be people?" Arabella asked as she followed Harry towards the lift that's going to take them up.

"Well, it does have its advantages when you know the French president." Harry said. "No, really.  Gran asked me the other day what I was planning for valentine's day. And I told her I haven't got much yet, all I know is that I want to take you somewhere and be incognito for a while. I don’t want to share you for valentine's day. She said she can make something happen for me, and told me about this trip a few days ago."

"Aunt Lilibet is really sneaky." Arabella laughed. "She called me the other day and asked where I wanted to go. I told her I wanted to go to Paris, a place I haven't been since I was young. She then just said thanks and hung up the phone."

The pair laughed as they made their journey up the Eiffel Tower. Once they have reached their destination, Arabella gasped again, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. The room was covered in candles, (the battery kind so it doesn’t burn out) and rose petals everywhere. There was a table set for two with the view of the whole of Paris.

Arabella turned around and pulled Harry close to her.

"I love you so much Har. Thank you for doing this for me today. I honestly have never felt so loved by someone until I met you. You are the best thing that's ever been mine." Arabella smiled up to him before leaning up and giving him a sweet sensual kiss.

"Arabella, there's no one I can think of that can replace you. You've made my heart so full since the day my mother died. You are the reason I'm even here right now. I couldn’t stand thinking about Paris let alone be in Paris since that night but because of you, I am here. On top of the Eiffel Tower, with the love of my life." Harry said as he pulled away from the kiss. "Now come on, before the food gets cold."

Together they took a seat at the table and had their food served to them.

"Honestly Harry, thank you for today. I really love it." Arabella said once they’ve finished their meal and wait for dessert. The whole time during their dinner, they bickered back and off, joking with each other, teasing one another and kept the conversation light and full of love.

"It's okay. I love pampering you and being able to shower you with love. Especially today." Harry said as he sipped his wine. "Just letting you know though, you'll have to think of what to do for Valentine's next year."

"We can make it our little tradition." Arabella said. "Do a surprise trip every year, we'll take turns of course, so you can get surprised too."

"I'll drink to that." Harry chuckled. "Cheers."

"Cheers baby." Arabella smiled at him and leaned over the table to give him a sweet kiss.

With the moon shining on them and the whole of Paris as witness, Arabella and Harry kissed until they run out of air.

Next Chapter

[killmongerdreams]

Red Wedding

summary: You marry the love of your life. || nsfw || prince!bucky x princess!reader

warnings: smut, angst, loss of virginity, oral sex (f/r), fingering, mentions of blood, character death, language, mention of pregnancy, i think that’s it?????

author’s note: this is my submission for manu’s  (@jurassicbarnes) writing challenge with the prompt: “there’s so much blood.” also: please don’t hate me for this. ~3.4k words of hell, this is terrible i’m sorry

“I understand that this is sudden, Princess.” James is studying your face with a wary expression, lip tucked between his teeth. His hand trembles where it rests atop yours, the crest on his family ring shaking so fast you could barely see it. “We’ve only known each other for a few short months, but –“ he cuts himself off, blush coloring his cheeks as he drops his head, hair dangling in his face to shield his sudden bout of shyness.

It’s endearing, you think, to see the Prince of Iarnă in such a flustered state. He’s usually so calm, so put together. He was the confident one in your relationship, guiding you with a strong hand and unwavering composure. It made you envious sometimes, made you wish to be as strong as James was.

���Tell me.” you encourage quietly. Smiling, you entwine your fingers with his, watching the way it seems to ground him. His trembling gradually stops and he lifts his head, determination glimmering in his steely eyes. This was the man you knew – the one who wasn’t afraid to barrel head on into getting whatever he wanted.

James took a deep breath, voice firm when he said, “I want you to marry me.”

Though you were happy enough to be delirious with it, you couldn’t help but hesitate, stumbling over your words to ask him, “W-why?”

“Because I love you, of course.” The gentle smile on his face falters. “And, you are aware that I must take my father’s place on the throne soon, seeing as his health is quickly deteriorating. I must have a wife – a queen – to be by my side. I want that queen to be you, Y/N.”

“But what does your mother think about this?” you ask. “And my father?”

“I asked him this morning for his blessing, which he happily gave. And my mother is ecstatic about it. She even gifted me with this beauty.” James reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a black velvet box. It’s tiny in his hand yet it seems so daunting knowing what’s inside it. You half-expect him to slide out of his chair onto one knee as he opens it, but he doesn’t, opting to sit as he watches your reaction intently.

It’s a bit antique, but beautiful all the same. The simple silver band is lined with diamonds. It holds a giant amethyst, also lined with diamonds, in the middle. You hold your left hand out, letting him slide the ring onto the proper finger. It’s a perfect fit. You can’t help but smile.

“It was my great-grandmother’s ring.” he explains. “She passed it down to her daughter, who then passed it on to my mother. Since my mother has not any daughters, she bestowed it upon me to give to you.” he strokes over your hand, feeling the ring underneath hid thumb. “I thought it was perfect, because my house is red and yours is blue. Together, we make violet, which is the color of the stone in the middle.”

“Oh, James,” there’s tears pooling at the corners of your eyes as you look at him. He has a hopeful look on his face, eyes alight with joy as he trails his gaze from your hand to your face. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he asks, grinning. “Yes, you’ll marry me?”

“Of course, I will.”

The next month was a whirlwind of preparations. You hardly laid eyes on James in that time, for he was stuck in the middle of fine-tuning details for his coronation while you were thrust into the mass of nerves that was planning a wedding. You realized there were people who could do this for you, take the task off your hands, but you wanted everything to be perfect. For both you and your husband to be.

Husband. The word made you giddy. James was going to be your husband. You were going to be his wife.

“What’s that smile for, my lady?” your seamstress, Carolina, asks. She’s making the last fitting for your dress, the one you’d be wearing in front of your husband in less than twenty-four hours from now. It was made of light blue material, the color of your house, silky and soft to the touch. Lace made up the sleeves and covered the skirt, decorated with silver detailing that gave the dress an elegant but simple flair. You hoped James would like it.

“I’m just so excited.” you sigh dreamily. “I’m going to be marrying the man of my dreams tomorrow.”

She giggles at you, tightening the ties of your corset. “Usually the women that come in here are terrified to get married. I’ve seen nerves eat a girl alive. It’s refreshing to see someone properly excited.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you spin around, laughing loudly as your skirt twirls around your ankles. “I get to marry out of love! I don’t have to be stuck with marrying a man twice my age out of political benefits that my father sought after.”

“There are political benefits to this marriage, Princess.” Carolina reminds you gently. “Iarnă and Soare will be officially allied powers after your union to Prince James – or should I say King James? Since he will be just that mere days after you are married.”

“Damn the alliance, and damn him becoming King! I care nothing about either of those things!” you tell her. “I only care about him and I being together. He could be nothing but a poor servant and I a maid, and I’d still love him with my entire heart.”

Carolina is quiet for a few moments, letting you simmer in your emotions. “What are you most looking forward to? The ceremony or your wedding night?”

At the mention of your wedding night, you grow shy, cheeks pinking as you stare at your reflection. “What?” she asks. “What’s got you all bashful?”

“I…haven’t really thought about my wedding night.” you mutter. “What was it like for you? Did it hurt? I’ve been told it hurts.”

“My husband and I were both virgins, and he’d never seen a woman’s bare legs before let alone made love to one.” Carolina rolled her eyes, nearly fond with the memory. “He didn’t know what he was doing, so yes, it hurt. Very much so. But,” she trailed off teasingly, drawing the word out. “I hear that your James is a very experienced lover.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. You’ve heard the rumors, the stories of James and his former conquests. He’s bedded a few girls, yes, but not as many as people say he has. “I wonder if he’ll be gentle with me.”

“I can assure you, Princess, your husband will treat you like a Queen.”

The wedding and festivities go by in a blur, some of the moments so quick you barely remember them. You remember walking into the Great Hall with your head held high and a stomach full of butterflies, clutching a bouquet of roses with shaking hands. You remember the smile James gave you as you stood before him, holding hands as the both of you cited your vows. You remember the kiss, your first one as husband and wife, so passionate and loving in front of your family and friends. Everything else you couldn’t be bothered to think about.

All that mattered was the fact you were in your husband’s arms, being carried across the threshold of his bedchambers. He’s gazing down at you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, cheeks tinged pink from the wine he had after the ceremony. He kicks the door closed with his foot, setting you down on the floor with gentle, steady hands.

“God, I love you.” James wraps his hands around your waist, tugging your body against his. You’re nervous, hands trembling where they’re laced around his neck. Giving him a timid smile, you rise on your toes to kiss him, but he stops you, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re scared.”

There’s no reason to lie so you nod, pressing your face in his chest to hide your embarrassment. You shouldn’t be scared. He’s your husband – he’s going to take care of you. He’s supposed to. “I’ve heard it hurts.” you whisper quietly. “I don’t want you to hurt me.”

James strokes your back with a strong hand, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m going to be gentle, my love.” he promises. “I’m going to make this so good for you.”

“I love you.” you murmur. A boyish grin comes across his face, making his blue eyes crinkle in happiness. He kisses you so suddenly that you’re breathless with it, clutching onto his shoulders to keep you upright. Your knees feel like jelly, wobbly and frail like a newborn doe. The hands at your waist travel to the backs of your thighs, gripping firmly.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

He carries you over to the enormous bed sitting in the middle of the room,  laying you down on top of the blanket. The mattress is so soft that you feel as if you’re floating. With his hips settled comfortably between your thighs, he looms over you, saccharine grin turning sharper, more intent. James kisses you once – twice – lips barely brushing against yours in a teasing haze. You chase his mouth, a needy whimper catching in your throat when he leans out of your reach. “Patience, darling.” he cautions, chuckling. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth when you pout, scraping his teeth gently along either side of it.

The gasp you reward him with makes him laugh, a low, rough sound that twists your stomach into knots. “You’re already squirming and I’ve barely touched you.” James murmurs. Heat stings at your cheeks as you turn your head away, embarrassed. He takes the opportunity to press his lips to your neck, sucking kisses into your skin. His hands stroke at your waist as he explores, sinking his teeth into the space between your neck and shoulder.

You moan, loud and unexpected into the otherwise quiet room. James clutches tighter at your body, the fabric of your dress bunched up in his fists as he tugs sharply.  Before you realize what’s happening, the flimsy thing rips straight up the middle from your hips to your ribs.

Before you can scold him, he’s kissing at the newly exposed skin. “I’ll have you a new one made.” James mutters, nipping at your stomach. “Just so I can just rip it off you again.”

His hands slip underneath you, tugging at the ties of your dress until they loosen. Blue eyes peer down at you, eyebrows raised questioningly. “May I take this off?” he asks. He grabs the torn pieces, ready to put you on display.

Despite the anxiousness eating at your mind, you nod, looking at the ceiling as he gently frees you of your clothing. You’re terrified to look at him. A warm hand cups your cheek and you sigh, timidly letting your gaze fall on the man kneeling between your legs.

James slowly takes in the skin lain before him, expression so awed it’s as if he’s staring at a goddess. A smile crosses his face, soft and warm and so, so adoring it makes you melt. “You are so beautiful.” he whispers, voice hoarse.

Hair tickles your skin as he ducks his head, brushing his mouth against your flesh. He slowly makes his way downward, pausing right below your belly button. “Stop me if you are uncomfortable.” That’s all the warning you get before he’s licking into you, running his tongue through your folds.

Your back arches so hard you’re not sure how it doesn’t break.

James holds your thighs apart as he slowly devours you, gathering the wetness pooling at your little hole. It’s filthy, the air full of slurping noises and heated moans that come from the both of you. Your hands grapple at his hair when he seals his lips around your clit, whining his name as you start to shake. He grunts when you tug, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

Heat twists in your stomach and you whimper. Your hips lift off the bed, trying to squirm away from the onslaught of his mouth. It’s intense, nearly too much. James just presses you harder against the mattress, making you take everything he gives you.

“Come for me, doll.” he rasps. “Let it go.”

A few more passes of his tongue and you’re grinding down onto his face, screaming your pleasure as you come for the first time ever.  James works you through it, slowly easing the pressure as you finally relax into the sheets. He waits until you’re looking down at him to introduce his fingers, pushing one into you with the utmost care. You tense anyways, eyebrows furrowed at the foreign feeling.

“Have to open you up before you can take my cock.” he explains. He thrusts it gently, feeling how tight you were. His lips seize yours in a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss, forcing you to relax as he presses in another. His movements are deliberately slow, taking his time to prepare you for what’s to come. By the time he’s worked up to a third, you’re panting, hips gyrating as you soak his hand. He curls his fingers, stroking shallower, a little bit rougher as he presses upwards. The feeling that washes you is overwhelming and you reach down to grab his wrist, shaking your head.

“Too much?” he asks quietly. You hesitate a few seconds before nodding, flushing in mortification. “Hey, it’s okay. This is all about what you want.” He gives you a reassuring kiss and returns to stroking deeper. It’s not long before your stomach is in knots again, body shaking as you soak his hand.

In your orgasmic haze, you watch as he pulls away, stripping out of his clothes as quickly as possible. When his cock springs free, you gulp nervously. Apparently the rumors were true. He’s thick, long enough that you were wondering how he was going to fit it into you. His fingers felt like they were filling you to the brink; lord knows how far he was going to stretch you with his dick.

James nestles between your thighs once more, grabbing a stray pillow to fold it underneath your hips. “Do you not want me to do something for you?” you question. The head of it brushes against your cunt, making the both of you shiver. He smiles down at you, pecking your nose.

“Don’t worry about me, love.” his face grows serious as you wrap your legs around him. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

You choke back a cry when he starts to urge his hips forward. It stings, and you can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes. James freezes immediately, brushing them away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.” he bites down on his bottom lip, stricken. “We can stop.”

You shake your head, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. He comes easily, nuzzling his nose against yours in an eskimo kiss. “Go slow.” you plead. “Please.”

James nods, eager to appease you in any way he could. Kissing you, he presses as slowly as he can, limbs shaking. You know it’s killing him to be this gentle with you. He bottoms out after what feels like forever, sweat sticking to his body as he pants against your lips. “You feel fucking amazing.” his voice is nothing less than a whine, and you can’t help but feel a little proud, congratulating yourself on getting him this worked up.

“Can I move, beautiful? Please, let me move.” he begs after a moment. He sighs in relief when you say yes, rolling his hips at a steady, languid place. His face is buried in your neck, busying himself with marking your skin to stifle his moans. God, he sounds like heaven, keening and groaning lowly in your ear.

The mild discomfort takes the back burner as you bask in the feeling of him looming over you, chasing after his orgasm. It doesn’t take but a handful of minutes before he stiffens, mouth hanging open as he comes. He slumps against you as you run your fingers through his hair and down his back. It silent for a few moments before he lifts his head, pouting. “You didn’t come again.”

“It’s okay.” you giggle, kissing his forehead. “It was still perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” his arms wrap around your waist. “You’re going to be my Queen.”

“And you’re going to be my king.”

Two days later, you find yourself back in the Great Hall, watching as James kneels in front of the altar before his ailing father, ready to be passed on the crown. King George holds a crown in one hand and a cane in the other, smiling down at his only son.

“All of Iarnă have been looking forward to this day for a long time, my son.” George tells him. “You are a wonderful man, loved and respected by every single person living in the country.”

A blush stains your husband’s cheeks. The crowd grins at his bashfulness.

“While parting with the crown is a bittersweet moment for me,” George continues, “I cannot be more proud than I am now. It brings me great joy to present to you this crown.”

George sets the crown atop his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. “My dearest son, James Buchanan, I now hereby declare you the official King of –“

The sentence gets drowned out by a defeaning scream. James goes down, slumping over the steps of the altar, an arrow lodged into his back.

No.

You stand, fully intending to rush to your husband’s side before someone tackles you to the ground. Metal armor digs into your back as you thrash, crying and wailing as you see red trickle down to the floor.

There’s so much blood. It pools around his body.

“Stay down!” your captor hisses. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s Steve, James’s first in command and life-long best friend, shielding you from harm with his own life. If you weren’t too focused on James, you would’ve noticed the second arrow embedded in the floor a few feet from your own head.

If you weren’t too focused on the love of your life bleeding out before you, you would’ve noticed the flash of red hair disappearing out of the balcony window.

Here lies James Barnes. Loving husband and son. Iarnă’s favorite Prince.

You kneel against the ground next to the grave, tears covering your face. “Hi, my Prince. It’s been a month since I’ve came to see you last. I’m sorry.” you whisper, voice shaking. You run your fingers over the granite, kissing the stone right over his name. “I love you.”

The tears stream harder. “I can’t believe you’re gone.” you whisper. “My love, the light of my life, you’re gone. We were so happy. You were so happy. Everything was perfect, and then someone had to take you away.”

Rain starts to trickle down but you don’t care, wrapping your arms around his headstone. “Everyone misses you terribly.” The water soaks your dress. If you weren’t already numb, you would’ve felt it chilling you to the bone. “The entire country still mourns.”

“A piece of my heart is gone, stuck in the ground with you.” your lip wobbles. “You were the love of my life James Buchanan Barnes, and I’ll never be the same without you. You made me complete, made me feel like I could do anything.”

Thunder looms in the distance. “You were the bravest man that I knew, and the most honorable. You inspired everyone that you stumbled across, made them believe they could do anything.”

A shadow casts over you. You look up, finding Steve standing there, sadness gleaming in his eyes. He’d been your protector since James’s death, trying his hardest to bring you happiness once again. “Give me a moment, please.” he turns, walking away to let you have privacy. “James, I can only hope that your child will grow up to be just as amazing as you are.”

You caress your swollen belly with a bitter smile, standing on wobbly knees. “Until next time, my love. I can’t wait for you to meet our little angel.”

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[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “Mislaid Destiny” (Rated PG)

Blaine works at a boutique market when he meets a man he’s sure is made for him by the contents in his shopping cart. (1938 words)

Notes: This is a re-write. Based on a personal experience.

Read on AO3.

It’s 2:15 in the afternoon – not yet time for the usual afternoon rush, but the store is still fairly busy. Blaine glances down the conveyor belt at the items currently being purchased by the elf-ish man standing behind the counter. The man looks back at Blaine, a shy grin curling his rosy lips as he waits to hand Blaine his money.

He’s polite, quiet, and slightly impatient, so Blaine does his best to speed things up for him.

Working as a cashier at this boutique little catch-all market isn’t Blaine’s dream job by any means, but it does have its perks. Money being one of them, of course - the biggest one since he’ll have completed his master’s degree soon, and then the age-old tradition of dodging the college loan officer will begin.

Another is people watching. As a performer, it is essential that he observe people from all walks of life. Over the past few years, Blaine has come to discover that he can tell more about someone by the way they stand, the movement of their eyes, the quality of their smile (whether it’s tight, genuine, if it reaches their eyes, or if it’s plain non-existent), and from the things they buy than from any amount of conversation.

His favorite customers so far have been a twelve-year-old girl who comes in every Friday around four with her brothers and sisters for hot dogs and ice cream (he is constantly amazed by her cool under pressure, her wisdom beyond her years, the unconditional love she shows her siblings even though the eldest of them is half her age and screams constantly); and an older gentleman who stops by two to three times a week for lemon meringue pie, who talks to Blaine about his deceased wife, his kids, and his time as a combat veteran until he backs up the line. But Blaine doesn’t mind. He assumes the man doesn’t have anyone nearby to talk to. And his life has been so interesting. Blaine’s other customers usually understand, and either wait patiently, enjoying the tales themselves, or go to another line.

As far as purchases made, his fave combinations of products have been, on one occasion, a can of baby formula and twelve six-packs of beer; on another - a box of chocolates, a bottle of wine, and a meat cleaver; and the pièce de résistance - a bottle of lubricant, a Winx DVD, sixteen cans of aerosol whipped cream, and a box of condoms.

In the three years Blaine has spent working at this store, never once has he found himself drawn to a customer in anything other than a professional way. He constructs an invisible wall between him and them – a line that should not be crossed. So he’s surprised at how this one customer has managed to capture his attention so completely. Though the man in front of him, rolling endlessly back and forth on the balls of his feet, isn’t necessarily Blaine’s type physically, the items on the belt are painting a picture that is quickly winning him over.

James Patterson’s Invisible – only one of Blaine’s favorite James Patterson books ever.

“I’ve read this,” he says nonchalantly as he scans the book and puts it into a shopping bag. “It’s fascinating. A real page turner.”

The man smiles wider, preening beneath Blaine’s approval of his book selection. It’s a nice smile. He doesn’t seem to like showing his teeth, but that’s alright. The fact that he also smiles with his eyes makes up for it.

Blaine moves on to the next item - a container of gourmet chicken noodle soup, the kind they make from scratch here at the store. Chicken noodle soup is one of Blaine’s all-time top choice comfort foods, and he can definitely appreciate a person who spends a little extra money to get the best.

A cronut – cronuts happen to be Blaine’s all-time favorite bakery item … and his biggest weakness. If not for cronuts, Blaine wouldn’t have gained fifteen pounds his first semester of college. He’s managed to lose the weight and keep it off since then, balancing his love of cronuts with a healthy diet and exercise. But amongst his other actor and model friends, he stands alone in his cronut obsession. It might be nice to find someone to share it with.

Blaine scans a bottle of Camus - a nice mid-brand cognac. Cognac is another one of Blaine’s guilty pleasures - an indulgence introduced to him by his first high school boyfriend his senior year. He’s not a heavy drinker, but sometimes he slips a bit in his coffee at bedtime, especially when he feels under the weather.

A bar of Yardley’s lavender-scented soap – Blaine’s grandmother always used this soap. Her skin, her hair, her entire house used to smell like lavender. It was her signature scent. God, Blaine misses her so much.

A dozen sterling roses – for some reason, sterlings are extremely difficult to get in the city. The store where Blaine works stocks them once in a blue moon, and he tries to buy them when they do. He’s a little sad to see this bunch go, but considering everything else, maybe this time he can let it slide.

Topping it all off, this month’s copy of Vogue, indicating a man with an interest in fashion, style, and sophistication. Blaine likes to consider himself fashion-forward, though he hasn’t exactly graduated from the 50s retro crooner chic he sported in high school - mainly sweater vests, wingtips, and bowties. They’ve been his go-to for so long, he doesn’t really own anything else.

But he’d be willing to learn from someone knowledgeable, who could spare time to give him a few pointers.

Plus, Blaine notes as he packs the magazine in with the other groceries, the man brought his own reusable bags to boot. Whether out of thrift or concern for the environment, Blaine finds the gesture very attractive.

If Blaine were ever to fall for a man based solely on his purchases, this man would be perfect.

Would it be weird to admit that to him, considering he’s at work and the man hasn’t spoken a word to him yet?

Blaine watches the man fidget uncomfortably, as if he knows his purchases are being scrutinized. He rises up on the balls of his feet and takes odd peeks out the window at a blue Honda parked out front.

He probably left his doors unlocked, Blaine surmises. Blaine would prefer to believe that as opposed to the possibility that he’s creeping this poor man out so much he can’t wait to grab his bags and run.

Blaine gives the bags a final once over before he loads them into the man’s shopping cart. Should he take the plunge and ask him out? This might not be the most appropriate of circumstances. Lord knows what his manager would think. Blaine isn’t so desperate that he needs to shop for a boyfriend at work, but it feels like decades since he’s gone out on a real date with someone he didn’t meet at a bar or on a dating website. He considers himself outgoing, he’s definitely not shy, but he can never seem to find someone he shares any real interests with. His type or no, this man seems oddly tailor made for him.

And he has blue eyes.

Blaine is a sucker for a beautiful pair of blue eyes.

“I’m going to need to see some i.d.,” Blaine says. When the man furrows his brow, Blaine explains, “For the liquor.” Blaine points to a sign hanging behind him at the register that explains the rules on carding for alcohol purchases in New York City. “It’s the law.”

“Oh … oh yes, of course.” The man shakes his head with a nervous laugh, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

A wallet that’s basically one big rainbow flag, the same wallet Blaine’s friend Brittany gave him at NYC Pride March last year.

Another interesting sign.

He opens it, pulls out his driver’s license, and hands it over.

“Chandler Kiehl,” Blaine reads out loud.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Chandler giggles.

“I’m Blaine,” Blaine says, handing Chandler back his driver’s license.

“I know. It’s on your name tag.” Chandler reaches a long finger and taps the tag pinned to Blaine’s navy blue polo shirt.

“Right.” Blaine looks down at the tag, then back at Chandler. “Look, this might seem weird …” he starts out, trying to sound as sincere (and look as non-threatening) as he can. “I mean, I’ve definitely never done this before, but can I maybe ask you for your phone number?”

Chandler’s eyes open wide, his smile overwhelming his face.

“Ooo-la-la!” he exclaims, blushing to his roots. “Of course you may!”

Blaine hands Chandler a pen and a scratch piece of paper, and Chandler quickly but neatly scrawls out his name and number. When Chandler’s done, Blaine takes the pen and the slip of paper back, putting the number safely in the pocket of his khaki slacks.

“So, I’ll call you tonight?” Blaine asks.

“Sounds like a plan.” Chandler hands over a hundred dollar bill, keeping his hand out for the change.

“There you go.” Blaine hands Chandler the change, his own smile growing to match Chandler’s infectious glee. “Do you need any help out to your car?”

“Nope,” Chandler practically sings. “I think I’ve got it.”

“It was nice meeting you, Chandler,” Blaine says with a wink.

“Et vous, aussi, Blaine,” Chandler coos. He skips away, pushing the cart with the bags inside, swaying his hips in case Blaine is watching him leave.

Caught up immediately with another customer, Blaine doesn’t watch Chandler as he heads for the blue car out front. Chandler puts the bags in the back seat of his car, then climbs into the driver's seat, still aglow and giddy, doing a tiny dance as he buckles his seatbelt. Then he turns to the passenger seat, reclined all the way, with his best friend laying back on it, a tissue pressed to his nose.

“Dank you so much vor dis, Chadler,” Kurt mumbles around a cough, sniffling when he catches his breath.

“No problem,” Chandler says with a wave of his hand. “I promised I would take care of you until you got better, and so I shall. How are you feeling?”

“I veel like cwap.” Kurt blows his nose. “Der waz no way I waz going to be able to go in that store and buy my gwoceries.”

“Well, I do have to say you have some interesting tastes,” Chandler comments, looking over his shoulder at the bags in the back seat. “Oh! But you totally missed out on the hot cashier Blaine.”

“Oh?” Kurt raises a brow.

“Yup.” Chandler sighs dreamily. “He’s dark and handsome, with a sort of Elvis Presley-thing going …”

“Did he have a cute smile?” Kurt asks with more interest. He’s a sucker for a man with a smooth, seductive smile.

“The cutest!” Chandler chirps, putting a hand dramatically over his heart. “And the best thing is he asked me for my number!”

“Weally?” Kurt asks, a twinge of jealousy pinging inside his chest.

“Yeah, out of the blue,” Chandler explains, starting up the car. “I don’t really understand it. I barely said a word to him.”

“Well, maybe it’s just meant to be.”

“Maybe,” Chandler says, smiling at the thought of fate steering him in the path of this handsome man.

Kurt smiles at his besotted friend and closes his eyes, daydreaming of a mysterious man asking for his phone number.

[pete-rparker]

We Will Try Again

Request:

Could you do a tom holland x reader where she has a miscarriage

Word Count: 1072

Warning: Miscarriage, mentions of blood

A/N: Usually I don’t put a ‘read more’ in, but due to the warning, I’ll add one in.

It was the happiest day for you and Tom. You took 3...4- no 5 tests, just to make sure that you weren’t hallucinating the results. You were shaking when you held the stick in your hand, sure that it wasn’t real. But there it was, 2 lines bright as day. Just like the other four tests. You started to cry, your sobs coming from happiness. There you were, crying on the bathroom toilet.

Tom wasn’t home, he wouldn’t be for 2 more days. You had 2 days to plan how to tell him. Tom and you were discussing having a baby. You had been married for a year and in a financially stable place. The home you guys had bought seemed one person empty. But you weren’t actively trying for a baby. Of course, unprotected sex wasn’t uncommon between you guys.

When Tom finally came home, you had taken 3 more tests. All saying the same.

“Tom, baby… we need to talk…” You told him when he stepped foot inside the house. His eyes widened, thinking of the worst thing.

He shook his head, already reaching to pull you into a hug, “(Y/N)… no, please, babe. We can work through this. I know I’m gone a lot, but I’ll quit. It’s okay, babe.”

You laughed, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Tom, no. I don’t want to separate.” The relief on his face was giant. He let out a breath that you didn’t know he was holding in.

“Okay, what do you wanna talk about?” He asked, sitting in one of the brightly colored kitchen chairs you guys owned, an easy smile on his face.

You took a deep breath, lacing your fingers together to stop them from shaking. “B-baby… I…” Your voice was shaking. You pulled out a gift bag, inside is a pacifier. You hoped, prayed that Tom would take the news as good news.

Tom’s eyebrows scrunched together, taking the bag gently before pulling out the tissue paper. “What…” He whispered, pulling out the pacifier. “Why are you giving me a pacifier?”

“You’re going to be a daddy…” You told him, tears filling your eyes.

He gasped, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m going to be a daddy?” He pulled back, kissing you before jumping around the kitchen. “I’M GOING TO BE A DADDY!!! I have to tell Harrison!! And my family! My mom’s going to be a grandmother!!” He was like a little kid on Christmas, all you could do is cry.

The two of you have been the happiest couple ever since. It was your dream to be able to raise a kid with the love of your life.

But your dream came crashing down on top of you one morning.

You have been throwing up lately, something that isn’t uncommon in the first trimester, but it didn’t feel right. You had pain in your lower back and some days you were so tired you couldn’t get out of bed. Nothing felt right.

This morning, you awoke to a painful sensation in your pelvis. You knew, deep in your heart, you knew what was happening.

You stand, facing the toilet. You didn’t want to sit down, you didn’t want to pull down your underwear, you didn’t want to see what you can already feel. A stillness is in the air, felt right before a storm.

You slowly turn around, pulling your underpants down as you sit. You stare at the red blotch lining your underwear. Silent tears fall down your face as you piece together your symptoms. Vomit, pain, fatigue…

Miscarriage.

You whisper the word, it hitting you like a thousand bricks. You miscarried. You. A woman in good health, with a good home and a good bank account to fall back upon. You miscarried.

You sob, the cries loud, loud enough to wake Tom up. He pounds on the door, asking what’s wrong. When there’s no answer, he opens the door.

You must look so pathetic, sitting on the toilet, crying so hard that you couldn’t breathe.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks before seeing your underwear and seeing the blood lining it.

He falls to his knees, “Wha…what d-does that mean?” He whispers, his voice cracking as tears begin to fill his eyes. He knows. He knows what it means. You were warned by the doctor that miscarriages are not uncommon in the US.

Tom cries with you, pulling you into his chest and off the toilet. He sobs into your hair as you grab his shirt, staining it with your tears.

“I love them already.” You manage to choke out. It’s true, you love your baby. You love your baby with all your heart. And you knew Tom did too.

“I did too.” He cries, rocking you back and forth. Tom doesn’t try to act tough or silence his tears to be there for you. He sobs along with you, needing just as much comfort as you do.

The two of you stay held in each other’s embrace for an hour, before going to the doctor.

The doctor’s office was cold and seemed cruel this time. Unlike last time when it seemed to radiate hope and warmth. The doctor sadly informed you of what you already knew. Your baby is gone. The both of you cried as you walked out of the clinic, people giving you sympatric looks.

That night, you and Tom cried as you cuddled. This time, the tears are not from happiness. The discussion of names and color scheme for the room was not flowing between you two. It was silent and cold.

“We will try again, it’s not okay now… but it will be. We will try again once we’re ready.” Tom whispered in your ear when it reached midnight, making your crack your first smile of the day.

You nod, snuggling into your loving husband, “You’re right. We’ll try again…” You tell him, kissing him before closing your eyes.

Dreams of a future with a baby still graced your sleep, making you hopeful. You will get over this hump.

The following weeks was spent in support groups and in the presence of family. Tom would come to some groups with you, others he chose to not attend. Both of you were dealing with your grief in different ways.

Finally, 2 months later. You tried again. The baby was born on August 2nd, 2018, named James Harrison Holland.

[nicos-rp-auwriting]

might be a sinner and might be a saint {i want to be proud but somehow i'm ashamed}

“You're a piece of shit, you know that?”

She can feel her jaw tense as she stares. Her gaze isn't quite fixed on anyone, anything in particular. Right now she's just trying to stand tall, keep her chin up and her shoulders squared. It's hard enough to do it in handcuffs, but there's a particular type of shame that comes from her step-father's hands pushing her down, all but shoving her into the back of the cop car. Siran doesn't grace him with a response to his question. Instead, she catches sight of a pale Heron, of a wide-eyed James, of Aleena with an expression as unreadable as ever and Llyr, brow pulled tight in concern. She tilts her head back slightly, tries to keep herself proud.

It's too hard. It's worse when she catches sight of her mother approaching Heron. Siran can't hear what's being said, but there's something in the way that Heron's mouth forms words, the way she shakes her head, the way her mother reaches out. It's too familiar, and she can feel her stomach drop out from under her.

Oh.

For the first time since they'd stormed the Den, Siran let her head fall, her bangs fall over her eyes so that none of her crew could see the utter betrayal. She always did have a shit poker face in the end.

“There's no market for it.” Siran's eyes follow the clouds above, and she takes a deep breath. It's not the first time she's been out here doing nothing, but it's one of the few times she's been graced with the presence of a beautiful woman. Claudia's giggle is infectious, and she can feel a smile creep across her face even as she goes for another bite of her brownie.

“There's a market for everything. Especially decadence. Didn't you hear, Siran? Gluttony's the newest fad.” There's something almost wicked in her friend's tone as she rolls over to look at her. “It could be called the Den of Iniquity.”

There's a long pause, and then it's Siran's turn to giggle. It quickly turns into full blown laughter, the high getting to her as thoughts bounce around her head. “The Sin Bin. It could be the Sin Bin.”

“Wake up.” It takes Siran a minute to realize that the grey concrete isn't just her eyes going to shit, that she's actually staring at a wall. The voice behind her is familiar, and she can almost place it, but she's tired, too tired, and -

“I said wake up.”

Oh. Right.

“Charming as ever, iyaiya.” Siran groans as she stretches, turning to face her grandmother. It takes every ounce of willpower she has to not just spit in the older woman's face. But no, that wouldn't do her any good. Not now. “Do I get my phone call now? Are you done processing me?”

The sneer that passes over her iyaiya's face is heartening. It's better than the cockiness, which means they have something to actually bring her in for. Not just whatever bullshit Heron fed them. Her shoulders pull back at the thought of the little traitorous bit- not right now. Not right now.

“No calls yet. Get up. You have a visitor.”

“Sira, I want to go to the park!”

It takes everything that Siran has not to look at her sister. She knows the second she does, it's all over. This is the power Taline has, and it's maddening really. So as long as she doesn't look, as long as -

She blinks and her sister's wide eyes are looking at her, already watering. Siran just lets out a long sigh. “Alright, alright. Come on, make sure you bring extra money this time. I can't afford your ice cream habit.” But there's a smile in her voice and a hint of amusement behind her eyes as she watches Taline fist pump in victory.

They spend more than a little bit of time at the park, enjoying the day and the fact that they don't have to be anywhere. Home isn't ideal, not for her. She knows that her sister doesn't quite understand, but that's alright. The less she gets it, the better for now. Siran knows that Taline isn't quite as naive as people think, but she wants to keep her in the dark about this much for at least a little bit longer.

Someone bumps into her and she starts to mutter a quick, “sorry,” when she realizes that there's a weight that should be in her pocket that's gone. Her phone. Without hesitating, she pivots and breaks into a run. There's a boy moving quickly, weaving between people with practiced ease, and she almost loses him. Almost. But soon she catches up and they start the chase proper. He's swift, faster than she is, but she knows this park like the back of her hand. It's the only reason she ends up cornering him back by the bathrooms. Her first impression is that he's small. Almost as small as Taline, which is impressive really. She can't help being a bit confused, her eyebrow arching as she stares at him. It's not like she's skeptical of his skills. No, she's more bemused that she allowed herself to end up on the wrong end of a pickpocket. But he's good, and she's already got plans forming in her head, so instead of getting mad she just grins.

“You're good, you know that?” Now it's his turn to be confused as he just slowly nods. “What's your name?” “... Llyr.”

“Llyr, huh? Alright. Come on, I'll get you an ice cream.”

The familiar face is equal parts welcome comfort and annoying. She doesn't want anyone to see her like this, and yet she knows there was no way they'd be able to stay away for long. It's not at all surprising that Llyr would be waiting for her. It was surprising to catch sight of Aleena and James just behind him, standing a little bit back from the booth. She merely nods at them before picking up the phone on her end.

“Well, this is certainly a predicament, Captain.” The attempt at a wry smile from Llyr is comforting, more than she could ever express. More than the dumb nickname, more than than...

More than a lot.

“Eh, we've had worse I think. We can write this off... No such thing as bad publicity, right?” But there's the slightest waver to her voice at the thought of the Den having to shut down. This was her life. The illicit shit made money, sure... But this was different. There were jobs and there were passions.

She'd never admit which one brought her more fulfillment: her drug running or the Den, the arms dealing or the drink mixing.

“Siran.” It's soft, almost enough to break her. She stares at Llyr through the glass and squares up again, gives him the same lazy grin that she did the first time they met.

“Come on don't give me that. Tell James to get back behind the bar, you go take care of the books, and when I get back I'll do a round of ice cream on me. Someone's gotta keep the ship running while I'm here, right?”

The silence is deafening. It's not half as bad as the words that slip from his mouth.

“They've got three counts of possession. Two of illegal arms trading.”

The first time she meets James, there's the distinct feeling that he looks familiar. It passes after a moment, sure, but not until after she's grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. A quick look is all she needs.

“... Sorry. Thought you were someone I knew. From behind you looked familiar.” She grins, tries to play it off.

Even his laughter is vaguely nostalgic, and she can't help but wonder if this was like one of her mother's stories, something about past lives and meeting people from them. Then he opens his mouth and his accent blows those thoughts away.

“Well that's a line I've nay heard before. Ya like whatcha see?”

It's her turn to laugh, her grin slowly shifting to a smirk. This was going to be fun.

“What if I do?”

“Oh, we can have fun then.”

There's a moment where Siran stares at him. It's broken when she bends over and just starts laughing.

“No, I don't think so. You're not my type, sorry pretty boy.” She takes a heaving breath and stands up again, holding her hand out. “Siran. And you are?”

“James Rhett.”

“The new kid? The one – oh.” Her eyebrows shoot up as her laughter dies down into chuckles that still manage to escape her. “Shit then. I guess you can consider that a passed interview. How quickly can you start?”

“Miss Sarmejian, how do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

She hates this. Hates that she's in a goddamn skirt, like some goddamn businesswoman. She hates the way her crew is looking at her. Hates the smug look her family keeps shooting her. Part of her just wants to scream, to yell at them, to do something. Instead, she keeps her head held high and her face as straight as possible.

The trial takes forever. It's a lot of in and out of court, a lot of in and out of jail cells and she fucking hates it. She doesn't take visitors except the court appointed lawyer (no one wanted to represent her, no one would take her case, who'd do it when it was so cut and dry). She was forbidden from seeing the people she'd have wanted with her anyway. Something about them being key witnesses. The process is horrible and she just wants it to be done.

It takes a month and it's a miracle that she manages to get off light. She has to serve a bit of time, sure, but a year is better than life, and she has a chance at parole. They couldn't find evidence of anything in the Den, couldn't get any of the crew to give her up, only had Heron's word and she refused to testify on the stand. The time she spent away from everyone was hell, but eventually she was back.

Her office was untouched. If her family had gone through it, then the Den had gone out of their way to make sure that it looked like home again. Siran felt her knees give slightly and her eyes start to water as she stood there. It was home in a way no place else had ever been, and they understood. Part of her wanted to be annoyed that they could see through her so goddamn easily, but she didn't have the energy for it today. Not on her first day back.

A small paper on the desk caught her attention, and it was only then that she let herself break down.

“And why do you want me to work here?”

Siran kept a keen eye on Aleena as she showed the other girl around. There were hints that she liked the place more than she let on, small things. The way her eyes lingered on treats, or how her lips quirked as they caught sight of families rounding up children. Siran knew those things well, knew what it was like to experience everything and push it back to keep a straight face. It wasn't something she liked to do, but it was necessary at times. Discipline was the key, and discipline was just what she needed right now.

“Because you're not them. And you come recommended.”

It's only half a lie. No one recommended her, but Siran hadn't asked. Anyone who was good enough for praise in the private security industry was somehow tied back to her family, and that was the opposite of what she wanted. But that was less creepy than admitting she had watched Aleena for a bit and staged an incident to see just how good the woman was.

The answer was really good. And she owed the mugger she hired another hundred bucks for the job. Worth it.

“... What if I say no?” And that was it. Siran had her, and she knew it. She'd already gone over the perks, already done the tour, already showed off why she should work here. And this was the final bit, the moment where she knew she had Aleena.

“Nothing. I won't lie to you about it. I'll hire someone who I don't think is as good, and you'll go on to... whatever job you don't have lined up right now.” She offers Aleena a toothy grin and her hand. “Or, we can shake, go back to my office, and draft up your contract. Which is a much better deal for you.”

The choice didn't take long.

“What makes you think that you'd be a good social media manager?”

“Well for one, I grew up on it. I'm used to... utilizing situations to shine the best light on someone.”

“You have experience?”

“Yes, in fact.” There's a moment of pause before a folder is placed in front of Siran. “My resume.”

Another pause.

“It's impressive.”

“Thank you.” For a second, Siran thinks she can hear a touch of humility. “I worked hard at each company I've been employed at. You can call any of them to confirm that my work enhanced their reputation and popularity.”

“And you think we need these? We've done well enough through nothing more than word of mouth for now.”

“Sir – Miss Sarmejian, I don't think. I know. This isn't the same environment it was when you first opened the Den. Do you have an Instagram? Snapchat? You hardly have a Facebook presence, and perhaps two Tweets over the last three years. I believe that having a social media coordinator and utilizing your staff's ability to - “

“My crew.”

“... Pardon. Utilizing your crew's current use of their personal accounts will only help your brand. Not hurt it. You've already got a reputation for a relaxed atmosphere. This will get you more foot traffic. Isn't that the goal? More joy for more people?”

Siran thinks for a long moment, then stands and makes her way around the desk. She stares down for a long moment before offering her hand. It never turns into a handshake; the second her hand is taken, she pulls Taline up into a hug, buries her face into her sister's neck and squeezes.

“I'm so glad you're joining us, Taline.”

“I'm just happy you're letting me, Sira.”

“Yeah. But at least I'm a piece of shit with people to back me up.”

[hctchered]

RULES. repost, don’t reblog. tag ten. TAGGED. No one TAGGING:  Anyone who feels like doing it

BASICS.

FULL  NAME.   Claire Esther Hatcher NICKNAME.   Doc, Hatch, various other ones probably AGE.   22 (in 1944) BIRTHDAY.   August 19th 1922 ETHNIC GROUP.   White European, Ashkenazi Jewish NATIONALITY.   British, American LANGUAGE / S. English, a little French, a few phrases German (for war purposes), a tiny bit of Hebrew (mainly post-war) SEXUAL ORIENTATION.   Bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.  Biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Verse dependant - either single or in a relationship with Mick McCarthy CLASS.   Working HOME TOWN / AREA.  Cambridge, United Kingdom/Portland, Oregon, United States of America CURRENT HOME.  Portland, Oregon, United States of America PROFESSION.   US Army combat medic

PHYSICAL.

HAIR. Blonde EYES.  Blue with some grey NOSE.  Pretty narrow with a slightly up-turned tip?? FACE.  Kinda oval shaped I guess? Just look at her face, tbh LIPS.  Bottom lip is fuller than upper, kinda small-ish I guess? Again, look at her face tbh COMPLEXION. Relatively pale, but with a light tan BLEMISHES. Birth mark above her lips, on the left side. Another on her left hip SCARS. Too many, tbh. Lots from when she was a kid, multiple on her hands, arms and legs from the war. A big one on her upper left arm after being hit my shrapnel TATTOOS. A Star of David on her wrist (right, I think I said) with something that looks like and M in the middle (made post-war). An eagle on her back for the 101st that she made as a dare during a free weekend at some point during training. HEIGHT. 5′5″ WEIGHT. Idk BUILD.   Kinda slender, but still kinda strong? Look at Eliza, tbh FEATURES. Kinda sharp lines on her face, but relatively softer-looking body.  ALLERGIES. Sheep wool, which she’s really pissed off about USUAL HAIR STYLE.  Usually just left to do whatever, with a few pieces pinned back to keep her face kinda free of them USUAL FACE LOOK.   Scowling, or looking kinda annoyed and/or concerned USUAL CLOTHING.  Uniform during the war, post war usually something comfortable like jeans or normal trousers and like a shirt or t-shirt. She’s really not a dress person, tbh.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S. Losing people, failing to save someone, being the only one left ASPIRATION / S.   Saving people, getting better at her job POSITIVE TRAITS.  Determined, selfless (in many ways),  NEGATIVE TRAITS.  Reckless, easily angered  MBTI.  ENTP ZODIAC. Leo TEMPEREMENT.  Choleric SOUL TYPE / S. Performer and Hunter ANIMALS. Eagle VICE HABIT / S.   FAITH. Catholic Christian/None/Judaism GHOSTS? Probably not AFTERLIFE? No REINCARNATION? No (even though I love those kinds of AUs lmao) ALIENS? No POLITICAL ALIGNMENT.  Not sure ECONOMIC PREFERENCE. Not sure SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION. Liberal, probably. Not sure tbh. Claire really isn’t a politics person at all. EDUCATION LEVEL.  Low - only went to school up to age like 13

FAMILY.

FATHER.  Harold Hatcher MOTHER. Devorah Hatcher (née Lecuyer) SIBLINGS.   Harold “Harry Hatcher (b.1917) and James Hatcher (b.1919) EXTENDED  FAMILY.   Avigail Lecuyer (aunt), George “Georgie” Lecuyer (cousin, RAF bomber pilot, killed in 1944), Natanel Lecuyer (grandfather) and Esther Lecuyer (née Astruc, grandmother) NAME MEANING / S.   Claire: clear, famous Esther: star (in Persian) Hatcher: topographic name for someone who lived by a gate, from Middle English hacche (Old English hæcc) + the agent suffix -er. This normally denoted a gate marking the entrance to a forest or other enclosed piece of land, sometimes a floodgate or sluice-gate.

(I’m yelling I love that tbh)

HISTORICAL CONNECTION Claire is a traditionally French name, and Claire’s mum very much wanted to name one of her children something’s French. Esther is her grandmother’s name, and also a very important person in Judaism, and Devorah wanted to keep that connection, despite having converted from Judaism. 

FAVOURITES.

BOOK. Peter Pan MOVIE.  The Wizard Of Oz 5 SONGS.   (Going to do ones that kinda remind me of her again) Streetfight - Smallpools, 30 Seconds - Vinyl Theatre, Settle Down - The 1975, When That Man Is Dead And Gone - Glenn Miller, Run - Hozier DEITY.   None/the Jewish God HOLIDAY.  Rosh Hashanah  MONTH.   May SEASON.   Spring PLACE.   Downtown Portland WEATHER. Warm with a gentle breeze SOUND.  Rain on roof SCENT / S. Anything other than death and blood, tbh TASTE / S.  Coffee FEEL / S.  Soft hands on skin, water running over hands ANIMAL / S.   Cats, dogs NUMBER.  None COLOR.  The colours of the sunrise/sunset

EXTRA.

TALENTS.  Singing (a little bit), being salty/sarcastic, getting drunk BAD  AT.   Respect, listening, cooking, drawing, writing (nicely) TURN  ONS.  A lot of things TURN  OFFS.  Not a lot of things tbh HOBBIES.  Drinking, smoking, making sure her men are safe TROPES.  The Drunk Medic™ AESTHETICS.   Blood on snow, bruised knuckles, cocky smiles, dirty uniforms

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC / S. Eliza Taylor ALT  FC / S. - OLDER  FC / S.  - YOUNGER  FC / S. Sophie Nélisse VOICE  CLAIM / S.  Eliza Taylor’s American accent, but with some British in there

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1.   if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about? A1.  I would love to either see her in her canon setting, following what it would have potentially been like for a female medic if they would have been allowed in the US Army. Or like something where she’s the leader of like a biker gang or something, all in leather and looking fierce af.

Q2.   what would their soundtrack / score sound like? A2.  Similar to the Pacific Rim soundtrack probably, or TRON Legacy-vibes

Q3.   why did you start writing this character? A3. I had just rewatched Band Of Brothers and was home alone just hanging out for a week and I came up with a very basic character idea what I started working on and then made a blog for. Claire has obviously changed A LOT since then, but her basic version was a Band Of Brothers that pretty much right away turned fandomless, because I preferred that idea.

Q4.   what first attracted you to this character? A4. So many things... I love the idea of women in WWII and doing more than what they did, and I just wanted to explore writing a character that was one out of very few women doing something that has always been very male-oriented.

Q5.   describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5.  Oh man... She’s just so crazy reckless and just won’t care about her own life or safety, if it means she can save someone else.

Q6.   what do you have in common with your muse? A6.  Not that much, I don’t think. I mean, when I started out we had nothing except our gender in common, but writing her has kinda made me grow and I’m a lot more outspoken and stuff than I used to be? I also won’t stop talking about fighting people so... there’s that too.

Q7.   how does your muse feel about you? A7.  She probably hates me, let’s be real here.

Q8.   what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with? A8. I’ve loved all her interactions with Mick in the past, they’re so amazing. But right now, @hxllbilly and Claire are being two of my faves, and I’m really loving what I’ve either done or planned with @imhohenschloss . But tbh, I love most of the things I’ve done so far and I feel like most things are interesting, even though I do have my favourite threads. 

Q9.   what gives you the inspiration to write your muse? A9.  So many things, but war movies and shows always sparks some muse. Same does music and just a lot of things. She’s one of my strongest muses, tbh.

Q10. how long did this take you to complete? A10. 24+ hours, haha. Finishing this during Eurovision voting lmao.

[netunleashed-blog]

Who is Danny Dyer, what's his net worth and Brexit views? EastEnders actor' daughter Dani won Love Island

http://www.internetunleashed.co.uk/?p=28915 Who is Danny Dyer, what's his net worth and Brexit views? EastEnders actor' daughter Dani won Love Island - http://www.internetunleashed.co.uk/?p=28915 Danny Dyer is famous for his cockney accent, outspoken views and now his daughter Dani. He is often headline fodder himself and is a week day regular on TV, due to his role in one of the country’s biggest soap operas, but thanks to his eldest daughter he's seen his star rise even higher. Dani Dyer won ITV2 smash hit reality show, Love Island, in 2018 and Danny was often brought up in conversation between the Islanders as they pondered what he would make of her sweetheart, cheeky chappy Jack Fincham. Here’s everything you need to know about the British actor… Who is Danny Dyer and what is he famous for? Danny in Human Traffic (Image: Rex) Daniel John Dyer was born in Canning Town, London in 1977 to parents Antony and Christine Dyer. When he was just nine, his father walked out on the family after it emerged he had a secret second family. He was discovered by an agent after attending a weekend drama school and auditioned for a part in Prime Suspect 3, which started his acting career at the tender age of 16. Other TV work includes roles in A Touch of Frost, Soldier Soldier, Skins and Hotel Babylon, Casualty and Hollyoaks. He turned down a part in EastEnders in 2009, saying at the time that he wouldn’t star in it until he was “fat, bald and fifty”. But of course, in 2013, it was announced that as of Christmas that year he would star as the Queen Vic’s new landlord, Mick Carter. As Mick Carter in the BBC soap (Image: 5752) He has a long list of roles to his name in films, including Human Traffic, Mean Machine, The Football Factory, Severance and Adulthood – some more successful than others. Critics have often gone to town on his film work, slating him. He has presented documentaries on hard men and hooligans, including The Real Football Factories and Danny Dyer’s Deadliest Men and also starred in three Harold Pinter plays on stage, among others. Danny appeared on an episode of BBC ancestry show, Who Do You Think You Are, and discovered that his family came from a long line of Thames based dock workers. However he was shocked when they went further back in history and found his great grandfather x 15 was Thomas Cromwell and his great grandmother x 14 was Elizabeth Seymour – the sister of Jane Seymour , aka Henry VIII’s third wife and therefore Queen. His family line went right back to to William the Conqueror and Rollo, Duke of Normandy. Danny has released two autobiographies. Danny’s daughter Dani won Love Island Dani is the apple of her dad's eye (Image: Internet Unknown) Read More In 2018, his daughter Dani was one of the stars of Love Island on ITV2. Aged just 22, she had previously appeared in ITV2 reality show Survival of the Fittest, but was forced to leave early on after suffering an injury. Petite brunette Dani was a favourite from the start and immediately coupled up with Kent boy Jack Fincham. They stayed together all the way through the fourth series, despite a couple of hiccups along the way and by the end of the two months, were officially boyfriend and girlfriend and had declared their love for each other. Danny appeared of Facetime for the Meet the Family episode from his holiday in the US. He had (half) joked before Dani went on the show and during it, about what he would do to any lad who touched her or upset her. But he and wife Jo both said they were happy for the young couple. Dani and Jack went on to win with a huge majority and claimed they planned to move in with each other and have a family in the future. It was predicted the couple, who shared the £50,000 prize money, stood to make a fortune through sponsorship and TV work and could easily become millionaires. Who is Danny’s wife? Danny with loyal wife Joanne Mas (Image: WireImage) Danny met childhood sweetheart Joanne Mas at the age of 14 when they were at school together. They have been together ever since and have had three children, Dani, Sunnie and Arty. Joanne asked Danny to marry her on Valentine’s Day in 2015, after 25 years together. He said yes and they tied the knot in Hampshire in September 2016, with eldest daughter Dani as maid of honour. Danny told Hello magazine at the time: “To be standing here with the girl I grew up with – looking so beautiful in her wedding dress – that is a lovely thing. “Jo is my best girl – the love of my life. Without her, I would be nothing.” Until Danny’s career took off, Jo was the main breadwinner of the family thanks to her job as a financial advisor. Danny’s ‘affair with Sarah Harding’ Danny in flop Run for Your Wife, with Sarah Harding (Image: Handout) Read More In 2017 it was reported that Danny had a previous fling with Girls Aloud star Sarah Harding when they were starring together in Brit flick Run for Your Wife in 2012. A friend of Sarah’s told The Sun: “Danny and Sarah spent a lot of time together learning lines, running through their scripts and practising their kisses. “They had a lot of laughs and spent more and more time together preparing for the various shoots.” Joanne ended up kicking Danny out of the family home when she also discovered he was back in touch with “a bunch of wrong ‘uns”. He moved into a hotel near the Elstree Studios, where EastEnders is filmed, and was pictured wearing the same clothes for four days. The couple managed to repair their relationship and Danny slowly started to spend more time with his family after vowing to clean his act up. He had previously confessed to cheating on Jo in 2009 with a young starstruck fan and in 2014 was caught out again after a threesome with two girls he met in a club. Drinking, drugs and controversies Danny has a wild side (Image: Instagram/officialdannydyer) Read More It was around the same time as his split from Jo that Danny took an extended six week break from EastEnders. He was a guest at the NTAs where he licked GBBO star Mary Berry’s face , was seen ranting and had to be calmed by his co-stars. Following the EastEnders break he went teetotal and when offered a drink by Piers Morgan on a TV show turned it down and said: “I hate what it does to me, the way it makes me behave. “Problem is, once I start, I can’t stop.” Danny in Severance with a funky fag (Image: Rex) In 2010 Danny was Zoo magazine agony uncle but that ended when he advised a reader to cut the face of his girlfriend who had dumped him so no one would want her. He admitted after it was a bad taste joke that he shouldn’t have said but never thought the ghost writer would include. Danny has been open about his use of drugs recreationally, writing in one his autobiographies: “I’ve always taken drugs and probably always will. "But there's a difference between having the odd crafty bump up the snout as a reward for a job well done and letting it rule your life." He also admitted to taking to crack “like a duck to water” and using it before a Broadway performance. Read more about his various spats with Mark Wright, Katie Hopkins and Strictly dancer James Jordan here. What are his views on Brexit and David Cameron Danny had an outburst on live TV that delighted many Read More In 2018 Danny hit the headlines when he appeared on Good Evening Britain, hosted by Susanna Reid and Piers Morgan. With Labour leader Jeremy Corben and Pamela Anderson as fellow panel guests, the outspoken cockney twice called ex Prime Minister David Cameron a “t**t”. Discussing Brexit, Danny lost his cool and said: “This whole Brexit thing when you're judging them. Who knows what Brexit is. You watch Question Time and it's comedy. "Know one knows what it is, it's like this mad riddle. What's happened to that t*** David Cameron that called this on." He later shouted “t**t” again. Danny raised some eyebrows and some smiles on the panel (Image: ITV) In an exclusive interview with the Sunday Mirror , Danny stuck by his views and said he felt he’d become a poster boy for the Remain campaign, having originally voted leave but then changing his mind. “The reason I want to remain is because Cameron decides to f*** off the next day. We are talking the next day after the vote didn’t go his way,” he told the paper. “I find it fascinating that we can allow that. He only called this vote on, whatever it was meant to be, because he had a spat with the other p**** Farage. “I f****** hate Cameron and I always have and that’s probably why I voted leave as well. What is Danny’s net worth? Danny has a very comfortable home life now Read More Thanks to his lucrative role in EastEnders, where he’s thought to be the highest paid star, Danny is now worth around £3.8million, according to Celebrity Net Worth. But his fortune has seen a huge turnaround because just before he took on the role, he was almost bankrupt. In 2015 he appeared on the Jonathan Ross and revealed the soap had save him financially. “I didn't have an audition, they rung me up, I had a touch,” he told Jonathan. “They rung me up and said 'Listen, we want you to come in the show, take over the Queen Vic'. At the time I was skint and I just had about enough petrol money to get there, that's the truth.” His career had been doing well up until around 2010, when he made the comment in Zoo magazine and his public profile took a battering. He also saw some of the films he starred in panned by critics and bomb at the box office, with very poor takings. In the same year he signed up for the BBC1 soap, he put his film company Old Mother Media into liquidation, owing more than £30,000, so he’s made quite the recovery. Source link

[iamaferitale]

The museum seemed empty...

Writing Prompt #3: The museum seemed empty…

The museum seemed empty as my footsteps reverberate around me. I ran through the halls of the Smithsonian Institute looking for him. It was closed but that didn’t stop him and me from coming in especially when he just took off as the both of us passed by the Smithsonian after taking a walk together. I end up in one of the hallways and I have no idea where he went. The Smithsonian Institution is a huge place and he could be anywhere. I worry as he still wasn’t comfortable around people but so far I haven’t seen anyone, not even any of the watchmen. I know that this peace wouldn’t last for long. Someone is bound to hear the footsteps even if I did tamper a bit with the security cameras to make them go on loop so as to make sure nobody saw either of us. I have to find him soon.

“James, where could you be?” I thought as I continue to run through the halls looking for him. I was so close to tracking him down using my powers until I ended up at the main lobby.

“This is getting frustrating.” I said to myself as I combed my hand through my hair. I took a deep breath and was readying to use my powers when I looked up and saw hanging from the ceiling two huge banners promoting the Captain America exhibit. That’s when it hit me.

“So that’s where you went. I should have known.” I said as I ran towards the exhibit. I knew I was going the right direction as my powers were slowing picking up his presence. I slowed down when I arrived at the exhibit entrance. I noticed the door was open so I entered.

I had always been a fan of Captain America thanks to the stories Grandma Peggy told me as a child whenever I would visit her. So seeing this exhibit was amazing but nothing new to me. There was a bunch of brochures by the door so I picked one up and read it. The exhibit was comprised of several panels and areas about Cap’s life before the serum, his returning ceremony by President Matthew Ellis, and his actions during World War II. There was also a section dedicated to the Howling Commandos and a memorial for Bucky Barnes. The exhibit also held replicas of Cap’s Motorcycle and uniform as well as replicas of the uniforms worn by the Howling Commandos. I knew all of these stories from my grandmother because it was well-known that she was Captain America’s girl. She was Peggy Carter after all. I also grew up with the Howling Commandos. They were my sort-of uncles and they too would also tell me stories of their adventures during the war.  I had even seen the original uniforms and weapons they used when they show it to me much to my grandma’s dismay.

I continued to walk through the exhibit while admiring everything when I saw a figure by the memorial of Bucky Barnes, the childhood friend of Captain America. I didn’t need to get closer to know who it was. I could also feel that it was him. His presence was very distinct but I also noticed a bit of sadness radiating from him as he looked at the memorial. I sent a wave of calm before I approached him to give him a warning that I was there. The last time I snuck up on him almost ended in some bloodshed. I knew he must have heard me as soon as I entered the exhibit but he seemed too preoccupied. I saw him sigh as I walk up and stood beside him. I also looked at the memorial and a brief moment of silence fell between us before I said something.

“I can see why you came here.” I said to him while I continued to look at the memorial.

“Sorry that I ran off. I just…” He said to me as he looked the memorial of himself.

“You thought you could find a piece of yourself here, right?” I answered for him.

I saw him smile from the corner of my eye. I looked back at the memorial to Bucky. It was a glass panel with a picture of him and a description etched on it. It described him as Captain Rogers’ best friend since childhood, who according to the historical records, was the only Howling commando to give his life in service. After reading that, I looked back at James. I didn’t know what was going through his mind but I can sense a flurry of emotions radiating off from him. Sadness and guilt among them. I could see just how much in thought he was. We both just let the silence envelop us as we continued to stand in front of the memorial. A few minutes passed and I just decided to break the silence. As much as I wanted to let him think, we did need to leave as we were kind of trespassing.

“You know something?” I asked him even if I wasn’t expecting a response.

“Hmmm…” He replied to me while still looking at the memorial.

“You look way better with long hair. It makes you even more mysterious and handsome.” I said just to break the tension in the hair.

I heard him chuckle at my comment. I consider that a win.

“I guess that’s your way of saying we have to leave right?” He said as he turned to face me.

“Pretty much. After all we did kind of break in.” I said to him

“Alrighty then. Shall we go then Doctor Carter-Stark?” He said as he offered his hand to me.

“Why I dear say we shall Sergeant Barnes?” I replied as I took his hand.  

We managed to sneak out of the Smithsonian without being noticed. Of course, I didn’t forget to ask C.O.R.A to place the security cameras back to its original setting. We continued walking until we got to the car which was parked a few blocks away. I unlocked the car while we were walking up to it when James let go of my hand to jog up to the driver’s side door. I had no qualms about him driving but he just opened the door as he waited for me to get to the car. I had a feeling I knew what he was doing so I just played along and got to the driver’s side.

“May I?” He asked as he offered his hand to me.

“Why thank you Sergeant.” I replied and I took his hand while he helped me into the car.

After I got in, he closed the door and jogged to the front passenger’s seat and got it.

I was about to drive off when he placed his metal hand over mine to stop me from putting the car into drive.

I looked at him and saw that he was staring straight at me.

“Thank you for letting me have that moment.” He said as he brought the hand that was on the hand break to his lips and kissed it.

“It was no problem. I just want to say though…” I replied as I grasped the hand that was holding mine.

He gave me his full attention as I finished what I said.

“Whatever happened with HYDRA is over. Yes, the memories will plague you but that does not mean they will always. You decided to change your life. That’s good. You are working towards making the most of the life you have been given. You were given a second chance. Don’t let the past keep you from your future. You may not anymore be the Bucky Barnes Captain Rogers knew and that’s alright. Don’t let his expectations of you keep you from trying to find out who you really are. I know he is still trying to find the Bucky he knew from 70 years ago in you. Don’t mind him. Just focus on you. Don’t be afraid to put your foot down. Don’t think for a second that I don’t know what is happening.” I said as I saw him chuckle.

“He’s my best friend and I’m with him till the end of the line.” He answered me chuckling but he shut up as soon as he saw my face. I was not happy.

“I don’t care. If he was really your best friend, he would put his own interests aside to help you come to terms with what happened. The past is past. There is no bringing it back. No offense James but Captain Rogers is still stuck in the past. He cannot come to terms with the idea. I can understand why he is like that. When he was defrosted, he was thrown into a loop as while World War 2 happened 70 years to us, it was only a week ago for him. He was just thrown into our time where all his friends had died, Grandma Peggy got married and had kids, and the Allies had won the war. But that does not still excuse him from not growing up. James, times have changed. You of all people should know that it has changed and it changed us; it changed you. So for now, focus on you. Focus on coming to terms with what happened. You have to accept yourself before you can even think of being a friend to the Captain.” I ended as I rubbed circles on his metal hand.

“Will you help me find myself?” He asked me.

“Well, you did break into my home and ordered me to help you at gunpoint….” I said jokingly. I saw him raise an eyebrow at me.

“Of course, I will help you. I’m a mechanic. I like fixing things.” I quickly said to him and smiling.

“I know you’re a mechanic and you know what?” He asked.

“What?” I turned to look at him.

“I am glad you’re MY mechanic.” He said as he leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks again for today.” He said as he sat back down.

“No problem. Anything for you.” I replied smiling as we drove back to the hotel.