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cali-holland · 4 years

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Kiss the Chef- Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Prompt: Harrison needs help with cooking & baking… will he turn to his ex for help or just fail miserably at making his mum a nice meal?

Word Count: 3400

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

Harrison let out a sigh, running a hand through his blond hair as he read over the recipe again on his laptop. Adjusting the glasses perched on his nose, he looked up and scanned the various ingredients on the kitchen counter. Why did he tell his mum he’d make her dinner for her birthday? Why did he commit to such a big thing? He couldn’t even cook without the added stress of his whole family eating it.

His sight shifted over from the dinner ingredients to the dessert ingredients. Yes, he had committed to also presenting his mother with a nice dessert because that’s what a good son does, right? It’s only now that he wishes he hadn’t just gone with the first appetizing thing he saw on the website; maybe it wasn’t a good idea to try to make a classic lemon tart, but could you blame him? Mary Berry’s website just made it look so good, he didn’t think it could be this hard.

He anxiously pulled out his phone, unlocking it and bringing up his contacts. His finger hovered over your contact, but he didn’t know if he had the strength to actually go through with it. He needed help, he needed your help. You used to cook and bake all the time together; he just wished he had paid more attention to the actual cooking and baking part, but he was far too focused on you.

“Haz, watch the stove!” You scolded him as you caught his blue eyes intently following your hands cutting up the peaches.

“My bad.” He laughed, turning back to the stove immediately. You wanted to try out a new recipe you had found online, which called for steak to be cooked on the stove for a few minutes each side. You thought it was a simple enough task to have him watch the meat- a.k.a. not burn the meat, but he was distracted. You stopped cutting the peaches that would be used for a Mary Berry certified peach cobbler later (which needed to be started now if you two wanted to eat it later) and stepped across the kitchen to inspect the steaks.

“They’re not bad.” Harrison said while he took the slightly charred steak out of the pan. You turned off the stove and pressed a kiss to your boyfriend’s cheek.

“It’s okay, it’s edible.” You paused, looking around the kitchen for the brussel sprouts you had put in the oven ages ago- the brussel sprouts he was supposed to take out. “Where are the vegetables?”

“I can’t cook anything.” He whined, hurrying to take them out of the oven.

“Haz!” You shouted, but it was too late- he’d grabbed the hot stoneware already. He dropped it, retracting his burned hand almost immediately. The brussel sprouts spilled out of the oven and all over the floor. You closed the oven door and took Harrison’s hand, bringing him over to sink to cool off the burn mark with cold water.

“This is a disaster.” Harrison groaned, looking at his red hand and then the vegetables littering your kitchen floor. “The brussel sprouts are gone.”

“I’m more concerned about your hand than the brussel sprouts.” You smiled softly at him, “I’m going to grab some burn cream, okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded, keeping his hand under the running water. You rushed off to find the ointment in the bathroom and came back to rub it gently over his hand. You kissed his hand lightly once you were done, careful not to hurt him. He smiled, “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you, too, Chef Osterfield.”

“You gonna kiss the chef?” He asked with a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes at him playfully, but you kissed your boyfriend happily anyway.

No, he couldn’t call you. He couldn’t call his ex-girlfriend after having not spoken to her for a month. He just had to suck it up and attempt these two recipes. They couldn’t be that hard. I mean, they’re just cooking and baking two dishes. He had plenty of time to attempt them, mess up, and then just call for takeout. He groaned, knowing he couldn’t disappoint his mum by getting her takeout for her birthday dinner, not when he promised her something special that he’d made.

Defeated, Harrison pressed the small call button beside your name. Holding his phone up to his ear, he tried to prepare himself for the two outcomes of this- you send him straight to voicemail or you’d pick up. Since his call didn’t immediately go to voicemail, he knew he wasn’t blocked at least, but he didn’t know if he was ready to hear your voice again.

“Hello,” You answered the phone. He wasn’t ready to hear your voice again. His heart raced and his hand began to shake. He didn’t realize how long it was taking him to respond until you spoke up again, “Harrison? Is everything alright?” “N-No.” He said. His mother’s birthday dinner was on the line and you weren’t there cooking with him, so, no, everything wasn’t alright.

“Harrison, what is it?” Your voice softened.

“I need your help.” He admitted, shaking his head. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t take the heartache on top of this stress. “No, I shouldn’t have called you. Sorry, just never mind.”

Before you could say anything else, he hung up the phone and set it aside. It was just him and these damn recipes that started to sound more and more foreign to him. Tightening the red apron around his waist, he read over the marinara recipe again. He didn’t know what a decent amount of the terms meant- sweat the onions, that couldn’t sound more unappetizing.

Just as he was googling what the hell “julienned onions” were, he heard a series of soft, yet rapid knocks on his door. Setting the onion and his phone down, he made his way over to the door. His heart stopped in his chest as he opened the door and you stood there before him.

“You sounded worried on the phone.” You said, your eyes filled with concern.

“I- um,” He froze, not knowing what to say. He’d just called his ex-girlfriend to help him make dinner and dessert for his family; it just didn’t seem like a justifiable reason to reach out to you, even if he wanted to desperately to have you in his life again.

“Are you cooking?” You asked, staring at the ‘Kiss the Chef’ apron he wore, the apron you had gotten for him back when you were dating.

“I told my mum I’d make her dinner for her birthday, and I just don’t know what a fucking julienned onion is.” He said. The frustration was clear in his voice, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“It’s thin strips.” You laughed lightly. “Let me in, I’ll help you.” Harrison wordlessly stepped aside, making room for you to go in. You took off your shoes and set your purse aside before following him into the kitchen.

“This is the only other apron I have.” Harrison held out a small stained apron to you, your matching apron to his, reading ‘I AM the chef’.

“Thanks.” You put on the apron and made yourself comfortable in his kitchen. He hadn’t changed a thing in the room, even though you had moved most of the things in his kitchen to suit your preferences because if he ever used his kitchen appliances, you were with him (and it made so much more sense to have oven mitts in the drawer right next to the stove, not in the bottom drawer hidden by the island). Your eyes scanned over the ingredients in front of you, “What are we making?”

“Marinara for dinner and tart for dessert.” He replied, and you nodded. You pushed the dinner ingredients out of the way and pulled the dessert ingredients closer to the two of you.

“Marinara doesn’t take too long, so we should do the tart first.” You said and he pulled up the dessert recipe from Mary Berry’s website. You laughed when you spotted the URL.

“I like her desserts.” Harrison insisted, not even trying to hide his smile from hearing your laugh again.

“I didn’t say anything.” You began to gather the pastry ingredients. You used to tease Harrison all the time for his love of Mary Berry’s recipes, though he could never do them properly. He tried to make a sponge cake once from her website without you, and it definitely didn’t turn out how he expected it to, but you were still delighted that he tried for you and it still tasted fine (once you got over the odd saltiness because he forgot he’d already added salt at the beginning). Whenever you two would bake together, it’d always be one of her recipes. He even got you one of her cookbooks that you still used. Your eyes scanned over the recipe, “So lemon tart?”

“Yeah, my mum loves lemons.” He stated.

“I know.” You answered softly, remembering how you’d helped him bake a lemon meringue pie with him for her birthday last year. Maybe that’s why his mum had hope for him this year, because he’d already impressed her with one amazing meal last year. “Can you get me the butter and an egg please?”

“Sure.” He replied, heading over to the fridge to get the ingredients. He placed the butter and the egg next to the mixing bowl as you started to measure out the flour and sugar. As you started to mix together the pastry ingredients, Harrison felt a sudden wave of sadness wash over him- a couple months ago, he would wrap his arms around you, pressing kisses to your neck as you would mix together the ingredients. He knew that old habit was long gone, but that didn’t mean he knew what to do with himself now.

“How’s work been?” He asked. He didn’t know what to do besides attempt to make small talk with you.

“Busy, but it’s not bad. And you?” You added the eggs and water while he got out a tart tin and a roller.

“Been good. Got home a couple weeks ago.” He answered, immediately hating his reply. You broke up because of his work, because he was away too much, and the breakup wasn’t even in person. You couldn’t wait for him to come home; it hurt you too much to just wait for him every day, so you ended things over the phone, and it hurt you to do it, too. You didn’t want your relationship to end, you loved Harrison and you still do, but it was too much for you to just keep wondering when the next time he’d come home- it all just felt too unreliable. And Harrison knew that, he knew you didn’t want to leave him, but he knew it killed you that he was gone, and hell, it hurt him too to be away from you. But it was his job, and he couldn’t help it.

“It’s nice that you’re doing this for your mum.” You said, rolling the pastry dough into a ball. You handed it to him, allowing him to roll it out just like he used to (he always had to roll out the dough so you could admire his arm muscles, which you were definitely doing now).

“It was a good idea, but you know how I am in a kitchen.” He laughed, making you smile.

“Chef Osterfield the kitchen klutz.” You teased. His bashful smile and the blush that spread across his cheeks at the old nickname didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“We both know who was the real chef in the relationship.” He joked, nodding down to your apron.

“The apron doesn’t lie.” You laughed. You looked down, watching him roll out the dough. You placed a hand on his to stop his movements, and Harrison’s heart soared at the feeling of just your gentle hand on his. “You’re rolling it a bit too thin.”

“Is it good then?” He tooks his hands away from the dough and you nodded.

“Yeah, it needs to chill now.” You said, delicately picking up the thin dough and placing it in the tin, setting up so the extra dough hung over the edges. You placed it in the fridge and turned back to face Harrison.

As the pastry dough rested in the fridge, you helped Harrison prepare the lemon filling for the tart. When the pastry finally made it into the oven for its initial blind bake, you started on the marinara.

“Am I julienning it right?” Harrison asked, once he had cut a couple slices of the onion.

“Thinner.” You placed your hand over his on the knife and you cut a thin slice of the onion off, a perfect julienned onion. Harrison sniffed and you looked over at him with a small laugh.

“Onions.” His eyes watered up.

“You’d know that they make you cry if you ever actually cut them.” You teased, taking over cutting the onion as he stepped back, blinking his eyes.

“You always did such a good job cutting them, though. I didn’t want to interfere with that.” His sarcastic voice was drowned out by his sniffles, trying to hold back the onion-induced tears.

“Can you tear the basil leaves?” You asked, and he nodded, focusing his attention on that while you continued your work. “And I have to say, I agree, I do cut onions better than you, but that’s just because you didn’t realize you had to peel an onion before cutting it.”

“Hey now,” He faked offense at your truthful comment, “I didn’t cook with actual onions until you came along. Why cry over real onions when you can use onion powder and shit?”

“You didn’t cook before I came along. I don’t even know how you survived without me.” You laughed.

“I didn’t.” Though his tone was playful just like yours, you both knew there was more truth behind his words than either of you would like to admit. He passed a small bowl of torn basil leaves over to you on the counter. “They’re done.”

“I think the pastry’s done, too.” You said, “Make sure you-”

“Use oven mitts.” He cut you off with a smile, already knowing you were concerned he’d burn himself again. With an oven mitt covering his hand, Harrison took out the pastry and held it out to you for approval. You nodded and so he set it to the side. You put some oil into the stockpot before adding the onions to sweat them.

“Here, watch this for a bit. I’ll put the filling in.” You instructed, stepping back from the marinara to focus back on the tart. Harrison did as you had said, stirring the onions occasionally until you had the filling in the tart and the tart back in the oven. You added the rest of the ingredients to the marinara mix, letting it steam for a while. Harrison made his way to the fridge as you sat down at the island bar.

“Do you want some wine? I think have- aha,” He smiled proudly, pulling out an unopened bottle of your favorite wine. He was happy to still have it, but you both knew that he had it from before you broke up.

“I’d love some.” You replied and he poured you a glass. He got himself a beer from the fridge and opened it; leaning against the counter casually, he faced you.

“Remember when you made me that raspberry tart?” Harrison asked, remembering fondly to that day, just a month before you had broken up.

“It shipped so poorly. I’m still mad.” You said before taking a sip of your wine.

“But it was still amazing. A raspberry tart with pistachio crust, it was the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“Maybe I’ll make it for you again sometime.” It was a small offer, but it held so much weight to it. Sometime meaning that there was potentially a next time and Harrison wasn’t sure if he wanted to fully hope for that. He’d alright let you walk out of his life once, he wasn’t sure he could handle it again, although he felt fairly certain that, after tonight, you’d leave again. He looked at his watch and his eyes went wide when he realized how late it was getting.

“I need to get cleaned up, my family will be here in half a hour. Do you mind watching the food?” He asked, and you smiled with a nod.

“Go on, you’re fine.” You reassured him, looking down at your phone to make sure your timers for the tart and the marinara were right. Harrison walked towards his bedroom, but turned at the last moment to look at you again. He sighed. He really missed you this past month, and you were right there in front of him now, so why couldn’t just say those three words he wanted to say? Thinking about it, he didn’t know which three words he wanted to say more: I miss you or I love you.

After a few minutes, you got to work on the pasta, timing it out to be ready at approximately the same time as the marinara sauce. As you finished taking the tart out of the oven, there was a knock at the door, and you knew it had to be his family. You froze, not knowing what to do. Harrison was still in his room getting ready, and his family was twenty minutes early. You were once close with the Osterfield clan, though you weren’t sure anymore. You’d date Harrison for nearly two years, but you were still the girl that broke his heart last month. Sighing, you knew it was best to let them in and play off the awkwardness as best you could, so you went to the door and opened it with a smile.

“Y/N?” His mom asked, surprised to see you.

“It’s me.” You smiled. You felt your heart soar as she pulled you in for a hug; though you and Harrison may not be together anymore, you still wanted his mother to like you.

“Let me guess, he didn’t make all this on his own then.” His sister joked and you nodded your head sheepishly. You all made your way back into the kitchen, where the smell of marinara filled the air.

“Yeah, he needed some help. I think he’s-“ You stopped yourself as Harrison stepped out of his room. His glasses were off and he had slipped into a comfy sweater, one that you would steal from him all too often. His damp curls were pushed back and away from his face, and they made your heart flutter inside. You wanted nothing more than to steal that sweater again and to run your fingers through his hair just one more time.

“Happy birthday, mum.” He smiled, pulling her in for an affectionate hug.

“Y/N was just telling us you needed help in the kitchen.” She teased.

“Why don’t you tell ‘em what’s on the menu, Chef Osterfield?” You playfully nudged him with your elbow, before you turned to take care of the pasta and marinara sauce.

“We have marinara pasta for dinner and lemon tart as the dessert. Mainly made by Y/N.” He added, his smile still bright as ever as he spoke to his family.

As his family got distracted with their own conversation, you started to feel out of place, knowing that you shouldn’t stay. You turned off the stove as the pasta and sauce finished and quietly turned to Harrison.

“I think I’m going to head out.” You said, catching the frown that crossed his face. You took off your apron and put it aside on the counter.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? The only reason we’re not having takeout is because of you.” Harrison spoke softly, not wanting his family to completely overhear the conversation, though he knew they were listening in as they talked.

“I shouldn’t stay.” You insisted. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before heading to the entryway to get your shoes and your bag.

“Harrison.” His mum said, drawing his attention away from you as you left. When he looked at his family, his mother shook her head at him, “Go after her.”

Without another word, he rushed out of the kitchen and out of his house. He caught your wrist just before you reached your car, turning you to face him. Before you could say anything, he kissed you passionately.

After a moment, he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours, smiling softly at you. “I miss your raspberry tart with pistachio crust.”

“Maybe I could be persuaded to make more.” You teased.

“I missed you, so much.”

“I missed you, too, Chef Osterfield.”

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield one shot #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield x y/n

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clansayeed · 4 years

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The Interview ― a Bound by Destiny drabble

⥼ Summary ⥽

Nervous, broke, and way under-qualified, Nadya applies for a last-resort secretary job at the illustrious Raines Corp. But a cup of coffee before her interview might just change her life.

note: This piece takes place before the events of the Oblivion Bound series. It takes the events of Bloodbound 1 CH 1 and tailors them specifically to Nadya, and is referenced a handful of times throughout Bound by Destiny.

Happy Birthday Oblivion Bound! On June 29th you turned 1 year old, and I couldn’t be more excited to have so much more of this story to tell. To everyone who has joined me along the way I hope you enjoy this little piece!

check out the fake screencaps for this piece!

word count: 4,902 rating: teen+ content warnings: none find out more: HERE

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

[READ IT ON AO3]

In all the articles she read (that morning, which probably wasn’t a good way to start out even the potential of this job) there was a universal agreement that being the last person interviewed was about as bad as being the first.

But none of those stupid articles told her what to do when she finds herself stuck smack-dab in the middle.

She keeps trying to push up her glasses. There’s a half-crescent probably permanently etched into the bridge of her nose by now. Great first impression to make, honestly.

The conference room door opens and everyone tries to play it cool, tries not to look at the face of the woman who exits. They don’t want to get their hopes up. They don’t want to think three hours of waiting is for nothing.

She leaves just like all the others. The next name is called just like all the others. Four seats to her left the young man stands and adjusts his tie. Runs his tongue over his pearly teeth — and closes the pristine wooden doors behind him.

What had Lily said? Something helpful, probably. Though she’s certain now it was probably mixed in with a whole lot of nonsense. Motivational quotes, stress-relief tips that worked on everyone but the chronically anxious. But, much like how she finds herself, there’s one sliver of usefulness among the chaos.

“Caffeine. If you get the jitters just tell them you’re excited to work there! If not… well you’ll have coffee and that’s a gift on its own.”

The last candidate was interviewed for twenty-three minutes. Before her; thirty-one minutes.

So she rationalizes there’s nothing wrong with leaving her clipboard on her seat and rushing to the lobby for a quick java boost. Hadn’t there been a coffee cart right off to the side…?

It’s only fitting that the last of her freehand cash is spent here. If by some miracle she actually gets the job it’ll be something funny to reminisce on after she gets through the first year.

If she gets through the first year.

The middle of the afternoon has come and gone, now. She looks out through the glass walls of the front atrium to see the sky fading into the ombre of evening light. At this rate the interviewer won’t get to her in time, and she’s pretty darn sure this isn’t the type of place to waste a call back on something as trivial as a secretarial position.

It’s New York. Secretaries are a dime a dozen. That much is obvious.

Now comes the hard part — waiting. Trying not to tap her foot on the expensive marble floors and trying not to look back so much she messes up her hair and trying not to chew her lip so hard she walks into her interview with blood on her teeth.

“Are you alright?”

The first words said to her since she arrived; well… apart from “Complete the forms given before your interview. You will be called in by order of arrival” hammered out by the terse blonde interviewer. The first words and they’re kind and she’s definitely thrown more than a little off-kilter by the whole thing.

And coming from the custom-fit Suit she just happened to stand near, too? Well now she’s wary of flying pigs on the evening weather forecast.

It’s hard not to look at him from the ground up; to take in all of him with the money that seeps from his collar and cuffs and the way his tie pin catches the lights overhead. From the way he carries himself the Suit knows all this; he’s accustomed to it.

Only… her appreciation halts at his eyes. Dark brows just shy of knitted together and a shine in his eyes that has nothing to do with fluorescent bulbs and everything to do with… with…

It’s an impossible sensation. One she’s never felt before. Not just hard to describe but literally — she can’t. There aren’t words for a look like that. Open and honest and genuine and…

“Soy latte for Nadya.”

Is she staring? She feels like she’s staring.

The Suit laughs. It’s the shift in his expression that does it — puts her squarely back inside her own head where everything is all a hectic jumble of professional words and an itemized list of accomplishments. Yup, she was staring. If she gets this job she’ll have to rely solely on home-brewed coffee so as to never meet this man again.

“Are you Nadya?”

The burning in her cheeks is in direct contrast to her chosen blush. But Nadya has a feeling he’s the least likely person to notice that, here. The coffee cart barista on the other hand…

It’s hard to stop her hand from trembling as Nadya reaches out for her coffee. Hopefully not enough to notice, certainly not enough to spill anything, but nope nope nope about mission — the Suit noticed. The Suit noticed!

“I’m sorry,” her apology; a compulsion, “I—that was super rude of me. Oh my god, I… probably look like such a weirdo.”

“A bit,” he muses in reply. But he doesn’t seem all too bothered by it? It has the gears in her head turning backwards trying to understand.

“At the risk of sounding vain —”

“—said every vain person ever?”

“Too true; but I digress. You have nothing to be sorry for — it’s not the first time something like that has happened.” He’s on the nose there — between the polished cufflinks and his smile just the same the guy definitely sounds vain.

The first sip of her latte is always the same — tentative, just a quick taste to make sure her stomach isn’t gonna regret it later — but Mr. Vanity doesn’t look away which is a little unnerving to say the least.

“Just nerves then, I assume?”

“Wait — I’m sorry?”

If Nadya had to wonder where any sense of ‘cool and calm’ she might have had went she’s found it here, all soaked up in (probably) Italian loafers. “Just a second ago,” his hands slide into his pockets, “you looked… well I thought you were about to faint.”

Oh. “Right—yeah—nerves,” and he didn’t ask but she rambles when she’s like this so really it’s his fault for starting a conversation, “I’m actually here for a job interview. My first big gig since moving to the city, you know?”

The man nods appraisingly. “I remember the feeling well. But this office is the same as any other on Wall Street, I assure you.”

Yeah, that’s Nadya’s problem.

“I’ve never worked in a place like this. Ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever ever.”

“Ah,” when he nods not even a hair comes out of place, “‘Ever ever,’ that’s a pretty big deal.”

“The roof over my head literally depends on it, so…” And normally Nadya would take one look at a guy like this and say without a shadow of a doubt that he’s probably never had to worry about that sort of thing. But there’s something about him — something different than the earlier strangeness, but something nonetheless — that tells her he might just take her by surprise.

She really should be getting back to her seat.

But even with every relaxation technique in her arsenal this—right here—this is the best she’s felt about herself all day. So there’s no harm in staying an extra minute or two, right?

The man laughs unprompted and Nadya casts him a curious look. He seems almost bashful about it.

“You just reminded me of my first job, is all.”

“Let me guess — right in this very office but, hm… intern? No, you look more like the humble mail room type.”

His look turns appraising. “Do I really?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“If you have to ask that then perhaps not.” Yet their teasing is as well-meaning as it is spontaneous; enough for him to actually continue, “Actually my first job — well, first paying job that is — was a cobbler. You know, for shoes.”

Oh, Nadya knows. Yeah, in fact she has a funny story pretty similar having to do with a frazzled third-grade substitute teacher and a Bunsen burner. Since it had been, after all, a unit on Colonial America.

But that’s a level of sass they probably haven’t risen to just yet. She just nods instead.

“It was a small business, well—it was a small town. My father knew the owner and one thing led to another. I was pretty nervous on my first day too.”

He’s just trying to help, Nadya reminds herself. However strange and probably untrue his story may be, there’s no denying his sincerity. Just a successful man talking to a not-even-secretary trying to show a little empathy. Frankly Nadya isn’t sure she wouldn’t be doing the same thing were the roles reversed.

That’s just what kind people did for others. The world would be a better place if everyone was like that.

The cart barista doesn’t even get the chance to put down the drink fully when he’s reaching for it. Some people just need their java — Nadya can totally relate. But she swears the Suit winks at the girl. Though it could definitely just be a trick of the light.

Nadya’s all prepared for the “this was nice but we’ll never cross paths again” sort of goodbye when he returns.

Instead he throws her for a loop and places his cup at one of the two little silver tables that serve as the cart’s cafe. He pulls out a chair with a smile her way — is that supposed to be meant for her?

He catches onto her surprise quickly. “I hope you don’t think me too forward. I was just enjoying our chat and thought… why leave it there?”

Uhm, because you’re a man with a salary high enough to look the way you do? “Oh — I mean its… that’s really sweet of you but I should be…” she throws a look in the direction of the conference room, “getting back. Being late for the interview doesn’t seem like the best impression to make.”

The man laughs; some joke Nadya isn’t privy to. “If that’s all you’re worried about — don’t be. She actually gets a kick out of drilling people in there.”

Her resolve crumples at his hopeful smile. “And I’ll vouch for you.” Oh look she’s already sitting down.

“Well if we’re actually doing this, how about a name?” She tries to look at his cup but can’t quite catch it. If she didn’t know any better Nadya would say he actually turned it away while taking a sip.

“My name is Adrian. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nadya.”

“Same to you, Adrian.”

Nadya discovers very quickly that this isn’t just about enjoying a chat. Judging by the looks they get — though Nadya could easily be chopped liver — and the curt nods here and there, it’s obvious Adrian is pretty important. He’s just using her to play hooky.

Which only earns him points in her book.

So does the way he props his elbow on the tabletop to rest his chin on an open palm. “So I have to ask you, Nadya, if I may of course.”

“Ask away.”

“If you’ve never ever worked in a corporate setting before — why now? This isn’t the kind of job one finds in the Classifieds.”

A fair question. She laughs softly. “Is it bad if I say I don’t really know? Oh god, it probably is.”

“I wouldn’t say bad, but the hiring interviewer will probably ask something along the same lines.”

“You’ve… got a good point there. Okay,” she makes a little show of sitting up straighter and pushing her glasses all the way up until she knows there’s little red dots between her eyes; Adrian’s smile is totally worth it.

“So the salary’s good but I’m sure you know a little bit about that.”

He chuckles. “A little bit, yes.”

“And threat-of-eviction aside; I caught the listing on one of those random alumni emails from my college. You know — the ones where they make it out like they’re trying to help you succeed but they’re really used to find grads with the biggest paychecks to hound them for donations.

“It definitely wasn’t my first choice. I don’t think I have to tell you that I’m pretty out of my element.” She pauses when Adrian’s brow creases just the smallest bit.

“What would you say is your element then?”

“That’s just it. I’ve got absolutely no clue. I figured I could do the basic job okay — I actually enjoy putting schedules and things together and the rest — all the business-y parts — I hoped I could just kinda pick up along the way. Do I think this is going to be my calling? No idea, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put all my effort into the work.

“But you can’t find something without trying, you know? I trust my gut and… figure I’ll know what I’m looking for when I see it.”

Because Nadya had done herself the disservice of not trusting her gut when she first moved out here. Get a part-time job or two to pay the bills and loans, she figured, and just keep looking for that perfect one.

Yeah. That had gone over well.

Interview after interview — all with the same depressing result: the cheery false-apology letter and some variation of “we thank you for your interest but we will be continuing to pursue other candidates.”

Adrian is polite and attentive the whole time, too. Even when she gets to the unnecessary descriptions of Lily’s cheer-up dinners. Nadya knows she has a tendency to ramble when she’s nervous — but every time she apologizes he smiles and shakes his head; tells her “no apologies necessary, please go on,” and sometimes follows up with a thoughtful question or consideration that could only come from someone actually genuinely taking part in the conversation.

He’s kind. She’s surprised to find that in a place like this but he is. And before long Nadya finds herself wondering why she was ever nervous at all. Too bad he isn’t the one interviewing, she thinks, I might actually have a chance.

“That’s…” Adrian leans back in his seat with a forced exhale, “that’s quite a story.”

She knows where this always goes. “I knew it; way too much sharing. I was hoping to try and put a positive spin on it — for the position, I mean. Answering phones, scheduling meetings, that kind of stuff. I’m sor—”

“Nadya, please don’t apologize again. You don’t need to.” Then he reaches over and has a hand over hers and he’s cold, like weirdly as cold as the atrium itself, or maybe she’s just too darn flush from embarrassing herself. “Never apologize for the things that make you you. And give yourself a bit of credit, while you’re at it. I’ve lived and worked here for a long time and I’ve seen a lot of people settle for less. Even people like yourself.”

“English majors who have no business in Business?”

“People who don’t quite know what they want out of life. You’re young, Nadya —” which is rich coming from him, he can’t be more than thirty, “— you don’t have to have it all planned out right this second. You’ll miss out on too much if you try.”

Adrian’s words leave her speechless. She makes a mental note to let him know just how rare that is later on. Not just because he could be an awesome life coach but because there’s no doubt in Nadya’s mind that he means every single word.

No, Adrian can’t be more than thirty. But when she fixes her glasses and looks him in the eyes he looks like he’s a hundred years old. Wistful and wanting and wise all at the same time. Nadya’s left feeling so small and so very very young when he takes his hand back.

Nadya tries to recover her composure behind the last bit of her latte but is left wanting; nothing but soy gone cold and somehow tasting of the bottom of the paper cup. He watches her thoughtfully all the while; even when she gestures to his empty cup and gets a nod in thanks when she drops them both in the nearest recycling bin.

She hasn’t even sat back down when Adrian abruptly asks; “May I see your resume?” And there’s no reason why not so she reaches down—

And remembers with absolute horror that her resume is on the clipboard. at her seat. in her spot in line. back where the interviews are.

“Son of a biscuit.” Well, there’s no use in rushing over there now. Even the cart barista has left for the evening long since arrived. Nadya looks around and takes in the practically empty lobby with a sinking pit in her stomach and a new story of failures to add to her list.

Somehow “I didn’t get the job because a really nice, sweet, very-much-employed guy made me miss my interview” probably isn’t going to go over well with the landlord.

But she isn’t the only victim — if it’s any consolation. It isn’t. Adrian looks around with a “huh,” of pleasant surprise and checks his watch. “Well Kamilah’s going to kill me,” because to him this is something worth joking about, apparently, “but what else is new.”

“I should go.” I need to go. But she just slumps a little deeper into her seat.

He looks at her sympathetic; good, he should feel bad, she wants to say but he doesn’t deserve that kind of spite. She shouldn’t have left the line.

“Could I ask just one more question before you go?”

Nadya can’t help but want to start asking her own questions. Ones like why is he asking all these questions, why does he care, does this mean she can still ask him to vouch for her; all that jazz. She doesn’t though.

“Why did you move to New York?”

From the look on his face Adrian can tell he’s caught her off guard. “I just mean — like I said, Nadya, I’ve lived here for a long time. Met all sorts of different people with all sorts of different lives and histories and reasons of their own. Sometimes I think I’ve heard just about every reason you can imagine.” But even though he tries to laugh it off he definitely meant it, and he’s definitely interested in the answer.

“And…” she splutters a bewildered laugh, “and what, you think I’ll have a new one?”

He shrugs. “Maybe not new, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be interesting.”

“It’s not some heart-wrenching story —”

“That’s okay.”

But he’s serious. It takes Nadya a minute to fully believe him but he is, and she does. Hope you didn’t get your hopes up too much.

“I was really scared when I graduated from college. School was… my whole life up until right then. And now people were expecting all these things from me and… and I’d never done any of them before. Suddenly I was facing the rest of my life and I was starting it terrified. But I still had to do it; scared or not.

“So I figured it wasn’t a bad idea to try and get all the things I was scared of out of the way then. It seems stupid now…”

“Not at all.” Nadya looks up when she realizes she’s been focused on her hands in her lap and Adrian’s looking at her like he’s breathless. It’s weird, not gonna lie a little bit of a confidence booster, but also… well, scary. In its own way.

“And I’ve got this really bad habit of being stubborn, even to myself, so I just… said go big or go home. No place I can think of bigger and scarier than New York.”

For a second she thinks he’s laughing at her for being such a terrible cliche. But… he’s not. It’s just a laugh. What else do you do when you’re happy?

“Are you still scared here?”

“Every day,” but Nadya shrugs it off; just like she has for months now, “and one day I won’t be. Dunno when, or how, but I won’t be. So I should probably stick it out until then.”

“I’d like to see that day.” You and me both.

But if he’s gonna sit there and be all charming and intellectual and weirdly invested in her personal life journey then she can too. “What about you,” Nadya asks with just a teensy bit of cheek; which has Adrian laughing again but now she’s into the joke so let her roll with it, “wait — lemme guess — all the cobbler jobs were taken so you figured a fancy tech corporation was the next best thing?”

“Actually,” somehow his one question has turned into… well into this but he’s nice and this building is nice and why not, Nadya? “That’s an interesting story. My father took me to the city when I was old enough to help with my share of the work, you see, and —”

“Adrian! Where the hell have you been all afternoon?”

Every clack of her heels is like an ice pick to the tiles — Nadya’s glad she’s not the only one who flinches at the sound. Or maybe it’s the shrillness of the voice the shoes must belong to. She knows that voice, actually—

Because her life is a living nightmare Nadya looks over Adrian’s shoulder to see the woman from the hiring interviews marching towards the pair of them; face flushed and a stack of clipboards in hand and oh god how awful would it be to ask to steal her resume back because printing them out at the library is such a chore?

Nadya shrinks in her seat and prays not to be recognized — but Adrian seems used to such outbursts. He throws Nadya a reassuring smile (which totally works, not that Scary Interviewer would give her a chance to thank him) before turning in his seat to greet her face to face.

“Nice to see you too, Nicole.”

Nicole gives a long-suffering sigh and ignores Nadya’s presence entirely. She’s totally cool with that. “That doesn’t answer my question. I finished with interviews over an hour ago — and what did I return to?”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Three missed calls from Ahmanet, no signature on the Volenti files, and you still haven’t decided on which of the Red Site projects you want to endorse at next year’s conference. Which you should have decided a week ago.”

Adrian has the patience of a saint. Which comes as no surprise since he did just listen to Nadya’s ramblings for more than an hour for sure. He lets the woman get everything out of her system without even so much as a tick of the brow.

And has the dumb idea of gesturing to Nadya as a reply. “Nicole, have you met Nadya?”

She double-takes with the same concern she might give a leaf on the wind. “Miss Sayeed wants to move the meeting to her offices for the inconvenience.”

“Nadya was one of the applicants from earlier today.”

Okay — that works. Not that Nicole looks at her, now fully even in disdain, with anything remotely close to respect. She sweeps her eyes over Nadya; held frozen by the spite in her steely stare.

“I remember you. The Walk Out.”

Is it hot in here or is she losing her nerve? “Well — actually I —”

Nicole cuts her off. “You walked out, did you not?”

“I went to grab a coffee.”

“Oh, well that changes things.”

“Wait—really?” Dumb move.

“Of course it doesn’t.”

Adrian clears his throat politely for their attention. “Nicole — I’m sorry for setting your schedule back.” She nods, though it doesn’t seem much like she’s accepted the apology. “I’ll worry about Kamilah, and the other things won’t take me more than an hour. I do have one favor to ask.”

It occurs to Nadya then that Nicole, who very much wants to say no—that’s obvious, can’t. Which is just weird since she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who does favors for anyone.

“Yes, Mister Raines?”

Forget tomato red. All of the color drains out of Nadya’s face at once. And the reassuring smile Adrian tries to offer doesn’t do a darn thing.

Mister Who-Now?

“If you could go ahead and cancel tomorrow’s interviews I’d appreciate it. Tell them that particular position has been filled but they’re free to reapply for something similar under one of the division heads, maybe?”

“Why in the world would I —” If looks could kill Nicole would most certainly have sent her six feet under. “No.” Though this time Nadya has to agree. Probably the only thing they would agree on ever in the history of all time.

“No way.”

But Adrian just beams. “I just came down here to stretch my legs and grab a coffee. I had planned on sticking my head in for one or two of your interviews, Nicole, but —”

“We agreed it was best I handle filling the position, sir.” She grinds the word out but, to her credit, Nicole’s face is never less than cool and collected. “You haven’t seen her resume, you have no idea if she’s even qualified.”

“You’re half right,” he replies, “but I’m sure if she didn’t have some idea of what the secretary position requires she wouldn’t have even made it to the interviews, right? The rest of it, all that ‘business-y stuff’ I’m sure she can pick up along the way.”

Oh that’s not cool. Not cool at all. Playing Undercover Boss and then using her own words against her? Wait — why isn’t it cool? Why isn’t she jumping for joy and already trying to convince Lily not to spend money they don’t yet have on pizza?

Maybe because it feels a little underhanded? By some random luck she ends up talking with Adrian Raines, CEO of Raines Corp over coffee and suddenly she gets the job over a bunch of way more qualified people?

But this is what she wanted. It’s the job. So why…

Oh.

Nadya’s here for the interview but she knows there are people who want this job and have the experience to boot. Nadya’s trying to refuse the job she needs because that would mean something went right, and things going right never ends well.

She’s scared.

The loudness of Nicole’s departure startles Nadya out of her self-realization. She glances up and Adrian is still sitting there, albeit a little more humble than he looked just a moment ago. He has the decency to seem apologetic.

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself fully.”

“Why didn’t you?” Now it’s Nadya’s turn for questions.

Adrian shrugs. “These days Nicole is the only person who’s ever really honest with me here. Imagine her trying to hold back her opinion on something.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly. But everyone else, even my own employees, they aren’t. Not entirely. I’ll admit, Nadya, when you didn’t know who I was, I saw a chance to allow myself a little sincerity. To be genuine with someone.”

Joke’s on you, she thinks wryly, I would have been this much of a mess anyway.

Still; it doesn’t sit right with her. “But don’t you realize that because you did that you weren’t sincere with me?” And how could she work for someone who wasn’t honest with her? Who didn’t allow her that basic decency?

“I do now. And I understand if that keeps you from accepting the job. I didn’t sit down with you to interview you in secret, though, please know that.” And because he knows her question before she even opens her mouth; “You were on your own, nervous, and I wanted to help — if I could. I was telling the truth when I said you reminded me of myself.

“I say that because I think, if you were in my position, maybe you would have done the same thing.”

I wouldn’t have lied, though it’s a bitter thought — and was lying by omission technically lying? Especially if it’s for everyone’s greater good?

Man her head hurts.

“Nadya…?”

She inhales with all of her might and nods. “One more question.” Which makes him smile — he appreciates the symmetry of it.

“Go ahead.”

“What made you decide to offer the job to me?”

There’s a little bit of pride in Nadya when he doesn’t have an answer right away. Adrian takes his time and really seems to mull it over — or if he’s doing it for show he’s extremely convincing.

“I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it.”

Nadya can’t not roll her eyes. She can’t not smile though, either.

Finally Adrian stands and nods towards the sleek elevators at the far end of the lobby. “Should we go ahead and get the paperwork started? I can show you your desk, we’ll set up your number in the system — all quick things, really.”

It’s awfully assumptive of him, but she is standing and grabbing her purse so… is it?

“Bold of you to assume I’ve accepted the job, Mister Raines.”

“Please, call me Adrian.”

#bloodbound fanfiction #bloodbound #adrian raines #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: drabble #; my fics

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stusbunker · 4 years

Note

WW - S06 E04 Weekend At Bobby's 😘

(Weird Wednesdays are brought to by bastardizing the wiki)

One year ago and shortly after trapping Lucifer and Michael in Lucifer's Cage, Bobby summons Crowley and demands the return of his soul. Crowley refuses and smugly quotes his contract, which states that he only has to "make best efforts" to give Bobby his soul back. He agrees to give Bobby ten years of life, but that is all. Bobby then reveals he has trapped Crowley in a devil's trap made with black light paint, but Crowley threatens him with his hellhound until Bobby releases him.

Bobby’s junkyard dog, Rumsfeld, who everyone forgot about, perks up at the sound of a new friend and Crowley relents and summons Juliet for a playdate. The dogs run the perimeter of the salvage yard and the owner’s discuss training and stories of when they were pups. Bobby brings out some glasses and Crowley falls for the holy water in his scotch. Eventually, they laugh it off.

In the present day, Sam and Dean are in Wisconsin (namely Kenosha, where my husband was born) on the trail of a monster that cracks open the bodies of its victims. It leaves a large black claw in the chest cavity of the latest victim, and they call Bobby for help. Even though Bobby says that he's busy. And Sam always has wifi. Bobby steps up and spends hours researching, going so far as to break into a University library to find a book that he needs. I mean, they’re his kids, who else would he go to jail for?

And we wonder why he was the one with all the drunk and disorderlies...

It's early morning the next day when he calls Dean to tell him that they're hunting a lamia. Usually only in Greece, a lamia "juices hearts and chugs the blood." Which Sam quickly jots down, because that could be the next step in his smoothie fixation. Bobby tells them it can be killed by a silver knife blessed by a priest. What kind of priest? Who knows, who cares. Probably an acolyte of Apollo or some shit. But, they can do their own research now, moochers.

After he's off the phone, Bobby goes down to his basement, where he has a crossroads demon tied up and caught in a devil's trap. He wants to know Crowley's true name - the name he had as a human before he died and became a demon in Hell - so he tortures the demon by using a blowtorch to singe its bones. Finally, she admits that Crowley, who is now the King of Hell, was a Scottish man named Fergus MacLeod in life. The other demons call him "Lucky the Leprechaun" behind his back.

Which just goes to prove that demons are stupid and unofficially most Scots and Irish end up in heaven, because there is no way it was that funny of a joke.

Once Bobby has the information he needs, he burns the demon's bones, killing it and its host. And no one is really surprised, we are only allowed to worry about vessels when it’s a recurring character.

After killing the demon, Bobby answers phones and backs up other hunters posing as various law enforcement officials until Rufus knocks on his door. Rufus has the police on his tail and needs Bobby's help burying the body of a Snorlax, a monster usually only seen in Japan. They bury the body on Bobby's property and Rufus leaves just before Sheriff Jody Mills shows up with an FBI agent, Agent Adams. Agent Adams is looking for Rufus.

And as exhausting as this episode is, it just shows what Bobby Singer’s life really is like. It wasn’t a single week of annoyance, it was always like that. He’s a goddamn saint in a cantankerous facade. Bobby is a fucking hero.

Dean calls while the FBI agent is there and asks for help killing the lamia because they couldn't kill it with a silver knife blessed by a priest. Bobby tells him to find salt and rosemary and "blend the herbs, saute over a high heat, and cook well," and hangs up when Dean finishes his audition for Cutthroat Kitchen and flambes the lamia. Agent Adams is persistent, and Sheriff Jody Mills tries to distract him, but Adams finds the spot where the Snorlax was buried. Fortunately, there is no longer any evidence of a crime because the damn thing is gone. Unfortunately, Rufus didn't stab it enough times to kill it, and it has been feeding on single white gamers while they sleep.

Rufus and Bobby deserved a fucking spin off for this episode alone. Jesus these two were perfect.

While Bobby was interrogating the crossroads demon, Marcy Ward rang his doorbell with a homemade peach cobbler. She has been his neighbor for six months now, and seems to be interested in him romantically, asking him over for dinner and a movie and then, when he seemed hesitant, asking him to come over and take a look at her wood chipper, which has broken down. When he learns that the Snorlax might be after her, he breaks down her door with a shotgun, scaring her, but drawing out the Snorlax, which had been waiting in her bedroom to kill her. Her playstation still paused to the final boss.

When the Snorlax is killed in Marcy's (obviously functioning) wood chipper, she is covered in blood. Bobby still tries to salvage a relationship with her, but she turns him down. He never was as cavalier as he wanted to be and victims are rarely as grateful as they are in fanfic.

Rufus thanks Bobby for helping him with the pokemon, and tells him what his contacts in Scotland have learned about Fergus MacLeod, aka Crowley. Crowley had a son named Gavin MacLeod, whose signet ring is now on display in a maritime museum in Andover, Massachusetts. Rufus is already there willing to steal the ring for Bobby. Because, that’s what friends do. And no matter how annoying or argumentative they are, both of those ornery bastards listen when the other is talking or dealing with their own problems.

Dean calls to talk about Sam and how he's changed in the past year, Dean can’t stand his new manscaping regimen especially, but when Bobby puts Dean on hold to talk to Rufus (who is fleeing law enforcement after stealing the ring), Dean accuses him of being selfish.

I have seen people go off on Bobby for this rant and I just want you all to know, FUCK OFF. Bobby had every right to say what he did in this episode. We all knew Sam was “WRONG”, Dean should have picked a different way to unload on Bobby about it.

Bobby asks for Sam and he yells at the brothers over speakerphone, calling them "whiny, self-absorbed, sons-of-bitches" that he does everything for without a word of thanks. He reminds them Crowley still has his soul and tells them to "sack up" and help him for once. Sam says all Bobby had to do was ask. While Dean pouts in the corner because he didn’t want to talk TO SAM about SAM. He wanted to gossip.

As a favor to Bobby, Sheriff Mills extradites Rufus and allows him to "escape custody" so that Rufus can deliver the signet ring to Bobby. You just gonna gloss over how he got it to South Dakota safely? Really? That level of dedication is just overlooked these days.

Bobby uses the ring to summon Gavin's ghost, and they "have a chat." He then summons Crowley, who arrives and discovers he is trapped in another devil's trap. Which, why isn’t he always at this point? Summon him constantly gents, it’s like a round of musical Crowley. No? Too much? Eh, what do you know.

Crowley repeats his position that he won't give Bobby his soul, but Bobby counters by revealing his son Gavin's ghost. Fergus, aka Crowley, and Gavin hated each other so Gavin is useless as a bargaining chip, but he gave Bobby all the information he wanted about Crowley, including where his bowling shoes were buried. Which I don’t think Gavin would have known, but that’s just more confusing shit for a later episode where we time travel to find the real Gavin and not just a bitter old spirit.

Bobby hands Crowley the phone so that he can talk to Dean, who tells him that he and Sam are standing over Crowley's comical size sevens in Scotland. Bobby makes Crowley an offer: his beloved shoes in exchange for Bobby's soul, and Crowley agrees. Bobby makes sure that he will still have the use of his legs before releasing him from the devil's trap, with a pat on the ass for good measure.

Crowley appears in Scotland moments later, where Sam and Dean are still standing over his supposed grave. Dean threatens to burn the lucky bowling shoes anyway, but Sam tells him to stand down, saying "a deal's a deal." Crowley picks up his personalized bag and disappears, and Bobby thanks Sam and Dean for flying to Scotland and helping him get his soul back.

Dean was on a plane for 8 hours? Sam must have given him that good shit, because aint no other way that was happening....

#weird wednesday #spn crack #Stu's Weekly Shenanigans #weekend at bobby's #s6

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let-me-love-you-loki · 5 years

Text

Lips of an Angel-Part 1

A/N: OC is in a polyamorous relationship with Seth, Dean, and Roman. When college life gives her a bad day, can her boys help make her feel a little better?

[Part 1]

[Part 2]

[Part 3]

[Part 4]

[Part 5]

I tugged the hood of my sweatshirt up over my hair and sighed, wishing that I’d stayed in bed in my dorm. My head throbbed with an ache just behind my eyes, one that I knew would eventually end up as a full-blown migraine. If only the professor would show up, we could get on with this shitty day and I could finally go home.

I sighed, my eyes sweeping the people filing in to the eight o’clock class. There was Naomi and her boyfriend Jimmy. Carmella and her best friend Ron, but who everyone called Truth for some reason. I lost track for a moment as an exceptionally painful throb shot through my eyes. By the time I was able to focus, the last few people were trickling in. Sweeping in just before the bell were the last three people that anyone would ever expect to be friends.

Roman, the captain of the football team, Seth, the slightly nerdy emo kid who always had a coffee in one hand and an mp3 player in the other, and Dean, the sort of messed up guy who everyone was pretty sure got drunk before school and had probably been to jail at least once. No one could figure out why the three of them were friends, but it was impossible to find one without the other two.

And that was just how they liked it.

Seth slipped into the seat across the aisle and sat the coffee in front of me. “Morning, sweets,” he said with a smile.

I gave him a grateful grimace and wrapped my fingers around the cup, letting the warmth seep into my body. Now if only…

Dean plopped into place in front of me, digging into the pocket of his leather jacket. A moment later, he dropped a travel pack of Aleve on the desk. His blue eyes twinkled, dimples popping as he grinned. “Morning, princess.”

My reply was a weak nod as I tore into the packet, popping the two tablets into my mouth and swallowing them down with a gulp of coffee.

Roman was a few rows away, talking with Jimmy, who was his cousin, and Baron Corbin, who was on the football team. After a minute, he hopped a desk and barely wedged himself into the seat behind me. His thick but nimble fingers dug into my shoulders, thumbs pressing firmly on the back of my neck. “Morning, baby girl.”

I let out a little grunt of approval as some of the pain from the migraine slipped away. Between the coffee, the meds, and the perfect pressure of fingers on my neck, I might just make it out of my eight o’clock alive.

“Morning, boys,” I mumbled just as our professor stepped up to the front of the room. There was a stack of papers in his hand.

He waved them at us, something like a sick grin on his face. “Let’s start today off with a little pop quiz, shall we?”

Half the class groaned in frustration. The other half sighed in resignation. Dr. Abbey’s pop quizzes were nearly as hard as his tests.

Dean passed papers over his shoulder, grinning at me in his mischievous way. “Good thing we were up half the night studying.”

Seth chuckled. “If that’s what you call studying.”

The letters swam in front of my eyes. The caffeine was doing its best to wake me, but I knew it would be a while before the Aleve fully kicked in. And since Roman had his hands full taking the pop quiz, the soothing neck rub was long gone.

If only I’d stayed in bed.

***

By lunch break, I was starting to pick up speed. Eight o’clock classes were always hell—and history first thing in the morning was never fun. The nine o’clock wasn’t that bad, especially since Ms. Young, the grad student who taught English, liked to read poetry and novels out loud in class. She had a soothing voice. I’d almost fallen asleep with my head on Roman’s shoulder. Seth and Dean had a gap until eleven, so they tended to go do weight training in the gym, so I ended up at the same table wedged between the head of their trio and Baron. With the two of them, there was never a worry about getting cold in class that was for sure.

My eleven o’clock was statistics. Forty-five minutes of going over p-values and normal curves was more than enough for me, thank you very much. If I could have dropped the class, God knows I would have.

My headache had faded into a persistent throb at the base of my skull by the time I dropped my backpack on the floor and dropped onto a chair next to Dean in the cafeteria. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder, tugged me close and held up a ketchup-drenched French Fry. Seth was across the table from me, his hair tucked up under a beanie. I could smell the fresh cologne from his shower after the gym. The more I thought about it, I could smell it from Dean, too.

Roman dropped a tray in front of me, piled high with a chicken cobb salad, mixed vegetables, and peach cobbler. His own tray had double mine. With a charming smile, he pulled a bottled soda from the deep pocket of his jeans and sat it in the center of the table. “How was stats?” he asked, already starting to shovel food into his mouth.

“Horrible. Bullshit,” I said, using my fork to pick at the vegetables.

The three of them shared a look. Seth looked down at his watch before giving Dean a solid nod. “Eat up, princess,” Dean said, one hand on the small of my back. “You’re gonna need it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. A three-hour bio lecture because I’m stupid and decided to take a science only once a week.”

“Nah,” Seth said playfully. “We’re heading out after we eat. And you’re coming with.”

My eyes landed on Roman. “Your coach isn’t going to be happy about that.”

He shrugged. “Baron’s got me covered. Besides, I told Coach this morning I wasn’t feeling so great.”

I put my fork down, glanced between the three of them, felt a sizzle run through my veins. When the three of them started making plans, it wasn’t ever a good thing. Particularly if they were being secretive about it.

“Where you going?” I asked, finishing up the vegetables and moving on to the salad.

“Home first,” Roman murmured, a smirk curling his mouth. “Afterward… well, we’ll see what we get up to.”

Dean’s hand rubbed soothing circles on my back, thumb stroking the base of my spine. He leaned over and settled a kiss on the side of my head. Seth bumped the toe of his sneakers against my foot under the table. Roman looked at me from beneath his obnoxiously long lashes, a smile spreading over his face.

“Come on, sweets,” Seth said as he pushed away from the table. He reached down, snatching up my bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “You can ride shotgun. Roman drove this morning.”

***

The three of them shared an apartment a few miles from campus. I slid out of the passenger seat and hopped down from the runner. Seth and Dean popped out of the bed of the truck and took off up the steps to the door, taking them two at a time. Roman locked the truck and tucked an arm around my shoulders. He tugged me close.

“How’s your head feeling, baby girl?”

I smiled, pressing closer to his warm bulk. “Better after the Aleve and that lunch you bought me.”

Roman’s thumb brushed along my collarbone, sending soothing little tingles through my entire body. “Good. We have to take care of our girl.”

By the time we walked through the front door, Seth was coming out of his room after having changed into some loose sweatpants and a faded band shirt. Dean was leaning against the kitchen counter, a Heineken in his hand, leather jacket thrown over the back of the nearest chair. My bag had been propped up by the sofa, looking as if it had been placed there with care.

“You look like you need a nap, princess,” Dean said. “Ain’t made my bed yet. Go get some rest.”

I crossed the room, smiling as I wrapped my arms around Dean’s waist and gave him a squeeze. “Thank you.”

A moment later, I’d kicked off my shoes, sweatshirt, and jeans and crawled beneath the fluffy comforter that was balled on the end of Dean’s bed. It took less than five minutes before I was fast asleep.

__________________

Tag List

@moxleysbaby

#lips of an angel #MBAUwritingchallenge #wwe #wwe fanfiction #the shield #dean ambrose #roman reigns #seth rollins #fluff #SMUT #so much smut #ofc #oc #unnamed OC #polyamory

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swanqueeneverafter · 5 years

Text

What Dreams May Come, Pt.4

A New Realm. Valencia. (Annoyed, Madelena enters the dining room of the castle.) Queen Madelena: “Richard, could we please just eat separately? I don't know if I can stomach another display of... (Noticing the roaring fire and much smaller table:) What's going on?” King Richard: (Standing at the table:) “Sit down.” Queen Madelena: (Walking to the table:) “Richard, what kind of lame attempt is...” King Richard: “I said ‘sit,’ woman. (Madelena complies:) That's better. (As Richard moves to pick up the wine pitcher, the Chef and Gareth covertly watch from the doorway:) Wine?” Queen Madelena: “Oh, I'm not sure if I...” (Richard pours the wine carelessly into her goblet.) King Richard: “I'll be drinking an ale... From the bottle. (Richard proceeds to do so, much to the delight of Gareth and the Chef. Meanwhile, Richard belches:) Yeah, I burped. Do you whiff it?” Refugee Camp. (Ella steps out of her tent, having changed out of the dress she wore to the ball. An old man approaches her.) Jeremiah: “Your boots, milady.” Ella: (Taking them graciously:) “Thank you, Jeremiah, but there’s no need for formality, we’re all fighting side by side for the same cause now.” Jeremiah: (Indicating the boots:) “I hope they serve you well.” Ella: (Smiles:) “Better to fight in than glass. Thank you, again.” (As the cobbler leaves, Henry appears behind her.) Henry: “So, you’ve got shoes and an army. (Ella turns to face him:) When do we go up against the Queen?” Ella: (Surprised to see him:) “Henry.” Henry: “You look surprised to see me. Didn't you want me to find you? (Holds up one of Ella’s glass slippers:) And you said you don't believe in signs.”

At The Castle. (Richard and Madelena are eating together in front of the fireplace.) King Richard: “I love watching you eat. I'm rather finicky myself, but you... You... you don't think about it. You just... eat.” Queen Madelena: “I had a pet goat growing up... Jenny.” King Richard: “Aww.” Queen Madelena: “When I was 8, my parents ran out of food, so they made me go outside and kill her.” King Richard: “Hmm?” Queen Madelena: “I had to skin Jenny, cook Jenny, and eat Jenny. After that, I guess I just tried not to think too much about what I was eating anymore. And, well... I made damn well sure I wouldn't be in a position where I'd have to eat my favorite pet again.” (Chuckles.) King Richard: “I never had a single meal with my parents. Too busy ruling. No, I had an old servant, name of Pearl. She served me every meal. She made it fun, made a game of it. Only person who ever loved me, old pearly. This is fun, right?! You and I talking, listening, sharing, learning about one another.” Queen Madelena: “Yeah. I guess.” King Richard: ♪ You're frigid and demanding, I shudder at your call ♪ Queen Madelena: ♪ Whenever you come near me, my flesh begins to crawl ♪ King Richard/Queen Madelena: (Both stand:) ♪ But sometimes there are moments ♪ ♪ I'm not repelled at all ♪ ♪ Maybe you're not the worst thing ever ♪ Refugee Camp. (Henry and Ella walk together.) Ella: ♪ The moment I first met you, I couldn’t find a thing to like ♪ Henry: ♪ So then you knocked me over, and stole my motorbike ♪ Henry/Ella: ♪ Now suddenly when I look at you, a new idea will strike ♪ ♪ Maybe you're not the worst thing ever ♪ Ella: ♪ And though you're so annoying ♪ Henry: ♪ As I’ve come to realise ♪ At The Castle. King Richard: ♪ I know there's something scary ♪ ♪ Behind your cold, dead eyes ♪ Queen Madelena: ♪ And though I'll never like you ♪ All: ♪ It's quite the nice surprise ♪ ♪ That maybe I shouldn't quite say ‘never’ ♪ ♪ Maybe you're not ♪ ♪ The worst thing ever ♪ King Richard: (As they take their seats again:) “There was a moment tonight. It was a fleeting moment, but I saw it. You realized you could grow to love me.” Queen Madelena: “Oh, would you please stop putting me in this position? Don't make me always have to be the bad guy.” King Richard: “Well, I, for one, am willing to put in the work in this relationship. You'll see. I'm going to wear you down. You're going to grow to love me just like Pearl did.” Queen Madelena: (Sighs, then stands:) “You're unlovable, Richard. Pearl only loved you because your parents paid her to. (Turns and walks away:) I told you not to make me the bad guy.” Refugee Camp. (Walking back to Ella’s tent.) Ella: “Henry, I-“ Henry: “I know, I’ll work on being less annoying.” Ella: “No, it’s… I’m not who you think I am. I was born a princess. My mother left when I was very little and so it was just my father and I. We ruled the kingdom of Valencia together and I never wanted for anything. I loved my father more than anyone and Madelena took him from me. Don’t you understand? I’m not looking for love or a prince. Only revenge.” Henry: “No, you tried that already and couldn’t go through with it.” Ella: “That’s only because you got into my head. Next time, I won’t let that happen.” Henry: “What are you saying?” Ella: “Next time I meet Madelena, nothing and no one is going to stop me from avenging my father.” (Ella turns and enters her tent, leaving Henry standing alone, a dejected look upon his face.)

The Enchanted Forest. Past. Leopold's Castle. (The royal family and many guests are gathered to celebrate Leopold's birthday.) Man: “Happy birthday, your Majesty!” King Leopold: “No gifts are required to mark this special day, for they all pale in comparison to the greatest gift of all—my daughter, Snow.” Snow White: (Sighs:) “Father. (She joins him on the dais:) Father. You make me blush.” King Leopold: “Every day I look upon your face, and I am reminded of your dearly departed mother... who, like you... truly was... the fairest in all the land.” (A dejected Regina leaves the party, and walks into the garden toward her apple tree. As she stares up at the tree, Emma steps out from behind a pillar.) Emma: “So… Leopold was a bit of an ass.” Regina: (Smiles, then turns to face her:) “You saw that?” Emma: “Oh I saw it all right. Why bother looking for a wife when he clearly was having an emotional affair with his own daughter?” Regina: (Chuckles:) “It was pretty sickening at times.” Emma: “Yeah, I can imagine. Well, I mean obviously now I don’t have to. (Looking around:) Where are we?” Regina: “The Dark Palace… before it became known as that.” Emma: “No, I get that, I meant how did we get here? Was that door we stepped through a portal back in time or are we hallucinating or-“ Regina: “I think we’re dreaming.” Emma: “Really? (Reaches up and plucks an apple from the tree:) But everything feels so… real. (Takes a bite of the apple:) And tastes real.” Regina: (Thinking:) “Henry did say that it was better than any video game he’d ever played.” Emma: “But this is wild. We’re like, totally sharing a dream right now.” Regina: (Nods:) “Or a nightmare. At this time in my life, I was at my lowest ebb. Daniel… my mother… trapped in a loveless marriage… I felt lifeless, hopeless.” Emma: “Well, maybe that’s why we’re here. Together we can change this memory into something better.” Regina: (Smiles:) “You are the only person who could possibly have made this place bearable back then, but the memories I have…” Emma: “Okay, then let’s go someplace else. (Glances at the tree:) How about to a time where you came alive again?” (As if reading her wife’s mind, Regina smiles and turns to look back at her tree to see Emma, just as she was on that fateful day a few short years ago.) Storybrooke. Past. Under The Apple Tree. (Emma is cutting off a branch with a chainsaw, while Regina rushes up to her, outraged.) Regina: “What the hell are you doing!?” Emma: “Picking apples.” (She drops the chainsaw.) Regina: “You're out of you mind!” Emma: “No, you are if you think a shoddy frame job's enough to scare me off. You're gonna have to do better than that. If you come after me one more time, I'm coming back for the rest of this tree. Because, sister, you have no idea what I am capable of. (Watching the fire ignite behind Regina’s eyes:) And that’s the moment, right there.”

Regina: (Coming back to herself in the present:) “You’re right. After twenty eight years of waiting, I had finally found myself a worthy adversary.” Emma: (Laughs:) “Yeah, who you totally wanted in every sense of the word.” Regina: (Shaking her head:) “This again?” Emma: “Mmhmm.” Regina: “You’re crazy, at this point, I just wanted you out of my town.” Emma: (Moving closer:) “No, at this exact moment, you just wanted me out of my clothes.” Regina: (Closing the gap between them:) “You think so?” Emma: “Oh, I know so.” Regina: “Well, maybe you’re right.” Emma: “Ah ha!” Regina: (Continuing:) “Maybe we are here to make a new memory.” Emma: (Smiling:) “Ready when you are, Madam Mayor.” (Unable to stop themselves any longer, the two women are about to rip each other’s clothes off when Xanax arrives to step in between them, shattering the moment and causing Regina and Emma to wake up instantly.) Xanax: “I did warn you about no kissing.” Emma: “What the hell was that?” Xanax: “‘That’, was shared dreaming.” Regina: (As she and Emma get to their feet:) “How is that possible?” Xanax: “I have managed to find a way of bridging the gap between our world and the dream world. The possibilities for adventure are now endless!” Emma: “This is... amazing. No wonder Henry’s addicted to it.” Regina: “H-how much do you charge per session?” Xanax: “Ah, well. That’s the thing. I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but then I don’t think any of us want me having to step in between your dreams again so-“ Regina: “Just spit it out!” Xanax: “After one taste of the potion, those who share true love will be able to share dreamscapes whenever they desire.” Emma: “Dreamscapes?” Xanax: “That’s where you both were just now. Sharing a dreamscape.” Regina: “And this is what Henry does when he comes here?” Xanax: “Well, Henry comes here alone, so things are a bit different. The potion determines your heart’s truest desire and creates a dreamscape to suit the dreamer. Henry first came to me seeking adventure and so I assume that’s where his dreamscape takes him.” Emma: “So because Regina and I share true love, we won’t need to come here again for the potion?” Xanax: (Nods:) “Those who share true love will find each other. Always.” Emma: (Beams at Regina:) “Well that certainly sounds familiar.” Regina: (Smiles despite herself:) “What do we owe you for today?” Xanax: (Putting his hands up:) “For you ladies, it’s on the house. But, er, if you could just keep letting your son come here and maybe tell your friends and family about me, we’ll call it even.”

Henry's Dreamscape. Valencia. (King Richard bursts into Gareth's bedchamber, crying.) King Richard: "I need a hug! (Richard wraps his arms around Gareth and continues sobbing into his shoulder. Reluctantly, Gareth eventually returns the hug:) Oh, that's better. (Gasps:) It's a little tight. (Tapping Gareth on the back frantically:) It's a little too tight, Gareth. Seriously." (Gareth loosens his grip and Richard breathes a sigh of relief before resuming his sobs.) The Enchanted Forest. (The Swan-Mills family are walking back from Xanax's laboratory. Henry walks backwards with his arms outstretched.) Henry: "So what did you guys think, pretty great huh?" Regina: (Beaming:) "It was wonderful, Henry." Emma: "Yeah, great job, kid." Henry: "And it'll totally make sure you sleep through the night, Mom. Once you're under, you won't wake for anything." Regina & Emma: "What?!" Henry: "Oh, no, it's totally fine. As long as you set an alarm and bring it with you, you can wake up whenever you want. What I'm saying is, if you want to stay asleep in the dream, you will. Xanax once tripped over and landed on me when I was dreaming and I never even felt it." Emma: "Well in that case, I guess as long as we set the house alarm too, there shouldn't be a problem." Regina: "Oh, you worry too much. I have a feeling this is going to be so much fun! Thank you, Henry, this was a lovely idea." Henry: (Smiles:) "You're welcome, Mom." Emma: (Confused for a moment:) "I mean, yeah it's great that it works but I don't get why you're so excited- Oh, I get it now. You're happy because it works and we never have to go back there again." Regina: "For your information, I'm happy because for the first time in I don't know how long, (Takes Emma's hand in hers as they walk:) I'm going to be able to get a full night's sleep while sharing a dreamscape with my wife." Emma: (Suspiciously:) "And..." Regina: "And... as soon as we get home I'm burning these clothes, just in case." Emma: "There it is." Regina: "Very clever, Sheriff, now let's pick up the pace shall we?" (Emma and Henry share a smile as Regina continues to brush imaginary bugs from her clothing.) Meanwhile, In Valencia... Queen Madelena: "Oh, for God's sake, Jester! Stop standing there being coy and get back to what you're good at." Jester: "Knock, knock." Queen Madelena: "Not that." Jester: (As Madelena crooks her finger, beckoning him to her:) "Whoo-hoo-hoo!" Queen Madelena: (Laughs as the Jester jumps onto the bed:) "Oh, Jester!"

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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iliketowrite1996 · 6 years

Text

Tying Shoelaces and New Faces 15

TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- Breaking up, taking a break, ignoring a significant other, insecurities, paranoia, disapproval of parent.

once again, @chaneajoyyy was a huge help!

A break.

That’s what you and T’Challa had decided on.

A break.

Well. that’s what you decided. That it’s best for you, him, and your relationship if you take a break. He’d reluctantly agreed, knowing that once you makeup your mind, there's little to no use in trying to persuade you away from your decision.

So he finds himself distracting himself. It’s June and he’s enjoying walking around Wakanda with his family and friends.

‘’See that spot over there, Autumn,’’ Nakia tells their daughter, ‘’That used to be my favorite restaurant all of Wakanda. My parents took me there all of the time.’’

‘’Wow!,’’ Autumn looks up to her mother, ‘’Can we go there?’’

‘’Sure, as soon as my parents meet up with us.’’

They’ve only been in Wakanda for two days, and Autumn is already fascinated by everything. Her eyes are wide as they walk through the streets. She sees people making clothing, weaving vibranium into it. She hear the sound of people laughing and bargaining to lower prices. She smells the spices and the foods that waft through the street. She tastes a hunger to learn more, even at four-years-old. She’s an explorer, just like her mother. T’Challa doubts she’ll stay in one place when she gets older. Just like her mother.

But she’s four and she still has a lot of growing up to do, so T’Challa doesn’t even begin to entertain the thought of his baby girl leaving the nest any time soon.

No, not yet.

She’s fascinated with the kimoyo beads that Nakia is wearing, and she waves at her grandparents, both sets, as they alert them that they are on the way to meet them for lunch.

T’Chaka rented out the private room of a restaurant as soon as the vacation plans were finalized.

Right now, T’Challa doesn’t want t be bothered. The only people he can actually stomach being around are Autumn, and… well, that’s about it.

N‘Jadaka and Sanaa have barely left their hotel room since they got here. And they're not even doing anything- just watching movies and ordering room service, enjoying their first vacation together.

Ugh.

His mother and baba are looking at all of the sights, reliving all of the good memories that they have made in their beautiful homeland.

Shuri is always on her phone, instant messaging Peter about new ideas. When she’s not, truth, she’s hanging out with Autumn.

Even his uncle N’Jobu has brought his newest girlfriend, a woman he grew up with here in Wakanda.

It all makes T’Challa think one thing- he messed up with you, and he messed up big time.

He just wishes that he could pinpoint the source of your insecurity, your discomfort with this relationship.

‘’Hey, cuz,’’ N’Jadaka speaks as he and Sanaa enter the restaurant, hand in hand.

‘’Erik!.’’ Autumn cries as if she hadn't seen him only yesterday, pushing away from the table ,running and leaping into Erik’s arms.

‘’Hey, Little Bit! Have you grown since yesterday?!’’

‘’Mommy and baba say I’m getting bigger all of the time!,’’ Autumn nods enthusiastically, ‘’I can tie my shoes all by myself because baba’s girlfriend taught me!’’

He does his best not to show how much hearing about you breaks his heart at the moment. He’s excellent at putting on facades, and so he does so now. He ignores the way Nakia glances at him and keeps it moving.

‘’She sure can tie her shoes! No more velcro straps for baba’s little girl!’’

The rest of the family piles i, and , like most family dinners, it’s loud, hilarious, and more than a bit uncomfortable.

‘’Shuri, your uncle N'Jobu has told me so much about you,’’ N’Jobu Udaku’s girlfriend stares, ‘’He says that you are looking to graduate early?’’

‘’I am,’’ Shuri sets her water glass down, ‘’I am due to graduate in December, and I have chosen to go to NYU in the spring, should I be accepted.’’

At that, T’Chaka chokes on his own water, ‘’I thought your dream was to come here and go to the University of Wakanda?’’

Shuri shrugs, nonchalantly, ‘’Things happen to change, baba.’’

‘’This wouldn't have to do with your nerdy boyfriend, would it,’’ N’Jadaka teases, but there’s a hint of seriousness to it.

‘’Peter has nothing to do with my decision. N’Jadaka,’’ she rolls her eyes playfully, ‘’I do know that he’s planning on going there but this decision was made without him in mind. I just feel like my calling may be there.’’

‘’Instead of here,’’ T’Chaka finishes for her, obviously upset.

‘’Rest assured, baba, I applied here as well. Where my path will actually end up taking me, I do not know. I just hope that you’d all be supportive,’’ the second youngest member of the Udaku family says pointedly.

The tension is quite thick and could be cut with a knife. Thankfully, Nakia’s mother breaks the silence.

‘’And who is this lovely girl, N’Jadaka,’’ the older woman eyes Sanaa.

‘’This is my girlfriend, Sanaa,’’ N’Jadaka states proudly, ‘’We’ve been dating for almost a year. It'll be a year in November.’’

‘’Then it’s not almost a year,’’ Sanaa jokes, ‘’It’s only June!’’

‘’Why you do me like that?’’

‘’As you can seem,’’ N’Jobu states, ‘’They are a match made perfectly. I’ve never seen anyone that can match N’Jadaka’s intelligence, humor, and pettiness.’’

‘’Hey!,’’ the two lovebird chorus.

‘’Baba, what’s pettiness,’’ Autumn questions, the almost-five-year-old looking up at her baba in confusion.

‘’Intomba, pettiness is what you and your cousin Erik and Miss Sanaa are both very good at.’’

Autumn is without a doubt the most loving child. She’s the sweetest person that T’Challa has ever met in his life. However, his little girl is a tad bit petty, and he doesn’t know if N’Jadaka or Shuri are to blame.

‘’Ohh, okay,’’ the kindergartner needs, satisfied with hat answer.

‘’So, Sanaa, what do you do for a living,’’ Nakia’s dad questions.

‘’Oh, she’s a middle school teacher,’’ T’Chaka states, turning to Nakia, ‘’Isn’t that something that you were interested in as well?’’

‘’Yes.When I was 14,’’ Nakia says politely yet pointed, ‘I’m sorry, Sanaa, what do you teach?’’

‘’I teach sixth, seventh, and eighth grade science. In the accelerated program. I’m also the coach of the dance team,’’ she admits, ‘’And I’m trying to get a workshop started to help girls improve their self-esteem, and eventually for boys, too.’’

‘’Looks like you have a lot going for yourself,’’ Ramonda responds with a soft smile,unaware as to how talented and well-rounded her nephew’s girlfriend interests are.

‘’That’s a matter of opinion.’’

‘’To be fair, Mr. Udaku,’’ Sanaa turns to T’Chaka, ‘’I do what I do because I care about helping the children. Not impressing anyone else.’’

The awkwardness comes back, and as usual, two people at the table are completely oblivious- T’Challa and Autumn.

And, really, only the four-year-old has the excuse.

So again, T’Challa is one step further from seeing the true cause of tension in your relationship.

He’s two steps further from doing anything about it.

And he’s three steps further from ever winning you back…

Until he makes the step in the right direction.

That’s what you’re screwing over now as you spread out your ingredients, separating the dry items from the wet items. You’ve already baked a peach cobbler, a banana pudding, and an apple pie.

You’re getting started on your fourth dessert when your phone rings. You sigh, wiping your hands on your apron and answering the call.

‘’Hello?’’

‘’Hey, girl. How have you been.’’

That velvety, familiar, smooth voice makes you freeze instantly, but a smile spreads across your face like butter on a roll-easily and meant to be there.

‘’Hey, Lucas! How have you been?’’

‘’Oh, you know, here and there. Where the road takes me. But I’m in town tonight. Gonna be here for about a week. Was wondering’ if I could maybe see you tonight?’’

Here’s how it usually goes- you and Lucas have been friends since freshman year of college. He sat next to you in the dining hall, started talking about how boring your shared class of freshman level English was, and you’ve been friends ever since. He is the definition of handsome in your book- his round, brown eyes are soulful. His ‘’coffee with cream’’ (his words, not your own) skin stretches across a defined jaw and his curls always look bright and moisturized.

You’ve always found him attractive, and he’s always thought you were beautiful. He has told you so on many occasions, none of which wherever appropriate. Such as when you and a group of friends went to your college’s homecoming dance and he told you, ‘’You’re always stunning’’. In front of your date. And his.

Not to mention the time that he blurted it out in math class when you two were supposed to eb solving problems given by your professor together.

Then again, subtlety has never been his strong suit. If he likes something, the world will soon know. If he dislikes something, he turns into the town crier and shoots it out for all to hear. He’s always been like that concerning politics, social events, movies, music, food, people…

And especially you.

Maybe that’s why the two of you have a… history together.

He asked you out the summer between your freshman and sophomore year of college. It was a spur of the moment thing, as far as you were concerned. Little did you know that he’d been planning it for a while.

See, he was gonna be all romantic. He was gonna get you flowers and dress up real nice and ask you at the charity banquet that you were attending with him that night.

Instead, he asked you that morning, when you were sitting on his couch, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and playing video games with him.

He is not ashamed to admit that, as typical as it may sound, he had never seen you look so beautiful.

The two of you dated for five years after that, and breaking up was the hardest thing. But he wanted to travel and work for his mother's charity, and that wasn’t your life. SO you broke up, but you remain friends. It’s why you can understand how T’Challa is friends with Nakia.

Then again, you never married Lucas and had a kid with him, and his parents never made you feel awful while he sat there and did nothing.

But that’s a duty for a different day.

You agree, requesting for an hour to change and dress up. You quickly store the baked goods, clean your area, and rush off to the bathroom.

After a quick wash up, you step into the same dress that you wore to the gala with T’Challa. Your makeup is done in that smoky eye look you know Lucas loves and your lipstick is fire engine red.

He’s knocking on the door by the time that you’re slipping into your heels, and you answer it with a smile.

‘’How do you manage to look more and more sunning every time I see you?!’’

You laugh at that, hugging him and kissing his cheek as he does the same to you, ‘’I should be asking you the same thing! Who you modeling for? Come on, show me that runway walk.’’

Lucas does his best to put on a mini fashion show for you, strutting up and down the living room a few times before you both dissolve into laughter.

‘’Oh, I’ve missed you,’’ you hug him again, ‘’I’ve got so much to catch you up on!’’

‘’You sure do,’’ he raises an eyebrow, ‘’You’re dating THE T’Challa Udaku? Moving on up from me, huh?’’

The bitter taste that began the night you decided that you and T'Challa needed a break returns, and you nearly feel sick to your stomach.

Lucas catches on fairly quickly, and attempts to amend the situation before it can burst apart any further, ‘’Or we don’t have to talk about it. We can talk about anything else. You can get your mind off of him for one night.’’

‘’That would be lovely,’’ you sigh, grabbing your purse, keys, and the phone.

You take the arm that he offers, looping your arm through his.

You’re ready for a night on the town, and to have fun at this charity event as Lucas’ impromptu date. You’re ready to kick your heels off and dance with him, inevitably when anything that you two danced to in college comes on.

But most importantly, you’re ready to forget about T’Challa.

At least for one night.

Because forgetting about him at all is a task in and of itself.

‘’Nakia, where are we going again?’’

T’Challa has had his phone turned off all day. Just to resist the urge to text you. He saw you post a few f the cakes and pies and treats that you made last night on social media, and he know that this means one thing: you’re stressed.

He’s most likely the cause of that stress…

But he simply wishes to know why that is.

‘’I told you. You need to be distracted from your phone and I’ve got someone that I want you to meet.’’

‘’I want to spend time with my daughter.’’

‘’She’s literally asleep, T’Challa. So is your girlfriend,’’ she shrugs, ‘’Now come on.’’

He begrudgingly follows his ex-wife into the restaurant, wishing that he was at home, asleep, just like his daughter. In his own bed and away from other people that he really, eally doesn’t want to be interacting with because they are not you.

Until he sees who it is he’s meeting.

Nakia and T’Challa made one trip to Wakanda right before she discovered that she was pregnant with Autumn. She introduced him to her friends Ayo, W’Kabi, and M’Baku, and he introduced her to Okoye. The small group of friends now has a group chat, meets up whenever one or more of them are in the same area, and just generally keeps in touch.

But seeing them all here together after five years?

That’s something special.

So hugs are given and polite greetings are exchanged. Hands clap backs and cheeks are kissed and everyone is son sitting down at the table, the six friends catching up.

‘’How’s my favorite little girl?,’’ Okoye questions, leaning into W’Kabi.

‘’She’s doing well. She’s excited to start kindergarten.,’’ Nakia begins.

‘’She also apparently has a boyfriend. Tony Stark’s kid.’’

‘’Aww, they grow up so face,’’ Ayo chuckles for, her spot next to ,M’Baku.

‘’I’m sorry, I just can’t help but notice this new couple alert,’’ T’Challa raises an eyebrow as he gestures at W’Kabi and Okoye, ‘’When?’’

‘’Two months ago,’’ W’Kabi answers.

‘’Officially two months ago. We began seeing each other, and, well, others, four months prior to that.’’

‘’Okay, I see you,’’ Nakia chuckles, already picking up on Sanaa and yours habits.

‘’Anyway,’’ M’baku begins, ‘’So, where are N’Jadka and his girlfriend?’’

‘’Aww, I knew ya’ll would be bored without us.’’

As if on cue, N’Jadaka and Sanaa stroll in, hand in hand.

And T’Challa is happy for his cousin and Sanaa, he really is. He just can't help but think that could have been the two of you had he brought you to Wakanda.

You assume that he’s ashamed of you. He’s not. He is so in love with you, and he wants the world to know.

The reason he didn’t invite only on this trip?

Nakia.

No, there’s nothing happening between him and Nakia. For reasons he’s still not completely aware of, that relationship sunk along time ago. It’s for the best, though, because you make him happy.

But Nakia was his first real love and the mother of his child. So when she suggested this trip to Wakanda, he agreed. They both agreed to raise Autumn together, as much as they can do that with how often Nakia is away. So any time the three of them can manage to spend some time together, they go for it. He didn't invite you not so you wouldn’t get in the way of him and Nakia…

Instead, it was because he wanted to be as present as possible. Nakia will be taking care of Autumn for all of July. He will miss his baby girl’s fifth birthday, her experience events that only take place in Wakanda, and so much more. Nakia also does not get enough time with Autumn. She knows Autumn adores you, and you adore her. So maybe, just maybe, he feared Autumn would give you more attention than Nakia and he wanted to prevent all parties from being hurt.

Now that he’s thinking about it, if he had communicated this to you, you probably would have seen his side of things and agreed.

He thinks about that all night, stewing over it even as his friends and cousin enjoy their dinner. He’s participating, though. He laughs and jokes with them.

He just can't stop thinking about you, though.

It’s when dessert is near that Nakia gets a call and excuses herself outside.

When she returns, she’s holding the hand of a man who is about the same height as T’Challa, with dark skin and kinky curls.

‘’Hello, everyone. This is Kevin. My boyfriend.’’

Oh. Her boyfriend.

So that’s who she’s been giggling about when she’s messaging.

T'Challa is the first to stand, bringing the other man in for a hug, ‘’It’s nice to meet you. I’m T’Challa.’’

T’Challa is very much someone who likes his boundaries, but he can’t help himself. This is the man that makes Nakia happy, because she wouldn’t be with him if he didn’t. So if he makes Nakia happy, well, then, he’s good enough for T’Challa.

So more greetings and pleasantries are changed. Then T’Challa, N’Jadaka, Sanaa, Nakia, Kevin, Ayo, M’Baku, W'Kabi and Okoye have dessert and talk and laugh some more.

T’Challa goes back to his room in high spirits that night, grateful for the distraction. He decides it’s time to message you. To tell you that he wants to speak to you when he gets home.

Instead, he goes to social media.

There, he sees a candid photo of you and some man he doesn't know, but you two obviously know each other.

He can see it in the way the man’ hand is reign on the small of your back. He is looking at you with an expression akin to adoration as you throw your head back, laughing.

Okay. So that’s how it is.

He tries not to be hurt. After all, you two are on a break, right? You can have guy friends.

Or… did a break turn into a break up real quick and he didn’t notice?

He asks the same question to N’Jadaka at breakfast the next day, pulling his cousin aside to consult him.

‘’Bruh. BRUH. What, are we in high school again? You’re worried over nothing. This is a picture, T’Challa.’’

‘’A picture speaks, a thousand words, N’Jadaka.’’

‘’And what are the saying to you, then, cousin,’’ N’Jadaka crosses his arms in front of himself.

‘’They’re lying to me, I’d better do something to see how to resolve my relationship. And fast.’’

DISCLAIMER- I OWN NO MARVEL CHARACTERS, OR THEIR FICTIONAL WORLD,S UNIVERSES, CITIES OR COUNTRIES. I own Autumn, Sanaa, Kevin and Lucas as my original characters.

@ashanti-notthesinger @destinio1 @afraiddreamingandloving @starsshines-blog @airis-paris14 @syreanne @chaneajoyyy @90sinspiredgirl @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @bidibidibombaclaat @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired @pocmarvelworks @theunsweetenedtruth @dreampovx @adrioola21

SNEAK PEEK OF NEXT CHAPTER- TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES: Mentions of pregnancy, parental disapproval of significant other, insecurity, revenge, and pettiness.

You know what you’re doing is petty and wrong, but you don’t too much mind right now. T’Challa has definitely been watching your story on social media. Which definitely means that he’s seeing your pictures.

Okay, let’s get one thing straight. It’s not your attention to hurt T’Challa. Or maybe it is , because he’s hurting you… you don’t know. You just know that Lucas has come along for a visit and he's making you feel extra special. It’s why you’re posting different pics with him. It started off innocent enough but this last post…

It was out of pure malice.

It features Lucas whispering something in your ear, and you’re eyes are cast down, smiling shyly.

‘’You know you’re wrong for this right,’’ Lucas tells you, lounging across your couch and scrolling through his own social media feed.

‘’I know, I know. I’ll delete it,’’ you sigh, raising your thumb to do just that.

‘’Delete it because you want to. Not because I told you it was petty and childish.’’

‘’You ain’t say all that!’’

‘’My facial expression did!,’’ he points at his unamused face, to which you roll your eyes.

‘’Babe,’’ he sits up, using the nickname he uses on you, Sanaa… all of his close female friends, ‘’Does he even know why you’re mad?’’

‘’He should! He acts like he doesn’t know what his dad is doing.’’

‘’Okay, here me out,’’ Lucas raises his hands in front of himself,’’Maybe… he really doesn’t see it.’’

‘’How could he not see the fact that his dad doesn’t like me?!’’

‘’From what you tell me, T’Challa idolizes his dad. He wants to be as good as a dd and as good as a husband and as good as a businessman as eh sees his dad being.’’

‘’And?’’

‘’And… he idolizes him, yeah? So he probably doesn't see his flaws as clearly as someone who is able to see T’Chaka Udaku for what he is-a flawed human. Just like the rest of that.’’

Your bite your bottom lip and focus your eyes on the photo of you and Sanaa in college that hangs on the wall, wondering why you didn’t think of this before.

‘’Besides. I don’t think you're mad at him,’’ Lucas leans back, ‘’I think you're mad at yourself and you don’t know if you can trust him.’’

‘’Oh, you’re the expert now,’’ you try to keep the venom form your voice, ‘’Do tell me why.’’

‘’You were hesitant because you know T’Challa and Nakia still love each other, even if they aren't in love with each other, and they are taking their daughter on vacation. Strike one.’’

‘’Go on,’’you lean against the armrest of the couch.

‘’You also see how he's with his dad, and it makes you question your place in his life. Strike two.’’

‘’Okay’’ you not, knowing that he’s right, even if you don’t wanna admit it.

‘’And strike three… I found that pregnancy test in the bathroom. The positive one.’’

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notdeadjack · 6 years

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How do i take care od my shoes so they last?

CARING FOR YOUR SHOES 101

source: me. i'm a reparative cobbler. i literally do this for a living.ok so you have a pair of shoes of decent quality that fits (or crappy quality shoes that you wanna eek out every last bit of mileage out of in pure spite) and now you have to care for them like a doting parent, but how the fuck are you supposed to do that?? it's not as much of a production as most online how-to's makes it seem:

regular leather: if you're a dirty bitch or one of them people who likes running around in mud for no real reason, remove the excess dirt with a cloth or a soft brush. only use a little water as a last resort. if there's only regular dust and wear, just give them a quick wipe down with a cloth or something idk.apply a thin layer of cream shoe polish (Saphir creme surfine/deluxe is an excellent shoe polish and i highly recommend it. use incolore which has no colour pigments if you can't find the right shade, the shoes have multiple colours or a patina that you wanna keep or if they're brand spanking new and haven't lost any colour). allow it to dry in for like ten minutes before you polish with a cotton cloth (or an old t-shirt or a sock. it's not that important really).

suede/nubuck: remove dust and dirt gently with a suede brush (or one of them nail brushes), spray with waterproofing spray. done. use spray with colour pigments if they look sad and faded.

do these simple steps as often as you can stand, but try to do it at the very least once a month, preferably every other week. you can never do it too often tbh.

more shoe care tips, materials and products underneath the cut!

other materials:

spray textile with waterproofing spray. won't actually proof anything but will makes them easier to keep clean.

syntethic materials won’t accept any help from no shoe care products and will crack or break whenever it damn well feel like it. you can put shoe polish on the fake leather tho, just to make them look nice.

patent leather and such won't absorb any products cause the leather is covered with a thin layer of plastic, but there's special products for keeping them clean and shiny. a moist cloth tends to leave spots bc mineral residues and stuff in the water. do NOT use sour milk or other dairy products on your patent leather

white rubber soles can be maintained by simply wiping them off with a moist cloth when you get home. if really dirty, wash or take to a cobbler to wash.

rubber boots can do with some grease or oil tbh. will help prevent them from drying out.

oiled leather/nubuck tho. there's special products for these. check the labels but grease or oil spray usually does the trick.

but what about all the other stuff? like, the grease/fat/oil, the waterproofing, the washing and The Removal of The Laces™ that all the how-to's talk about?honestly, those things are often excessive and here's why:

washing: unless your shoes are actually dirty (partied too hard and spilled a drink or olive oil on them, large amounts of mud that can't be wiped off, water or salt stains etc), you don't have to wash them. water isn't good for the leather, dries it out so... only do it if you absolutely have to? preferably, take them to a professional and have them do it.

leather grease/fat/oil: honestly, this stuff IS good for the leather and you should use it. but there is such a thing as too much and y'all have no idea how many times i've had to wash a pair of shoes because the owner used too much too often and now there's clogging and fat and dust piled up at the seams like an abandoned butter factory and the shoes just look miserable. apply a thin layer and allow to dry before you apply shoe polish a few times a year. before and after putting your shoes into storage for the season, if they look and feel dry or if you wear them year round, put some on every other or third month. always BEFORE the polish.

waterproofing aka the thing every single shoe store employee tells you to do and it makes me wanna scream every time i hear it: only necessary for suede and nubuck shoes (and usable on textile, as mentioned above). seriously.

a)waterproofing your shoes won't actually make them waterproof, will only help suede to repel the stray water droplet so that it doesn't soak in. won’t help when it’s pouring down.b) proper shoe polish contains wax (is what makes shine when polished) that will protect the leather from water in the same way. adding the spray on top of that is pointless.c) can actually ruin your polish work, make it all matte and occasionally even leave stains, discolour or trap dust.d) is sold as a “fix all” for lazy people to use on all of their shoes regardless of material. fixes nothing. don’t bother unless suede.

removing the laces before polishing: ??? you don't have to? you can work around them. i mean, if you're doing a full care with grease and stuff, it might be easier to remove them but that's up to you. you might get some polish on them but unless you have light or brightly coloured laces it doesn’t hurt them. do exchange them if they break tho. (if they break easily, there might be a sharp edge that rubs at them or, and this is the most likely, you don't unlace properly before forcing your feet into your shoes. the laces take a lot of stress, be nice to them!)

other shoe care products:

wax: such as Kiwi Parade Gloss, Saphir Mirror Gloss etc. a hard-ish bit of wax product that comes in a flat tin. is used to acquire high shine on leather shoes (think spit shine). doesn't actually do that much for the shoe except shine and repel some water. a must for dress shoes but should preferably only be used on the toe cap since it can build up in seams and, if applied the bits that moves a lot, can "crack". it's not damaging to the leather but looks scruffy af. apply with one of them tiny brushes you see in shoe care stores or with a sponge/cloth. polish with a cloth, lamb wool polish glove or a horse hair brush.

fisherman grease: are you a fisherman? no? then don't use it.

quick shine or self shine: do not. contains silicone and shit that won't be absorbed by the leather and won't dry. looks amazing when fresh but will attract dust and turn matte within minutes. shit product designed to appeal to your laziness and take your money while giving you a false sense of accomplishment. seriously, if you're good with the shoe polish, all you need is a a quick rub with a cloth (or the sleeve of your shirt, back of your pant leg) to revive the shine. yes i am a little bitter about the existence of quick shine products,

mink oil: mostly used by old people and hipsters who buy into the whole "the old way is the best way". i highly advice you not to. mink oil is too good at keeping the leather soft. can easily make your shoe leather yucky soft and floppy, the shoe loses shape and turn into a sad, sagging lump. can also discolour the leather (usually into an unsightly green). only use a little if the shoe is drier than the sahara desert.

leather balm/renovateur: technically not the same but has the same usage area. generally too light for shoes but is excellent for other leather goods like jackets, bags and gloves. used the same as shoe polish: apply thin layer, let dry, polish with cloth. redo as often as you can be arsed but at least once or twice a year i mean come on, give your favourite leather bag or jacket some love!

shoe trees: please? do use. preferably made out of cedar. can be expensive but will last you a life time. they will absorb the moisture from your shoes after wear and help them retain their shape (see those creases right at the bend behind your toes? yeah, those will always show up but shoe trees will help minimize them). you can get buy with just one pair, just stick them into which ever pair you wore last. it's highly recommended that you let your shoes dry completely and rest between each use. having two pairs of shoes that you alternate between is good enough.

if you're gonna store your shoes and can't afford buying shoe trees to all your pairs, you can just stuff them with paper or bits of a foam mattress or something, just to help them keep their shape. the ones that has a metal spring in the middle and a ball at the end should be used with caution and only for a day or so at the time, since the spring loaded ball (heh) puts constant pressure on the back piece of the shoe and can actually push it out which is bad and also ugly.oh! and if your knee high boots have zippers, do make sure that zipper is straight when not worn. use a boot tree, a rolled up news paper or a stick a plastic bottle in them. just so that they don’t fold over and put stress on the zipper.

shoe deodorizer: if your shoes are leather with a leather lining and leather inner sole (AND YOU WEAR SOCKS! seriously, please always wear socks or hose or something inside your shoes at all times. or your foot sweat, dead skin and dirt will build up inside your shoes and it is Gross™), they honestly won't smell much at all. deo is unnecessary (unless you have some kind of affliction which makes your foot sweat super powered, which some people actually have and i feel for them). synthetic and fabric shoes are satan when it comes to foot odour and all you can do really is make sure to wear clean socks and change the inner sole as often as possible.

the washing machine: PLEASE. DO NOT PUT YOUR SHOES IN THE WASHING MACHINE! no, not even your converse hi-tops. seriously. all shoes are glued more or less excessively, and the heat and water will make the glue unstick and your shoes will fall apart quicker. take them to a cobbler for a wash if they're really dirty.

and finally: inspect your shoes. if you spot a seam coming out, or the sole unsticking on the inner left or the heel piece is worn down: take them to a reparative cobbler asap. do NOT try to fix it yourself (you can actually make them ten times harder or even impossible to fix). most things that breaks on leather products can actually be fixed, but the longer you let it go without addressing the damage, the worse it will get and the more expensive it will be to fix. expect to spend about half the purchase price on maintaining your shoes at a cobbler. more if they're your favourites and fit like a dream.

do try to find a good cobbler, some are absolute hacks that can ruin your shoes. if you live in a big city, go to the finer parts of town and accost a rich person and ask what cobbler shop they go to. they usually have a favourite cobbler that they remain loyal to/cling to desperately. instagram and/or facebook can also be a good place to check.

craftsmen in europe has journeyman or master "letters" (basically diplomas) that they can only acquire after they've worked in the profession for a certain amount of time and can prove that they're skilled in various parts of the job. you can ask if they have one and if they do, they're probably not completely unskilled.

rule of thumb is if the cobbler also does dry cleaning, seamstress work, plumbing and a hundred other vaguely connected things, chance is high that they aren't as good. this is largely dependent on country tho so... use your common sense.

also, don't bother with chains (such as mr minit) and those that offer quick jobs. doing a job properly takes time and care. rushing generally leads to lower quality work, as with everything. it’s up to you tho.

aaand i think that's about it!

i'll post a guide on how to buy good quality shoes that fit later, but until then, if you have any further questions, or want specific shoe or leather care advice my ask is always open and i'm happy to help :D

#shoe care 101 #ask the cobbler #Anonymous

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