charging tray

Some very tiny awkward flinthamiltons back in London.

Lord and Lady Hamilton had numerous friends, some very close – who attended their salons –, some moderately – who were invited to dinner on occasions –, and some of the farthest kind. Tonight, the latter were concerned.

It was a ball. The house was one of the richest in London. Their host was a Duke (“obscure, and equally unbearable,” Thomas had said), and their hostess, the Duchess, was an acquaintance of Miranda. Before the dances started, she played the harpsichord. A piece by John Weldon, with John Weldon himself in the audience.

As the crowd began to move and sway around them, James declined Miranda’s offer for a dance. “At least allow me to introduce you to Miss Charlotte Wesley, Lieutenant,” she said, offering him her arm.

He frowned. “Miss Wesley?”

“You may have seen her at our residence,” Thomas said. “She sometimes takes part in my wife’s harpsichord lessons.”

“She is very charming, and sublimely witty,” Miranda pointed out.

James’ eyes went from Miranda to Thomas. He shook his head. “And may I ask what is the point of that introduction, specifically?”

Miranda’s eyes widened with candor. “She is single, James.”

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I’m Just Tony’s Assistant- Steve Rogers X Reader

Prompt: You are Tony Stark’s assistant, and you have a huge crush on Steve. And one day he makes a move and you (Abusive) “Boyfriend” sees and things get out of hand. In the aftermath, Steve comforts you.

Word Count: 1982

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, domestic violence etc

“Stark Tower, how may I help you?” You sing songed over the telephone to the unknown person on the other side of the line.

“Yes sir, an appointment is required to see Mr. Stark. No, I’m afraid he is not in the market for a sandwich that comes in a can… I’m sorry sir, I’m going to have to put you on hold,” You lied as you put the phone back on the receiver, never intending to continue that conversation. You got so tired of people calling you to try and sell their stupid inventions to Mr. Stark. You were his assistant, not his sales rep for christ’s sake. You resumed filling in his schedule for the day, looking over his E-mails and appointments he had that day. You noticed that at two ‘o'clock you were to sit in on an Avengers meeting. That was odd, Tony hardly ever had you sit in and take notes at Avengers meetings, or any meetings for that matter. You looked at the clock, the hands pointed to 1:15, you had just enough time to break for lunch and get back in time for the meeting. Right as you were about to get up and head to the cafeteria, someone strode up to the desk. You didn’t look up, you were too busy organizing papers and filing them into the correct folders before you left.

“Can’t you read, the sign on the desk says gone to lunch, I will be back in 45 minutes,” You huffed, pulling your bag onto your shoulder as you shoved the last of the papers into a folder.

“Uh yeah sorry [Y/n], I was just wondering where Tony’s office is, I’m here for a meeting at two o'clock,” The male voice responded. You finally glanced up, realizing that voice was all too familiar. You were met with the dazzling eyes of Steve Rogers, his blue irises ablaze with amusement.

“Uh, yeah, sorry Cap- Mr. Rogers. His office is down the hall, third door on your left,” You stuttered, a blush scorching your cheeks and neck. As he walked away down the hall, you scurried off to the dining hall. You don’t know why he had this much of an impact on you, he had been coming in every day for the past three years to come talk to Tony. Why did he still make your words cling to your throat, and your cheeks go up in flames, you had no idea.

You shuffled along the cafeteria line, pulling a turkey sandwich off the counter, as well as an apple and a bottle of water, and for dessert, a cookie. You got to the end and flashed your employee ID, deeming your lunch free of charge. You discarded your tray and shoved your lunch in your bag, bringing it up to your desk to eat. Tony didn’t like you to be away for so long, seeing as there was always somebody that needed help around here. And you knew just how important customer satisfaction was to him. (He didn’t personally care himself, but it made the company look good). You plopped back down into your chair, unwrapping your sandwich, shoving a bite into your mouth.
“[Y/n], come here,” Tony’s all too familiar voice sounded, his head poking out of his office door. You forced another bite of your sandwich into your mouth and hurried to his office, trying to swallow the wad of dry wheat bread and lunch meat in your mouth before stepping through the door. This meeting wasn’t supposed to start for another 15 minutes, Tony was never early, this must be important. You walked into his office, greeted by the stares of six superheroes. Steve included.

“Yes Mr. Stark, what do you need,” You asked, plastering a fake smile on your lips.

“Yeah, sit right there and take notes on this meeting,” he requested, pointing to the seat right next to Steve. You nodded, taking the seat, opening your notepad, pen clicked, ready to write. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Steve watch you write the date and the meeting title at the top of the pad like it was the most important thing he’d ever seen. You smiled as Tony began the meeting, calling everyone to order. Over the course of the four hours, you were included in on the knowledge of the next mission the Avengers were to embark on. It was fascinating how much planning went into a mission, the whole time, you thought they were just winging it, or making it up when they got there. But that wasn’t the case, everyone had conflicting opinions and viewpoints, the meeting went so long, you had to cancel all of Tony’s other appointments for today. Finally after four and a half hours, the meeting ended, and you were free to leave. You walked to the parking lot, Steve not far behind you, he eventually strode right up next to you, his shoulder bumping yours to let you know he was there. As if you could not be aware of his presence.

“So do you usually sit in on meetings,” He asked, his voice gentle and smooth.

“No, hardly ever,” You admitted, smiling at the ground.
“I could kinda tell by the starstruck look on your face the whole time,” Steve commented, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“Was it really that bad,” You asked.

“No, well, yeah,” Steve sighed.

“But I thought it was kind of cute,” he gushed. You looked up at him, a fond smile igniting his features. You two kept walking in a comfortable silence, his hand slipped into yours, you squeezed lightly, enjoying his large hand wrapped around yours. As you reached your car, you noticed your boyfriend leaning on the hood, glaring at you. You could feel the sting of his hand on your cheek from here. You froze momentarily, stepping ahead of Steve, quickening your pace. Pulling your hand from his forcefully. You hadn’t realized your boyfriend been standing there, from his view, he could see the whole parking lot, including where you’d walked with Steve, hand in hand.

“[Y/n] Is everything ok,” Steve asked as he struggled to keep up with your already almost jogging pace.

“It’s not what it looks like, really,” You assured as you got to your car.
“Really, cause it looks to me like you’ve been cheating,” Your boyfriend spit, grabbing your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin, a small whimper slid past your lips. He threw open the door, shoving you inside the car, your head coming down hard on the dash. He stepped around to the drivers side, throwing himself in the seat. He peeled out of the space, as you sped from the lot, you saw Steve, his eyes filled with worry, and something else you couldn’t place.

He sat fuming in front of the wheel, profanities falling from his lips like hail, banging against your fragile frame. You flinched against the window as he veered into your driveway. He stopped the car and got out slamming the door so hard the car shook. You followed ten paces behind him, hoping he would cool down enough to let you escape without a beating. As you closed the door softly behind you, you knew that wasn’t going to happen. He came reeling around the corner from the hall, eyes ignited with anger and hatred. He came toward you, fist raised menacingly, you backed into the wall, cornered by the front door and your boyfriend.

“You lousy little slut,” he choked, bringing his fist down hard into your side, you fell to the floor, the breath leaking from you lungs.

“What a whore, how dare you cheat on me after all I’ve done for you,” He accused, slapping you across the cheek fire swept around where his palm made contact. A scream left your parted lips as he kicked you in the face, busting your lip and lacerating above your eyebrow. Blood trickled into your mouth, the metallic taste staining your taste buds.

“You’re nothing to me, absolute garbage, you might as well be dead,” he spat, as he landed one more solid punch to your stomach. He laughed, smirking down at you on the ground, he said something you didn’t catch and spun on his heel and stepped out the door, slamming it behind him. Tears began to flow, followed by sobs. Your chest heaved, unable to catch your breath, sobs ripped through your body, guttural sounds leaving your open mouth. After your sobs turned to hiccups, you pushed yourself up off the floor. And went into the kitchen to find a band-aid. As you finished wiping the blood, a knock sounded at the door. You shuffled over to the door, looking through the peephole, to find none other than Steve Rogers standing at your door. You opened the door, smiling up at him.

“Hey [Y/n]- oh my goodness doll, what happened- I’m gonna rip that man to shreds,” Steve grunted when he saw the blood and bruises on your body.

“No, please don’t, that will only make things worse,” You pleaded, stepping aside to let him in.

Steve came in and sat on the couch, grabbing the open first-aid kit on the counter as he went.

“Here let me help you,” he whispered as he put a band-aid over the cut above your lip, and on the one above your eyebrow. His eyes meandered over your face, catching on your lips and eyes, his blue irises tangling in your hair.
“[Y/n] come here,” He whispered, noticing the far away glossy look in your eye. He tugged you into his chest, rubbing circles into your shoulder blade.

“Why do you stay with that bastard, he treats you so bad. I could treat you better than he can, you deserve a gentleman, someone who cherishes every second he gets to spend with you. Someone who tells you you’re beautiful every morning when you wake up and every night before you go to sleep. Why are you with someone who doesn’t appreciate you?” Steve asked, his words reverberating in his chest, sending calming vibrations through your ears.

“I’m afraid to leave, what if I try to leave him and he comes after me,” you stammered, breath hitching in your throat.

“I will protect you doll, always, from anything and everything, because that’s what you do for the special people in your life, the ones you can’t ever let go of,  you hold on as tight as you can, because you know, you will never meet someone as amazing as them for as long as you live. You have to protect those people, because they only come around once,” he vowed, kissing the top of your head.

“But I’m just Mr Stark’s assistant, I’m nothing special,” You argued.

“Why do you think I come in almost every day? Because I love to see your beautiful smiling face, I only say I’m here to see Tony so I don’t seem creepy. But usually I just come in, say hi, and walk out the back door, I really only talk to Tony once a month. I’ve been too afraid to say anything, until now anyway,” Steve admitted. You looked up at him, shock resonating on your face.

“Really, you’re kidding,” You refused.

“No, I’m serious doll,” he said. You sat up on the couch, looking at him intently.

“But of course, we can’t be official until we go on a date,” Steve insisted. You smiled at his 1940’s charm, and his lame attempt at asking you out.

“[Y/n] will you go out on a date with me,” He asked again.

“I sure as hell will,” You agreed, pulling him in by his shirt to press a kiss to his lips. So glad you were more to him that just Tony’s assistant.

of piano players and restaurants

Genre: can you guess it?

Words: 7.970, Jesus Christ. I need to be stopped.

Warnings: Alcohol is mentioned like… twice…

Summary: Phil is a waiter working in his best friend’s restaurant. One day, when the owners decide to hire a new pianist since their last one was a complete fail, Phil is kind of skeptical about it — can you blame him? The last pianist was insane — but once he meets Dan Howell, he realizes it’s not as bad as he thinks.

a/n: Again. One of those stories that I could’ve left at 2k but then I went, “THESE CHARACTERS DESERVE MORE AND SO DOES THE STORY AND I CARE ABOUT IT TOO MUCH TO LEAVE A NORMAL ENDING,” so yeah. God. I need lessons on how to not let myself get carried away.

This is also for my beautiful beautiful friend/wife Ravie, whose birthday is in like two weeks and a couple of days but I like to give her earlier presents. (also hi Ravie. It’s just a habit to give you longfics as presents whoops.)

(also it’s getting really ironic how I can only write cheesiness when I hear Hyper Music.)

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