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tonksiefea · 5 months

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How I know You|| Original Fantasy Romance

So this is Chapter 1 of a story I've been working on. It's currently 17 Chapters and counting but I'm hitting that point in my process where I want to delete everything and never touch a computer again so I figured I'd got some reasonable people to tell me I'm right! LOL I kid! Thank you to @soinspiredbyyou Who kindly encouraged me to post it Summary: Raziel "Rae" Marsh is an anxious newly published author who moved to a mountain town to escape her loving but overbearing parents. Things get a little complicated when a Fantasy Writer meets a Forest Ranger who starts making her books seem a little more realistic than Fairy Stories ever should.

Chapter 1

“No. Mom, I'm fine. I promise, I’m doing great. You and dad do not need to come get me. I'm an adult. Yes, I’m eating, no I’m not dating anyone, yes the book tour went fine and the new house is beautiful. I even found a coffee shop to work in.” Raziel, who would not share her full name under penalty of death and instead preferred Rae, loved her mother. She really did.

Rae got a lot of things from her mother. Her red hair, her green eyes, her freckles, her talent for language, and most of all her overwhelming anxiety and worry for the slightest change to her life.

What she did not get from her mother was the woman’s constant insistence that she find a husband, settle down, and start pumping out children like she needed to single handedly re-populate the earth. That part she could do without.

It was part of the reason Rae had taken the money from her first successful fantasy book, touted to be the next “Chronicles of Narnia”, and moved to a secluded mountain town in Colorado where the population fluctuated between triple and quadruple digits depending on the season. She much preferred the quiet town life to anything else and she was finally able to live her dream of a quiet secluded life as a hermit writer.

“Mom, I gotta go! I’m walking into the cafe. I’ll call you when I get home. No, mom I’m going to write. I can't spend my whole time talking on the phone. Because, mother, it’s rude.” Rae rolled her eyes as her mother launched into another tangent that would take forever. “Goodbye Mom. I love you.” She sighed and hung up instantly feeling a surge of overwhelming guilt for hanging up.

She knew her mom meant well and she loved talking to her but right now Rae just needed some quiet. She needed to delve into the world of her imagination and ignore reality for a good three hours or so with a mug of cinnamon coffee so big people would confuse it for a bowl.

She took a deep breath of the silence and looked down the streets seeing the one or two off-season tourists that wandered through the town for hiking. Summer was about to end but kids were going back to school and this little town was nearly abandoned. Even most of the locals either lived off the land, or worked in larger cities just down the mountain. Somehow, without her mother’s voice in her ear, anxiety started to well up in her. Something else too.

For the past year, any time she was alone, she got this feeling but any time she tried to pin it down it ran away. She was sick of trying to chase a ghost but she couldn’t quite bring herself to give up on it either. Something in her soul said this feeling was important and that she had to solve the puzzle. She was pretty sick of the urgent feeling in her stomach and right now was not the time. Anxiety she could handle, the other thing could wait.

Rae walked into the door of the tiny, eclectic, coffee shop and looked around. She had found it the day before, relieved to find a place that wasn’t a chain. If anyone knew how anxious she always was they would have assumed she was the type to order everything on an app and use self checkout. Except there was a certain charm, in her opinion, about having the sort of social anonymity of having a place she was considered a quirky regular. A place where the barista knew her order and the check out guy knew how to bag her eggs just the way she liked. The sort of pseudo social bond that made it so someone would notice if you went missing but you were still a little bit of an enigma. It was part of why she'd picked such a small town. She wanted that place where everyone sort of knew each other.

Rae walked up to see the same woman from yesterday behind the counter wiping it down and humming to herself. “Hey! Welcome back! So I guess the coffee wasn’t too bad then?” The woman greeted, warmly. She had a sort of spirit about her that Rae hadn’t found at the cafe near her parent’s house in the giant suburb where nothing really felt local, even the local shops. She loved Burbank, but she was thrilled to be rid of it.

“I loved it, actually. Had to come back and try another one.” Her tone was friendly and she was proud of herself for being able to sound confident even if she didn’t feel it with ehr stomach bubbling and twisting and her heart beating a bit too fast.

“You want the Honey Nut latte again then?” The woman asked, turning to the computer.

“Actually I was looking at the Cinnamon vanilla cappuccino.” She admitted. Rae had a huge soft spot for cinnamon. She loved the sweet and spicy mix. It felt sort of fantastical, like the sort of thing a fairy should drink.

“Oh! Good choice! It’s one of my favorites. Biggest cup I can find?” the barista asked, quoting yesterday. Rae was surprised but she supposed in a small town like this new people always stuck out. Not to mention she was the crazy red head with the coffee addiction that spent half her day writing in the back corner and muttering to herself while she wobbled the table. That probably helped make her memorable.

“Please and thank you!” She said brightly as she pulled out her card to pay. The Barista was quick to process the purchase and say they’d call her name when it was ready and Rae nodded turning to the room to get to work when she was stopped short.

She looked at her table. Her table, she had quickly decided, was perfect.It had a slight wobble to fidget with when thinking and just enough light that she could see but not too much in the sun as to need to take off her sweater and she could angle her computer just so in order to not get glare. Yes, her perfect little table was another part of the charm and allure of this place. Except right now, her table had a man sitting at it.

There were plenty of other tables, that wasn’t the problem. The thing was Rae was a creature of habit if nothing else. She liked normal and same and comfortable. She didn’t just want any table she wanted her table.

She was the kind of person that was one mental breakdown away from having the same outfit in 12 colors just because it was comfortable. Finding a new table once she picked one took time, it took effort. Yes, she’d only had that table once but it was her table! Now her choices were go find a new one: torture! Or talk to the man and ask if he could move: torture!

“Iced Cinnamon honey Latte for Liam!” was called next to her and the man stood up. She quickly averted her eyes to look at the menu pretending she was busy. As soon as he was engaged with the Barista she quickly slipped to the table into the same seat she had been in the day before, thankfully not the one the man had been in, and opened her computer.

“I suppose I don’t mind a little company.” A voice drawled over her. It was deep, and sounded like it was amused, and absolutely terrifying. She looked up to see warm chestnut eyes and a beard and shaggy brown hair and sun tanned skin. He was taller than her but not by much. Other than looking a bit ragged he was just a normal, average guy. So why did she get the instantaneous need to flee? Oh yeah, because she stole his table.

“Oh umm Sorry?” She asked, she tried her best to sound innocent and confused. Maybe if she could play it off well enough he’d just give up and move. It was her favorite table after all.

Mistakes were clearly made when he sat down in the same seat he had left. “My table.” The statement was simple and plain and was accompanied with a rather self satisfied looking smirk.

“No one was here when I sat down so–” Rae started powering up her laptop and pulling out notebooks hoping it would be enough to stake her claim and scare him off. That was until the man pointed to a black bag resting on the seat next to his. “Oh. I must have missed that. Sorry I can–” She started to get up with tense shoulders and probably too perfect posture.

“There’s plenty of space. I mean the table is meant for like seven people.” It was an exaggeration, but not by much. The big, round table had been useful because she had been able to spread out her notebooks and books and still had about half a table left for cups and plates. “Besides, looks like I won’t be here half as long as you will.” He mused.

He gave a slow look over her bag of books and papers and pens and highlighters, it always looked near to bursting at the seams. His look had her blushing from embarrassment. Then his eyes slowly moving over her face like he was drinking in her appearance. His look had her flicking her eyes shyly down to her keyboard and suddenly feeling very warm in her comfy knit sweater.

“Thank you. It’s just that this is the perfect table. It’s the right distance from the window to get light but not be too warm or reflect on my screen and it’s got a little wobble that I can play with when I’m thinking.” She explained in a rush. Why was she telling him this? Why did she want to tell this guy everything she’d ever thought?

She fought the urge to look back up to the chocolate eyes of the man in front of her. She did not do relationships. She had knocked aside every single person who had even looked her way for as long as she could remember. This guy wasn’t even her type! Sure he was handsome in his own way, and he had a great voice but she wanted something else. She just wasn’t really sure what that was.

“Good to know I have good taste.” He said with a tone that had her looking up in panic. It sounded so weighty. Was he complimenting her? That was very daring. “In tables.” He clarified like he could read her mind.

“Right.” She said, nodding and trying to remind herself to breathe. There was no way she was letting this guy get to her. She was just a nervous person. So why was this guy so disarming? Why was he terrifying in a totally different way from every other human she’d ever met? Why did she want to know more about him? “You do. So umm… do you–”

“Cinnamon Vanilla Cappuccino for Rae!” The barista called. Rae nearly tipped her chair over when she shot up like a bottle rocket.

“That’s me!” She called. The Barista, thankfully, just smiled warmly and motioned to her with the coffee. Right she had to go over and get it. “Be right back. Can you watch my stuff?” She asked the mystery man as she, much more carefully, picked her way around her bag and towards the counter.

She felt so stupid. Genuinely, she felt like an idiot. She had just made a total fool of herself and her anxiety was flaring like crazy. Her heart was pounding a thousand miles a second and her palms were sweating and her stomach was even a little nauseous. She took the coffee and the Barista smiled kindly.

“He’s the last new guy, moved in about a year ago. Nice guy but I’ve never seen him talk to the same person that long.” The barista commented. What was that supposed to mean? Was she special?

“Oh. Yeah well I tried to steal his table so...” Rae trailed off awkwardly. Maybe she should just go home and never leave her house again. She took a sip of her coffee and comfort washed over her body. “Wow.” She breathed for the first time in what seemed like forever. “This is great!” she complimented savoring the sweet and spicy flavor that made her feel magical.

“Told you! It’s my favorite. Enjoy.” The Barista turned in a way that clearly dismissed her.

Ok, so she couldn’t leave until she finished her coffee now. She looked around the empty cafe, empty except for her table that had the guy at it. She tried to pick another place to work but every single one just had too many glaring issues. That one really was her perfect table. So she just had to deal with the guy. Besides, something in her told her that if she moved the guy would just follow. A traitorous part of her loved the idea too.

She moved back to her seat and nodded a greeting to the guy sitting there. “Thanks.” She said putting her coffee down and moving to sit.

“That’ll be 20 dollars.” the guy said with an impish smile that made her stomach flip uncomfortably and had her flopping into the seat she had just been trying to sit gracefully in.

She was a scared wreck 99% of the time but the other 1% of her personality was all redhead. Instantly her face flared red and rage boiled in her blood. “Excuse me?!” She asked, her chin cocked down and teeth clenched almost as tight as her fists.

Instantly his hands raised in surrender but his face was entirely covered in a smug smile. “Joking.” He assured with a wave of his hands to draw attention to his surrender. “Good to know you’re a fighter though.” He commented, taking a self satisfied sip of his own drink.

A fighter? She was not a fighter! She was a runner and a hider or a freezer at best. His words soothed her somehow though. It was like he was seeing someone completely different than who she was but for some reason she really wanted to be that person. “I just couldn’t believe you thought your services were worth 20 bucks.” She countered. “Maybe Five…cents” Was she teasing him? She was pretty sure she was teasing him. Where had she learned to tease random men in coffee shops?

“Ouch.” He said covering his heart like he’d been wounded but his smile was impossible to miss. It lit his face with an impossibly enchanting glow. She couldn’t take her eyes off the way his eyes crinkled in the corners or the way his laugh lines framed his lips. She ripped her eyes forcefully to her coffee and took a long drink of the soothing cinnamon. She hoped the drink would bring some much needed reality to her boggled mind. “I’d be happy to show you just what my services are worth.” He offered and she caught sight of him wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

A laugh caught Rae by the throat and she nearly choked on her coffee as she snorted. Coffee assaulted the back of her throat and splashed all over her computer screen from her coughing. Oh God she looked like an idiot. “Sorry.” She choked out as she put down her cup and desperately tried to get her breathing and hacking under control.

She looked up to see an empty seat where he had been. He was gone. She tried to insist to herself that she wasn’t sad or upset or anything even remotely like it. She was glad that she had her table to herself. The problem was that inexplicable feeling was instantly back. It was like an itch inside of her ear so deep there was no way to scratch it. She hadn’t realized but for those brief moments talking to this strange man, it had been gone. Now that he was missing it was back. She didn’t know what to make of that. It was like her skin was crawling, looking for something. Her eyes darted around the shop, without her permission, to see where he went.

“Don’t go dying on me, now.” His voice pulled her instantly to look next to her. “I know I’m funny but even I’m not that funny.” He joked offering her a napkin. She tried not to feel relieved seeing his face there smiling like he was hilarious. She reached up taking the napkin and wiped her face as he sauntered back to his seat and dropped himself haphazardly into it.

“It just took me by surprise.” She insisted, not sure what to do with herself. Why was she so relaxed with this guy around? Why had it felt so cold when she had thought he left?

All this was a lot to think about and she was supposed to be writing. She winced as soon as she looked at her screen and saw it covered in drips of coffee. That was going to be gross to write through all day. She wiped the screen but it just wiped streaks of cream and sugar across the surface.

“Everything ok there, kid?” His voice called for her attention again. Somehow the nickname, which should have been demeaning, didn’t set her anger ablaze again. It seemed so casual, almost natural. Not that the man in front of her could possibly be too much older than she was. She was in her mid thirties and would probably pin him at around forty, maybe younger.

She sighed in frustration at the streaks on her screen needing to be careful of the LCD screen but there was no amount of wiping that would fix this mess. “Fine it just– my screen is a mess now. So it looks like I won’t get any writing done. My publisher will love that.” She sighed, closing her screen probably a touch harder than she should have.

“Publisher?” He asked with a tilted head. He didn’t really look surprised, which surprised her. She could say he looked vaguely curious, but even that was too strong a word for the expression he was portraying.

“Yeah I um,I guess you could say I’m a writer. Or at least I wrote a book and it got published so, write.” She said instantly, self conscious. This was the part that always felt awkward and wrong. Plus it got two reactions, half the people were so excited they instantly wanted to be her best friend and get a free copy, the other half were patronizing and passed the words off as her bragging. “Now I’m supposed to write the follow up.” She explained awkwardly. “It’s supposed to be a series.” She was babbling again. “About fairies.” She finished.

God why couldn’t she have written about something so much cooler? Why wasn’t she writing about dragons or werewolves or even bigfoot! Why was it fairies? He would think she was twelve. Why the hell did she care what he thought?

“Fairies are cool.” His voice was so casual she couldn’t stop herself from looking up with what she was sure was a stupid, hopeful face.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not talking like two inches tall with butterfly wings or anything. They’re more like elemental forces. They’re mostly warriors and guardians. It’s not as dumb as it sounds, I swear.” She tried desperately to defend her book and let out an awkward laugh. She was trying not to give into the overwhelming shame and embarrassment she currently felt.

She never talked about her novels to anyone that wasn’t her mother or her publisher. Even her dad hadn’t actually heard much about her book. She’d given him a copy of the first round of printing but it was still sitting untouched next to his armchair in California. This stranger actually looked interested though. Not even complimentary, not amused and mocking. He was just passively curious.

“What’s it called? I’d love to read it.” He said, taking a slow sip of his iced drink. Why was he drinking an iced coffee? It may not be fall yet but the colder weather had already stolen into the mountains enough that she needed a sweater.

“I have a spare copy at home. Maybe I could bring it to you tomorrow?” She offered.

“I can’t be here tomorrow.” Why was she disappointed by that? She nodded, refusing to let her face fall but either she wasn’t as good at hiding her emotions as she wanted to be, or he was more perceptive than average. “I work on call in the ranger outpost up in the national park. I’m on three days off two. But I’ll be here Friday? Maybe I can pick it up then?” he offered. “Buy you lunch to pay you back for it?” He looked hopeful. That was a surprise. The look in his eyes made it seem like he was holding his breath as much as she was.

“Sounds good. I’ll be here.” She agreed with a shy smile. Had she just agreed to a date? Three days from now she had agreed to a date! Maybe it wasn’t a date. Maybe he was just being nice.

“It’s a date.” He commented with a smirk. Ok so definitely a date.

“Yeah!” She shouldn’t be this excited. She was never this excited. She hated dating. Ever since she got dumped at her ninth grade ball for the class siren by the local captain of the jousting team. ‘Real life terms Raziel!’ she chastised herself. She wrote too much. It was the ninth grade semi-formal and the head cheerleader and the captain of the football team, whom she’d had no business dating anyway.

Her mom always warned her about getting too stuck in her stories. They were always telling her if she wasn’t careful she’d never come out.

“You want me to see what I can do with that screen?” The man’s voice shocked her out of her self-reflection.

“Huh?” Rae shook her head blinking away the voices fighting behind her eyes and flashes of wings and gossamer.

The man nodded his head to her closed computer. “Your computer screen. I might be able to clean it off.” He offered. “Can’t let you get behind because of my attempted murder.” He joked.

She laughed even though it wasn’t a good joke and nodded. “Sure.” she said, opening the lid. “All yours.” He took a napkin and pulled a bottle of water out of his satchel pouring a bit onto the end and ran it lightly over the screen.

Rae watched in awe as the streaks cleared up and dried like he’d used one of her screen clothes instead of a napkin and water. “My hero!” She said with a smile looking over to see his brown eyes right next to her. He was close enough to her she could smell woods and smoke and see little lines decorating his face and disappearing into the thick hair of his beard. It was an alluring image to be sure. Almost made her forget to breathe.

“Liam.” His voice was deep and so sexy and horribly distracting. Clearly she was quiet long enough that he felt the need to clarify. “That's my name. Liam.” That woke her up.

“Right! Sorry! Rae.” She introduced in a rush.

“Short for…?” He prompted.

“Something horrible.” She informed flatly.

“It can't be that bad.” He insisted with a smile.

“It really is.”

“What Rachel? Rainbow? Ray of sunshine? Raymond?”

“Raziel.” She burst out if only to stop his insane guesses. She stopped short, her eyes going huge when she realized she had just said her most hated name to a total stranger.

“Hm interesting.” Was all he said. “See ya Friday, Raziel.” He said her name quietly with an impish smile. It was like he was keeping her name a little secret between them. Somehow it didn't sound quite so horrid coming from him which really was a magical thing for him to manage.

“See you Friday, Liam.” She couldn't fight the smile. Her phone started to buzz and she looked down seeing her mom's contact and huffed. Her mother could not know about this. That was not happening. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to stop thinking about it but just the image of her mother learning about the coffee shop forest ranger felt like a threat. A threat she didn’t have time to unpack right now. Those chocolate eyes and the feelings behind them would be unfolded at a later date. For now she had other beasts to battle.

“Hi mom!”

#original Fiction #How I know you #Working title #This is the book based on an Aidelly Fic I plan to write. So you should absolutely picture Bryce Dallas Howard and Sam Rockwell here.

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random-imagines-blog · 2 years

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Unlock It {Bucky Barnes x Reader Oneshot}

Wordcount: 3827 Summary: Bucky has his kind of therapy. You have yours. Only - yours tends to be a little bit more eclectic than his.

Bucky Barnes was in therapy. It took him a while to admit that to you, that he had been forced into going after everything that happened with The Avengers saving the world against a big bad Titan. Actually, it was easier for him to talk about the big battle and losing Steve than it was to tell you about Dr. Raynor. You didn’t judge him for that. How could you? In this world where it seems like men would do literally anything to avoid therapy, even go on the run rather than open up. You thought it was a good thing, even though he told you that he hated her, hated it and didn’t really talk about anything. So in an act of showing him how good it can feel, how it can really free the soul, you started going to therapy too. Not Dr. Raynor. That would have been too weird. No, you found another therapist. More of a hippy type, truth be told. But you liked her vibes. And she had liked yours.

The office was furnished with macrame and wicker. Even the coasters on which you could rest your water-bottle or the mug of herbal tea that she liked to supply were macrame feathers. Home made from the looks of it. And old. A little frayed. But still very loved. You had liked that about it all - it wasn’t clean and sterile. It was comfortable. It felt like you were visiting an eclectic aunt who just wanted to give you some advice and guidance rather than someone that you were paying to listen to you. It wasn’t for everyone - but it did the trick for you.

You opened up to your Doctor - who refused to let you call her Doctor. “My name is Vicky. That’s who I want to be with you. Doctor is too clinical. Too cold. I want to be your friend, I want to be someone that you feel like you can turn to, that you can talk to.”

That had been exactly what drew you to her - which was weird because it was the same kind of pull that you had towards Bucky when you first met him. Two years ago today. You were walking out of the grocery store, carrying the couple of bags that you got towards the sidewalk so you could catch the bus home. It was New York after all. Driving was just an insane idea. It would have taken you three times as long to get home. Just as you stepped off the asphalt onto pavement, one of your bags ripped. That’s what you get for using plastic bags, forgetting your reusable ones at home. Apples, oranges, they went sprawling down the street. A couple into traffic. A truck ran over one. A cabbie yelled at you over one of the apples. Like you had meant for this to happen.

You gave the cabbie the finger and he went off with another honk. You tried to gather together what you could off of the sidewalk, but it began to make your other bags feel overloaded. You didn’t have much of a choice. Your bus was going to be at the stop soon. If you missed it, you were going to have to wait another half an hour and the heat was sweltering.

The cackles of some teenagers reached your ears. Just what you needed. A group of dumbasses haha and heehaw’ing at you dropping your vitamin C. And not doing a damn thing to help you.

“Oh, yeah, it’s so funny,” You called out to them, annoyed. “Laugh it up. What would you do if I was your mother or your sister huh? Would you just stand there and laugh?”

“Thing is -” One of the teenagers spoke up. Sports jacket. Probably some big shot on a football team somewhere or something. “- they wouldn’t use those cheap ass bags.”

You sighed. Fair play. How were you even supposed to argue with that? You managed to get what was around you and was chasing after a rogue orange when it hit somebody’s shoe. A black sneaker. A gloved hand picked it up. You followed the line of the dark jeans, up over the broad chest of the long sleeved-shirt with sweat marks around the collar, up to the handsome face above. “Ignore them,” The man said, slipping the orange inside of your bags. “Boys don’t know what to do when there’s someone good looking around other than to laugh and fuck it up immediately.”

“Thanks,” You said, “I thought I was going to have to chase that thing up to Manhattan or something. Rogue orange.” He chuckled at your comment, showing off a set of near-perfect teeth behind those pink lips. Whoa. “I’d - better get going,” You said, reluctantly. As much as you wanted to stand there and stare at this handsome man, it might get a little odd.

“Your bag looks like it’s going to break,” He said. He reached into his back pocket - men tend to have those pretty deep, lucky lads - and pulled out a folded up cloth bag. “Here. You can borrow this.”

You weren’t going to argue. These cheap bags - especially with the added load of the other bagful of things. “Thanks again,” You said, gratefully, putting what you had on the ground and started to transfer some of the things over. You were able to fit about two bags worth of stuff in there, thankfully. That made it so much easier. “I have a couple at home, I’m just always forgetting them,” You explained, not wanting to seem like you were entirely stupid.

“Happens all the time,” He nodded, handing you the things to put into the bag until you were able to lift it. Not too heavy. A real convenience.

“Oh, well - I’m that way so...” You said, pointing over your shoulder in the direction that you had been heading before the big split.

“I said you can borrow the bag, not that you can have it,” The man said with a gruff-looking smile, the corners of his blue eyes getting crinkles. “I’ll walk with you, make sure you don’t have anything else spill on you.”

“I don’t usually bring home men I don’t know the name of," You quipped. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell you his name. But he looked at the bag and sighed, finally admitting to it.

“Bucky Barnes,” He told you.

You looked over his face, and then, “Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you Bucky.”

That’s how it started. A rogue orange. Some jeering teenagers. You never forgot the reusable bags again. Bucky kept them near the coat closet for you, ready at a moment’s notice. He was always taking care of little things like that while you took care of him on the days and nights he had trouble sometimes. You told your therapist all about him. You wondered, sometimes, if he told his therapist about you. Things weren’t perfect, nothing in life ever is. You sometimes had little spats where he’d grab his coat and go out for a walk because he couldn’t handle the stress of seeing you upset. Sometimes you would leave, and come back to see him fixing something that he had broken. Even after so long, he wasn’t used to the metal arm. He’d grown accustomed to not having it in Wakanda - which he had opened up to you about a little. Sometimes he thought about just taking it off - and you told him to do what made him feel good, not what might make him appear normal to the outside world.

You were bringing up the recent argument to your therapist. “I know he’s holding back and I know he thinks it’s for good reason, all of that control but - I’m terrified of losing him. I just sometimes get the feeling that ... I’ve lost him before.” You didn’t know how to fully explain it but there was this fear, every time that he walked out the door.

“Have you given any thought to what we talked about last time?" The therapist asked. You played with the fringes on one of the pillows, running it between your fingers and nodded, slowly. “Would you like to give it a try?”

“Past-life hypnotherapy,” You muttered aloud. That’s what the therapist thought the reason for your anxieties were. There was nothing in your own life that might have made you feel that way. You’ve been lucky enough not to have feelings of abandonment. You were close with your family. Your former relationships, though they had fallen through for reasons, didn’t end with them ‘leaving you’ so to speak. So this was the outlandish theory of your therapist. To unlock your past life and find out the trauma and move on, somehow. It did sound insane. It sounded absolutely crazy. But in this world with people like Dr Strange, with aliens, with immortal Norse God, super soldiers, did reincarnation really sound so silly? “Okay. Let’s try it.”

“Excellent. Now, I want you to lay out on the couch. Don’t mind the shoes, love, you can keep them on if you’re more comfortable like that, I’ll be vacuuming later anyway.” You did bring your feet up, in whichever way you felt the most comfortable, and laid your head down on the pillow. Your arms were at your sides. You closed your eyes.

She started to talk. The words slipped in and out of your head. Like you were half asleep. You started to feel heavy. You tried to concentrate on the individual words but they slipped right out of your head.

The way that you had slipped -

There were so many people around. It was a wonder that you hadn’t been bumped more than once. But it was this one time that really got you. Two giggly women holding onto one another had knocked you clear over and kept on going without looking back. You had stumbled into someone who had helped you get back up onto your feet. “You alright there, doll?”

The voice was smooth, jovial, but concerned. He didn’t seem to be laughing at you. The lady he was with did, though. You saw her face before you saw hers, thanks to the height difference. A pretty little brunette in an embroidered dress. She let out a high pitch laugh and then tried to tug the man along. But he let go of her arm, unhooked, just to put both of his hands on your upper arms and made sure that you were stable.

“I’m fine,” You said, attempting not to glare at the woman who had laughed at you. You straightened up your back and then finally looked at who it was that was touching you. The dark green of the military was the color of all of his clothes, from his trousers to his shirt, jacket, tie and hat. A military man. How very kind of him. His date, however, seemed not to be the kind sort. She kept on walking. She looked over her shoulder expectantly, like she was waiting for him to follow. But he didn’t, he kept looking over you. “Like I said,” You repeated slowly, “I’m fine. There’s no need to leave your date waiting.”

“I tried to find the girls that knocked you over but-” Another friendly voice. A skinny little blonde boy. He had a nice smile though. But you had the oddest feeling of deja-vu ... but for something that hasn’t happened yet. “Are they okay, Buck?”

“Looks like they’re alright,” ‘Buck’ said, speaking for you.

“Really, I’m fine,” You assured the both of them, but found yourself looking back up at Buck. He was a handsome man - but leaving, and apparently taken. “There was no need for you to go chasing them down. I know not to expect an apology. Thank you though. I think you’d best be chasing after your own girls now.”

Buck looked over your head and then shrugged. “Our dates are malcontents,” He said with a shrug. “They’re just here to try to get a look at Howard Stark, I’d wager.”

“His technology is really advanced, I’ve heard,” Buck’s friend said.

“And I’m here for the fun,” Bucky finished. “What are you here for, doll?” He called you the name again. It didn’t go over your head the way that his eyes did.

“The fun,” You admitted. “But I was thinking about leaving. My sister was supposed to meet me here and she’s just not to be found. Probably found herself a handsome man like you two fellas to keep her company,” You laughed. “It was a pleasure, Buck and - Buck’s friend.”

“This is Steve,” Buck said, immediately, bringing his friend forward, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The size difference was astronomical. “And he’s the only one who ever calls me Buck. It’s Bucky. Well, James Buchanan but I prefer Bucky.”

“Well hi there Bucky and Steve, names for both faces. It was nice to meet ya. Maybe I’ll see you around,” You gave a wave and turned to walk off. It was hard to take your eyes off of Buck’s face. Everyone else around seemed so bland in comparison. But before you took two steps, a hand clasped yours and you spun around back into him.

“You never gave me your name,” Bucky said, smiling charmingly.

“I-” You barely got a word out before you suddenly found yourself waking up. You were holding the fringed pillow up against your chest, squeezing it tightly.

“Y/N, Y/N,” A soft voice kept repeating. As you were coming out of your dream state, you began to notice the colors on the walls, the macrame. It was all so bright and so vivid. So colorful.

“Where am I?” You asked, feeling like you were coming out of a daze.

“You’re in my office, y/n,” The voice said. “Vicky. Let’s sit up now, and get you a glass of water.”

She explained to you that you had gone into a trance easily enough. You were not explaining what had happened but you were saying some things out loud. Buck. Buck’s friends. It all came back to you. Not just the trance, because for a moment or two there, you really did feel like you were back there. Back in the nineteen forties. Where you had a sister and you attended The World’s Fair where Howard Stark was presenting some of his inventions or something. Tony Stark’s father. What a world. What a life you must have lived then. But then an ache hit your heart, hit your stomach. Bucky had left you then. He would have gone off to the war. He would have been deemed missing, fallen from the train during the fight against The Red Skull, fell down and down and down when he was taken by the Russians and turned into The Winter Soldier.

You had cried for a while on that couch. And Vicky had broken her protocol and sat next to you and rubbed at your back until you felt well enough to go home. You made another appointment. You felt like you were going to need it. Because you had promised Bucky that you’d make dinner tonight and you were going to tell him all about this.

He came home late. Late and grumpy. As he peeled off the gloves that he used to make himself more normal and took off his coat, the smells of spices from the tacos that you had made seemed to make him not slouch as much as usual. “That smells good,” He seemed to say reluctantly.

“Tastes even better,” You hummed from where you set out the different ingredients. “I couldn’t wait. I was dipping into the salsa. Come on, Buck, take a load off.”

“Okay doll, okay,” He said, giving in. The use of that word. That name. It sent a shiver up your spine. Because it was the first time that he had said it to you today - but it was also the third time that you had heard it from you today. He must have noticed your reaction. Damn those sharp eyes of his. “Everything alright?” He asked, looking around the apartment. Looking for anything off, or any sort of threat.

“No one is here,” You assured him. “Everything’s fine. Just - something very odd happened at therapy today.”

“Your therapist is just odd in general,” He said. He picked up a spoon and started to put the filling in his taco shell. “What was it this time? Were your chakras off? Were you not able to open your third eye wide enough?”

You cracked a smile at that. “Vicky means well,” You said, adding some of your favorite toppings onto your own shell. “But I have a uhh - a bit of a weird question.”

“Okay....” Bucky eyed you over the table. His hands were still moving but his face remained expressionless. No- not quite. There was a puppy-like curiosity in those beautiful eyes.

“Do you remember the World’s Fair that you and Steve went to - where Howard Stark was presenting some sort of flying car type thing?”

“I never got to see it,” Bucky said, a smile spreading as he remembered it. “It was right before I got sent out. Got a little err - distracted. Why?”

“You met someone that night. A couple of girls tripped them up and they nearly fell down - you saw the whole thing. Your little date laughed at them, kept walking - did you, did you blow her off for this person?”

Bucky looked conflicted as you caught his eye. His hand was gripping so tightly, the taco shell broke apart in his hands, sending bits of cheese, sour cream and taco shell all over his metal hand. “How do you know that?” He asked, his brow furrowed. His eyes were narrowed. You went to get a napkin to help him clean up but he held you away with his flesh and blood hand. “HOW?” He yelled, making you flinch.

Okay, so maybe you didn’t go about it in the right way. With that accusing look, you realized your mistake. You waved the napkin in the air like it was a white flag of surrender.

“Past life hypnotherapy,” You said. “That’s what Vicky and I tried today.” He snorted. He still had trouble believing that you called her Vicky. He couldn’t ever imagine calling his therapist by her first name. Absolutely ridiculous. “Because we couldn’t figure out the source of this anxiety that I have about-” You froze up, realizing that you had never actually revealed that part to Bucky. You didn’t want to put pressure on him. He had enough of it as it was.

“Anxiety about what?” Bucky asked, his tone still harsh. “About what, y/n? About me? About being around me?”

“The opposite,” You said, knowing that you had dug yourself into a hole and the only thing you could fill it with was the truth. “Whenever you go off for more than a couple of hours, even going and seeing Sam, it makes me worry like crazy that you’re just not going to come back. That either you were going to leave, just decide not to come home or - or that something bad was going to happen to you.” He didn’t answer to this. He kept looking at you. He didn’t soften up in the slightest. “We hashed through everything. My family life, childhood, my exes, my friends, but nothing before you had ever given me this reason. So she had an idea and I went with it because what could it hurt right? And then I saw it all. Well, not all of it. Just some of that night. The falling. You helped me. You made sure that I was okay. You called the girls that you and Steve were with malcontents. Steve tried to find the girls that knocked me over but he couldn’t and I was going to leave but you took hold of my hand and - you called me doll. Steve called you Buck,” You said, going over it in your mind like you had the entire ride back home. “I swear, I’m telling you the truth. The reason why I get so afraid of you leaving is because - you did. You left for the war. And you never came home."

“But I did,” Bucky said. “Eventually. I’m home now.”

That was true. He was. He had come back both missing a part of himself and being overfilled - a broken teacup from Alice in Wonderland that is spilling over. “Yeah, you are, love. You’re home. It’s - it’s been a crazy day, if it stresses you out we don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s okay. Just - give me a minute.” He turned it over in his head as he went to the corner of the room, opened up the closet and brought out the broom. He swept up his mess into the dustbin, threw it out. Throughout all of this, you just watched him while trying not to show it, trying not to seem like you were staring. But you were waiting for another reaction, anything.

He washed his hands at the sink. Dried them on a paper towel. Crumpled it up, threw it into the garbage can. Perfect score. It went straight in. The man had aim. He picked up another taco shell. Started to fill it. You took a small bite of your own, the hardness of the shell cracking against your mouth. The zestiness of the salsa.

“So you’re clumsy in all your lives then?” Bucky finally said, nearly making you choke. You had hardly been expecting his comment. You swallowed it down and then started to laugh.

“That does seem like a common theme, doesn’t it?” You chuckled.

He finished making his own but before he ate it, he walked around to your side of the table and put his arm around your waist. “That’s two lives you fell for me in,” He said, confirming your earlier suspicions. He was just so damn charming, so easy to fall in love with. Even if he often denied that he was worth loving, he had to know what that smile and those eyes did to people. “How about we just live in this one as long as we can, and not worry about a third?”

“I like the sound of that,” You agreed, leaning in towards him. His lips grazed against your cheek, and then closer to your own. Closer - closer - closer - past?

His teeth closed around your food. “Oh no, oh no no no,” You said, pushing him away as he wiped crumbs from his mouth. He had that grin on his face. That sneaky one. “You keep that up and you’re going to your next life sooner rather than later, Buck.”

“Let’s see you try, doll.”

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes oneshot #Marvel #Marvel oneshot #x reader #oneshot #one shot #buckyb #nonrequest

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loving-inkpressions · 3 years

Text

Hello (Sweet Magic #1)

Summary: Denali moves into a sleepy little town and opens a bakery where she makes the most delicious sweets. Everyone in town is immediately enchanted by Denali and her sweet treats, including local Sheriff Rosé.

When Denali moves into town, Rosé just knows that there’s something special about her. Her scent attracts her like no other has, and beneath her sweet sugary scent and adorable dimples, Rosé is pretty sure that Denali is pure magic. Literally.

A/N: Just coming out of hiding and back to writing. More characters and pairings to come, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this short and sweet first chapter.

Read it on AO3

———

When Denali had first stepped foot into her new apartment, arms occupied with a box of her belongings and Donut by her side, she had known that this was the home she had always dreamed of.

Literally.

The magic that ran in her veins was practically singing, dancing under her skin as she set the box down on the kitchen counter and scanned her surroundings.

The apartment was a small but cosy one with panelled windows, white wash walls and wooden floorboards. The movers had done a pretty decent job of setting everything up, her eclectic mix of furniture where they should be, and anything that was out of place could easily be rectified with a flick of her wrist.

Donut trotted around, sniffing at corners and pawing at the familiar furniture, ears and nose twitching every now and then before turning back to Denali to let out a happy bark, tail wagging in approval. She bent down to give Donut a scratch behind her ears, then straightened back up with a smile on her face.

Yup, this was home.

———

Curls of smoke from a pot of incense swirled lazily in the air as a melodic voice hummed from a woman bowed over a crystal ball, her brown hair piled high on her head with her eyes closed in concentration.

A red haired woman sat opposite her, leaning back in the other armchair, legs stretched out beneath the small circular table covered by a teal velvet like cloth as she tapped her finger impatiently on the table. The woman looked around the room, at the shelves upon shelves of old books and jars of herbs and other weird potion ingredients, sparkling crystals and colourful tapestries on the walls. She sighed for the umpteenth time before looking back at the brunette.

“Lagoona-”

“Patience, Rosé, and stop tapping the goddamn table.”

Rosé pulled back and crossed her arms with a pout. Another minute passed before Lagoona finally opened her eyes, a grin spread across her face.

“She’s here.” Rosé’s heart skipped a beat, but then settled after remembering that Lagoona had said the exact same thing three months ago.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m serious! I think your mate really is here. The spirits never lie.”

Rosé scoffed in disbelief.

“That’s what you said three months ago. Maybe your visions are a little off-”

“Excuse me? My visions are never wrong.” The brunette scowled in response as she tossed one of the small crystals in a basket at the laughing redhead. Rosé caught it deftly with her right hand and set the stone back in its place.

“Whatever you say, Miss Town Mystic.” She said as she stood up, stretching with a tired yawn. It had been a long overnight shift, but as sheriff, that’s what had to be done in their sleepy town.

Lagoona sighed at Rosé, knowing that whatever she said would not get through her hard headed friend’s skull. As much as she loved her friend, her stubbornness was one trait that was both endearing and very much frustrating.

“You’ll see, Miss Sheriff, you’ll see.”

Rosé waved Lagoona off as she shrugged her brown leather jacket back on, making her way out of her friend’s fortune telling shop.

“Sure, Goona. We’ll see.”

———

It had been a week since Denali had moved into the sleepy little town, and already she felt more at home than she had ever thought possible. Everyone was so warm and friendly, and she could feel the genuine kindness emanating from each and every soul she came across, human and magic folk alike.

She felt safe, so much safer than she had ever been when she was with-

Swallowing, Denali shook her head to clear her mind as she carefully arranged the freshly baked cupcakes in the display.

The little bakery that she had set up had been fully furnished and set up two days ago, and was now finally ready for her to start welcoming people into her shop. After setting the final one down, she slid the glass panel shut, took one last look around the shop and went to the front.

She took a deep breath before finally flipping the cardboard sign to open.

———

Rosé was walking around the streets doing her routine morning patrol of the town as its citizens were going about and getting on with their lives. Shops were opening, kids were gallivanting around, people darting about as they made their way to their weekend appointments. She loved being able to look after the town and its inhabitants, having come from a long line of protectors, her pack having resided in the town since the first brick had been laid down on its foundations.

For years, she remembered watching her father caring for the people in the town when he was sheriff and alpha of the pack, always watching in admiration of how calm and attentive he was to the needs of everyone.

When the time came for the mantle to be passed down to her, Rosé had taken it with great reverence and respect, knowing that she was now the one that would protect their town and the people in it.

She turned around the corner and stopped, her instincts suddenly reacting to something. When Lagoona had said that her mate was here, she had been sceptical. Three months ago, she had been told the same thing, and Rosé had been constantly looking around town since then, peering at all the new faces that passed through or settled here, but had come up with nothing but a disappointed heart.

When Lagoona had told her the same thing a few days ago, she hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up again and instead had decided that instead of looking for her mate, she would let her mate come to her.

After all, if they really were fated to be together, then it would happen naturally wouldn’t it?

But then what Rosé couldn’t deny now was the way her senses were suddenly alive, like she had been charged up with electricity. All week her senses had been going off, but she had just brushed it aside, chalking it up to false hope. But with the way she could feel herself reacting now, she knew her mate wasn’t far.

With a hopeful heart, Rosé took one step, then two, then finally let her instincts guide her. She started to take in a warm and sweet scent that steadily grew stronger with every step she took until she was finally standing in front of a bakery, her eyes drawn to the figure behind the glass windows.

A young woman was smiling softly down at a little girl sitting at one of the small tables as the little girl looked up at her, smiling back. She seemed to chatter on at a hundred miles an hour.

The young woman was beautiful with long wavy blonde hair, big brown eyes and the most adorable dimples in her cheeks, but beyond that there was something more, a connection that Rosé could feel pulling her to the blonde.

Without any hesitation, she pushed the door open, faintly registering the tinkling sound of a bell. Time seemed to slow down as the young woman turned to look at her, her blinding smile now directed at her.

“Hello.”

#rosenali #rpdr fanfiction #inkpression writes #sweet magic au #sweet magic fic

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ladystanden · 2 years

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camden has a reality check... {primadonna au}

[Part 1]

•

Camden lifted her rose gold sunglasses, squinting to get a better view of the school in front of her.

It looked fairly small, as far as schools went. The orange-red coloured bricks unlocked a very specific memory of childhood that Camden had long buried.

Her heeled boots clacked against the pavement as she made her way to the entrance. She went to grab a guest pass and meet with the students participating in the musical and their teacher, Miss Angeria Van Micheals.

Once she arrived at the joint gym and auditorium, it was pure, unadulterated, drama-class chaos.

The kids were all bouncing around the gym floor as if they’d all eaten pixie sticks for lunch. Camden gathered that they were trying to interpret some sort of animal - a kangaroo, perhaps? or maybe a pack of gazelles, she wasn’t exactly clear on that.

A few of the students stopped and broke out into whispers when they noticed her presence.

“Let’s settle, now.”

A warm yet firm voice made the students reassemble and take a seat on the floor together, revealing a woman standing behind them.

She was tall and slender, with a strong presence that commanded attention but was equally as inviting. Her gray shirt was tucked into dark wash jeans, with a burgundy cardigan on top that dramatically swished as she gestured to the kids. Her lips were painted a red that matched and were curled into a bright smile.

“As you know, this is the biggest production our school has ever put on. The art department has decided to look for some support, which is why-”

“-Is it true you were on Broadway?!”

A young girl eagerly blurted the question, unable to contain it any longer.

“Yes,” Camden replied with a diplomatic nod, “I was in the ensemble of Anastasia, and was able to tour with them before moving on to a few Off-Broadway roles.”

This spurred even more excited whispering amongst the group. Camden would be lying if she said it didn’t fuel her ego at least a little bit.

“Are you really here to help us?” Another student asked. He stared into Camden’s soul with intensely hopeful puppy-dog eyes.

“Well-” Camden faltered.

In retrospect, she should not have been caught off-guard by the candidness of these kids. Especially considering they were theatre kids.

“I’d certainly like to observe for a little while-”

“-Whatever happened to raising our hand before speaking?”

Miss Van Micheals gave her students a disapproving click of her tongue, stirring laughter in all of them. She seemed like the type of teacher who had playful rapport with her class, the kind who knew how to keep things lighthearted. In Camden’s own experience, those were pretty rare to find, which made her all the more impressive.

“I see you’re all warmed up, so why don’t we show our guest what we’ve worked on so far?”

The kids all scrambled for the door that Camden presumed led into the wings, the sports flags on the wall flaring out as they ran past.

Now, she was alone with the teacher. Luckily, Camden had plenty of experience turning on the charm: this introduction should be a cakewalk.

“Miss Van Michaels! I’m so happy I could be here today, it’s lovely to meet you.”

She extended her arm for the woman to shake, who did so with much more gentle poise than she was used to from stringent casting directors.

“Likewise,” She replied in an accent that rivaled Camden in its charm. “The kids call me Miss Angie, though, so I’d use that around them. Makes things less formal that way.”

“Of course.” Camden agreed, fighting the instinct to rock on her heels.

She was no stranger to audition nerves, but she didn’t know why she was getting them here, considering this wasn’t an audition.

The teacher led the way to a set of fold-out chairs behind a rickety table in front of the stage.

“I’m sure this isn’t as glamorous as what you’re used to, but we make due here.”

“It’s certainly - unique, but it’s sort of quaint, you know? In a hodge-podge, eclectic sort of way.”

This was certainly the first auditorium Camden had been in that had basket ball nets attached to the walls.

She slowly took a seat, unconvinced that the chair wouldn’t snap out of place and send her tumbling to the floor.

Angeria pulled out a pristine copy of the script, setting it between the two of them. She also grabbed a notepad which made Camden realize she probably should’ve brought something to take notes.

Using her phone did not seem like the right course of action.

So, she (cautiously) leaned back in her chair, ready to absorb whatever the students were about the showcase.

They started from the beginning of the show, with its opening number: Miracle.

There was no music yet, so the kids spoke the lines instead of singing them. The only set piece was another shaky folding table with a measly dollar store tablecloth thrown on top. The choreography consisted of simple touch-step moves, most of which were out of sync.

Actually, a lot of it was out of sync. The chorus where everyone had to overlap was an off-beat nightmare of children screaming their words, the formations were so clunky that Camden couldn’t tell who was supposed to be playing a child or a parent, and the two poor ensemble members tasked with carrying the table to the back of the stage struggled with it even as Mrs. Wormwood went into her sad lament of being stuck in the hospital.

Ah yes, the most common hospital decor. Balloon tablecloths.

Camden was thankful when the actress playing Matilda popped out from underneath the table, because it meant everyone else had to freeze while she delivered her sad-and-therefore-much-quieter solo part.

Everyone broke out of their characters directly after the last line. To Camden’s surprise, the woman next to her burst into thunderous applause.

“You’ve made so much progress!” She beamed.

If that was the case, Camden felt lucky to have been absent from the last practice.

All of the kids shifted their gazes to Camden, their eyes expectantly waiting for feedback.

How was she supposed to approach this? Lie and say that it was Sondheim levels of masterful?

“It… it’s an alright foundation,” She forced her face into a gentle smile, though it was hard when she was still recoiling from the piercing noise. “You all have so much… passion, it was… explosive.”

A few of the kids scrunched their noses, forcing Camden to elaborate.

“Maybe there’s a way of…. controlling the explosion a little more, so to speak? I’m not sure if you’ve learned the core principles of counting in time with the beat, of cheating out to the audience-”

“Miss Angie’s taught us all about those things.” The student playing the party entertainer piped up matter-of-factly.

“Right,” Camden’s jaw tightened, “All I meant was that… maybe some more practice is in order.”

The kids didn’t seem satisfied with this. They fidgeted in their places on stage. Which was another fundamental of theatre they hadn’t quite grasped, might Camden add.

“Can we set up the stage for the Wormwood’s house? I’d like to start blocking the next scene. If you aren’t in it, please find a partner and go over your lines together.”

The teacher’s directions broke through the tension coating the air, which Camden was thankful for.

Little did Camden know, Angeria had been stewing in a tension of her own.

The stern expression that settled on Angeria’s face startled Camden to the point of wanting to go and hide under the table with Matilda.

“Listen, I don’t know what PR company sent you here, and frankly, I couldn’t care less.”

“I’m sorry…?”

Camden failed to see what had earned her this reaction: it’s not like she was the one who sang in the chorus of screeching banshees.

“From the moment you walked through the door, you’ve made it abundantly clear you have no respect for what we’re trying to accomplish. If you think you can just waltz in, get on your high horse about technique, and use that to get on the media’s good side, then you can leave right now.”

Was she not here to be another set of eyes? To, you know, help?

Why were her valid notes being painted as a bad thing?!

“These kids don’t need criticism from some disgraced broadway performer who doesn’t care enough to learn their names. They need support. Not to be robbed of their confidence just so you can feed your own self-importance.”

It’d been a long time since Camden had been treated this way. Angeria’s brown eyes cracked in a fury that cut Camden to the core.

“That’s - that’s not what I was trying to do,” Camden stuttered, though she hadn’t pondered the possibility for long enough to know if that really had been her goal.

“I understand that they need support - that’s why I got into theatre, too.”

Angeria didn’t respond: she just stuck her nose higher in the air and turned her attention back to her students. She started blocking the next scene, leaving Camden to fester in her shame.

Shockingly, shame is not a fun emotion to experience. Without Angeria glaring daggers at her, it was easier for Camden to stave it off. To let it morph into something else.

Rage.

Who did this teacher think she was to hurl such awful insults at her? Camden was donating her own time to this production, and instead of being grateful, she was being condemned for it.

News flash: this show was a complete mess so far, and was on course to become the laughingstock of the city.

Maybe the news articles about the headache-inducing Matilda show would eclipse the ones slandering Camden. That was fine by her, let this ship sink for all she cares!

Camden did not speak two complete sentences the rest of the rehearsal. She saved her choice words for when she got back to her apartment, and furiously swiped into Deja’s contact.

“Hey Cam,” Deja greeted cheerily, “How’d it go today?”

“Deja!! Why would you do that to me, why the hell did you-”

And then she choked the rest of her words back.

Here she was, screaming at her agent over the phone. No, her friend. But with how terrible she’d been treating Deja lately, could she even call her that?

Deja was only trying to help. It’s not like she could have possibly known what the teacher would say to her.

And this tantrum over the phone was clear proof that Angeria’s words had some truth to them.

“I’ve…” Camden’s voice lowered to a whisper as realization set in, “I’ve been a bitch, haven’t I?”

Despite the prior yelling, despite deserving a harsher retort, Deja only responded with a gentle: “That bad?”

Camden collapsed onto her bed, groaning into her pillow.

“I’m sorry,” She tried to say, but it ended up coming out all muffled against the fabric.

Somehow, Deja seemed to understand.

“Hey, I don’t want you to get down on yourself. Just because you’ve been all tunnel-vision lately does not make you a bad person. You aren’t.”

Camden didn’t know what to believe anymore. All she knew was that she couldn’t trust herself, not after this downwards spiral she’d been blind to up until now.

“I know you said it wasn’t all rosy, but I still think this experience will be good for you, even if the first day was a little… trying.” Deja offered.

“I’ll be banned if I set foot in there ever again,” Camden let out a self-deprecating laugh, “I’m surprised they didn’t have me thrown out when I so ignorantly decided to call their auditorium a ‘unique hodge-podge’.”

Camden was so out of touch, that she literally thought that had been a compliment.

“It can’t hurt to try, right? If I know anything about you, Cam, it’s that once you set your mind to something, you’re unstoppable.”

Angeria’s earlier words echoed in Camden’s mind.

They need support.

Camden made about a million fatal flaws during that first rehearsal, but the biggest was that she failed to gain anyone’s trust. Why shouldn’t they think she was just there for her own benefit?

“I don’t want to bog them down… can I really help them while I’m also trying to dig myself out of this hole?”

“It doesn’t have to be a one-way street: the production can help you, and if you keep an open mind, you can do the same for it.”

Deja’s peptalk managed to draw out one emotion from the neverending vortex of feelings Camden had endured today.

Motivation.

“I think you’re right.”

Though Camden couldn’t see her, she was sure that Deja’s lips had contorted into a large Cheshire smile.

“Finally!” She joked.

Camden laughed along, but it was restrained.

“Are… we good?”

“Of course we are,” Deja reassured her, “I’m here for you, Cam. Even more so now that you’re ready to listen.”

Now that she’d had a reality check, Camden was willing to heed Deja’s advice.

She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

#lady camden #angeria paris vanmicheals #deja skye #primadonna au #💎

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Knick Knack Paddy Whack (BAON)

Summary: As far as Stretch is concerned, there's only one solution when you're addicted to thrift stores. Selling all the crap you bought so you can buy more!

Notes: Stepping outside of the main storyline for a moment, we'll get back to the aftermath we're all expecting in a moment. 😁

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch was a bonafide thrift-a-holic, he honestly was, and he knew it. It was an important thing to know about yourself, really, because certain problems arose from bad case of oooh-shiny-itis.

Sure, one ceramic zombie hand thrusting up from the dresser to hold his rings and change was an awesome thing to behold, but an entire collection of zombie hands was a tough sell to the person you were living with, especially if that person was Edge. Not that he’d managed to find a collection of zombie hands and if he had, that thrift store would have been on the weekly check list, for sure. But the same premise applied to ‘zombie hand plus an entire horde of other bizarre ceramics surrounding it’.

Stretch wasn’t bitter about the limitations when it came to his collection, nah, he got it. There were certain things you couldn’t ask for from the person you love, and a house filled up with weird tchotchkes that looked like they belonged to the grandmother of the chainsaw massacre family was a step too far. Plus, asking Edge for more space would be unfair. He’d either agree because he didn’t want to tell Stretch no, or he’d say no and feel bad about it. Nah, the set of porcelain dragons playing instruments in a rock band he’d found wasn’t that important, not if it gave Edge a case of the guilts.

Problem was, Stretch really couldn’t resist sometimes. How was he supposed to turn away a wedding painting of Yoda and Kermit the frog? Or a coffee mug with a penguin orgy on it? He couldn’t, that’s how, but his allotted space was filling up in the house proper and soon he’d started to amass quite the collection in his lab, too. It was when the overflow expanded enough to start infringing on his erlenmeyer flasks that he decided he needed a new strategy. Science waited for no one and definitely not anything with the word ‘taxidermy’ included.

That’s when Stretch came up with the plan. Okay, it wasn’t a plan, exactly, more like a flash in the pants of brief inspiration, but hell, he’d been flying by on those his entire life, why stop now?

One of the places he frequented was an antique mall, which was a fancy way of saying one rung on the ladder above actual thrift store, except they rented stalls for people to sell their stuff, so maybe it was more like a glorified garage sale. People carted in their junk for other people to buy and the cashier up front handled all the transactions. Minimal time, minimal effort, that was exactly what he and his kitsch needed, so Stretch went ahead and rented a stall of his own.

The not-exactly-a-plan worked out pretty well. He could buy something at the thrift shop and proudly display it for a while around the house, and then when it came time to replace it with a new find, he’d add it to his stall and whatever money came from it, he donated to the local kid’s charity that the Antique Mall supported. That meant he got in his kicks and joy without looking like a prequel to a Hoarders episode and Edge only had to deal with the octopus tentacle ashtray for a few weeks.

Seriously, it was a win-win all the way around.

A few things did take up permanent residence, of course; he couldn’t give up his zombie hand. But so long as it wasn’t a clown, (clowns were disposed of by Edge immediately and with great prejudice), he was allowed things like his nested Matryoshka dolls of Nicolas Cages for a time.

About once a week he went down to add new things to his stall, mostly during the weekday hours when the buses were on the empty side and he could take up an extra seat with his box of additions. It wasn’t exactly a secret, Andy came along a few times to help, but he never really mentioned it to Edge. Not until today when Stretch realized he’d let things go a little too long and he had some extra boxes to haul down.

Better to take care of it while he was thinking about it, otherwise it tended to turn into an endless cycle of ‘oh, I should do that today’ and him forgetting, but aside from the extra lugging required, it was also Saturday and the bus would be loaded. Hitching a ride would be required, plus a little extra muscle, and his husband was his favorite source for both.

He found Edge in the kitchen, sitting at their temporary table with his laptop and yeah, it was Saturday, time to drag him away from whatever bullshit work he was doing. Stretch put on his best wheedling face and asked, “babe? can you give me a lift today?”

“Of course.” Edge didn’t look up, what a total waste of Stretch’s beguiling charms. His gloved fingertips were soft against the keyboard as he finished whatever he was typing before glancing up at Stretch, and maybe his schmoozing wasn’t entirely wasted; the way Edge closed the lid on his laptop spoke of a guilty conscious for working on his day off. “Where are we going?”

“downtown,” Stretch tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “i need to hit up my junk and disorderly shop.”

That got him a pause, “Your what?”

“heh, you’ll see.” Stretch curled a finger at Edge in a ‘come hither’ motion that his husband didn’t follow, only watched suspiciously. “c’mon, i need you to help me carry some stuff.”

“This ride is starting to sound less like transport and more like a chore.” But Edge followed him to the basement for the boxes, and, surprise surprise, his willingness to help went up a few notches from wary to eager when he figured out what Stretch was doing. Eh, couldn’t blame him. At the top of the pile was a plush frog with the top hat that played ‘hello my baby’ whenever you pushed on its foot, something Red did every single time he walked past it, plus anytime he’d felt like shortcutting in for a quick press. Time to let it damage the sanity of another family.

The boxes were tossed into the trunk of Edge’s car, frog and all, and soon they were on the road, heading downtown. Truth be told, Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge would make of the place. He tolerated thrift stores well enough, but the antique mall was a different kind of beast. An entire building of obscure collections cluttered together into eclectic displays that others were trying to barter and sell.

There were stalls filled with milk crates of old records, shelves and shelves of antique glassware and dishes. Some stalls had vintage clothing, feathery boas mixed in with disco pants and ruffled aprons. Old instruments, rusty farm equipment, strange kitchen gadgets that looked more dangerous than useful, this place had everything and then some.

Plus, the mall had a certain sort of smell, a musty, dusty scent verging on decay that settled into the sinuses and hung around for a while. Stretch thought it was the smell of a life well-lived and he kinda liked it; after years of thrifting, he associated it with finding treasures, but who knew if Edge felt the same. His tastes in smells (heh) ran more to clean and green, not old-timey funk. Could be it reminded him of shower mildew.

Whatever his opinion of the odors, Edge kept it to himself. He helped with the box carrying and checked out Stretch’s stall curiously but didn’t say much. Probably recognized the stuff on the shelves as having once been on a table or Stretch’s nightstand, until the glee wore off and it ended up gathering dust in the basement. He wandered off at some point, heading into the depths of the mall, and left Stretch to restock his meagre wares.

It took longer than he’d expected. Since he’d opened up his stall, not everything Stretch found thrifting found its way into the house proper anymore. Some of it he bought as a straight-to-video option and he was getting pretty good at finding interesting doodads at the thrifty places that might sell better here, location, location, location, that was the ticket.

Stretch always priced his junk reasonably, usually not much more than he’d paid for it. Wasn’t like he needed the money, and besides, Stretch knew himself pretty damn well, therapy did that to a guy. At the end of the day, he knew what this was really about; all an elaborate scheme to satisfy the inner packrat in his soul that struggled sometimes with giving things away.

Bartering had been built in him before he could say the word; in the Underground, he’d gotten damn good at getting deals for what he could scrounge at the dump. This was the same thing, really, just with slightly different stakes. Dinner wasn’t riding on his latest stash of dvds anymore, always a plus, and these days he could simply look at the empty shelves, content in the knowledge that his Smeagol cardboard cutout had found a new home.

Hey, therapy wasn’t the only way to work out a few kinks in your internal lines.

When the last box was emptied, Stretch wandered up to the front desk to give the lady who ran the front register his new inventory list. That was when he heard it.

There was an old piano up front with a sign on it that said, ‘Do not ‘play’ if you cannot play’. Most of the time it sat silently but someone up there was giving it a good try today. The notes were slower, with obvious hesitations as the player searched for the correct keys, but the song was one Stretch knew. Gently melancholy, a match to the cautious playing.

His curiosity piqued, Stretch wandered over to watch and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Edge sitting on the piano bench, his attention on his hands as he slowly played. It was a tough choice between watching him play and simply listening to the song and Stretch found himself trying to do both. The uncertain skill in hands he knew so well as they coaxed the music free.

When the last note faded, a faint smattering of applause came from the different stalls around them. Stretch waited for it to end before sitting on the bench next to Edge.

Quietly, Stretch said, “i didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Edge said. He smoothed a hand over the keys, not pressing down, simply touching them. “Not really. I can’t read music, but I know a song or two by rote. A friend of mine pushed me to memorize them.”

Welp, Stretch didn’t have to ask what friend, now did he. An old friend back in another world, and people weren’t replaceable even if they wore the same face. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to; Stretch understood in a way only a few people could, and he settled a hand on Edge’s leg, squeezing his knee gently.

“that was really good,” Stretch offered, “you have a good memory, babe.”

“Some of my memories are better than others,” Edge said. The words were more contemplative than sorrowful, and he didn’t look at Stretch, only touched the back of his hand briefly with his gloved fingertips. “You tend to feature in the best ones, love.”

He reached for the keys again and started to play. The song was more confident this time, bright and cheery, with only the occasional missed note. A handful of other people drifted over, some pausing to watch and some moving on, going about their day with a song to carry them along.

Stretch only tapped his toes and listened as Edge played, more than willing to let him go on until he was ready to stop. If Edge wanted to take a brief dive into the past, then the antique mall was a place for it, where memories and times past mingled with the present.

Besides, a new memory to take home was better than any knickknack.

-fin

Note: The first song Edge was playing was 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy and the second was 'The Entertainer' by Scott Joplin. In case you were wondering. 😁

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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bexterbex · 5 years

Text

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 30

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 30: Taking Your Breath Away

Frankly, the kiss was something out of old Hollywood. A very Gone With The Wind inspired kiss. A kiss that made your whole body melt, if Kylo wasn’t holding you right now surely you would be lost into a puddle on the floor.

The kiss deepened, your mind went haywire and then blank. His tongue met your lower lip, begging for admittance. You complied. He roamed your mouth with his tongue touching, tasting everything.

You were on fire.

Your tongues danced in your mouth. His exploring and dominating, yours sharing and caressing. You finally have to break apart to breathe, both of you out of breath, but hungry. Hungry for more intimacy, hungry for more interaction. But you were still feeling rather faint. Your head was swirling.

Kylo immediately sensed this and shifted to have you lay back down. No longer on top of him as you were but now just cradled in his arms, by his side. His nose was buried in your hair once more, inhaling your scent.

“See I told you we need to wait.”

He chuckled a true deep chuckle. He moved to rest his forehead against yours looking into your eyes, “I know and we will. I would wait out all of eternity for you, Kitten.” There was amusement in his tone that shared the look that was in his eyes.

That was the first time he called you anything other than your name or title of Lady Ren.

“Kitten,” you ask.

He smirked at you, “Yes, because you curl up on my lap so nicely.”

You swear your face was aflame. “If I recall you are always the one who draws me into your lap.”

“Yes, but you said I get to keep you. If you think I am going to let you go then you are mistaken.” There was still some humor in his voice but his eyes were now hiding a bit of darkness behind them.

“Where would I even go,” you ask jokingly.

“Somewhere where I can’t protect you.” He didn’t take it as a joke. He was now very serious and you were unsure what to do.

“How about a deal, I only call you Kylo when we are alone and you only call me Kitten when we are alone.”

“We already had a deal with my name,” he said furrowing his eyebrows but a smirk hinting on his lips once more.

“Then how about this, I’ll promise to kiss you goodnight every night if you only call me kitten when we are alone.”

He chuckled again. “You drive a hard bargain kitten.” He then kissed your forehead.

“So it’s a deal?”

“It’s a deal,” he then pulled you back into his chest holding you close once more. His hand made its way to your entangle itself in your hair. You closed your eyes. You tried to burn this feeling into your DNA.

You stayed like that for a while keeping each other close. You broke the silence first.

“We have dinner tonight with your knights right,” you ask

“We can postpone that if you wish. Like the doctor said you need to rest.” This was coming from the man who minutes ago was taking your breath away.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle dinner. As long as they mind their manners and don’t stay too long I should be fine.”

“I think the Allegiant General would be thankful if you helped them mind their manners,” he said with amusement in his voice.

“I thought knights were supposed to be chivalrous and gentlemanly,” you said confused.

“Maybe on your planet but my knights are men who are good at what they do, and what they do is fight. They are a group of eclectic warriors who serve me. They enforce my will outside of the First Order’s hierarchy. They each have their own strengths and skills that make them effective in what they do, but manners and chivalry are not one of them. But I suppose they will have to behave themselves around a lady. Especially when that lady is you.” He placed another kiss on your forehead.

“But they are important to you, your knights?”

“Yes, in many ways. They are the first people who I can call a home of sorts. They took me in when I was a boy, they helped mold me into who I am now. They are my brothers in arms, loyal to me until death.” You could tell he was speaking from his heart, even if he couldn’t. They mean a lot to him.

“Do you think they will like me?”

“If they don’t they won’t live to say anything about it. I am their master and you are my match. I shall give them the order to protect you until their dying breath and they will follow it. In fact, they will be replacing Commander Pyre as your usual escort, Pyre was only temporary. The knights and I are permanent.”

You thought about what he said. You knew that people may be less comfortable around these knights. After all, they did his bidding what that bidding was you could only guess. From the picture in the pamphlet, you knew that somehow a stormtrooper looked more friendly.

“Well if they are anything like you I am sure I will like them,” you said confidently.

He chuckled at this. “Don’t hold your breath.”

You hummed in response going back and listening to his heartbeat again. Somehow you felt that this was the tempo that the universe ran on. At least your universe anyways. You stayed like that for a while.

“Where were they before they got here,” you ask.

“They have been stationed on the Supremacy for the last week. Before that, they were on various missions. Sometimes I go with them, other times they all go without me, and or I split them up for certain missions.”

“Where is the Supremacy ?”

“Orbiting around the planet that you call mars. Currently, we are researching what can be mined there. Your people have been looking at it as a planet to which humans may be able to survive on. The planet is rich in many valuable minerals and metals. It is also a plus that currently no one inhabits the planet so we don’t have to ask permission.” There was a mischievous look in his eyes as he said this.

“Well, I’m sorry you have to ask permission here,” you jokingly respond.

“The only person’s permission I am after truly is yours. If you weren’t here I can promise you that we would have just taken what we wanted.” His eyes were now scanning your face.

“And so the people don’t matter?”

“Not if they get in the way of the First Order no. We are doing what we are doing for the good of the galaxy if they fail to see this then so be it. I won’t be the knight that saves them.”

You took this seriously. You were the one protecting Earth now, you were its defender. You know you can’t fight with fists or guns because you are not as strong as the entirety of the galaxy. But you could fight with heart. You could make sure that Earth was safe by reasoning with the First Order, or more so the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Was freedom really the price to pay to keep your planet and people safe? Did freedom matter when lives were at stake during a galactic war? Or would you fight for freedom once it was all over? You didn’t know the answer.

“But will you be my knight, my protector?”

“Always. I would rather die than to see you get hurt.” He was serious in his proclamation. As he said before, he would like you to wield his blade for you. He wanted to give you the power to mold the galaxy, through his hand.

“Mmmm. My knight. You have no idea how many girls would be thrilled to be able to say that.” you mused.

“Well, then I have good news. Tonight you will be dining with six eligible bachelors who would love to hear that,” voice filled with humor.

“Only six? I count seven men.”

“Well, unfortunately, one of them deems himself taken with his beautiful match whom he has promised the galaxy one day.”

You burst into a full smile, not only did hee consider you an actual thing, he called you beautiful. Your heart was happy. You quickly stole a kiss from his lips, which he groaned into but sighed once it was over.

“When are they suppose to get here?”

“In about an hour, we should lie here until then.” If you thought you were close before he pulled you even closer, his arms were like steel beams--unmoveable.

“I would like to get ready, I’m pretty sure I look like crap and I kinda want to change into something to meet them.”

“You don’t look like crap, you could never look like crap.” But he groaned and released you from his arms.

You attempted to get up, your legs feeling unsure under your body. Kylo was quick to assist you to stand. Once you were firmly on your feet you moved to your room to where you thanked him and assured him that you would be fine.

You went about fixing your self up, nothing too much but your hair was kind of a mess. You changed into an outfit that you would wear to nice dinners with your family. Nothing too fancy but also nothing too risqué.

It only took you about 15 minutes to get ready but you were feeling the weight of the morning and your fainting spell catching up to you. You left your room bracing your self on the door. Kylo was right there waiting. You took his arm and he escorted you to the living room where you sit down on the loveseat. He put his arm around you and you rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. You stayed like that until there was a beep at the door.

Kylo moved to get up and answered the door. He stepped aside and six tall masked men entered your living room. They all had a unique look to them but they looked similar in many ways. You were intimated by them as they all looked very scary.

Kylo seemed to sense this and ordered them to remove their helmets. You were surprised that they were all humans. They were all older than him, just as unique as their masks. One bald, some had scars littering their faces, another had a tattoo on his face all different but all similar.

You were unsure of what to say. “Uh, hello.”

There was a group laugh, one of the older knights recommended, “Why don’t we introduce ourselves doll face. I am Ushar.”

“Ap’lek.”

“Vicrul.”

“Trudgen.”

“Kuruk.”

“Cardo.”

“I am y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you.” There were nods in agreement. Kylo took your arm and lead you all to the dining room. You were unsure how this dinner was going to go.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x you #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #star wars first order #first order propaganda #a soul to mend his own

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hadleymorrison · 4 years

Text

hadley jane morrison . 33 . pediatric nurse . resident tragedy && walking ray of sunshine .

mentions of undiagnosed mental illness , alzheimers , death ,

PERSONALITY OVERVIEW :

hadley is a free spirit. she does what she pleases as it suits her ( provided it does not endanger or inconvenience those she loves ) and is always looking for new experiences . she’s incredibly clever, and would pride herself on her wit ( although others might not find it as endlessly hilarious as she does . ) she’s quite goofy , with a wide and eclectic set of interests . she does have the tendency to be blunt and give opinions & advice when no one’s asked for it. she can be headstrong , favoring her own ideas to those of others . in the same vein , she is stubborn , and doesn’t like to admit when she’s wrong . it takes quite a lot to get her riled up, but one certainly wouldn’t want to get on her bad side : she has quite the temper. her moods are i ncredibly changeable , something that she tries to ignore . most importantly , she leads with KINDNESS . she is a remarkable friend that will go to extremes in order to assure the safety and comfort of the people she cares for . those she loves , she loves with her whole heart . she’s incredibly nurturing , too . on a daily basis , she strives to be compassionate , patient , and understanding .

BACKGROUND

“THAT HADLEY . . . SHE’S A GOOD GIRL.” was the phrase most uttered during hadley’s youth . and truthfully , she was . she is . miss congeniality in high schoo. she looked after her siblings ( younger , and elder ) she was kind to herself and others. a little zany , perhaps . but a good girl .

HADLEY was born to a pretty ‘typical’ family of 6 in lakeview and was the middle of four siblings . her mother was a ‘bananas’ amazing composer , but passed away a few years ago . HER DAD , a raging irishman , is an eclectic guy and founded ‘ morrison on maine ‘ a boutique-y kind of bookstore that often costs more to run than it makes in profit . she grew up in that store , and it fueled her love for words, adventure , and literature. she grew up convinced that she was going to be a writer , until she found out that she was also passionate about people & science . nursing called to her.

it was in nursing school that hadley met ( at the time , who se believed to be ) the love of her life . the two understood each other on a soul level. they were the same in so many ways , and different in so many others . he was her person - - he remains her person to this day. but life isn’t always so kind. hadley noticed her father becoming more and more confused without the presence of her mother. she knew what was coming, but instead, channeled her energy into her job , his family, into healing sick kids.

she lived vicariously through his sister , a single mother of two young children . she loved being cool auntie hads. and when her father’s early onset alzheimers became too much , and her brother’s recklesness was too much for her to carry alone, and her relationship erached an impasse at the big things : marriage and children, she got scared. restless and fidgety , she ran. for a few years , she took a job in a new city . it was enough to soothe her soul , and fill it with a new kind of loneliness ( for a while ).

hadley’s life changed completely when she received a call in the middle of the night . her big sister had passed away suddenly , leaving her the guardian of his niece and nephew . ( ages 3 and eight months , respectively ) without a thought , hadley moved into his sister’s place, back to lakeview and took up the life of a parent. the transition has been more difficult than hadley could have imagined . her grief aside , she is quickly realizing thats he has no idea how to do any of this. while she does the best he can , she often feels overwhelmed by the responsibility that has been placed on her shoulders.

MISCELLANEOUS FACTOIDS :

she has a cat that hates everyone, including her.

she works in the pediatric emergency ward – she is GREAT with kids even though she swears she doesn’t want them ( but now she has them )

she is sassy & witty and i support everything she does

adventurous a f??

her mother was a composer and SHE is a secret piano genius but she doesn’t play so very much anymore.

she’s a BIT scatterbrained , but only when it comes to herself. she’s incredibly good at her job and looking after others.

she’s left handed !

she’s repressed a lot of residual trauma related to her sister.

she and her eldest brother are currently splitting time looking after their dad . they want to keep him out of an assisted living facility for as long as possible , but hads understands that that’s not a realistic option. it’s becoming a huge strain on the family & on hadley.

hadley is extremly fidgety and often comes across as someone with a ‘ SKITTISH ‘disposition. she often picks up new hobbies like knitting and crochet to keep her hands busy

she’s really zany but also really sweet and fun and i love her okay?

loves movies??? more than anything?? and also superheroes ??

hadley is struggling with undiagnosed bipolar disorder , and really needs someone to help her with her mental health struggle.

she is one of the most compassionate people you will ever meet. but also will give you tough love if you need it.

pls love her.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

SEE MAIN FOR 3 POSTED WCS

co-workers

friends / neighbors

people who knew hadley’s sister

childhood friends

people who babysit hadley’s niece and nephew

frequenters of morrison on maiine

general friends

casual flings

hadley’s therapist or life coach

someone helping hadley get the handle on parenting

former exes

more tba

#thirty.intro #mental illness tw #death tw #alzheimers tw

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gvf-imagines · 4 years

Text

Part 1

(Josh/Danny/Jake/Sam x reader)

Warnings: alcohol use, self harm scars

word count: 3252

Thanks to @callmekane for beta reading this fic!

A/N: I’m excited about what this story will bring! This is going to be a very smut filled fan fiction series where the reader has a very sexual and open relationship with all of the boys! I know some people won’t like it I’m sure but all criticism is welcome! Please leave comments and let me know what you think and of course if you have an idea for the story I’m totally open to hearing your thoughts! I hope you enjoy it my friends ❣️

If you’d like to be on the tag-list so you know when I post part 2 just message me or let me know in the comments!

—————————————————————-

You smiled as you ran off stage, the fans were still screaming and kept screaming until the next band took the stage. The air was electric, so many people, all here to enjoy the great communicator that is music. You closed your eyes to take it all in, to just listen and feel. You couldn't believe you were here, playing in front of this many people. This year you shared the stage with another up and coming band by the name of Greta Van Fleet. You hadn't heard of them before recently and they were actually really good. They had so much soul and passion in their music, it was true, raw talent.

You watched from the side stage as they played their eclectic set. The singer, Josh, really got the crowd going. He had so much energy and was really fun to watch. His voice was incredible, unbelievable even. He had this raspy, elegant twang in his voice, that truly matched perfectly with the music his band was producing. The drummer, Danny (if you remembered correctly), had such a powerful and classic Drumming style. It was full of life and emotion , just like you, he put his all into his performance. He was focused and truly the heart of the music. There was a guitarist and a Bassist, unlike your band which only consisted of you and your best friend. You, the drummer and your friend the singer and guitarist. The bassist, Sam, had a very cool way about him, his body moved with the music in a way that seemed beyond his control. The guitarist, Jake , was stunning, his hands danced along his guitar so expertly, you could tell he truly enjoyed his time with his instrument.

When they finished their set, the crowd erupted in a wave of applause and cheers, like bright yellow and orange fireworks booming through the air, you watched with your minds eye, in awe as they exploded and cracked in the sky. The Boys bowed and waved before walking off stage panting and sweating.

“Nice job!, excellent show” you comment smiling. Danny returned the smile with a grateful nod.

“Aw thank you, I'm sorry I don't think we had a chance to meet before the show, I’m Dan-” he began.

“You're Danny, Sam , Jake , and Josh” you said, pointing to each of them and smiling. They all returned the smile, there was positive energy just radiating from them, you could feel it like a blanket of warmth resting over you.

“My name is (y/n), it's so nice to meet you guys!” you chime happily. The lead singer, Josh smiles at and you think you catch a small wink as well, making your heart skip a beat. Perhaps you were seeing things. God he's handsome, his sparkling brown eyes, he had more structure in his jawline than you had in your entire life His chestnut hair was gorgeous and curly, his whole look just attracted you to no end.

Fuck.

“Hey your performance was super amazing too, your voice is absolutely incredible” Sam complimented, his voice popped all the bubbly thoughts of josh that foamed in your head. Thank goodness. “Yeah! You did an excellent job (y/n). Its one thing to be a good singer when you have three other band members to help you sound good, but you were out there all alone, just your voice and you still blew that crowd away” Danny added. You were blushing for sure now.

“Yeah your voice is crazy good, we're honored to play alongside you” Jake chimed.

“Oh wow you guys are gonna make me cry” you chuckle “thank you so much, that means a lot coming from someone with your talent” you reply. Sam waves his hand incredulously as if you were hyping them up and making them out to be better than they really were.. You weren't. They are awe inspiring musicians.

“Water?” a stagehand offered walking over with a cooler.

“Oh thank fucking Christ” Josh rendered making a bee line for the cooler. You chuckled, and now that you thought of it your throat was extremely dry from singing as well. Jake nicely offered you the bottle he grabbed with a smile. A true gentleman.

“Thank you!” you offer as you grab the bottle from him. You practically ripped the cap off and chugged the whole bottle. It was delicious and cold and ran over your tongue and down your throat with a refreshingly cold bite.

The five of you stand there and re hydrate for a minute before Sam speaks “we should go grab a drink!” he suggests with a slight raise of his perfect eyebrows. The guys look at you in waiting.

“You wanna join us?” Josh asks, flashing a pearly white smile. You look around at them for a mere second before responding.

“Sure! Yeah that sounds fun”

“Right on, I think I saw a bar down the street we can go to” Jake claims as you all head to the doors behind the dressing rooms.

Rain began to expel from the dark clouds above you as you all headed down the road. Cold air kisses your skin causing you to shiver slightly, you only had on black leather pants and a pink floral pattern blouse that you tied up a bit to expose part of your stomach. It was late, must have been almost midnight by now, the air was heavy with moisture and you could smell the rain soaked cement under your feet.

“Are you cold?” Josh questions as he walks beside you, he startled you a bit. You smiled and looked at your arms, they were dotted with goosebumps.

“Yeah kinda” you reply sheepishly. Josh instantly takes off the jean jacket he was wearing and handed it to you. Jake and the others were a few feet behind the two of you carrying on a conversation about the show. You reached out and accepted the jacket, Josh's gaze nonchalantly floated down your arm, his face fell when he noticed the deep scars that peppered across your skin near your wrists. You notice him looking at them before he brings his gaze back up to meet yours. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you quickly put the jacket on.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn't mean to stare” he says softly, looking down at the wet street. You knew by the tone in his voice he wasn't judging you. His look was filled with concern, not judgement.

“It's alright, people stare all the time” you responded

“It doesn't bother me so much anymore, i'm used to it.” you added. Josh nods, a sad look still lingers on his gentle face. His jacket was warm, his scent filled your nose, it was comfortable and soothing, much like the rain that fell from the sky. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, you could tell he was thinking about something, he had that thousand yard stare stuck in his eyes. You hadn't known Josh for long but it's not hard to tell when someone is enthralled in thought.

“How long have you been singing?” you ask, trying to pull him from whatever trance he was in.

“A long time, most of my life really” he answers with a smile. Talking about his music clearly made him happy. He in turn asked you the same question. You laugh before responding.

“Honestly I've only been singing for a few years….drumming is my real talent and I've been doing that for most of my life, coming up on 18 years” you explain. Josh’s expression shifted from a smile to a look of surprise.

“Wow that’s awesome , are you self taught?” he asks again. You nodded “my dad taught me a few things here and there more when I first started out but, mostly I've taught myself” you said. Josh chuckled with a nod.

“That is really cool” he replied, you could tell by the tone and instance of his voice that he was genuinely impressed.

“Oo careful on the compliments you've never heard me play before, just because I've been playing for a long time doesn't mean i’m any good” you joke, Josh laughs, shakes his head and nudges your shoulder.

“Well have to get you behind Danny's kit some time” he implores. Hearing him say that made you happy, it meant he wanted to see you again.

“You guys did really good tonight, I cant believe I've never heard of you guys before really. It wasn't until my manager told me who I'd be playing with at the festival that I started looking into you guys.” you admit.

“Thanks you did an excellent job too, i really loved that first song you sang, ‘salt is my sugar’ I really resonated with that one, truly felt it, there's a lot of emotion in your lyrics.

“This is it,” Sam announces opening the front door and holding it for everyone to walk in. the smell of smoke and dark liquor hang heavy in the air. An ACDC song played over the speakers. It wasn't very busy, there was an older man sitting at the bar, a couple younger people playing pool and a few others scattered in booths. It was a total dive bar, a hole in the wall, which was just your style. You all sat at the bar on squeaky worn out bar stools.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, perching himself up with his arms rested on the bar as a washrag sat, oh so typically, on his shoulder as he awaited your response. Jake looked at Josh with a raised brow giving him that ‘get a load of this guy’ look.

“I'll have a beer,” Danny ordered.

“Me as well please” Jake adds.

“Southern comfort and seven up for me please” you order next.

“Hmm I'll have a long island iced tea” Sam says. You look at him holding back a chuckle Huh didn't take him for a long island iced tea kinda guy but to each their own. The bartender looked to josh.

“Salty dog please” he requests.

“Put your IDs on the counter” the bartender instructs as he turns around to collect everyone's drinks. The five of you did as you were told and laid out your IDs.

“So where are you guys headed now that the festival is over?” you asked playing with a stained, old coaster that sat in front of you.

“We’re going back to Michigan for some well deserved time off” Josh responds.

“For a little while anyways” he adds with a smile.

“Hey I live in silver city!” you reply happily , silver city was a small town in Michigan closer to the upper peninsula.

“Small world” you added. What are the chances the two of you lived within a few hours of each other and never met until the both of you played a festival in Los Angeles.

You turn your attention to the combination of alcoholic drinks that the bartender set in front of you. Everyone reached for theirs offering quick cheers before taking a drink. The carbonation of the seven up burned against your throat before the alcohol sent the warming sensation through your chest and stomach.

“Ah yum” you said, wincing from the sharpness of the alcohol. Jake laughed as he watched you.

“Not very convincing,” Sam says smiling. You laugh and take another drink. You watch Josh stir his drink lightly with the small straw it came with, he notices you looking.

“Ever had a salty dog before?” he asks, hoping you say no.

You simply shake your head in reply. He slides his drink closer to you.

“We can share if you want, it's really good?” he offers. You look at the pink drink in front of you.

“What's in it?” you ask.

“It's just gin and grapefruit juice with a little salt around the rim,” he says.

“Oh god that sounds horrible” you laugh.

“It's actually not that bad” Danny pipes up with a shrug.

“He made me try it a few weeks ago,” he adds.

“Alright I'll take your word for it” you smile at Danny. You look back down at the drink.

“I promise I didn't spike it” Josh chimes. You laugh loudly, why would he even say that?

“That's exactly what someone who spiked my drink would say”

“But I guess I trust you guys” you add before taking a healthy sip of the beverage.

“Hmm that's not bad!” conclude, it was much sweeter than you thought it would be, it kind of reminded you of orange juice and vodka. Josh nods with an I told you so sort of look on his face.

“Here, try mine,” Sam says next, handing you his glass.

“Alright you try mine too” you reply with a smile. Sam's slender fingers brush against yours as he grabs the drink from you , your eyes look to his and he winks.

Oh god, I can't be attracted to two of them. Honestly, who were you kidding? You were insanely attracted to all of them, how were they ALL so cute and gorgeous? Not fair to the rest of man-kind.

“Wow this one is super good!” you remark going in for another drink of the long island iced tea.

“Yeah can you believe there's like 8 different alcohols in there? No tea at all” he laughs, you laughed with him. His laugh was sweet and light, like orange sparkling shards of glass dancing through the air. The five of you began talking about life and learning a lot about each other, ordering more drinks along the way. You could tell the mix of drinks was beginning to take effect on you, you felt warm and relaxed. You were standing next to Danny now, he towered over you, this man was truly a beast.the smell of his cologne wrapped around you. It was oaky and mossy with a hint of citrus, you couldn't help but feel an electrifying pull of attraction to him.

For fucks sake, you curse yourself.

A few games of pool (which, it turns out Jake is like a God at pool) later you all found yourselves back at the bar carrying on more conversation, albeit more slurred now. It was much easier to open up to people when alcohol was involved. You rolled the sleeves of josh's jacked up, exposing your arms as the alcohol was making you extremely warm.

“What happened to you?” the bartender asks loudly. You and the guys all look at him with hints of confusion.

“I got the worst concoction of my parents DNA possible” you joke , the boys laugh. Jake nudges your shoulder.

“Shut up you're gorgeous” he says softly. You give him a quick smile.

“No. Your arm. What happened to your arm.” the bartender says again, nodding to your scars. You hated when people asked that question, like they didn't know why you had those scars on your wrists. Very few things leave scars like that on skin. You looked around at the guys, josh looked pissed and the others looked saddened as this was the first time they had seen your scars, and they knew damn well what it was from, they weren’t as stupid as this bartender. The air of the bar had shifted, the mood went from fun loving to hostile very quickly. Fuck this guy.

“I got in a fight with a weed wacker” you retort sarcastically. The man rolls his eyes.

“What happened? Did your little boyfriend break up with you? Flunk a class? Your puppy ran away?” he was mocking you. You said nothing in return.

“You're just another one of those emotionally confused little girls, no reason to hate her life.” he continues. For some reason he was trying to upset you , and you had no idea why, you'd been nothing but pleasant to the man since the moment you entered the bar.

“First of all i'm not a girl, I'm a woman. Who pissed in your Wheaties this morning man? You're mad because you got all D’s in high school and now you're stuck serving losers like us in this shit hole, pretentious, sorry excuse of a bar? Go fuck yourself. I don’t hate my life.” you answer , anger pooling in your throat.

“Hey man. Lay off.” Danny says with a look of warning.

“Of course you don't hate your life” the man says ignoring Danny completely.

“You just do it for attention, think if you slice yourself up maybe someone will feel bad for you huh? I've seen your kind before girl.” he speaks again. OK now this idiot was pissing you off. You never did it for attention, attention was the last thing you wanted, especially when it came to your scars, you wished you could erase them.

“Look, I've got three things to say to you,” you reply with an irritated sigh. You stood up from your stool and stepped closer to the man.

“One” you say, holding up your pointer finger giving the illusion that you were going to list reasons of argument to him. Instead you ball your hand into a fist and punch the guy right in his fucking jaw with all your drunken might. To your surprise (and no doubt everyone else's) the bartender fell to the floor, you knocked him out.. Everyone was wide eyed and silent

“Lets get outta here” Josh says, breaking the glistening silence in the bar, noticing everyone looking at the five of you. Jake grabbed a bottle of Jack before all of you ran out of the door. None of you could suppress your laughs as you took off down the street. Out of breath you all keeled over in a field of grass a few feet from the tour buses in a fit of laughter. You sat down on the wet grass and looked up at the clouds. Danny sat on your left and Sammy was on your right, Josh and Jake sat in front of you and you all formed a small little circle.

“That felt good” you say softly, referring to punching that shit head of a bartender. Sam laughed.

“Yeah that was awesome, I can't believe you knocked him out” Jake chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. The air went silent again as you all sat with your own thoughts. Your face slowly lost emotion as thoughts of what the man said swirled around your mind. You tried not to let what people said to you about your scars get to you too much but it was hard sometimes. Danny noticed your expression and you felt his hand draw soft circles on your back.

“That guy was an idiot. He was just being an asshole” Josh said softly, you nodded, knowing he was right. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe you were just really that sad but a tear fell down your face and your voice cracked as you spoke.

“I just feel so alone sometimes” you wiped the tears away as quickly as they fell. You could feel all of them watching you with sympathetic eyes.

“Everyone's got their vice (y/n)” Danny said quietly, his hand still grazing your back.

Josh rolls his shirt sleeve up and reveals dozens of little horizontal scars covering his shoulder. He grabs your hand and you look up at him to meet his gaze. He stroked your hand with his thumb and gave you a comforting, gentle look.

“You're not alone”

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner #gretavanfleet #sam kiskza #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #smut #josh kiszka smut #danny wagner smut #jake kiszka smut #sam kiszka smut #imagine

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dumbassacademia · 4 years

Note

*sigh* what is community?

it’s a sitcom! it ran from (i believe) 2009-2015 (although the last season came out on a different network than the first five) and it’s (basically) about an eclectic group of people who attend a community college and form a study group (largely unintentionally) although as the show goes on it gets...A Lot more complicated than that (as originally simple sitcoms often do)

but the main theme through the whole thing is found family! and of course bc i have a soul, i am always a simp for found family

also i named one of my plants after a character from the show! my cactus (a dog tail cactus) is like the most chaotic plant I’ve ever seen so i named him Chang after the character Ben Chang from the show, who is originally the study group’s teacher (although he goes through...a Lot of stuff and is kinda the worst in some ways but i kinda love him anyway)

anyway the show is really funny and really sweet and has some good rep for various things (there’s an autistic main character, a gay (although that doesn’t even begin to describe it) main character, a jewish main character, basically they’re just all kinda dope and good rep) and in general i love it and i’ve probably watched it like six times all the way through tbh

i almost went into detailed descriptions of all the main characters but i decided not to be that much myself bc i don’t wanna be too annoying

#community #community tv #i love it so much #thank you for asking me #even though it seems like you don't really wanna know #i wanna talk about it so your sigh is good enough for me #Rin Speaks #Rin Answers Asks #Rin Gets Excited #i love sitcoms in general so much #anyway it's the epitome of dumbass academia and that's all there is to it #dumbass academia shows #thank you very much for the ask #send asks #anon #anonymous asks

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profitinaecho · 4 years

Text

So You Wanna Spin Ch 6

Once in Santa Fe, Max and Liz roll their luggage to their separate but adjoining rooms and carefully avoid each other for the rest of the afternoon. Their conversation in the car had been very intense- and arousing. The lines were starting to blur between business and pleasure while they were on the road and Liz wasn’t sure that was a good thing. As a latina woman scientist, it was important that she keep up the utmost job integrity to be taken seriously.

“What should we have for dinner?” Liz doesn’t even ask if he wants to eat together any more. It is a guarantee that they are a team and eating together on the road.

“Not italian.” Max doesn’t even need to check his caller ID. He knows her by her voice by now.

“Why?” Liz is kind of craving eggplant parmesan.

“Too much garlic and what if you want to kiss me later?” He’s just teasing her- mostly. He wouldn’t complain if she wanted to though. He thinks about her more than he does any normal coworker. She drives him crazy.

“Max!” She doesn’t know how to handle this flirty side of him. She loves it, but she definitely shouldn’t encourage it. Not if she wants to stay professional.

Max chuckles. Her walls are starting to come down around him again. He can feel it. But he won’t push it until she is ready. He wants her to come to him willingly. “Italian it is. I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten.”

—————————

The next morning, Max and Liz find themselves interviewing a family that only speaks Spanish. Max tries to lead, but Liz ends up being the translator. The house is decorated eclectically and bright but homely.

“Buenos Dias” Mrs. Lopez smiles after leading them to the kitchen table with hand crochet lime green placemats. She sets a plate of meat and tortillas on the table for Liz and Max then turns to get them coffee. She is a petite middle aged latina woman with a cropped haircut that the younger generation would call a “Karen” haircut, but she just likes it because it’s faster to get ready.

Max picks up a couple pieces of carne asada, and loads them into a tortilla making a taco on his plate. After daintily sprinkling some salsa on it, he nonchalantly asks, “no lo quiero con preservativos?”

Mrs. Lopez gasps, scandalized as Max said he prefers to go without a condom and looks to Liz for an explanation. She expected them to come here to talk about her missing daughter not their sex life.

“I’m so sorry! I think he meant does this meat have any preservatives, right Max?” Liz quickly repeats herself in Spanish for the woman who nods in understanding and tells Liz that he is trying to impress her by speaking Spanish. Liz shakes her head and flushes at the idea. Whispering in Max’s direction, Liz informs him, “You told her you don’t want to wear a condom.”

“What? I… What?” Max flushes from the tips of his ears to his hairline. Technically, he does not. But this is not the time. Max clears his throat and tries to apologize. “Lo siento, estoy embarazada”

Liz shakes her head. “Max, you aren’t pregnant.” Liz explains to Mrs. Lopez that Max apologized and is embarrassed as Max suddenly darts out of the house in a tall bow legged breeze of cologne.

“Se fue corriendo” Mrs. Lopez comments, watching Max scurry out of the house.

Giggling at the woman’s observation that Max ran away, Liz quickly assures her that he did not and is just embarrassed at his poor recall of high school spanish. She continues the interview, taking diligent notes on her daughter, Heather’s last known whereabouts and any enemies she had.

—————————

After a long day of interviewing families and having dinner at a roadside diner, they return to their rooms to shower and get ready for bed. Digging through her suitcase, Liz realizes she is out of clean things to sleep in. She could sleep in her last clean outfit, but then she wouldn’t have anything clean to wear for work tomorrow. Giving in, she pads barefoot over to the door separating her and Max’s rooms and knocks twice quickly hoping he hasn’t gotten into the shower yet.

Opening the door shirtless in his unbuckled work pants, Max looks to Liz concerned. She only comes to him when she really needs something.

Liz gulps at all of the skin on display and tries to remember why she knocked in the first place. “Max, I’m out of clean pajamas to sleep in. Do you have a tshirt I could borrow or something?”

Max steps back, inviting her into his room and walks over to his suitcase. Digging around, he pulls out a worn blue cotton shirt that he was going to sleep in but he will go shirtless so that she can have something to sleep in tonight. Handing it to her, he whispers, “If we don’t catch this bastard, he’s going to kill again.”

Liz gently takes the shirt from him and steps into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Oh, Max. We will figure it out.”

Max slips his arms around her waist and pulls her closer, resting his chin on top of her head. “It just feels like we’re two steps behind the killer, you know? We don’t even know who some of these victims are yet.”

“Hey? Max?” Liz takes a step back and waits for him to look at her. “We will. The two of us are an amazing team. If anyone can do it, it’s us.”

“You think so?” He looks at her hopefully, like she’s his world.

“I know so.” Liz can’t think straight when he looks at her like that. Before giving it too much thought, she hops up onto her tiptoes and crashes her lips to his. The world stops spinning as they find their way to each other once again.

Max traces the seam of her lips before gently slipping his tongue in her mouth. Their tongues briefly dance and at her groan, he squeezes her ass and pivots her towards the bed. The second Liz’s back hits the mattress and she feels Max’s erection pressing against her thigh, she shoves his chest- hard.

“Nope, nope, nope. I’m not going to be this girl, Max.” Liz is breathing hard and deliciously disheveled.

Max is rock hard and so confused. “What girl?” The girl of his dreams? The girl that rocks his world? The girl he gives everything to? Whatever she wants she can have it, just as long as they don’t stop.

“The girl who fucks her coworker on a trip and acts unprofessional then gets fired. That’s what girl.” Liz looks like she is going to cry she is so disappointed in herself.

“But what if we…” Max starts, wondering if they were in a relationship if she would feel better.

“Not right now. Thank you for the Tshirt, Max.” Liz quickly strides out of his room, before she does something stupid like turn around and jump him.

Once alone again in his room, Max rearranges his hard on and gives it a gentle conciliatory tug. You can’t always get what you want, he thinks.

After her shower, Liz pulls on fresh panties and Max’s shirt. She’s surrounded by his scent. It smells like rain.

—————————

“Put your hands up! Give me all the kisses you have, real slow.” Max whispers, coming into Liz’s room the next morning to bring her a cup of coffee just the way she likes it.

“Maaaaax.” Liz warns him. She hasn’t even brushed her teeth yet and last night was a mistake. She thinks. Maybe? The kiss was out of this world but they work together and she is always on the road working with different precincts. What kind of future could they have?

“Nice and easy….” He continues, taking a step closer. A shiver goes up Liz’s spine at deepening of his voice like it did when they were in bed together. Max is in low slung gray sweatpants and his curls are wild first thing in the morning

“We can’t.” She definitely can’t. She’s just wearing his worn Collective Soul t shirt and if she puts her hands up, it will lift up sinfully high and she will end up flashing him. Not that Max will mind.

“We could” Max sets her coffee on the bedside table in her hotel room and turns to face her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“We shouldn’t” Liz tries to remain stern.

“Why not? We would be great together.” Max gently takes her hands in his.

“Because it risks my entire career if I become that girl that fucks her partner then moves on to another precinct when things go badly.” Liz tries to maintain eye contact when Max flinches at her words.

“What if it doesn’t go badly, Liz? It could hurt my career too. I’ve never been willing to risk it for anybody but you. You’re worth the risk.” Max wills her to believe his sincerity with his eyes.

Liz sighs, her morale weakening. “I’ll think about it, okay? I promise. We got to get ready for work. Last day of Santa Fe then we will drop off all of the samples to be sent to be tested and pack for the next week in Las Cruces and El Paso.

“That’s all I ask.” Max assures her, leaving her room to go get dressed for the day.

#rnm Echo #max x liz #roswell nm #ficlets? Ficlets?#So You Wanna Spin the World Around

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hillbillyhippiemusicreview · 4 years

Text

Post #63, MarDe Brooks--Running Out of Time

Reviewed by Lyssa Culbertson

“Way back on the radio dial The fire got lit inside a bright-eyed child Every note just wrapped around his soul From steel guitars, to Memphis, all the way to rock and roll” -Eli Young Band

Every time I hear “Even If It Breaks Your Heart” by the Eli Young Band pass through my playlist, my mind cannot help but wander to the trajectory HHMR alum MarDe Brooks has had over the past couple of years. It is impressive what an ample amount of hard work, determination, faith, and if we are honest, an iota of craziness will manifest when it comes to chasing dreams. If you are unfamiliar with MarDe’s story, let me fill you in:

The Alabama born and bred singer-songwriter recently released his debut album, Running Out of Time, after a lifetime of desire to share his musical gifts with the world. Perhaps the album title is a nod to the notion of growing older and time slipping away, leaving you with no choice but to shelve your dreams or take a chance and live them with all you’ve got—but MarDe need not worry. With the impeccable artistry he possesses and a knack for heartfelt, honest songwriting, we’ll be hearing more out of him for years to come. With an practically permanent smile as wide as the Rio Grande and an electric energy radiating from him every time he steps on stage, he possesses an often unmatched zeal for his work that will surely keep him on everyone’s radar. His sound is as eclectic as he is, and that is the utmost compliment in my book. As I said in the review of his first single, “Memories,” MarDe cannot be caged by a genre, for this powerhouse of a songbird sings to the tune of whatever is in his heart—whether that’s a slow sentimental ballad about life on the road, or a rockin’ up-tempo song about love gone wrong. Running Out of Time has something to love for everyone, but odds are you’ll love it from the beginning of the “Memories” you’ll make whilst listening, to the last “Curtain Call.” Answering the desires of his soul to create his own original music, the collection of ten songs were written and composed in just under a year, and within the next year the record was recorded and MarDe hit the highway sharing his stories with anyone who would listen. On September 11, 2020, he added fuel to the fire that got lit inside the bright-eyed child of his youth when he debuted his first album to the world.

When listening to this record both as a whole and dissecting each individual song, it’s quite easy to hear the various musical influences that have helped shape MarDe into the artist he is. However, he infuses those notes of blues, old time rock-and-roll, country, southern rock, folk, and more into sound all his own. The first track on the record, “Memories,” incorporates all of these styles in a up-beat tune set against a bit of a dark subject matter. A failed relationship takes its toll and leads to self-destruction, but if you only listen to the melody, you wouldn’t have a clue. I love how MarDe plays a lyrical and musical trick on the listener’s ear on this one, and it was a solid first choice for a single release, as it showcases both his songwriting ability and musicality. Heading to the opposite end of the romantic spectrum, the next track, “Slow Time,” is a beautiful ballad that will transport you back to a time to when life ran at a slower pace, perhaps on the riverbank next to a loved one watching the summer clouds roll in, where nothing but the love you were in mattered. Speaking of rolling in, “I’ve Got Memphis” is one of the standouts on the record, as it details the feelings of a traveling musician counting the miles wearing on both the road and his soul. As a music lover with a heavy dose of Gypsy in my soul, when MarDe sings “Oklahoma calls out to me, and I miss that Kentucky high, I’d love to stay in Alabama, but I’ve got Memphis tomorrow night,” it resonates with me on a spiritual level. I love the sound of four wheels spinning down an open highway, but occasionally every mile marker makes me weary and I just want to be home, though there’s always another show down the road and work to be done. It’s a sentimental tune about the highs and lows of this life and is just so powerful. Track number four, “Down the Road,” happens to be one of my favorites off the record—it’s a total jam with an infectious groove that just won’t let go, much like how he bemuses the difficulty of letting go of his beloved and moving on in the tune. The way he once again juxtaposes an upbeat melody with a somewhat somber subject matter intrigued me from the first verse of the song, and I was hooked. We’ve all been there—in love with someone that it kills us to let go of, though we know we’re better off leaving them in our rearview. I admire how MarDe can write about real life situations with such clarity and cleverness.

As evidenced by the previous tracks mentioned, MarDe has such a versatile voice where one moment he can have you high on life singing along and the next morose and feeling every bit of heartache his vocals are seeped with on a song like “Home,” one of the most compelling works on the album. The imagery is quite vivid, as you can easily picture the man in the song with his “hands on the sink, face down to the floor” ruminating over his life. As I’ve listened to this song, it dawned on me that the character in the song was not simply speaking to a lost lover, but to the man in the mirror as well, because all too often we can break our own hearts by our choices with the aid of the demons we face. For many, alcohol can be one of those demons; however, as shown by MarDe’s joyful vibes in “Fifth by Noon,” sometimes it can be just the cure a man needs to patch up a broken heart. This tune is my favorite to see performed live because of the energy MarDe harnesses as he brings the song to life. A little ditty about the healing powers found in a fifth of your favorite whisky and good friends, the line “everything will be alright if I down a fifth by noon” has the possibility to become an adage for centuries to come. Likely not the wisest piece of advice, but one most can certainly empathize with if we’re honest. When he sings “I used to lay you down like Conway at night, but now you’re out there girl and you’re making different music tonight, so here’s an idea, why don’t you stay, yeah that’s where you made you made your bed and that’s where you can lay” it’s loud and clear how he feels about the woman in question—and I’m absolutely here for it. Such a killer, feisty verse that makes me cackle as I belt it out every time! The guitar solo prefacing the semi-acapella portion of the song backed by a chorus of voices and a drumline are my favorite parts of the song because it drives the point home and is so fun to jam out to.

Reflecting back on the record to this point, it’s easy to see the thematic presence of sorrow woven throughout the lyrics. Despite the best efforts we tend to put into anything in life, what we deserve is not always what the universe sends our way. Track number seven, “Earned,” is a prime lyrical example of that fact, especially in relation to futile relationships we may feel that we got the short end of the stick in, so to speak, because “even if you do things the right way, you don’t always get what is earned.” A heart is a fragile thing, and love is even more delicate, as heard in “On My Way.” MarDe croons “rules are made to be broken, but hearts aren’t the same, so many words left unspoken, could have silenced the pain” to a lover he’s leaving behind—and that is such a poignant line about the importance of communication. Quite frequently, it’s the words we do not say that could salvage important connections or bring closure to difficult goodbyes. His voice is soft and melodic on this tune, highlighting every bit of emotion involved, notably when he sings in the bridge “I couldn’t see through the flames when I promised my life, but all that smoke cleared just in time.” Every time I hear that particular lyric a single tear escapes my eye because I’ve lived that line and the emotions connected are just so painful—It hurts so good.

Although words sometimes possess the power to save relationships, they also have the power to destroy them. In the case of “Liar,” MarDe appears to be addressing a friend or mentor, rather than a past lover. “Your lies won’t let you tell the truth, you looked down on me, I looked up to you, you dig your hole try to pull me in the ground, you had your chance but it’s all over now”—WOW. In spite of the rather calm melody, the anger and disappointment boils over in every verse of this good riddance themed song, as he’s “on [his] way to the top now, and you can’t slow [him] down.” I often lightheartedly—but seriously—joke that people should not do wrong by a songwriter, because a song will inevitably be written about the offense, and “Liar” is a prime example of that, tying into the seemingly autobiographical journey MarDe details in the final song on the record, aptly titled “Curtain Call.” It’s a beautiful summation of his ride from the aforementioned bright-eyed dreamer of his youth to the man he is now, steadily achieving lifelong goals—while the highs and lows ebbed and flowed and it wasn’t always easy, the journey was without a doubt worth it, as evidenced by the quality and ultimate success of his first release.

MarDe either wrote or co-wrote every song on Running Out of Time and rounded up a group of gifted musicians to record the album at Rose City Recording in Charleston, WV with producer Greg McGowan. With a heavy dose of the keys, the lead/rhythm guitar, mandolin, violin, bass, drums, and pedal steel played by (in no particular order) musicians Jerimiah Hatfield, Joey Lafferty, Mark Cline Bates, Jeremy “Wood” Roberts, Eric Robbins, David McGuire, Molly Lynn Page, Travis Egnor, and MarDe himself, this record is a unique work of art, reflective of the array of musical styles that encompass the artist MarDe Brooks is. The support from background vocalists Ritch Henderson, Eric Robbins, Jerimiah Hatfield, and Mark Cline Bates adds a spark to each track they are featured on. My only critique of the record is that you cannot truly hear the extent of the passion and range MarDe possesses behind his vocals, as that essence can only be captured live—which is why you must catch him a live show, soon! You can find tour dates, merch, and other important info at www.mardebrooks.com, or you can follow him on Facebook at MarDe Brooks and on Instagram at @mardebrooksmusic.

Peace, love, & music,

Lyssa

————————

*This is an independent review. The Hillbilly Hippie Music Review was not compensated for this review.

*The opinions expressed are solely that of the author(s).

*These images are not ours, nor do we claim them in any way. They are copyrighted by MarDe Brooks & Jimbo Valentine of Amalgam United.

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sometimesiwrite · 4 years

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A Pinter Pause (2/2)

Part 2 Summary: Terence and Katherine find themselves connecting on a deeper level than they had anticipated after re-kindling their acquaintance during an opening night reception at the theatre nearby. They hastily head back to Terence’s apartment to continue the evening.

Content Notes: Smut, condom use, oral, m/f intercourse, slight mention of BDSM/rough sex, discussion of emotional availability, fluff, explicit language.

Word Count: ~3,000

Again, I didn’t intend this as an imagine/fanfic piece but as with the previous story, but who am I to tell you how to use your imagination ;)

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

Katherine climbed the stairs to the second floor, nerves fluttering in her stomach as she approached the top of the stair case and paused, realizing Terence still had the key. He squeezed past her on the stairs, taking a little extra time to linger across from her. How is he so...ugh! Katherine was both infuriated and incredibly attracted by his composure, meanwhile here she was with clammy hands, sweaty armpits and knees that made her feel like a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time. Terence grinned, “Chanel, isn’t it?”

“Dior,” she answered back, a playful edge of defiance in her voice masking her desire to scream How is this happening?! in his face. She followed Terence the rest of the way up the stairs, trying desperately to stop the feeling of becoming increasingly less sexy. His apartment was tastefully decorated and mostly what she would have expected from the home of a well-dressed urban bachelor. The floors were a varnished honey-coloured hardwood and were warm underfoot as she removed her shoes, wincing a little as she let them spread back to their full width after being confined all evening.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, also removing his shoes and blazer, and loosening his tie.

“Vodka soda with lemon?” she asked, hoping it might combat some of the dryness in her mouth.

“Coming up! Feel free to have a look around, I’ll be back in a second” he called out on his way to the kitchen. She wandered into the living room area which was cozy-yet modern with an abstract shag carpet in front of the sofa and a few larger potted plants flanking the door to what could only be his patio. A desk and some tall bookcases filled a square of the living area which he had clearly claimed as a kind of makeshift office-library with a an easy chair under a reading lamp and a coffee table next to it. She made her way over to the bookshelves to have a look at his collection which proved to be wonderfully eclectic: A Picture of Dorian Gray, a bunch of old DC and Marvel Comics, notably Hawkeye, Justice League, and Spiderman, The Collected Works of A. A. Milne, Wuthering Heights, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, a few other fantasy novels she didn’t recognize by an author whose name looked Scandinavian—Sap…Sapkowski? Her eyes continued to scan the shelves. There were a fair number of playwrights featured in his collection as well, Beckett, Pinter, David Mamet, Sam Shepard, Hanna Moscovitch, Judith Thompson… So much for learning about a person from what they have on their bookshelves. What doesn’t this guy read?

In the kitchen, Terence took a stiff drink of whisky from his glass before pouring Katherine’s drink. He wasn’t nervous, per se... more than anything he was having a hard time believing that a woman of Katherine’s caliber was not only in his apartment, but wanted him, at least for the night if nothing more. Steeling himself, he left the kitchen half expecting her to have left, though he didn’t know why.

He found her in the living room and brought her drink over. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted ice so I gave you a little.” His finger lingered on hers as she took the glass from him, basking in the colour of his eyes, a clear water-y blue. “I see you’ve found my bookshelves,” he said, standing close behind her holding his own drink in his hand. She could feel the warmth of his chest radiating against her back. Again, she was impressed at how incredibly at ease she felt despite her nerves. Sure, he wanted her, absolutely he wanted her, if for nothing more than one night… but he didn’t need anything, didn’t have to have anything from her, which made her hope, at least somewhere in her jaded soul, that perhaps he would be interested in more than an evening.

“They say you can learn a lot about a person from their bookshelves...”

“What have you deciphered? Surely your clever mind has come up with something.” He gently stroked her arm.

“Well...”She leaned back against him and tilted her head to one side, a subtle invitation. “You’re a bit of an enigma, Terrence. You’ve got everything from early 20th Century romance to superheroes and Winnie the Pooh.”

He moved his drink to his other hand and gently swept her hair back. “But if you were to hazard a guess?”

“I would say that you’re very interested in people’s minds—”

His nose lingered at her ear for a moment as he leant down to kiss her neck, breathing warm air onto her and inhaling more of her perfume, and with it more of her.

“—and are probably more vulnerable than you let on.”

Terence chastely pressed his lips against the tender skin of her neck, felt her pulse quicken under the surface as his arm wrapped around her waist, a thumb just grazing the bottom of her underwire. “If all that were true, would you still want to stay the night?” Katherine turned around and took Terence’s drink out of his hand and walked to the coffee table where she set both drinks down. He watched with the smallest hint of concern on his forehead, wondering whether she had lost interest. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You bet I do,” she gave him a wide and reassuring smile, playfully biting her bottom lip.

Terence brushed a stray hair behind her ear. “You really are stunning,” he said, an earnestness settling in his features. Katherine’s eyes softened for a moment as she gazed at the man standing across from her, her internal monologue just as speechless as she was. They pressed together slowly, completely immersed in each other’s warmth as passion mounted and swelled inside them. It had been ages since she’d been kissed like this, Katherine thought, as firm hands circled the back of her neck and waist, pulling her close. Before she knew it, her fingers were in his hair and their kisses turned all tongues and teeth as they hungrily proceeded, buttons haphazardly fumbled with as shirts were worked open on their slow journey to the bedroom.

Terence turned on the lights. “How about a little ambiance,” he said, dimming them until a warm glow honeyed his soft blue-grey walls. “Better.” He smiled at her for what felt like the hundredth time that night and paused to read her face, his eyes scanning for signs of hesitation, but all he saw was Katherine smiling back at him. He plunged into a fresh kiss, stubble leaving her lips tingling, smearing what was left of her lipstick away. They reached the last button at the same time, peeling the offensive layers from each others bodies. Katherine ran her hands across Terence’s smooth cotton undershirt, his chest warm and firm under her touch as she tugged at the hem, wrenching it from the waistband of his pants. Realizing she was wearing a slip, Terrence skillfully unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor at her feet. Katherine firmly grabbed a handful of backside with a playful smile on her face and he raised his eyebrows at her. Terence returned the favour, except his hands were much larger and his arms much stronger. “Two can play at that game,” he quipped, and pulled her off her feet as she let out a shriek of surprise, laughing as he walked them toward the bed.

“Well, here we are,” he said matter-of-factly. “What should we do now?” She laughed gently as she tightened her legs around him.

“I’m really asking,” he said, lowering her to the bed and straightening up to remove his pants. “I want to know what you want. Because, thing is,” he continued, sitting down on the bed, “I can accommodate a wide range of preferences.”

She looked at him quizzically, wondering whether she was on the cusp of something she hadn’t expected. “I don’t, um… I mean I’m not into… at least I don’t think I am, but—”

“I enjoy sex with people who are enjoying themselves, plain and simple. No strings attached, no tricks. I’ll enjoy myself if you’re enjoying yourself. It’s just kind of how I operate. So: beautiful, charming, intoxicating woman, what would you enjoy, darling?” He playfully rubbed his hardened front against her and she inhaled heavily. He smiled as he felt her desire for him dampen the fabric between them, but he still waited for her answer. “I’m pretty sure my only kink is a man who knows what he’s doing,” she laughed, pulling him close.

“That is a need I can most definitely accommodate, at least so the reviews have told me.”

“Hmmm, I’d like to follow up on that, is there a reference I could contact?” Katherine teased.

“No, but there is a 100% satisfaction guarantee: if you don’t finish, I don’t finish.” Terence quipped, his voice muffled in Katherine’s neck.

“What do you want?” Katherine asked, seriously.

“Honestly?” Terence paused, “I would really love it if the neighbours heard you all the way from wherever the hell they are.”

"I think I can work with that,” Katherine replied with a hawkish grin. Terence immediately took off his shirt and helped remove her slip, revealing a black lace bra which he unhooked with one hand and let fall away.

“You’re already more proficient than 99% of the people I’ve been with,” she laughed.

“Let’s see if we can’t beat that last 1% shall we?” He pressed two fingers against her last remaining undergarment. “You’re so wet, darling, I can feel you through your underpants.”

He lay her back on the mattress, slowly tugging at her underwear. He kissed the margin where fabric and warm skin met, looking at her with a question on his face. She nodded enthusiastically. “Please,” she panted. He returned on top of her and she noticed he had removed the last of his clothing as well. She swallowed thickly at the sight of his naked body lowering on top of her. “Not too fast,” she murmured in his ear.

“Darling, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he reassured her, softly caressing her curves as she grew accustomed to his touch. He slowly kissed his way up her legs, teasing at the borders of her dark curls with his thumbs, listening to her hold her breath with anticipation. “If you want me to stop—”

“Don’t you dare,” Katherine blurted out, eagerly meeting his lips.

Terrence smiled against her as his fingers slowly found their way to her centre and dragged languorously to her tip where they circled slowly. She let out an exhilarated gasp followed by a gentle moan as she pressed lightly into his hand. Terence felt a rush of gratification at how responsive she was to his touch. He teased a finger at her opening. Katherine drew a sharp breath as she felt his finger slip inside her. She clumsily reached out with her right hand searching, looking to give him something in return. She found what she was looking for.

Terence let out a satisfied moan and kissed her hard, swallowing Katherine’s sounds of pleasure. He gently pulled himself out of her hand as he shifted himself back between her legs, “There’s plenty waiting for him later.” With that, he disappeared, his tongue and fingers now proficiently navigating her most intimate topography. Katherine pursed her lips trying to control the sound that was escaping from her unbidden.

Terence raised his head briefly and kissed her luxuriously on the thigh. “The neighbours won’t hear you if you don’t let your beautiful voice out.” He smiled at her, memorized the expression on her face—a mixture of pleasurable agony and astonishment—and then returned between her legs. A wave of icy heat shot through Katherine’s body as she began to tremble, her voice grew louder as her fingers clutched the sheets on either side of her. She fell silent in the last moment before full release shot through her. Terence emerged from between Katherine’s legs and the puddle that had formed beneath her, an impressed, slightly amused expression on his face. “Very impressive. There really is a first time for everything,” he panted as he gazed down at Katherine’s trembling body. “Fuck,” she panted, looking up at him trying to recover, “oh jesusfuckingchrist.” She laughed, realizing what he had just said: “Wait. Wait. You mean you’ve never had a… I mean no woman’s ever…”

“Cum all over me? No, I can’t say I have.” They both laughed as Terence settled himself down on top of Katherine, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes that said they weren’t done yet. He kissed her passionately, buried his face him her neck, found every soft and sensitive patch of skin he could caress with his lips, his fingers tangled gently in her hair.

“I take it the customer is satisfied?” He teased.

“I don’t think I’ll be asking for a refund,” Katherine laughed breathlessly.

“Well, hopefully you’re not too satisfied just yet. You see, that was just the test drive.” Terence grinned a wolfish grin and pressed his body against hers.

“You should be careful, Terence,” Katherine warned, half serious. “I could really get used to this.”

Playfully, he urged her back to the task at hand, eager to connect more thoroughly. “Permission to proceed further?”

“Permission granted,” she answered, gutturally as she locked eyes with him. He raised an eyebrow and the rest was a blur—gasps, shudders, and moans filled the room as the two became a tangled mass of hair, legs, and hands. Sweat gathered on their glowing skin as they basked in sensation, drinking each other in, grasping at each other wherever they could as if there were too many molecules of air separating them, as if they could always be a little closer and him a little deeper. They were completely lost in pleasure, moving from one position to another, Terence changing pace just often enough to keep them both teetering on a knife’s edge. Finally, Katherine felt a hand come to circle her sensitive bundle of nerves and she felt everything shake as her hips faltered in their rhythm. Her voice was full and round with pleasure as Terence felt her body turn on a dime, felt her start to clench around him, her voice and breath shift as she started to call out with every swear word she could think of as she felt everything go white hot. They came undone at the same time, pressing hard against one another, still somehow not close enough.

They stayed there, panting on one another for a little while as they got their bearings. Terence shot Katherine a goofy expression as he tied their condom in a knot and threw it in the trash. Finally, Katherine got up to pee and they both cleaned themselves up before flopping back into bed, gulping cool water from the glasses Terence had brought back from the kitchen. Finding a dry patch to lie on, however, proved difficult. “Come here,” he said, opening his arm for her to nestle into the crook of his shoulder. Katherine sleepily obliged, crossing a leg over him, tracing a circle on his sternum with her finger.

“I wasn’t kidding about me getting used to this, Terence. You should be careful.” Katherine joked.

“I guess we both should be careful, then. Because I think I could too.” Katherine’s eyes snapped to meet his, trying to see if he was joking, but all she found was sincerity and tenderness. She raised her palm to the side of his face and he leaned into its warmth before kissing it: “I mean it, Katherine. You’re magnificent in every way.”

They both lingered for a moment in the realization that this was likely more than just one night of passion and indulgence, simultaneously hoping it might be more but not wanting to say so and risk an uncomfortable conversation.

“I must say this was a pleasant surprise, to say the least” He left a lingering kiss on the top of her head as he inhaled. Exhaled.

“Something tells me you encounter ‘pleasant surprises’ on a regular basis.” Katherine hoped she was wrong but tried to sound casual.

“No, actually, not often at all. Only when I want to connect with someone which isn’t always easy for me… hence my efforts to be... accommodating. So that when I do find an interesting person, there might be less of a barrier.”

“So you’re very physically available…��

“But am I emotionally available, you wonder?” Terence was quiet for a moment, and Katherine raised herself up onto her elbow to see his face. He looked up at her, his eyebrows baleful. He sighed and Katherine felt her stomach sink. “Let’s just say you were right about my bookshelf.”

She looked at him quizzically. “Impenetrably enigmatic?”

“I’m more vulnerable than I let on,” he admitted with difficulty. “It’s—been a long time since I’ve been... open to someone. In that way.”

Katherine nodded, her jaw tightening as she broke eye contact and looked away. She was grateful for the connection they had shared, the chemistry, the banter and company—not to mention excellent physical compatibility. But...

“But,” he said, sitting up and placing a hand on her shoulder, “if you can bear with me a little bit, I could very quickly get back up to speed.”

Katherine smiled at him, relieved and surprised, affection swelling in her chest. “I would like that.” She settled back onto his chest and Terence rested his lips on the top of her head once more, feeling a piece of himself deep within crack open that had been shut tight for a very, very long time.

Tag requests:

@iloveyouyen

#smut #imagine henry cavill #imagine henry #short story #connection #romance #passion #fiction #tension #creative writing

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gotboredwrote · 5 years

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Rings // JRD

Pairing: John Richard Deacon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.9K Style: One-Shot (prompt: “you can keep it.”) Warnings: Fluff (ahhh so much of it toward the end), one sexual implication in joke form Summary: Y/N is the groundskeeper at Ridge Farm and mainly keeps to herself, despite the loud presence the Queen boys present themselves with. When her usual organized demeanor falters lightly, one of the boys is there to help her get back in check. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: I finally had a day off from work, and I really wanted to write, but I had no inspiration whatsoever. So, thanks to the lovely @love-me-a-good-prompt (I don’t know your name otherwise I would give you that credit, too, hon!) and their amazing lists of writing prompts, I found the one I want to use for today! Not sure if you ever read the stories that are written inspired by your prompts, but if you do, I hope you enjoy! Didn’t carefully proofread.

Masterlist

Typically, you were never one to mind if someone needed to rent out your farm house for any reason. The extra money was always helpful, and you typically got to meet some interesting characters. You had gotten a call about a semi-small group needing to rent out the space for an entire month and you lightly buzzed with enthusiasm. The money would be fantastic this time around, and having more than one or two people use the lodge meant that you just might be able to get some help around your house and keeping up with the landscaping. The person who called you told you his name was James Beach, and that he was in the music industry. He would not be joining the people coming to stay with you, but he was able to give you all the information you needed regarding your new tenants. He started with their names, and then proceeded to summarize them with one jarring sentence.

“The four make up an up-and-coming band named Queen, and they want to record an album up there. Is that alright?”

A band, huh? That was a new one. You had gotten everything from vacationers not wanting to spend fortunes on a hotel to honeymooners, to even that one time you had someone hiding from the law. But you never really talked about that – it makes you a little scared for your own safety. But that is beside the point. A band had never stumbled their way to your little farm, and you accepted Mr. Beach’s offer without even thinking about asking him if they would be bringing everything they needed. Typically, you never really had to provide anything for your guests, except the actual house they stayed in. Naturally, all these thoughts cascading through your mind evoked some panic, so you decided to call Mr. Beach back to ask him a bunch of questions that you had not asked originally.

Ring… ring…

“James Beach, how can I help you?”

“Mr. Beach? Hi again, this is uh, Y/N Y/L/N from Ridge Farm.”

“Oh, Ms. Y/N! I didn’t expect to hear from you again. What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, actually, I was doing some thinking about the group that will be coming to stay with me.”

“You’re not retracting the offer, are you?”

“Oh gosh, no, sir! I just normally only have to ask a few questions over the phone, but I’ve never actually had a band stay over before. I just had a couple other questions I wanted to run by you before their arrival to make sure I’m as prepared as possible. I know you must be a busy man, what working with rock stars and pop stars, and the like, but would you happen to have a few minutes now for me to ask a few things?”

“Ask away, my dear. My next client isn’t in for almost an hour.”

“Wonderful. Um, so I know the date the band is arriving, and I wrote down that there are four members. Is there anything specific I should know about any of them?”

“Well, Freddie is basically a drama queen that lives for the local gossip and a fancy cocktail. Mimosa in the morning kind of guy. John is shy and reserved, and if you give him cheese on toast and a pack of cigarettes, he should be content. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Brian is reserved and intellectual, but isn’t afraid to argue right back with someone if they need someone to defend them. Roger is a loud mouth, but harmless nonetheless. Might attempt to make you swoon for him, so just pay attention to him. He wouldn’t hurt you, just watch his antics. He’d also be happy with a carton of cigs. Is that okay for a basic introduction?”

“That’s perfect, Mr. Beach. Um, moving on. I have enough bedrooms and space for them, and I always keep food and drinks on hand, so I’ll make sure to buy John some cheese and bread. But one thing I don’t know is what they need for their music. I assume they’ll be bringing their own instruments and stuff, right?”

“Correct.”

“So, they are aware that this isn’t an actual studio, right? Like, I’m out in the middle of the countryside with minimal amenities. Just the necessities. I only have one space I can think of that they could use a recording studio.”

“Whatever it is you have will work for them, trust me. They’re an eclectic bunch. Be ready for some bickering, love.”

Jim was a very kind soul, and if the boys he managed were anything like him, you felt that you were going to have no trouble with them. You had a few other small things on your mind that you ran by him and got answers that suited your needs. After the phone call, you looked at the notes you had jotted down, ending on the date that the boys were scheduled to arrive. You only had two days to get what they needed, but that was plenty of time. You just had to remember a handful of things; clean up the basement and make up the boy’s rooms, buy some cigarettes for those that wanted them, and pick up some fresh cheese and bread from the market for John.

One thing you had forgotten to ask Jim was what time the boys were slated to arrive, so you made it a point to get up early with your chickens and hens like usual, and stay on the property all day. You had a peaceful breakfast on your porch, watching your chickens interact with one another, calmed by the quiet clucks they made. Most people found them annoying, and always made it a point to scream at you about it in some way despite the fact that you warn all potential guests about them. You, however, took comfort in having another living thing around. Your family all lived in town, and there was no significant other in your life. But you were always happy. None of it mattered. You always got to see your family when you travelled into town, but they respected your choice to remain on the property full-time. The rest of your morning and all of your afternoon was spent mindlessly cleaning or daydreaming at different spots on the farm, not really thinking about the possibility of chaos entering onto the property any minute. You walked inside, ready to prepare yourself a quiet dinner. As soon as you set your pan on your stove-top, the all-familiar sound of tires on dirt in the background over the quiet hum of your radio. Another thing to make you feel less alone when there were no other tenants on the property, a gift from your parents. Making your way through your porch door and down onto the grass, you saw the van parked in a spot it made for itself and you saw four men climb out of the back while the driver turned off the car. You walked half the distance between the houses and the car and paused until they were turned in your direction to greet them.

“Evening, gentlemen! You have impeccable timing – I was just about to cook dinner for myself, but now I’ll make six portions and you can all come join me! You can bring your belongings in my house for now, and after we eat, I will show you all to your respective rooms.”

With that, you walked the other half of the distance and approached them, all of them smiling fondly at you, except for one. He did not look happy at the arrival of your presence, but you attempted to not to pass any judgement until you got to know them. You went to pick up a piece of luggage in order to help them, when a younger looking, long-haired, skinny man approached you.

“I got it, you don’t have to help.”

His voice was a quiet, and slightly higher pitched than you imagined it would be for someone of his height. It was cute.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. It’s hot out, and I don’t want you guys breaking out into sweats before you even start playing.” You smiled sweetly at him, not really sure which member you were talking to yet, but he did not fight back. Making you assume it was not Roger or Brian. Freddie or John, though, that was still a toss-up.

Once all five of the men who would be staying on the property were inside, you told them that they could sit and chatter in your living room watching television, come and sit in the kitchen while you cooked and talk, or wander around the farm seeing and feeling the calmness settle around them. All of them, to your surprise, elected to join you in the kitchen. Either these were the most polite and distinguished of rock stars in the world, or they felt awkward just walking around your property. Either way, you were thankful for the company. Your kitchen table had one chair on either of the shorter sides, and benches accompanying the longer sides. Three of the men sat on one of the benches, and the other two took the single chairs. You never felt anxious in front of new tenants, so you just started talking to them.

“If I may, I have a few things I would like to tell you guys before I leave you to make your music,” looking over your shoulder at them while getting dinner started. “Oh, I also hope you all are good with homemade spaghetti and salad for dinner, everything is from scratch, including the pasta.” The one who glared at you the minute he got out of the van continued to stare at you, seemingly disapprovingly, while the other four smiled at you, patiently waiting to hear what it was you had to say. While you waited for the water to start boiling, you turned around to face them, getting your first real look at the men.

“So, normally, one of the first things I like to do is introduce myself and give the story of the little old farm to my new tenants. And I like to go over the boring stuff like the few rules I have and traditions I keep. If you would all be so kind as to oblige me, I would like to begin with that, and then I can leave you all alone to eat your dinner.”

You waited for a response, an auditory one, mainly, but all you got in response was more soft and small smiles and daggers from the one man. You decided that that was your cue to continue.

“Well, you should know that my name is Y/N, and I have lived on this property my whole life. Ridge has been in my family for the past four generations, and it fell onto me to keep the place going. Our family didn’t intend for it to be rented out, but extra money is always useful, and plus, living by myself out here, it’s nice to have some interesting company every once in a while, even if I don’t interact directly with them all that much. Anyway, the other house on the property is where you all will stay. Six bedrooms, so you have choices, three bathrooms, a fully-stocked kitchen, some lounge rooms. Everything you could need. Plus, I made sure that the basement was ready to go, which is where I assume you will be spending most of your time. I won’t be bothering you too much, unless something important comes up and I need to inform you all of something. I typically don’t inform my guests when I’m running errands, because I have enough faith in the people that stay to not want to break into my home. Otherwise, there are separate phone numbers for each house, so feel free to phone me if you have anything you need to ask me. Otherwise, the only other rule I have is don’t trash the place.”

You could hear the stove behind you start to boil, so you turned back around to toss the pasta in, and you began to heat up the sauce, as well. Once you were situated with that, you continued to talk to them over your shoulder.

“Continuing on, a couple small things you should know. I never mind if you want to me come cook your breakfasts, lunches, dinners, or if there is something specific you want to make and you don’t have it, I can run errands for you. I will never impose myself on your meal time or work time, and I will not drop over uninvited unless you specifically give me permission to. For the month you are here, the house is yours, not mine. Um, what else… Oh! If I ever need help with something on the farm, whether it be yard work, something with the chickens, or maybe running a particularly large errand, if no one is busy, I wouldn’t mind some help. It’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to or can’t, though. I completely understand.”

You turned back around to check on the stove, and once everything was stirred, you turned to face the boys one last time.

“I think that’s everything! I didn’t mean to talk your ear off, I just like to get formalities out of the way so you can start on whatever it is you wanted to do while you were here. If there is anything –”

“God, could you just shut your mouth and continue cooking us dinner? I would like you to do the thing that you just told us you would do.”

You stood in a stunned silence. The man’s words searing right through your chest and penetrating your heart to the point where you physically felt pain from the harshness it beat at. And from the looks on all four of the other men’s faces, you could tell that this was something they had worried would happen.

“Jesus, Paul, you really don’t know when it’s your bloody turn to talk, do you?” The blonde, seated at one of the end chairs, sounded intense and exasperated already at the man.

“Paul, she only has about two rules, and one of them is mutual respect from the tenants. You already broke that, and now I feel as though I need to apologize on behalf of all of us.” The taller man with dark curls spoke sternly at the man who you now knew was named Paul, and then turned to address you much more quietly. “I’m sorry for him, love.”

“It’s… it’s okay, guys. I’ll just keep making… dinner. Then I’ll take mine to my room.”

“Please don’t.” The man from earlier with the long hair hurriedly spoke at you. Before his outburst, he had hung his head with a small grimace adorning his face. Hearing the defeat in your voice prompted a change that was clearly unusual for the man, considering his face went a little red at the recognition of his own outburst. “I’ve… liked hearing you talk, and would like to get to know you more.”

“I’ll second that,” spoke the curly haired man. “Plus, we haven’t properly introduced ourselves yet.”

“Allow me to help you with the rest of dinner, darling.” The last person who had not spoken finally spoke up, and it was the man with dark hair to match the curly man’s, but straighter.

The four seated at the table chatted amongst themselves, three of them clearly ignoring the one named Paul, while the fifth helped you with dinner. He appeared like he was holding back on saying something, and you had barely expelled any air when he cut you off.

“I’m so sorry about Paul. He… we’re trying to rid the group of him, but he just won’t leave. It’s almost like he’s a groupie, but worse. And I wish I could tell you what his problem with you is. He just automatically became villainous when we arranged to stay here.”

“It’s not a problem, really. I’ve had worse guests.” Your mind flashing back to that one criminal.

“I sincerely hope you don’t think we’re all like that, darling, because we are far from it. Also, my name is Freddie, by the way. The blondie is Roger, curls is Brian, and our shy friend is John. Maybe you could impress them at dinner by remembering their names.”

You turned your neck to look at Freddie, who was now beaming at you, and you smiled back with a small giggle. You both turned your attentions back to dinner, and finished cooking. You brought plates for everyone at the kitchen table, and proceeded to strike up some conversations between the boys while you ate. You mainly got to know each other, and you asked them a little bit about the album they were recording. They had remembered the part where you said you would not intrude without their specific permission, and without even acknowledging Paul, they told you that you could come to the studio at any point if you ever wanted to hear some live music. You were really thankful that these guys did not seem to be rambunctious, besides in the little brotherly way they seemed to have. You had also made it a point to recite their names when you first sat down, like Freddie told you, and you got them all right. Brian and Roger just looked smug when you got them right, while John tilted and turned his head slightly, trying to hide the flush that washed over his face. Not one of embarrassment, just one of pure shock that someone cared enough about him to remember his name. Once dinner was finished, you told the boys to just throw their dishes in the sink. Paul took it a little bit too literally and you were afraid that one of your plates had been shattered. All six of you then made your way to the guest house where the boys would choose their rooms. Once rooms were decided on, you helped each of them to their rooms, ending with John. He chose the smallest room, as if to make your job easier once he left. You told him he could have had whichever room he wanted, but he was content with the smaller one. You were not one to argue. You reminded him that if there was anything he needed at any time to just give you a call, and you were about to walk out when he stopped you.

“May I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I happened to notice you wear rings.”

“Oh yeah,” you fondly looked down at your hands. “Most of them were passed down from my parents, a couple have been gifted to me from tenants over the years.”

“They suit you. I wear a few myself. Just noticed that we have that in common, sorry if that came out as strange. I don’t want you to think I’m strange, because I promise I’m-”

“John, really, it’s okay. I like that pay attention to small details like that. It shows you aren’t superficial.” John just stared back at you, at a loss for words at how well-spoken and sweet you were. “I look forward to getting to know you this month. I hope you sleep well.”

“You too, Y/N.”

About a week had passed by, and many breakfasts and jam sessions later, you decided it was time for you to do the first official surface cleaning of each of the boy’s rooms. They had already been in the studio for over an hour when you made your way over around ten in the morning, and you stood quietly in the doorway listening to them work for a few moments. When they finally settled down, you took the initiative to wave at them, so as not to ruin a recording they were working on. When you were sure it was safe to talk, you spoke up.

“Hi, lads. Just wanted to let you know that I am going to be floating through the house today doing a surface cleaning. I won’t rummage through any of your belongings, but I’ll be dusting and scrubbing the surfaces of the rooms you are staying in. If I happen to be in your room and you need it, or the bathroom you’ve been using, just let me know and I can leave. I’ll see you for lunch in a little while. Remember, sandwich bar today!”

As you were leaving, you heard Paul shout back that he would never let you live to see the next day if you rummaged through his room, so you just shot an okay sign through the doorway on your way out to let him know that you heard him. And you started cleaning. Once you noticed it was time for lunch, you started to make your way back to your kitchen to start the prepping. The boys had made it a habit of eating in your house instead of their kitchen, and only opting to use their kitchen if they wanted snacks or got hungry working through the night. You had told the boys that they could make their way to your kitchen around 1:30pm each day if they wanted lunch. John usually left a little bit earlier than all the others so he could help you out with meal prepping. He felt that it was the least he could do to make up for inconveniencing you, which you tried explaining to him on multiple occasions that he was the farthest thing from an inconvenience. Before heading over to your kitchen, John stopped in his room to freshen up a little bit after a particularly energetic session, and he caught a glimpse of something shiny underneath his dresser. He knelt down to pick it up, and he immediately recognized it as one of the rings you always wore. If he remembered right, you wore it on your thumb. It was just big enough, he noticed, that it fit on his pinky, so he placed it on his hand as a reminder to give it back to you. He glanced at the ring one last time, the strange feeling he got from wearing it slowly subsiding, and finished refreshing himself before making his way over to the kitchen of your home. Normally, no matter the time of day, John and the boys could always expect soft music to be coming from the small radio you had in your kitchen. The only time you turned it off was when you went to sleep. Otherwise, it was on all the time. Having the background noise eased your nerves if they ever flared up for any reason, and it was always nice to have a relaxing atmosphere fill the air of your home. Except that this time, all he heard were small groans of frustration, not accompanied by any music. Clearly, that was not your attempt at singing. He walked into your house with a quiet knock on your door, one that you never heard. Then he made his way into your kitchen and knocked a little louder on the door frame, hoping he would not startle you. Thankfully he did not, and his heart started to beat a little bit quicker when he noticed the look of relief wash over your face when you realized it was him that walked through the door.

“John! You have impeccable timing. You told me you have a degree in electronics, right? Do you think you could help me figure out what is wrong with my radio?”

Oh. You only needed him for his help. What else would it have been? He scolded himself for thinking it could have been anything else. He sat down at the table right next to you on one of the benches, and peered into the inside of the radio.

“Hmm… this is pretty standard wiring, so my guess is something came loose, or one of the wires is fried. Let me take a look.”

You watched John tinker with the radio. You had not sat in on many of their rehearsals, not wanting to interfere or receive an unwarranted and snide comment from Paul. But one thing you immediately noticed was that the way he handled a piece of electronic equipment was completely different than his bass. He was slow and careful with the radio, but he was confident and more fluid with the strings of his bass. It was interesting – how one person could be so different regarding two things. Your mind wandered a little bit, thinking of all the possible scenarios his hands and fingers could work in. You felt your face heat up, so you turned your attention back to the radio, hoping John had not caught you lost in your thoughts. John had been examining the wiring for about three minutes when he finally had his ‘aha’ moment and told you what had happened. Or rather, the radio spoke for itself when it came back on.

“Think I fixed it.”

“Oh, thank you John! Thank you so much!”

You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, while simultaneously grabbing the sides of his face to pull him close. You felt him grab your wrists lightly in response, and you heard a small hum of satisfaction come from him. If any of the band was there, they would have pointed out how out of character that was for their friend. But you had only known them a week, so you had no real way of knowing that. When you pulled your face away from his, you noticed a new ring on his hand, one you had not noticed before. Yet you recognized it for some reason. Like you owned that ring.

“John, is that my ring?”

“Oh, y-yeah! I found it in my room just now before I came over here. I meant to hand it to you right when I walked in, but you caught me off guard with the radio. Here, let me take it off-”

“Don’t.” You stopped him by placing your hand over his. “You can keep it. It suits you, Deaky.”

You had continued to smile at him sweetly, and he just started to return it when you heard your porch door wing open and a ruckus of men swarmed into your kitchen. You and John turned to look at them, trying to hide the moment you just shared, to no avail.

“Well, what has our little Deaky gotten himself into now?” Freddie’s voice cut through the noise.

“I don’t know about now, but it looks like Y/N is the goal.”

“Roger! Don’t say that!” Brian had secondhand embarrassment for you, and the four men standing in your doorway could see the bright reds adorning your faces.

You would forever be grateful and owe a debt of gratitude to the man who called himself James Beach. By the end of Queen’s stay at your farm, you had earned a decent chunk of change, and a boyfriend to top it off. Ever since John had fixed your radio, you and him seemed to be attached at the hip. He wore the ring you gave him every single day, and eventually got the courage to ask you out on a date. You just had to get you guys there since he was not familiar with the area. You never minded driving him – he always looked so at peace watching the countryside scroll by. It pained you the day the boys left, but John made you a promise. Anytime he passed through the area, or needed a place to stay that was even remotely close to Ridge Farm, he would come see you. And he kept up on that promise. He came to visit more than once a month, and would sometimes stay for up to a week at a time. You had that fear in the back of your mind every time he would leave again that you imagined all people in relationships with people in the media had; was he cheating on me? But every single time he came back, he always brought you letters from the boys detailing their travels, and they all made it a point to write about how much John talked about you. There would be discussions of happy thoughts, whines of missing you, and the occasional under-the-breath mention of a special dream he had. It always reassured you in his faith. That, and how he would treat you and smile at you every time he came over to the farm. The other indicator is that he would always bring you a new ring. Everywhere he went for shows or recording sessions, he made sure to pop in a local shop and buy you new rings. They varied in design – some were simple bands, others elaborately engraved, others with stunning gems. It showed you that he never forgot where your relationship blossomed. That day on the farm when he found your ring. You were not a very material person, but you never turned down a ring from John. Especially not on the day he got down on one knee with a stunning, traditional diamond ring to give you.

End Note: I wanted to use a gif from Ridge Farm, but I couldn’t find one and I wanted one with John’s iconic™ rings in it.

Permanent Taglist: n/a

Specific Story/Character Taglist: @ziggymay

#john deacon #john richard deacon #john deacon x reader #john richard deacon x reader #queen #fanfiction #fanfic #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #jim beach #jim miami beach #miami beach #paul prenter #ring #john deacon rings #john deacon wearing rings #ridge farm

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nicoismywaifu · 5 years

Text

Eclectic Influences, or, Silly Love Songs

Summary: Nico finds her father’s old guitar, gets some lessons from Eli and decides to sing some love songs for Maki. Or something like that. Word count: ~6000 Estimated reading time: ~30 minutes, according to http://niram.org/read/ AO3 link: here! Notes: It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten what I usually write here. If you like a certain rock band from the 1960′s, there are a few nods to them here. If you don’t, then you might want to read something else...

As was the tradition they had built over the year, Nico sat perched beside Maki at the piano bench as the latter ran through her pet pieces to play. Well, it was more like Nico was perched on Maki, but that didn’t distract Maki from delivering a soulful rendition of Debussy.

‘Maki-chan’s so talented,’ Nico cooed as the song ended, nuzzling herself against Maki’s shoulder. ‘It makes Nico want to play an instrument, too!’

‘What about the maracas?’ suggested Maki.

‘No way! First off, that’s Rin’s trademark and secondly, they’re so not cool. Nico needs something cute and amazing, like a guitar! Think of how cool it would look in photoshoots, and then bringing it out on stage and amazing everyone with a sweet serenade!’

Maki sighed and set down the piano’s fallboard. Nico had that look in her eyes. No doubt she was already dreaming of the Budokan, or perhaps the Tokyo Dome. ‘A loud instrument for a loud girl,’ she said, snapping Nico back in the direction of reality.

Nico narrowed her eyes. ‘You mean a dashing instrument for the number one idol in the universe, right?’

‘Sure, let’s go with that.’ Stretching her arms up into the air, Maki yawned and looked at the room’s clock. A good few hours had passed, although it sure hadn’t felt that way. ‘I think it’s about time to head home.’

‘Ah, you’re right.’ Nico copied Maki’s actions contagiously. ‘Kokoro and Kokoa are gonna complain again if I get back too late.’

And with that shift in topic, Maki could again tell that Nico had forgotten all about picking up an instrument in the first place as she got up and made for the door. Such a fickle minded girlfriend. It was endearing, but also a little disappointing to Maki.

‘You can learn any instrument as long as you spend more time here with me,’ Maki murmured as she closed the door behind them.

‘Sorry,’ said Nico, distractedly looking up in the midst of messaging her siblings. ‘What was that?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Of course Kotarou broke another toy with his hammer.’ Nico grumbled to herself as she held in her hands what was once a dinosaur plushie, before her brother had made it well and truly extinct. It was not what she was hoping to come back home to after the school day. ‘And of course Nico has to put it in the basement. With all the other broken toys.’

She flicked the switch at the top of the stairs before making her way into the depths, an abyss of junk, junk and more junk. All hand-me-downs from one Yazawa sibling to another. Until they got to Kotarou, anyway.

‘We have got to sort this out one day,’ Nico muttered to herself, displacing boxes and paraphernalia in order to tidy up and create some more space. As she did so, however, something hard and weighty became dislodged and made a beeline for Nico’s temple. After hitting the target, it then made a heavy smack on the concrete flooring.

‘Ouch! Son of a-‘

Rubbing her tender spot, Nico’s anger turned to curiosity as she regarded the object more closely.

‘Huh? What’s this?’

She didn’t know what to make of it – the solid hunk of polymer plastic which had high-fived her scalp a few seconds before. Around one meter in length, two or three thick paperbacks in depth, roughly oar shaped, although that wasn’t quite right. There were several dull silver hinges along its side which were too inviting for the item within to remain unsealed.

Nico unclasped the hinges, opened up the case and there it was.

An old, worn red acoustic guitar.

The body was dusted over and the strings had the murk of rust on them. The lacquer of the finish had faded in parts and worn through to the wood beneath. And as she leaned in closer, she could make out the scent of must. But even with how old and disused it looked, Nico felt an odd gravitation towards it.

Nico scooped the guitar into her arms and made her way back up the stairs, having forgotten what she was ever down there for in the first place. She found her mother who had just returned from work and had settled at the low, Japanese-style table for dinner.

‘Mama?’ said Nico, holding up the guitar in her hands. ‘What’s this?’

‘Oh!’ Nico’s mother stood up from the table with excitement. ‘That’s your father’s old acoustic. Wow, that brings back memories.’

‘Papa played guitar?’

‘Yep. He would sing you lullabies before bed, or whenever you were crying. You used to love it when you were a toddler.’

‘I don’t remember any of this,’ Nico replied.

‘Maybe you were too young. But I remember him serenading me with some silly love songs back in the day. Beatles songs and all that. It was romantic. A little cheesy, but romantic.’

Nico could only feel a small melancholy at not having those memories. ‘Papa…’

Smiling, Nico’s mother reached across and patted her eldest’s head. So her daughter was still a daddy’s girl, even after all this time. ‘Your father always said it was a good sounding guitar. And if you just give it a clean and change the strings, it should be playable.’

Nico couldn’t hide her surprise – the clump of wood in her hands seemed as far from new as was humanly possible. ‘Really?’

Her mother smiled. ‘Just give it a try.’

One afterschool trip to the local music store and some YouTube tutorials later, Nico had finished fitting a new set of bronze strings to her father’s guitar. She had also made a few passes with a damp cloth before admiring her handiwork.

Her mother was right. With a bit of effort, the guitar now at least looked like it was capable of making sound.

‘Now, I just have to tune it…’

She sat up on her bed and laid the guitar across her legs. The timber was cool against the flesh of her thighs as Nico tried to suss out the instrument.

This arm went here and that one went there, right? And then she’d hold the pick in that hand and then play the strings? Which way around did the pick go? No matter where she held it, it felt alien to her. She took a quick strum anyway.

On its own, the guitar made a strange, tuneless sound. Nico didn’t get it.

‘You used to play this, Papa?’ Nico asked the empty room. ‘To play love songs?’ She didn’t get a response. Sighing, she nestled the guitar back in its case.

Her feet dragging her along almost unconsciously, Nico brooded over the afterschool meeting she had with her teacher about the grades on her practice exam.

Didn’t they know? Becoming a super idol takes a lot of work and dedication! Why would she let mere schoolwork get in the way of that?

The meeting had delayed Nico from her usual attendance in the music room with Maki.

She stopped short of entering, content with peering through the window unnoticed. Being by Maki’s side as she played was wonderful, but there was a majesty to watching her work the ivory from a distance. The way she exuded dignity and control over every single bar of music; how she closed her eyes and expressed the voice inside herself through the instrument. It was always captivating for Nico.

Nico was taken out of this reverie by a tap at her shoulder. She turned to find a smiling Eli. From the folders she was carrying under a wedged arm, Nico surmised she was in the middle of some student council errands.

‘Hey.’

‘Heya, Eli.’

‘Not going in?’

Nico shook her head before returning her gaze to Maki. ‘It’s times like this that Nico wishes she could play an instrument as well,’ she said, a wistful tinge in her voice. ‘I did find a guitar the other day, but I have no idea how to play it.’

‘A guitar?’ Eli asked. ‘I know a few chords. I’d be more than happy to teach you, if you like?’

‘Really?’ Nico couldn’t hide the surprise forming on her face. ‘They have guitars in Russia?’

‘Yes, Nico. Guitars exist in Russia. We even have a thing called a balalaika, which is like a Russian guitar. But that’s not the point.’

The two fell quiet for a moment, such that the only noise was the muffled piano from the music room. Maki’s music and songs, which meant so much to her. That was the only moment that Nico needed to decide.

‘I think I’ll take you up on that, Eli.’

Now that she thought about it, this was the first time Nico had been to Eli’s place, let alone her room.

‘Pardon the intrusion…’

For Nico, Eli’s room was reflective of her personality. Books were all put away and sorted into their shelves, there was a clear desk for studying at and a small speaker system for some music. There was also nowhere near enough pink for Nico’s taste. Though there was a suspicious amount of purple…

It was best not to dwell on that, thought Nico. She settled onto the, sigh, purple bedsheets and released her guitar from its case. Eli soon joined her, unzipping her gig bag and unsheathing her own acoustic. Thankfully for Nico’s sanity, it wasn’t purple, rather the parchment like colour of natural, unvarnished timber.

‘Well then,’ Eli said kindly. ‘Shall we begin?’

Nico nodded before settling the instrument across her legs. No sooner than she did that, however, Eli gave her a strange look.

‘I haven’t played anything yet,’ said Nico, shifting her body with unconscious nervousness.

‘Well unless you became left handed overnight, you’re holding the guitar backwards right now.’

‘I-I knew that!’

‘Sure,’ Eli said, before leaning over towards Nico. She took the guitar from Nico’s hands, and brought it so that it was oriented correctly. ‘Left hand goes on the neck; right hand holds the pick. I know that sounds counterintuitive, but just do it.’

Nico did as she was instructed. Eli wasn’t kidding – it felt completely alien.

‘With your left hand, place your fingers down and press the strings to the board. Then strum the strings with your right hand.’

Once more, Nico followed Eli’s instructions. The guitar made a tuneless racket, but Eli still nodded in approval. ‘Good. Just get used to the sensation for now.’

Nico took in the feeling – the vibration of the guitar’s neck in her left hand, the tense metal strings against her fleshy fingertips. She wondered, could people really get used to this?

‘Hey Eli,’ Nico decided to ask after a few strums, ‘why did you learn the guitar of all instruments?’

‘The same reason most people decide to learn the guitar,’ Eli answered. ‘To impress girls.’

‘Did that work on Nozomi?’

Eli puffed her chest. ‘It sure did! I’d come over to her apartment and serenade her with some Beatles songs, and then we’d cuddle up on the bed or the couch and, um, well… Anyway! Your guitar!’

Nico stopped strumming and looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘It has a nice sound to it. How’d you get hold of it?’

‘This was my Papa’s guitar,’ replied Nico. ‘I found it in our basement. I don’t think anyone’s touched it in years.’

‘I’m surprised it’s in such good shape,’ Eli remarked. ‘Spending that long in a basement, you’d think that the humidity would’ve bent the neck or body and make it unplayable. Can I have a go?’

‘Sure,’ said Nico, curious as to how her father’s guitar would sound in someone else’s hands.

Eli received the guitar, placed it across her lap and strummed it a few times before picking out a few notes. ‘Let’s see, what should I play… I guess you can’t go wrong with some love songs.’

‘Love songs…’ Nico murmured.

‘And if it’s love songs, it has to be the Beatles,’ Eli concluded. She fished a clamp like object from her bedside table and affixed it to the neck of the guitar she held in her hands. She answered Nico’s unasked question as follows: ‘A capo. It presses the strings at a certain part of the neck, so you can play in a different key. It’s handy – but you don’t need to worry about that yet. Now then…’

Nico watched as Eli took a breath, then gave all her concentration to the guitar and voice as she started the song – a soft and quiet ballad.

I once had a girl, or should I say

She once had me;

She showed me her room

Isn’t it good, Norwegian Wood,

She told me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,

So I looked around and I noticed there wasn’t a chair…

It was the first time Nico had ever paid attention to someone other than Maki playing an instrument. A different feeling was evoked in her. Eli was good, no doubt about that, but not quite Maki good. And not as pretty, said something else in Nico’s brain.

But music was music, and it was beautiful all the same. As Eli concluded the song, however, there was a question Nico couldn’t help but ask.

‘Is that really a love song? It sounded like you were going to burn someone’s house down in the end.’

Eli opened her mouth to reply, then closed it.

‘Shut up, Nico.’

Maki found herself alone in the music room once more - Nico hadn’t turned up yesterday as well. Maybe she had to take care of her siblings again? Or perhaps she had gotten a part-time job and didn’t have the chance to tell her?

Maki went for her phone and tapped away at the screen.

M: Nico-chan? You aren’t coming to the music room today?

N: sorry <(_ _)>

N: nico made plans with eli today

M: Eli and Nozomi?

N: nah, just eli

Maki paused at this for a moment.

M: Oh.

N: i hope you’re still in the music room like a good girl!

N: nico nii loves her super talented girlfriend ^_^

M: Whatever.

Thankful that text couldn’t give away the grin on her face, Maki picked up the piano fallboard and pondered what to play next.

‘Since you’ve gotten the hang of E and E minor, we’ll be moving to a different chord.’ Eli placed one finger across several strings in horizontal, then strummed it out.

‘Second fret of the D string, G string and B string,’ Eli explained over the sound. ‘That’s an A major chord.’

Nico giggled. ‘G string.’

‘Seriously? Now if you shift your finger on the B string down a fret, you’ll be fingering A minor-‘

Nico snorted.

‘Oh, come on!’

‘I can’t help it!’ Nico laughed as she grabbed her phone from the bedroom table. ‘I’ve gotta tell Honoka and Rin what you said.’

Eli groaned, not knowing why she had expected otherwise. Nico might’ve been older than Eli, but she sure didn’t act like it. She sure didn’t look like it either. But Nico would probably take a swing at her if she said that, and she was armed with a guitar.

As such, Eli decided to get her revenge in a different way.

‘Nico, a word of advice. Whatever you do, do not look at your fingers right now.’

Eli knew the sort of person Nico was. She was the type that if you told her not to do something, she would do the exact opposite out of spite. So Eli was completely unsurprised when Nico rolled her eyes, stretched out the fingers of her left hand and looked at her fingertips.

Eli was also unsurprised when Nico screamed a split-second later.

‘My fingers!’

Sadly for Nico, no-one had told her about the side-effects that happen when you place soft skin against thin strands of metal alloy held under considerable tension. With a glance, Eli saw all the telltale indentations and strands of skin hanging limp, leaving the layer below exposed. She smiled from the nostalgia.

Nico, however, was feeling no such happiness.

‘I’m moulting!’ she bemoaned to the world. ‘I’m shedding my skin like… like an animal that sheds its skin!’

‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ Eli chided. ‘And pay more attention in class. For your fingertips, gently tear off the loose strands. It won’t hurt. In time, the skin will harden and callous up the more you play. See?’

Eli held out her left hand. Nico, eyeing her with suspicion, pinched Eli’s fingertips within her own before making a surprised look. ‘You’re right. They feel weird.’

‘Thanks,’ Eli replied in deadpan. ‘Yours will just like them in a few months of practice. You can also forget about growing your nails out – at least on your left hand.’

‘No one told Nico about this!’

‘Now you know. The guitar is not an easy instrument, Nico. If you want to give up because of it, save both of us the time and effort and give up now.’

Eli smiled inwardly. She knew the exact reaction that would get.

‘Nico is not a quitter.’

Nico huffed and pressed the phosphor bronze strings to the fingerboard once more, but came out with a wince. Eli made a sympathetic look.

‘I thought as much. But it’s no good to push yourself. Let’s practice again tomorrow.’

‘Okay,’ Nico replied. She shook her hand a few times to try and dispel the prickly feeling from her fingertips.

‘Here’s one final tip for the day,’ Eli said as she set her Bluetooth speaker on the bed and fiddled with her laptop. ‘You should get used to playing along to the record, because that trains your ears. Now, what song do I want to play… I guess we’ll go with this.’

Eli hit play and the chords came out a pained slow and melancholy. Eli matched this with a longing timbre in her voice and guitar as she played along:

Is there anybody going to listen to my story,

All about the girl who came to stay?

She’s the kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry

Still you don’t regret a single day,

Oh, girl…

The end of the song came around, and Nico felt a new appreciation for the instrument and Eli’s skills. But once again, she couldn’t help but point out: ‘Eli, that sounded great, but it was more like the girl in the song was being emotionally controlling and abusive. It’s, like, the opposite of a love song. Did you seriously play these songs for Nozomi? And she seriously liked them?’

And once again, Eli went red and muttered: ‘Shut up, Nico.’

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ Maki mumbled to herself, fanning herself in the shade of a conveniently placed tree near Eli’s apartment. ‘But I have no idea what they’re up to, and they won’t tell me except they’re hanging out. For two weeks? Without me?’

For Maki, what choice did she have when Nico wasn’t spending time with her anymore? Not to mention being so evasive about what she was doing?

These were the circumstances which led to Maki breaking out the trenchcoat, disposable mask and sunglasses. (Nico would’ve approved.)

Speaking of Nico, she was facing the looming spectre of graduation, with an uncertain future ahead of her. Especially with those grades that she hid from the others. When that time came… then what? What else would keep them together?

‘Nico-chan… What are you doing?’

‘It’s suspicious, isn’t it? Then again, so is your getup.’

Maki jumped with a start before turning around. ‘N-Nozomi?! What are you doing here?’

‘The same thing as you,’ Nozomi answered. ‘Though with less people looking at me and thinking of calling the police.’

Glancing around with slight self-consciousness, Maki asked, ‘It’s not that bad… is it?’

Nozomi grinned. With a sinking feeling, Maki knew that that meant. She decided to change the topic instead.

‘…They’re spending an awful lot of time together.’

‘Right? I hope your Nicocchi isn’t doing anything lewd with my Elicchi. But then again, maybe it’s for the best. We could have a threesome-’

‘Nozomi!’

‘Dear me, where are my manners? I should invite you along as well and we can all join in-‘

‘That’s not the issue here!’ Maki shouted, face even redder.

‘It isn’t?’ Nozomi asked. ‘Then I guess I can have all the fun to myself!’

‘Hey, wait!’ Maki called out to Nozomi, as the latter began walking towards the apartment. ‘You’re just going to barge in on them?’

‘Whatever’s happening, I want in!’ shouted Nozomi, not bothering to turn back.

‘Nozomi!’

Maki made to follow the older girl, then hesitated.

Nozomi’s inappropriate words rang in her ears. Would Maki really want to see… that?

…Or be part of it?

She shuddered and decided in the negative. Instead, she kept watch from the shade of the trees.

Nozomi made her way into the apartment complex, took the lift up a few floors, fished a key from her pocket that Eli didn’t know she had, unlocked the door and tiptoed into the apartment. Her eyes went wide as she heard voices coming from the bedroom.

‘Put your fingers right there, Nico.’

‘Like this?’

‘More like this. Make sure to curve your fingers so they can fit in a tight space.’

‘Got it.’

‘Then, you can slide your fingers up and down, like this…’

‘Is this okay?’

‘Mmm. You’re a quick learner, Nico.’

With a gasp, Nozomi placed a hand over her mouth. She didn’t expect them to be actually going at it! This needed to be stopped! Or at least have her join in!

She burst through the door, then looked between Nico and Eli as they sat on the bed, eyes wide in surprise. Eli’s hands hovered close to Nico’s as she demonstrated how to play a particularly difficult chord.

‘So you’re not having sex,’ Nozomi said, frowning. ‘How disappointing.’

‘Nozomi,’ Eli whined and pouted, turning away from her girlfriend who had sat beside her on the bed. ‘Didn’t you trust me?’

‘Of course I trust you, Elicchi,’ Nozomi cooed, placing a hand on Eli’s shoulder. ‘Nicocchi on the other hand…’

‘I already have a girlfriend, you know,’ Nico scoffed. ‘One that’s way better than Eli.’

‘…Why on Earth am I teaching you, again?’

‘Maybe she just enjoys Elicchi’s interesting choice in songs?’ Nozomi said.

Eli buried her head in her hands as Nico burst into laughter. ‘You too, Nozomi? Why didn’t you say anything before?!’

‘Well, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, y’know? You have such a dumb smile when you stop thinking and just play.’ With a quick lean in, Nozomi planted a kiss on Eli’s cheek. ‘I love it a lot.’

Dazed, Eli rubbed the place her girlfriend had marked with her lips. ‘Nozomi…’

‘Gross,’ said Nico, sticking her tongue out and making a face. ‘But I think I know what you’re talking about.’

Nozomi made a knowing smile. ‘Right? You have your Maki-chan after all.’

‘Since Nozomi is here, how about a special song?’ said Eli, still on a high from Nozomi’s display of affection.

She fished up her guitar and struck one chord three times in quick succession. It was a dramatic sound, but it seemed oddly familiar to Nico. Nico’s suspicions were confirmed when Eli struck the chord thrice more. She rolled her eyes as Nozomi and Eli made a loving look at each other and began to duet.

Yume no meiro…

Yuri no meiro…

Nico threw her arms up in exasperation. ‘Get a room, both of you.’

‘I haven’t had Elicchi all to myself in weeks, so I’m making up for lost time,’ Nozomi said, glomming onto Eli, much to Eli’s enjoyment. ‘Much like how Maki-chan is suspiciously camping outside this apartment block, since she hasn’t had her little Nicocchi in weeks.’

‘Weeks?’ Nico asked. ‘There’s no way… Wait. Maki-chan is where?’

Nozomi pointed and Nico followed with her eyes. She then walked across, opened the apartment door and called out to the streets below.

‘Maki-chan? Are you out there?’

‘Eep!’

Catching the movement in her peripheral vision, Nico saw a figure in the distance begin bolting down the street in the opposite direction. The flash of red hair was even more of a giveaway, if she needed it.

‘Hey!’ shouted Nico. ‘Don’t make me run, I haven’t put my shoes on yet!’

‘Have fun, Nicocchi!’ said Nozomi. ‘And close the door behind you, because Elicchi and I need some private time!’

The thought of what “private time” meant made Nico jump into her sneakers and slam the door even harder than she would’ve otherwise. She raced the elevator down three flights of stairs and won, but still couldn’t make out Maki’s figure despite her desperate efforts. She cursed under her breath and sprinted towards where Maki was headed – the nearby area of Akihabara.

Passing by the small stores which sold idol goods, Nico was in familiar territory. Perhaps too familiar, considering as she was getting distracted by the shiny new merchandise they were selling. That Tsubasa keychain was tempting…

Nico’s thoughts were disrupted by the kind of high-pitched screams that could only belong to pubescent schoolgirls. ‘It’s Nico Yazawa! From μ’s!’

Nico risked a look over her shoulder, then immediately wished that she hadn’t. She could feel the footsteps of a crowd beginning to pursue her and pushed herself even faster.

‘Of all the times to be surrounded by fans. Nico has a private life, you know!’

This! This is exactly why she told everyone else in μ’s to be prepared! But did they listen to her? Of course not!

With her spare hand, she delved into her bag and retrieved her trusty mask and sunglasses before ducking into the back alleys. The fangirls weren’t so easily deterred – but that was as expected of a super idol’s super fans! Nico used all her wiles and tricks: hiding out in a photobooth, blending in with cardboard cutouts, sneaking between narrowly parked vehicles, heading back and checking out the idol merchandise again…

Being a super idol is tough work.

With the burn of a stitch in her side, Nico finally doubled over with her hands on her knees and gasped for air. She had probably run a marathon under the afternoon sun trying to escape all the attention. But she didn’t have the time to be hanging about – she just needed a good five minutes and to wipe down with a towel-

‘Please visit our café, madam!’

Glaring, Nico looked up at the complete airhead who would pass her a flyer at such an inconsiderate moment. She took in the maid outfit, the flowing taupe hair, the big, amber eyes…

‘Kotori?!’

Nico hacked and coughed after shouting – she should have thought that one through. The maid blinked in confusion. ‘Kotori? What? I’m Miss Minalin- oh, it’s Nico-chan! How are you today?’

‘Could… be… better…’ Nico gasped out as Minalinsky/Kotori beamed at her. ‘You still work here?’

‘I’m just helping out today,’ answered the maid, still holding out the pamphlet to Nico. ‘But it’s meant to be quiet. I hope you can keep a secret, Nico-chan!’ Scowling and muttering, Nico accepted the paper and placed it in her pocket, much to Kotori’s delight. Nico’s mood was about to get worse.

Over Kotori’s oblivious shoulder, she saw what looked like the entire population of Tokyo homing in on her location, screaming and pushing past anything in the way. (Except politely, because this is Japan we’re talking about here.)

And then she had an idea.

‘That store is selling discount fabric!’ shouted Nico, pointing over Kotori’s shoulder. She realised too late that shouting was a bad idea, and spluttered into coughing again.

Kotori turned on a dime, ignoring Nico’s plight. ‘Where, where?!’

That was all the chance Nico needed to push Kotori in the small of her back, towards the oncoming mass of people.

There was a shrill cry from the crowd. ‘Ah! It’s Minalinsky!’

‘The legendary maid?! I thought she retired!’

Nico was already pivoting on her heel and breaking away. She had an accurate image of what was happening behind her without seeing it: something like Kotori being surrounded by a human swarm and then disappearing out of sight, akin to a horror movie.

‘N-Nico-chan!’

That’s another thing Kotori should’ve learned. In the world of showbiz, there are always necessary sacrifices.

Koi ni koisuru, shoujo no, shizuka na tameiki wa Lonely... michitarita Lonely...

Eli finished off the duet with some flourishes of her guitar, before graciously bowing to the applause Nozomi made. It was a nice change, going back to playing the songs she had practiced for her girlfriend. ‘How about another song, my sweetheart?’

Nozomi stretched herself out on the bed and grinned. ‘Sure.’

Eli smiled back as she fired out some upbeat chords, singing:

I’ve got something to say that might cause you pain

If I catch you talking to that girl again

I’m gonna let you down

And leave you flat

Because I told you before, oh!

You can’t do that!

It’s the second time I’ve caught you talking to him

Do I have to tell you one more time, I think it’s a sin

I’m gonna let you down

And leave you flat

Because I told you before- Nozomi?

‘Is there something wrong?’ Eli asked in concern. Nozomi was sitting up at this point with a hand on her forehead, as if she had a long-running headache.

‘Elicchi,’ she moaned, ‘way to ruin the mood.’

‘I finally got away,’ wheezed Nico after running a few more blocks. ‘But so did Maki-chan.’

(She failed to mention Kotori, whose fate was sealed.)

Night began to fall across buildings which were unfamiliar even to Nico, a native of the area. Fumbling in her bag, Nico groaned as she failed to locate her phone. She had probably left it back at Eli’s house, which was not useful for several reasons.

Firstly, because she couldn’t contact her siblings to let them know she’d be late. Secondly, and more pressingly, because Nico couldn’t answer a rather important question:

‘…Where the heck am I?’

The ringing of the bell meant the end of another school day. Rin and Hanayo watched with knitted eyebrows as Maki retrieved her belongings, swung her bag over her shoulder and trudged away in silence, shoulders slouched and eyes facing the ground.

Walking past the second-year’s classroom, Maki paid little attention to Umi and Honoka fussing over Kotori, who was slumped over her desk.

‘Kotori?’ Umi asked, feeling Kotori’s temperature with her palm. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘Kotori-chan is broken,’ said Honoka, poking at Kotori’s cheek a few times, much to Umi’s dismay. There was no visible reaction from Kotori. ‘She was muttering to herself earlier. Something about how even little birds will grow talons and take their revenge?’

‘How cryptic…’

Maki’s feet had carried her to the music room’s piano without her thinking.

It had been their routine. Had. Why had it stopped? Why was there no more time together in the music room?

She folded her arms and slumped down into the keys. It made an awful, juddering sound and it was against good etiquette, but that was the last thing on her mind right now.

‘Nico-chan…’

She could feel her breathing start to catch in her throat. She loosened the school ribbon around her neck, which made things a bit easier. It wasn’t like Maki was going to cry over something like this, not at all…

Maki paid no attention to the footsteps in the hallway. She did pay attention, however, when the music room door crashed open. She looked up with a start, and found two things which didn’t make any sense to her.

‘Nico-chan? And a guitar? What?’

‘Nico has spent the last few weeks ruining her fingertips to play you this,’ the senior girl shouted, ‘so you’d better be grateful!’

Maki’s eyes were wide as Nico strummed the guitar with purpose, smiled, then began to sing:

Can’t buy me love, love,

Can’t buy me love- whoops!

‘Wrong chord.’ Nico grimaced as a discordant sound rung out. She quickly ran through a few chords before finding the missing piece of the progression. ‘There we go. Okay, let’s pretend that didn’t happen.’

She started again:

Can’t buy me love, love,

Can’t buy me love;

I'll buy you a diamond ring, my friend

If it makes you feel alright

I'll get you anything, my friend

If it makes you feel alright

'Cause I don't care too much for money

Money can't buy me love!

I'll give you all I've got to give

If you say you love me too

I may not have a lot to give

But what I got I'll give to you

I don't care too much for money

Money can't buy me love!

Nico stopped and there was silence. Then awkward silence.

‘How… How was that?’ ventured Nico, feeling the need to say something.

‘That’s what you’ve been doing for the past few weeks?’ asked Maki.

‘Yes?’

Maki crossed her arms and huffed. ‘Well, it could’ve been better.’

‘Oh,’ said Nico. But before her ego could deflate, Maki grinned and stood up from the piano. She made her way over to where Nico was sat, then hugged her close.

‘I missed you,’ Maki whispered. ‘I missed you a lot. But you didn’t seem to miss me, since you were with Eli all the time…’

Returning the embrace, Nico tousled Maki’s mess of hair. ‘Nico missed you a lot, too. Nico wanted to wanted to make our time together even more precious by being able to play with Maki-chan. So I got some lessons from Eli.’

‘Nico-chan…’ Maki sniffled and rubbed at her nose. ‘I’ll forgive you this once. So let’s practice together from now on, okay?’

‘Then why don’t we start now?’ said Nico. Maki watched as her partner delved into her bag and handed her a songbook: The Beatles Collection. ‘I got us some sheet music to play along to! Well, I can play the chords. Most of them. If they’re not too complicated… Do you think you can play this one?’

Maki glanced at the open pages and grinned, firing out the opening chords. ‘I think I can manage.’

Smiling, Nico placed her fingers on the strings and gripped her plectrum. ‘This song’s for you, Papa,’ she whispered to herself.

The music washed over them both as they sang in duet. It was an uptempo, silly little love song, like many others they would play from the book.

Baby's good to me, you know She's happy as can be, you know She said so! I'm in love with her and I feel fine!

‘Stupid, ungrateful Nico,’ Eli grumbled to herself in her bedroom, guitar slung over her legs. She plucked through the strings and tuned them accordingly. ‘Always with her nit-picking. And Nozomi, too! It’s the Beatles we’re talking about here! All happy, poppy love songs! How can they be inappropriate?’

Balancing the guitar with one arm over the guitar’s body as she leaned forwards, Eli used her other to flick through her song book at random. She stopped at one she couldn’t recall playing before. It looked simple enough – just five easy chords.

‘Run for your Life,’ Eli mused to herself. ‘Sounds interesting!’

She placed her hands in position to start the song, then sung out with her guitar in gleeful accompaniment:

Well, I’d rather see you dead little girl

Than to be with another man

You’d better keep your head, little girl

Or you won’t know where I am;

You’d better run for your life if you can, little girl

Hide your head in the sand, little girl

Catch you with another man, that’s the end-

Eli’s palm smacked into her forehead.

‘Damn it, not again!’

#nicomaki #nozoeli #inappropriate use of beatles songs

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