#i flirted with a 30 year old man two days in a row | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toastedkiwi · 3 years

Text

Professor

Summary: newly transferred to your husband’s school, you’ve already made some friends. However, they don’t know that you’re married to the hot professor.

Pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Student!Reader, Wife!Reader

You had transferred to your husband’s university that he works at a couple weeks ago. You even managed to get into one of his advanced classes. He’s pretty proud of you and he loves seeing you sitting next to this redhead whose become one of your friends. You aren’t the greatest at making friends and he’s very happy that you found someone other than his friends. His are complete maniacs and you’re the youngest in the group. You had just turned 21 and Bucky’s 30. His friends are all around the same age or older.

You met Bucky when you were just 19. Your ex best friend dragged you to a club you didn’t want to go to and weren’t legally allowed in. She made you wear a tight dress and heels. She straight up left you at the club after ten minutes of meeting a guy and insulting you. This guy grabbed your ass which made things worse. He tried taking you home but this blue eyed man swooped in while his buddy Sam just flirts so hard with the guy while Maria, his now wife, watches from a foot away.

“There’s a party tonight,” Natasha said as the two of you sit down. “Wanna come?”

“Can’t. Got a hot date tonight,” you said knowing that Bucky overheard you as he starts writing on the white board.

“With who?” She asked.

“This guy named Luka. He’s really sweet,” you said.

Bucky smirks knowing you and him are going to have a fun time picking up after the 6 month old tonight. You and him have planned to have a nice movie night in with Luka and Alpine the cat. He honestly cannot wait. It’s the highlight of his week and he always looks forward to it.

“Does he go here?” Natasha asked.

“No, he’s actually a New York firefighter,” you said since the six month old loves the plastic helmet that his Uncle Sam got him.

“Damn, what are you even doing here when you could be with the firefighter right now?!” Wanda asked from a row behind.

“I sadly cannot fail this class,” you said.

“If only Professor Barnes—,” Natasha said glaring daggers at the back of your husband’s head.

“Glaring at me won’t change the F you got your freshmen year, Ms. Romanoff,” Bucky said loud enough for everyone in the lecture room.

“You could’ve given me a C!” Natasha sassed back.

He spins around and said pointing at her, “you didn’t show up to class. Don’t be a bad influence on the transfer student.”

Natasha scoffs crossing her arms over her chest while you giggled. Bucky obviously flashed a smile at you and you grinned wider. The two redheads quickly noticed at how fast he favors you. Bucky easily starts class as the last student sits down.

“You should be careful. Professor Barnes is married,” Wanda said as you, her, and Natasha walk through the campus courtyard.

“I know,” you said and you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t even try with that DEMON of a human being,” Natasha warned. “He’s absolutely terrible.”

“You’re just mad that you have to retake this class,” Wanda said. “Also, Y/n has a hot firefighter boyfriend.”

“I’m pretty sure Professor Barnes is not that bad,” you said.

“Awww, you’re so innocent,” Natasha mocked.

You rolled your eyes thinking if she only knew. You haven’t said anything about being married to the professor to anyone except the university’s dean of students. You just want a pretty normal college life besides the fact that you’re married and have a kid with a man nine years older than you.

“Ignore her,” Wanda said. “But we’ll see ya next class.”

“Bye,” you said splitting from the two.

You head straight to the parking lot where Bucky parks his precious Audi Rs7. You try opening the passenger door but you forgot to get the keys from your husband. He usually gives you them as you make sure to be the last to leave and so he can kiss you without watchful eyes but Nat and Wanda got you to leave before you got the car keys.

Twenty minutes later, your husband comes with the keys spinning on his finger and his briefcase. He gives you a cheeky smile.

“You can drive, dollface,” Bucky said tossing you the keys.

You catch them and unlock the car. You go to the trunk with Bucky. You open it up. You put in your backpack and he puts in his briefcase. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips.

“Oh, I called the jewelers before my first class,” Bucky said as you both went to your separate sides.

“What did they say?” You asked.

“Your ring will be done tomorrow and we can pick it up,” he said with a smile.

You grinned and got into the car. Bucky slides in and closes his door. You close yours and adjust your seat. You both buckle in. You start the car.

“I liked how you used our son as your excuse to not go to a frat party,” he said.

“He’s a great excuse. I would’ve said you but I don’t know how Nat would react to me being married to the professor she hates most,” you said backing out of the parking space.

Bucky chuckles pulling out his phone and said, “she’ll get over it.”

“I don’t know about that, James,” you said biting your lower lip.

“Don’t worry, babydoll. She’s a pain in my ass but she’ll stick around you,” Bucky said as you drive off. “Wanda will too. If not, you’re stuck with me and the boys.”

“Oh Jesus,” you said.

~~~next week

You carry Luka into the lecture room and you’re the first one in besides Bucky. Luka is not feeling too great and you couldn’t leave him at the daycare. Bucky left in an Uber before you due to two of his classes starting before your two of the day. Luckily, you got Bucky’s class first and know that he’ll let his little man into the class without hesitation. It’s quite a perk to be married to your professor.

“Hey..,” Bucky said and he’s immediately concerned seeing Luka in your arms.

“They wouldn’t let him into daycare,” you said softly. “He’s got a cold.”

Bucky takes his whimpering boy out of your arms holding him against his chest. He rubs his back.

“Why don’t you sit up in front today with my little man?” Bucky suggested. “You’d be closer to the door.”

“That was my plan,” you said quietly. “Are you staying longer today?”

“Nah, I don’t need to but I can take Bubba back to my office until you finish up your class with Banner,” Bucky said. “So that we can all go home together.”

“Fine by me. I brought extra clothes and tons of diapers in case as well as formula,” you said.

“Alright, I’ll let you go sit down with Lu,” Bucky said.

He tries giving you Luka back but he just cries. Bucky holds him back against his chest. He cooed at his little one.

“I brought the carrier,” you said smirking.

“You better pull it out, darling,” he said.

Soon enough, Luka is strapped to Bucky’s chest, you got your kiss from your husband, and you’ve planted yourself at the end of the first row. You’ve pulled out your notebook and pens, highlighters, and mechanical pencils. You took out your phone and get a picture of Bucky with Luka. Your backpack along with the diaper bag is under table.

Classmates start coming in. Wanda and Natasha stroll in as well.

“Who’s baby did you steal?” Natasha asked as Bucky is writing on the board.

“First of all, that’s kidnapping and I have better morals than that,” Bucky said looking at the two redheads. “Secondly, why steal a baby when I can make my own with my wife?”

“Oh my god, disgusting!” Natasha said racing up the stairs in the middle to her regular spot.

You laughed along with others in the room. Wanda goes up the set of stairs nearest the door and slides into the swivel chair next to you.

“That’s sparkly,” Wanda said pointing to the ring on your ring finger.

“I know,” you said grinning.

“When’s the big day?” She asked.

“Why are you sitting over there?!” Natasha asked.

“It’s near the nearest exit,” you said.

Natasha groans and picks her stuff back up. She heads over to the two of you and sits next to Wanda.

“So, When is the big day?” Wanda asked.

“Already? You’re so young and innocent,” Natasha said.

“Ladies,” Bucky said sarcastically. “I’d like to start my class unless you have more pressing matters.”

“Sorry, Professor,” you said and he gives you smile.

“Alright, I have a special guest with me, my son Luka. He’s just six months old if you’re curious and no, I didn’t steal him,” Bucky said to the class. “Hopefully, we’ll get through the lesson with little to no disturbances from him.”

Natasha and Wanda turned to you immediately as your husband proceeds with the lesson. You ignore their looks even though you find it quite amusing.

Once the class gets dismissed, you take your time packing up. Wanda and Natasha sit and turn to you. Bucky comes over without hesitation. There’s no point in hiding it any longer.

“Do you have the diaper bag?” Bucky asked. “Luka took a shit and I’m scared it’s the explosive one.”

“Yeah, I got it,” you said standing up putting your backpack on and grabbing the diaper bag.

“Seriously? This whole time?” Natasha asked.

Bucky takes the diaper bag and said, “yeah.”

He gives you a quick kiss before heading off.

“Wow,” Wanda said.

#bucky barnes x wife!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #professor au #college au #professor!barnes x reader #professor!bucky barnes x student!reader #dad!bucky #dad!bucky barnes #fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic

2K notes · View notes

nationalharryleague · 3 years

Text

Valentine’s Day

Summary: Y/N receives a special candy gram on Valentine’s Day.

Genre: Valentine’s Day Fluff with Middle School Band Teacher!Harry

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Hi my valentines!!! There’s about 30 minutes left of Valentine’s Day for me and I finished this piece right in time!! Thank you to the angel herself @tbslenthusiast for beta reading this for me and I cant wait to hear what you all think!! More of my writing can be found in my Masterlist and I would love to hear some feedback!

***

Valentine’s Day was never fun for you. You dreaded this day every year.

Valentine's Day in a middle school was full of teddy bears and flowers purchased by someone’s mom and having to tell 12 year olds to stop kissing in the hallway. You also knew that you would be inevitably interrogated by your students about your love life before getting any of them to listen to your lesson about the industrial revolution.

And every year, your answer stayed the same.

“It is none of your business,” you would begin with a teasing sigh. “But if you all have to know, I am happily single.”

And every year, you were met with a chorus of disappointed whines.

Your students were always desperate to wiggle their way into your personal life, a side-effect of being one of the youngest teachers in the school. You were closer in age to them than to some of your coworkers and they took advantage of that fact constantly, creating an open and honest dialogue with their favorite history teacher.

“But do you have a crush, Miss Y/L/N?” Jenna, one of your favorite students, piped up this Valentine’s Day from the front row. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she raised her eyebrow at you from her desk, inquisitive and adorably curious.

“How about this?” you started, raising your own eyebrow to match her’s. “I’ll tell you if I have a crush, if you can tell me why the printing press was so important to the industrial revolution.”

Your heart started to drop as you watched the massive smile stretch across her face, exposing a mouth full of braces with pink rubber bands. They weren't supposed to learn about the printing press for another week.

“It made information more affordable and easier to access which bridged the information gap between the rich and the poor,” she answered like she had the textbook right in front of her. She crossed her arms triumphantly and leaned back into her seat while the class oohed and ahhed around her, knowing she had kept up her end of their deal.

You felt your cheeks heat as your classroom descended into giggles as your flustered face. “Nice job, smarty pants,” you let out with a nervous giggle.

“Remember, honesty is the best policy,” another student shouted out, pointing towards the poster on the wall of your classroom next to the world map that read the same saying.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you conceded, raising your hands in surrender to the classroom full of seventh graders. “I do have a crush.”

Your students erupted at your admission. Whos, whats, wheres, whens, and whys were thrown out by the class, but only a gentle smirk rested on your features, refusing to relinquish any more information to the children demanding it.

“You aren’t getting anything else than that!” you raised your voice to settle the rowdy classroom with a laugh. You moved from the front of the class back to your desk, listening to the gentle click of your heels on the white tile and gathering the stack of worksheets for that day’s lesson. “Now, pass these around and stop asking questions,” you playfully scolded.

“That’s not what your poster says, Miss Y/L/N,” Jenna spoke up again, pointing out another poster on your wall.

Never stop asking questions! was written in bold rainbow colors on the wall and it was now staring back at you.

You let out a chuckle and shook your head at the floor, knowing they had caught you once again. “I’m going to take down all my posters and you’re going to have to learn in a boring classroom soon.”

“We are just looking out for your love life!”

“You deserve a boyfriend!”

“Or a girlfriend!”

“Just someone who loves you!”

You smiled wide at the class full of endearing faces in front of you. They had nothing but good intentions and were sweeter than Valentine’s Day candy. You loved these kids like they were your own.

“Guys, I appreciate your concern,” you confessed. “But I promise I have it under control.”

After that, they began to settle down, eventually letting you give your lesson on the industrial revolution and scientific advancements of the period.

But you knew you had told them a lie.

You did not have it under control, at all. You were hopelessly in love with the kind man with curly hair and green eyes down the hallway in the band room and had no idea what to do about it.

Harry was one of your first friends when you were hired last year, volunteering to show you around the school and fill you in on all the workplace gossip. He had flecks of cheeky mischief in his eyes as he told you about the gym and spanish teachers’ affair and how the coffee machine was broken by one of the math teachers after a bad administrative evaluation. You had listened adoringly, like he was explaining the meaning of life, and you hadn’t been able to shake your crush since.

You brought each other coffees on the daily and were always in and out of each other’s classrooms. He always made sure you were a chaperone on his field trips and you always made sure he was one on yours. He had even convinced you to let your classes come to band practice once a month so they could play music from the time period your classes were currently studying.

He was endearing and kind and charming and so so good with all the kids. He was also incredibly sexy, which made it even more difficult to control yourself around him. You had the fattest and most uncontrollable crush on him, but he was your friend and you didn’t want to ruin that.

The ring of the bell that signified the end of the class period brought you out of your Harry induced haze, waving goodbye to your students and shouting after them to do their homework and to stop kissing in the hallways. You stood against the door frame of your classroom and watched their little awkward bodies skurry towards their next class, but your attention was soon caught by the tall man who’s chocolate curls stuck out high above the sea of middle schoolers that surrounded him.

“Good morning, love. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he smiled wide, dimples appearing like they were inviting you to poke them, as he reached your classroom and your heart fluttered at his affectionate pet name.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry,” you beamed back at him, hoping he and the passing students didn’t pick up on the adoration that was becoming very hard for you to hide.

“Oi, stop that,” he called over your shoulder, slight disgust showing on his face. You turned around and were met by two kids sucking face behind you. “Guys, just go to class,” he exasperatedly sighed when he was met by their shocked and embarrassed faces. Once they were gone, the two of you descended into a fit of giggles.

“They have no shame!” you laughed.

“Absolutely none!”

“Why are you over here? Not that you aren't welcome, but don’t you have a class to teach?” you teased gently as students began to gradually fill up your own classroom.

“I thought I would stop by and wish you a happy love day.” He smiled wide at you and spoke sweetly. If you weren’t reading into it too closely, you thought he might even be blushing a bit. “And it’s okay,” he waved off his class, clearing his throat and his voice returning to normal. “They’ll survive a few minutes alone. I trust them.”

“You shouldn’t,” you giggled again.

“Yeah,” he nodded with a chuckle. “I probably should get back, but I wanted to invite you to come to my classroom and get some cookies whenever you get a chance today.”

You felt your heart soar at his invitation, no matter how friendly the proposal. “I am free next period.”

“I know,” he winked, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. “I will see you then,” he grinned as he began to walk backwards down the hallway, maintaining eye contact for as long as he could, before spinning down the hall just as the bell rang to start the next period.

You tried your best to focus on your lesson about the renaissance with your sixth graders, but your mind kept floating back to the delightful man who had invited you for cookies.

Had he invited all of the teachers for cookies? Or did he ask just you? Was he just being nice? Or did he actually want to see you? Had he been flirting with you?

The lesson was interrupted when there was a knock on your classroom door. You opened it up to find one of your students, Matt, dressed in a giant heart costume holding baskets full of labelled chocolate bars.

“I’m here to give out Valentine’s Day candy grams, Miss Y/L/N!” Matt exclaimed, his face barely fitting into the far too large hole cut out for his face. Every year the student council set up a candy gram fundraiser and the kid in the suit never got any less cute. You let out a chuckle as you looked down at him, opening the door further and letting him into the room.

You watched with a smile as he called out students’ names and the genuine surprise and flattery that passed over their features. Cheeks turned red and shy smiles played on their lips as they made their way to the front of the room and retrieved their candy from the giant pink heart.

You were caught off guard when you heard your own name be called. Matt held out the meticulously wrapped pink candy bar out to you as the class let out an “ooh” and your cheeks heated with embarrassment. Your cheeks heated even further as you read the label.

To: Miss Y/L/N

From: Mr. Styles

Will you be my valentine?

Your heart fluttered in your chest and you had a very hard time holding back the large and toothy grin that wanted to appear in front of your students.

“Who is it from?” one of your students asked excitedly.

“I don’t ask who your Valentines are, do I?” you teased, but held the candy bar close to your chest over your heart. You could feel your heart racing underneath your hands.

The giant pink heart standing at the front of the classroom finished distributing his candy and your class led a chorus of goodbyes as he left the room, onto the next classroom to spread some more innocent young love. You impatiently watched the clock tick down the seconds until the bell rang and released both you and your students out into the school.

And just when it felt like it might never come, the bell rang through the school and your students were off into the chaos of a passing period. You followed closely behind after you gathered your things, the candy bar slid carefully into your bag. You flowed along with the flow of children that carried you down the hallway, heart racing as Harry’s classroom came into view, your feet quickly matching it’s tempo.

Your footsteps echoed on the tile in the acoustics of the large room, your voice bouncing off the walls as you said hello. He had been tuning a guitar when you came in, his attention flashing up from the instrument in his hands to you.

“I was promised cookies,” you teased him. “They better be good.”

“I promise they are. They’re my nan’s recipe.”

“Of course they’re your nan’s recipe,” you sighed with a chuckle.

“What’s so bad about using my nan’s recipe?” he asked incredulously, grinning as he settled the guitar back into its stand and moved towards you.

“Absolutely nothing,” you sighed adoringly. “I just think it’s very sweet.”

“You haven’t even tried them yet! You can’t say they’re too sweet.”

You couldn’t hold back the giant smile that was so wide it made your cheeks hurt, chuckling at his cheesy joke. He made you feel warm when he moved closer to you, like someone had just turned up the heat in the large room.

“I meant that you were sweet, silly,” you tried to joke, but it came out genuine and soft. You bit on your lip nervously, replaying the affectionate tone in your head over and over.

“Thank you, sweetie,” he smirked softly at the pet name and you felt like you were soaring.

He was close to you now, having crossed the room and standing only a few feet away from your body. You wanted to close the space between you two, to kiss him with all your might, to tell him you would love to be his valentine. But just as you built up the courage, he stepped away towards his desk, retrieving a cookie for both of you.

The cookies were shaped into small perfect hearts with a coarse pink sugar pressed into the soft biscuit. The cookie melted in your mouth and the sugar granules crunched between your teeth. You had to hold yourself back from releasing a moan at the taste. They were dainty and delicate and you could only imagine how much time he had put into them.

But you weren’t shocked. Harry was like that. He was gentle, taking care and measured precision with everything he did. He spoke to the kids with tender care, making them feel talented and successful, and was always there to lend a helping hand whenever one of them needed it. And he spoke to you the same way.

“Harry-” you began softly, but he cut you off before you could finish.

“-Yes, I would love to.”

“What?”

“I would love to be your valentine.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, flattered heat rushing to the surface of your cheeks, but you also looked at him with a slight confusion. He had asked you to be his valentine, hadn’t he?

As you looked at him in slight shock, you noticed the small and meticulously wrapped pink candy bar that sat on his desk. Oh my god, they didn’t, you thought.

You could only imagine the confusion that fell onto Harry’s features as you moved away from him and towards his desk, picking up the candy bar and reading the writing on the wrapper.

To: Mr. Styles

From: Miss Y/L/N

Will you be my valentine?

Oh my god, they did.

“Harry,” you chuckled, looking back towards him and holding the chocolate bar up. “When did you get this?”

“I got it this morning when the kids delivered it,” he said dumbfounded. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t send this.” You walked over to your bag that you had left near the door and retrieved your own matching candy bar. “And I’m assuming you didn’t send this either?”

You handed the pink package to him and he read the label closely, eyebrows furrowing even further, then relaxing as you watched the puzzle fall together in his head as it had in yours.

“The kids sent these to us from each other, didn’t they?”

“I believe they did, Mr. Styles,” you nodded.

His cheeks turned a bright red, embarrassment flooding his features. “I’m sorry about before then,” he stammered out. You watched the panic on his face as he searched for something to say that would cover his tracks, but you cut it off when you connected your lips to his.

His lips were soft and velvety and he tasted exactly like the sweet sugar cookie he had gifted you. Your lips moved gently over each other and you slid your hands up to play with the curls that rested at the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you as his hands found their spot on your hips. You couldn’t help the smiles that fought their way into the kiss and you broke apart moments later, both flushed and flustered, small giggles leaving both of you.

“I would love to be your valentine if you would have me,” you said breathlessly as you looked up to him.

“It’s all I could ask for.”

“This is the best Valentine’s Day ever,” you said softly against his lips, already pulling him back in for more.

“We’re just like the kids in the hallway.”

“They’re not too bad. I understand it now.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!! :)

#Harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles drabble #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #teacher harry #harry styles au #harry styles fic #nationalharryleague #mine

955 notes · View notes

angelkurenai · 4 years

Text

Imagine Dean trying to avoid research any way he can and finding an excuse in flirting with you, all the while hoping he might be able to confess his feelings for you.

“If I have to spend one more hour over another book, I will take that tome over there and smack my own head on it. Supposed I can lift it in the first place.” Dean muttered with a small whine when he opened another book.

You couldn't help but chuckle, looking at him through your lashes “If you really smack yourself with that tome, you will be left unconscious for days, Dean.”

“Hence, no more researching!” he said with a smile, shrugging “Sounds like heaven to me. Concussion be damned.”

“But that's the thing. With that size it will cause more than just a concussion. I'll give you a 50-50 chances of survival.” you said casually, flipping through another page of the tenth book in a row; barely batting an eye, let alone showing any signs of exhaustion.

“Doesn't matter, at least I am going to die doing what I love.” he said with a huff, easing back more in his chair; resting his chin on his arm with a pout he couldn't help even if he wanted to.

“What do you love?” you raised an eyebrow at him, before he looked up from his book to meet your eyes.

“Dying.” he said in absolute seriousness and you shook your head with a snort. It was hard to hide your smile but sometimes you knew you had no reason to, no matter how much you needed to be serious to keep the man on track.

“Why did I even ask?” your eyes focused back on your book “Either way, I said it's only 50-50. There's still equal chances you could wake up thinking you are a twelve-year-old girl with a crush on Chris Evans.”

“Why a twelve-year-old?” he frowned, more than a little willing to keep up a conversation instead of get back to reading.

You shrugged “Cause it's more fun. For the rest of us, that is.”

“Whatever. We both know that even if it were to happen, there is no way I would be crushing on Evans of all people.” he shook his head stubbornly .

“Right, I almost forgot he's your sworn enemy.” you made sure to hide the fact that you took pleasure in the case because you had made it obvious that you had a crush on the actor “Well, whoever it is, let's just agree it would make for one hell of a moment and, guess what? Go back to research! Cause we're going through all those books whether it takes one day or one week. 'S up to you and how you act. You know, maybe if you tried to see things more positively, they would work out better.”

Dean didn't bother to hide his groan as he threw his head back in frustration “Yay books!” he paused, letting out a heavy sigh “Does that somehow help? Cause I feel no more inclined to read than before.”

“Go back to reading, Dean.” you said, trying to look stern and reprimanding but it only came out as fond and he couldn't help but smile to himself at the thought; sneaking a glance (the way he seemed to be doing more and more often lately) at you and bathing in your calming and caring presence the way a cat would bask in the warm summer light of the sun. And the fact that he made that kind of comparison in his mind was the least of the weird things happening to him from the moment he met you, if one took into consideration the way he fell in love with you and acted as if you were only friends for the sake of not losing you.

And he did try to, for your sake as he did so many other things, but he only lasted about all of 30 seconds before he sighed once more and spoke “Boy, what I would give to be a caterpillar right now.”

He saw you purse your lips, slowly starting to chew on your lower lip and if the action wasn't so damn distracting to the point he almost forgot his own name, he would have noticed the way you narrowed your eyes at him for a second or two. You didn't say anything for a couple seconds, as if contemplating whether it was a good idea or not to do so and as if you were trying to fight off your curiosity, until you finally let out a sigh and looked him in the eyes “I know I am going to regret this later but-” you tilted your head “Why a caterpillar?”

“Well, it's simple. Eat a lot. Sleep a lot. Wake up beautiful. Not to mention, no freakin' research.” he said as if it was the most simple things in the world.

“You know caterpillars have a lifespan of about a week, right?” you questioned back, an amused smile tugging at your lips despite everything.

“Yet another highlight!” he ended up grinning, throwing his hands in the air.

“See, I knew I was going to regret it. I should have known better. We will have to talk about that general lack of willingness to live at some point, Dean, but now's not the time. Especially since I can relate right now.” you huffed, eyes back on your book “Get back to reading.”

“Oh I'm used to it, been going through it my whole life. Nothing new.” he scoffed, brushing it off “However if you feel like it, I really think you should talk about it. Discussing about it takes some of the weight away. You know I'm always here, ready for a chat whenever you need me. Anytime. Heck, even now!”

“Dean” you narrowed your eyes at the man dangerously “I know you're not really into this, but maybe try a little bit? It's actually important. And I am sorry to tell you but those books won't go away until you've read them. Properly.”

“I mean, come on!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air “You can't tell me you're enjoying this. This is something only- only masochists would. Or- Or people that get off on being tortured or something.”

“Alright, first of; bold of you to assume you know the least bit about what I get off on.” you started, pausing when you noticed the way his eyebrows shot up in surprise and a smile slowly started forming on his lips. You started “Oh no, not that you little per-”

“Well, if you are willing to talk about them or, better yet, reenact them with someone, my body is at your disposal.” but you didn't get to finish off because he spoke up first.

“Oh I had no doubt.” you laughed, shaking your head “However, the only thing I will be taking to bed tonight is those two last books while I leave you deal with your half of the research. Because, as I was saying; you're not skipping this. No matter what you do or say. There is no way.”

“Yeah, but what if the Earth is destroyed in the next hour or something? That's a way.” he shrugged innocently and you groaned, shaking your head as he went on “What is the purpose of all this? And besides that, is this how you really wanna go out? Saying this is how you spent your final moments on this planet?”

“Well, Earth is perfectly safe, I'm sorry to ruin it to you. Now, read.”

Your tone left no room for arguing, as Dean knew really well he didn't have anything else to say either. Watching you focus back on your book, your shoulders relaxing after a couple seconds made him get his attention back on the words before his own eyes. If only that were to last for more than a minute that is.

“Yeah but what if-”

“Dean, so help me! If you don't get back to reading, I will do something so stupid and something that you will regret for the rest of your damn life! So, zip it.”

Dean's lips parted, staying that way for a couple seconds, because he knew he really should not push it. Deep down and even in his own mind – right next to the instinct of survival – there was an urge to listen to you; maybe it was the instinct of survival because he could easily say that between an angry you or an angry leviathan, he feared you the most. However, no matter how scary you could be when angry – or maybe hot, those two always ended up getting mixed up in his mind – it didn't stop the small part of him that dared to be bold and flirty at that moment.

So instead of staying silent he said “I'm something stupid. Do me.”

Your head shot up and at least your eyes were wide instead of narrowed or glaring at him. Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you stared at him for a good few seconds “...I am going to throw that tome at you. Like right now. Go back to research!”

“Well, at least it was worth a try.”

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot #spn

247 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Jealousy

Aziraphale is used to people stopping by his shop to flirt with his (sleeping) husband, so he doesn’t let it bother him. But when the shoe is on the other foot, Crowley doesn’t take it as well. (2213 words)

A peculiar thing happens in Aziraphale's shop on August 13th at precisely two in the afternoon.

A man comes in looking for a book.

That’s not the peculiar part.

People attempt to buy books at Aziraphale’s shop all the time. They’re mostly unsuccessful, but the opportunity is theoretically there.

The peculiar part comes when this man - a statuesque, ruggedly-handsome man in a finely tailored, tan suit, aubergine shirt, and silk tie; a man who looked like he would be equally as comfortable touring the Savannah on holiday as he would be making corporate decisions in a board room – flirts with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale can be oblivious to those things, but the only people who seem to have eyes for him anyway are older women, mainly widows and divorcees, not searching for an exciting good-looker for their next relationship, but a reliable, stable, respectful man that they can talk to about books and music; who will take them to fancy restaurants on Friday nights and play Canasta with them on the weekends. A nice, non-threatening man who likes to garden and do crossword puzzles and cuddle, who won’t make too many demands on them physically. And even then, by the time Aziraphale figures them out, the women in question have already gotten bored and gone, leaving Aziraphale secretly grateful that he didn’t have to part with another one of his precious first editions.

Flirting happens to Crowley all the time. That Aziraphale notices. Women and men alike wander in off the streets to gawk at him. He’s a demon. He appeals to the baser instincts of mortals and that draws them to him. But he also happens to be stunning (in Aziraphale’s opinion, at least).

Aziraphale sees himself as having the appeal of an old couch – quaint and comfortable, familiar, convenient when you need a place to rest your bum but not the sort of thing you’d get excited over if the doorbell rang and you saw it sitting on your front stoop.

But the man who comes in, with his Rolex watch and his hundred dollar haircut, doesn’t so much as even make eye contact with Crowley.

He only has eyes for Aziraphale.

“Hello,” he says in a voice so smooth it slips through his lips and into Aziraphale’s ears without him needing to breathe too hard. “My name’s Ryan. I called earlier about purchasing a first edition of The Velveteen Rabbit? You said you had a copy?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says with a startled gulp, but he doesn’t know why. He’s not sure why the tone of this man’s voice makes him swallow like that. Or why the way he looks at him makes the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. “Yes. Yes, I do. Excuse me for not fetching it prior to your arrival. I wasn’t sure you were serious about picking it up.”

“Yes, I am. It’s very important to me. I’ve been looking for one everywhere.”

“Then you’re in luck!” Aziraphale rises off his stool with a hop. “Because I do indeed have one.” He strolls through the rows of shelves, hunting down the copy Adam had so conveniently magicked up for him after the Apoca-no-go. He hums while he walks, suddenly in a chipper mood as he scans the spines in the children’s section.

As happens quite a bit when Aziraphale’s in the stacks, he gets the feeling that he’s not alone. And he’s not. There’s a general presence that seems to haunt his shop, one that he hasn’t sorted out yet. And, of course, there’s his husband, napping on a chair off to one corner that gets neither too much shade nor sun. Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, curious if his husband may have woken up and decided to slither behind him, but it’s not him.

It’s Ryan.

And Aziraphale smiles bashfully to himself.

“You know, many people would simply download a book like this,” Aziraphale says when he finds what he’s searching for. “I’ve heard you can find it online for free.”

“True, but reading a book online doesn’t compare to holding it in your hands. And a first edition has probably been held by many people, read to many children, and just generally loved to pieces. Kind of like the velveteen rabbit. Wouldn’t you agree?”

From behind the stacks, Aziraphale sees Crowley peek out, glaring over the rims of his Valentino shades. The angel’s eyes brighten at the sight of him. He’s about to summon him over, but he blinks, and his husband disappears in the quarter-second it takes for his eyes to open again.

“Yes, I would definitely agree.”

“Of course, it may not necessarily be that way with every book. You have to make a connection with it.” Ryan takes the book from Aziraphale, two of his fingers brushing the back of Aziraphale’s hand when he does. “They’re kind of like people that way. After a while, you develop a relationship with it. It becomes important to you. And you never want to part with it.”

“Oh, that’s … that’s beautiful,” Aziraphale says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it described that way before, but it’s true. I feel that way about all my favorite books. I do hope your little one feels the same way about this one.”

“Oh, I’m not married.” Ryan flashes his vacant ring finger along with a brilliant smile. “Don’t have any children. I’m sorry to say that this book is simply a gift from me to my inner child. It’s the key to something I’ve been missing, something that I’m hoping to get back.”

“That’s charming. I hope whatever it is that you’ve lost, you find it again.”

“I do as well.”

They talk as Aziraphale rings him up – about books, about music, about the trinkets Aziraphale keeps around the shop and the history behind each one. They briefly talk about Ryan’s job as CFO of a brand new startup that’s skyrocketed within the past year, but they mostly talk about Aziraphale’s shop and his passion for the written word. No other customers come in, or if they do, Aziraphale doesn’t notice. He pulls Ryan up a chair and offers him a cup of tea, hoping Crowley will eventually join them, but he doesn’t go looking for him. Crowley seems to relish his eight hour naps in Aziraphale’s shop.

Far be it for Aziraphale to interrupt him.

As the day drips on, Aziraphale starts to notice the change in the quality of the light as shadows lengthen across the floor. He glances over at the clock on the wall to see if his suspicions are correct, and he gasps.

“Oh, my dear! It’s five o’clock! I didn’t notice the time! Oh, I do hope you aren’t late for anything!”

“Not at all. It was my day off. And I can’t imagine a lovelier way to have spent it than sitting here, talking to you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I’m just curious,” Ryan says, gathering up his book in the brown paper bag Aziraphale supplies him, “what are your hours? I didn’t see them posted on the door. It would be nice to know, just in case my inner child convinces me to buy another book from my past.”

“This store is mainly a pet project of mine, so my hours are a little, shall we say, erratic ...”

“That’s adorable,” Ryan says.

“B-but …” Aziraphale stutters at the interruption “… I should be here tomorrow. Offhand I can’t think of any reason why I won’t be.”

“Excellent!” Ryan smiles, distinctly pleased as he squirrels his purchase behind him. “Then I’ll be back tomorrow. 2:30. Nice snake, by the way,” he says, pointing to a spot behind Aziraphale’s head. “Is it real?”

“Quite.” Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, relieved to see that Crowley hadn’t slipped out of the bookshop and driven off without his noticing, but worried since he only transforms into a snake when he’s agitated.

And from the way he flicks his tongue, eyes wide, shifting uneasily in place, Aziraphale can tell he’s highly agitated.

That makes him dangerous.

“Constrictor?”

“Uh, no …” Aziraphale walks Ryan to the door, eager to close up shop and get things with his husband ironed out. “Red-bellied black snake.”

The smile on Ryan’s face drops straight to his knees. “Aren’t those venomous?”

“Only if they bite you. Thank you so much for stopping by. See you tomorrow. Mind how you go.” Aziraphale practically tosses the poor man out onto the sidewalk but he has no way of explaining to him that it’s for his own good. Aziraphale barely has the locks thrown when he feels the snake rise up behind him, transforming into the human form of his demon husband.

“Ssso, isss thisss going to be a thing now?”

Aziraphale sighs. He loves his husband. He truly does. But he can be so temperamental sometimes, even for a demon. “Why whatever do you mean?”

“Men dropping by your ssshop and making eyesss at you? Eating up all your time?”

“One man.” Aziraphale chuckles. “And my dear, people stop by every day simply to throw themselves at you. Do I bat an eye?”

“But I don’t care about them. None of them make my voice go all quivery like that man made yours.”

“I do admit that maybe I got a little carried away,” Aziraphale confesses, putting a hand to his flushed cheek. “See, I’m not use to getting that sort of attention. It was nice for the moment, but I don’t think it’s something I could handle every day.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I’m afraid I’m not very good around people. I prefer the company of my books and my music … and my ill-tempered husband.”

“But that’s the kind of bloke you fancy, right?” Crowley presses. “Someone who talks to you about books and music, and dresses in expensive clothes …”

“You dress in the most expensive clothes I’ve ever seen!” Aziraphale points out with an incredulous laugh.

“You know what I mean!” Crowley says, gesturing with a frustrated hand. “His clothes have … ffffwwwpppp … colors in them!”

“I see. Yes, I guess that does make a difference.”

“I knew it.”

“Ugh! Listen to me, you stupid old snake!” Aziraphale loops his arms around Crowley’s neck, forcing his eyes on him. “The bloke I fancy, as you so eloquently put it, is the one who’s known me my entire existence. Who drinks with me and goes out to lunch with me. Who fights beside me and stays with me, even when I call him ridiculous. Who comes back even when he threatens to run away.” Crowley’s eyes drop to his feet, unable to look at his angel while he’s being reminded of his less-than-stellar attempt to persuade Aziraphale to abandon Earth and join him out in the stars … which ended with his saying he’d go off on his own and never think about him again. “I don’t care if we don’t talk about books. It’s enough that you sit beside me while I read and hold my hand. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Why in the world would you think I’d want someone else when I have the best possible person for me already?”

“’dunno.” Crowley shrugs. “All we do is hang out here lately. I think, maybe, I was afraid you might be getting bored with me. That tying yourself down to a domesssticated demon might not be what you signed up for.”

“Bored with you?” Aziraphale snorts. “After 6000 years, you think I’d get bored with you now? You seem to forget that during the decades we weren’t together, my time was spent here. You were the one jet-setting around the world. By rights, I think you should be getting bored with me. With my life.”

“Oh, no,” Crowley says, sliding closer. “You, my darling, could never get boring.”

Aziraphale raises a skeptical brow. “You forget, I’m much better at detecting sarcasm now than I was 6000 years ago.”

“That wasn’t sarcasm.” Crowley snakes his arms around his husband’s waist. “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be than here, wasting my days with you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. But maybe it is time we take a vacation.”

“Yesss,” Crowley hisses happily. “Go to all the old haunts, relive the glory days.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “Otherwise known as last month.”

“You pick first. We’ll go anywhere you want to go. We can pack up my Bentley and leave tonight.”

“Well, tomorrow night.”

Crowley grimaces. “Why tomorrow night?”

“Ryan said he’d be back at 2:30 tomorrow and ...”

Crowley grabs Aziraphale’s collar and (carefully) pushes him up against the nearest wall. He presses him there with his body, tries his hardest to be intimidating, but it doesn’t dim Aziraphale’s grin a single degree.

It never does.

“Not … funny … angel.”

“No?” Aziraphale’s gaze drifts to his husband’s lips the way it always seems to when Crowley has him in this position.

“No,” Crowley says, accepting the invitation of those baby blues and kissing his angel softly. “Not one little bit.”

“You can tell me all about it when we hit the road,” Aziraphale says. “And we’d better make it quick. We’re burning daylight.”

***Notes: Let me guys know if you want to see a part 2 where Crowley actually meets our dear Mr. Ryan XD

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #frankie writes

2K notes · View notes

thundercakes22 · 4 years

Text

Fireman AU

Steve loves Career Day. He always wins.

His mother would scold him for thinking about it that way, but it’s the truth. While often rewarding, being a firefighter is dangerous, exhausting and gut-wrenching. He works long hours, sees a myriad of things he'll never speak of, and spends too much time away from his daughter. His job is hard. But today? Today he gets to stand at the front of Thea’s class, look across the sea of giddy six year old faces and make his little girl proud.

Sitting in the back of the classroom, Steve glances around at the competition, er, other parents. He knows Mrs. Danvers works on the Hill, and the Carters are music producers. Yolanda is an accountant. Garrison is a contractor. And he’s pretty sure little Halle’s parent, who’s name Steve can never remember, owns a little boutique downtown.

Suckers, he thinks. Steve came ready with his helmet, an extra set of bunker gear for the kids to try on and a few classic “cat stuck in a tree” anecdotes. He has this in the bag.

Thea’s teacher is thanking Yolanda for her riveting summation of tax code, when someone new comes scuttering into the room. Wincing in apology, the broad shouldered man ducks his head and slinks to the back of the room, pausing only to wink and wave a finger at a child in the third row. Steve barely notices him (busy contemplating his impending victory) until the man catches his eye, almost tripping over an empty chair in the process.

It’s him. Steve’s never seen him without the cowl but he would know that jawline anywhere. He feels a smile break over his face, eyes roaming over the figure, familiar even without the wings strapped to his back.

Captain freaking America smiles back, revealing that signature gap and confirming Steve’s intuition. The same Captain America who Steve has been flirting with on the job for the last six months. The two literally bumped into each other on the 10th floor of a collapsing building, and have been running into each other ever since. Just last week, Steve bandaged his ribs after a hard fall during a fight against some notably hostile aliens.

“Thank you,” the Captain had smirked. “I’m always glad to see my favorite first responder, but getting your hands on me has been a treat.” Steve had all but giggled, lightly shoving him away from the ambulance.

“You’re lucky this is all you need from me today, Cap. Watch your left flank,” he’d scolded with a smile. If Steve’s fingers rest a bit too long on his shoulders, neither of them mention it.

The jet pack roared to life, and the wings sprouted from his back. “Mmm, why would I when I have you to patch me up?” And he was gone.

And now he was back. Standing next to Steve, in Thea’s classroom of all places.

“Lieutenant.” If Steve needed any more confirmation, his voice is it. Low, as if trying to avoid distracting the children or drawing more of the teachers ire. Amused, like he knows exactly what Steve is thinking. Definitely him.

“Captain,” Steve murmurs, lips trembling with the urge to grin.

“Call me Sam.”

“Steve.”

They don’t shake hands, but the way their eyes linger mean more to Steve than so casual a touch could.

The end of another parent presentation breaks the moment, the two looking away to clap with the rest of the room.

“Are you…” Steve starts, unsure how to ask the question. He glances down at the thick circular case Sam has placed at their feet.

“Yeah,” Sam ducks his head and Steve’s heart stutters over how charming it is. “I promised my daughter, Akilah, she could be the one to spill the beans.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. As if revealing his secret identity for his child’s Career Day isn’t just about the sweetest thing Steve’s ever heard.

“Besides, who’s gonna top superhero?” he adds with that damn smirk. Steve’s heart sets off again, faster than before.

Steve openly beams at him, unable to hold it in. It only grows when Sam responds with a radiant smile of his own.

Steve doesn’t stand a chance. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so thrilled to lose.

Samtember prompt fill

--15 of 30

#Sam Wilson #Steve Rogers #SamSteve #kid fic #Sam x Steve #Samtember #Samtember2020

19 notes · View notes

voidselfshipp · 4 years

Text

♡|The Shadow Under The Sun|♡

[OKAY TO RB PLZ RB WITH NICE THINGS!!]

A woman Walked down a corridor with some paperwork in hand, her pace is quick and she starts to take deepbreaths, her boots Clack when they meet the floor.

--Jerico!--juno said as the woman entered the medical bay--you brought the Papers I asked

--yep!--she said fixing her green turtle neck--oh and one more thing...the alpha team and I are taking the day off

--sure--the medic says, Sitting on their desk--but you Will have to guide the New operator coming in tomorrow

Jeri sighs-- why am I always the one that gets chosen to show the Newbies around?

--Well..agent naga and agent rascal have Zero to no charisma,agent godcell doesnt know the layout of the base and agent wonderland

--He Will flirt with the male rookies hes done that since we were kids--jer followed--Do you know if seargeant von terra has called?

--Im afraid not jer...im sorry

The woman sighs holding her necklace --I hate when he does that....

They Keep in silence for two seconds--inform Him that he needs to call me when he has some spare time ,okay?

Juno nodds--Count on it

Jerico walks out the medic bay.

--No luck eh?

--Sadly

A crow sits on her shoulder and she feeds them a sunflower seed cookie

--Look scale...its gonna be alright, ya old Man is tough...besides I heard the Newbie is a Real catch , trust me

She snorts--Sure--they start to walk to the cafeteria,--now youre gonna tell me you have a photo of him, dont you?

The crow Snickers and pulls a folded paper out of their wing--His name is Samuel Leo fisher....his codename? Zero...hes around 63

jer unfolds the photo and gasps softly-- he is very handsome...., Man my 16 Year self would love him....

--And your present self too

--Shut the fuck up before I Cook you

-- you dont have the balls to!

--Youre right cause I have ovaries

they enter the cafeteria, amani is there behind the counter,the old black woman smiles-- What y'all arguing about?

--The newbie is her type and she doesnt want to accept it ?

--Old guy with troubled past?

--Ye

--Well--amani says--im on the side of the chicken here

--see?-- HEY!

--amani give the damn food already

--You two are gonna end up togheter!youll see jer!

--aMANI!

Jerico sits to eat her lunch in silence,enjoying the quiet muttering of the cafeteria.

--Ill have to prepare the whole tour...fuck....--she munches on her food with a heavy expression.

She cant get a day off can she?

Now shes there filing some paperwork and fixing a schedule.

"And I have to wake up early too?!, oh my Elena..." she thinks closing her diary.

The woman lays on her bed as a black cat rests ontop of her chest purring.

--you were right--the cat perks up-- he is my type...bit I dont want to hear a Word of it

The cat mewls and lays their head down.

The afternoon sun comes in from the tiny Window in the room.

The Next day arrives, and jer very grumpily gets up from bed and takes a hot shower.

"Who told me that waking up two hours before the arrival was a good idea?"

She quickly changes Into her normal uniform, with that green turtleneck under it , she holds the necklace tight.

The heavy boots met the floor with a thud, a Man gets out of the convoy, with hefty steps he approaches the woman.

His breath hitches as his eyes meets her own, behind those big round glasses hid these bright green emeralds, who looked up to him with a polite smile.

--Morning Mr Fisher --her soft voice said--how did you found the trip here? If youre too tired we can pospone the tour for some hours

The Man , who for once tripped on his own words said--n no, I just need to leave my bags in my room and ill be good to go

--no need to, Sir, your baggage Will be taken to your New headquarters soon

He nodds and walks with jerico into the base.

Its gonna be a long day

The base felt huge to sam, but his mind was in another place.

Jer was explaining the same thing for the fifth time, her tone is still gentle.

--Uh mr fisher?,you okay?, do you need to lay down?--her hand presses to his arm, squeezing it.

His cheeks run red-- no no im fine...

A concerned expression plasters on her face, his hand removes her squeezing it-- im fine...lets continue

Her cheeks turn Pink, but her smile remains.

The tour ends an hour later.

--Heres your room mr fisher,If you need anything my room is 419,go there anytime youre unsure of something

Sam Leans in the doorsill, and bites his Lower lip--Will you be free later?

Jer perks up-- yeah, why?

--would you be up to eat lunch with me?

Shes taken back but nodds--Of course!, hey uh I need to go now, but ill see you at 12:30 ?

He nodds-- yeah, ill see you then.....?

--Jerico, jerico Von Terra

--Ill see you then jerico

They say goodbye and they go their separate ways, Sam was trying to calm down, unpacking his stuff.

What was wrong with him?.

He doesnt loose his cool like that ...well never!.

He sits and hides his face in his hands,she was really pretty.

She did not lose her cool when he failed to concentrate on what she was saying five times already, but her face was absolutely beautiful.

The hour of their meeting arrived quickly, and now sam was fixing his hair for the seventh time in a row.

Then he sees hes running late and bolts out of the room.

Jerico is sitting at the cafeteria...shes thinking of leaving when the Man bursts through the door, their eyes meet and jer chuckles at the loose strands of hair that fell out infront of his face.

--There you are!

--Sorry I was busy

--its okay, oh you have --her hand brushes a strand of hair out of his face--there

His cheeks flush crimson red and looks away.

--Hungry?

--Yeah, the trip left me starving

While they eat lunch they Keep silent as sam doesnt know how to go about this so he sighs.

--So...how long have you been working here

Jer smiles --Well....a long time, I started my training when I was very young...I have my own squadron, and all, I know youve been in the bussines for a long time

--Yes ive been

--Id love to train with you someday...if you have any tips so I can get better, if you dont mind

--not at all, im more than happy to help

The rest of the lunch are kept in small talk with not much detail.

Jerico scorts Sam back to his room as he seemed very lost.

--i have to do some thing still but swing by the workshop,or my room.

--ill Keep it in mind, and uh jerico?

--hmmm?

--i had fun eating lunch with you today....ill see you later

She nodds and smiles--Ill see you soon too

Jer leaves and he closes the door, he sits on his bed.

Today was one hell of a day...and it hasnt even finished.

#f/o community #romantic f/o #f/o x s/i #f/o #self shipping #my f/os #self ship #self insert #f/o tag #f/os #f/o fic #sam/zero

13 notes · View notes

in-class-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Parlay (Kuroo x Reader) | Ch. 3

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (ft. Roommate Kenma)

Word Count: ~2400

Genres: Fluff, angst if you squint, general buffoonery

CW: Some swearing, but otherwise none!

Summary: (Y/N), a first-year student attending Tokyo U, is living with her best friend, Kozume Kenma. Little did she know, her life would be turned upside down after being exposed to Kenma’s volleyball teammate and close friend, Kuroo Tetsurou. One wrong move, and the parlay’s stakes only get higher each time.

Chapters: First | Previous | Next

Honestly, Kuroo dreaded 2:00 pm every Tuesday and Thursday. His lecture was two and a half hours long, and it was in one of the school’s bigger lecture halls, meaning he spent two days a week sitting at an itty bitty desk in an overcrowded lecture hall. It was always hot and muggy, and there’s always that one guy that you can smell three rows back. It honestly can’t be that hard to take a shower once a while, right? Personal hygiene. What a concept!

‘Before making assumptions about a person who smells - like thinking they don’t shower - consider their living situation and the fact that not everyone has access to--’ A memory from a conversation with Bokuto flashed through his mind. He begged the Bokuto that lived inside his head to please shut his piehole.

In retrospect, he really should have taken an easier class, but no. His academic advisor had strongly advised against taking an easier class to fulfill this requirement because it wouldn’t ‘enrich his academic talents.’ He could just hear his teammate’s irritating tone.

“Don’t worry, Tetsu-Chan! It’ll be a good challenge for you!”

‘Good challenge’ his ass. He really had to stop trusting other people’s judgement.

Despite his admitted hatred for his 2:00 lecture, at least he and Bokuto got to chat beforehand. The frat boy had a class at the same time: Women and Politics in Continental America. According to him, so long as you did your work and ‘are at least a somewhat decent person,’ the class was relatively easy to get a quality grade in. So while Kuroo was dreading the next two and a half hours of his life he’ll never get back, Bokuto could talk Kuroo’s ear off about his “Owlets” without a care in the world, that bastard.

“Bruh, they’re so cute! We played freeze tag for warm ups today ‘cuz they’ve been good all week and, man, little kids are hella fast!” Kuroo cracked a smile at that. Bokuto loved both volleyball and kids, so when he started working as a youth instructor at the sports center, the guy was living his best life. About halfway through hearing a story about the Owlets dogpiling on Bokuto, Kuroo heard a group of girls giggling a little further down the hallway.

There he saw Kenma’s cute girlfriend making an exaggerated sad face. Her surrounding girlfriends were half laughing and half consoling her. They patted her back and he could vaguely hear ‘next time, next time!’ and ‘--boba right after?’

As they got closer, he heard one of the girls chime in, “Hold on, we can’t go right after. That guest speaker for Native American Lit. is speaking in Ballroom One at six.”

“Oh yeah... After that, then?” another girl offered.

(Y/N) shook her head, “I promised I’d pick up a shift at Chisai at 5:30,” she told them apologetically. Her friends collectively booed as Kuroo pushed off the wall he was leaning against.

“I’ll see you at practice, man.” Bokuto paused his story. They gave each other a bro-nod in farewell.

“Okay, ttyl.”

Kuroo halted in his tracks, “...did you just say ttyl out loud?”

“It’s easier that way. My kids like it!”

“They’re nine, Kou, they like everything you do.”

“Nine is a very enriched age and it’s important that we don’t undermine the abilities of--”

“Whoops, gotta go!” Kuroo speed walked in the direction of the group of girls. Bokuto went out of his way to stay “woke” - his words, not Kuroo’s - and it made him a great guy, but Kuroo could only handle so much social consciousness. (Y/N) noticed him before he reached them.

“Oh, Kuroo-san! You have a class in this building?” For someone he’d met only once before, she looked happier to see him than a lot of people normally would. Did she look at everyone like that?

He gave each of the girls a charming smile. Several of them looked from (Y/N) to him, wide-eyed. In all objective terms, Kuroo knew the effect he had on people. He was used to people of all genders’ gazes lingering on him. After all, he was the whole package: tall, handsome, charming, and it was obvious he drank Respect Women Juice every day.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he nodded his head towards his lecture room, “Not my favorite class this semester.”

“Well, I’m in this class, too. If we sat together, would it be less agonizing?” she asked. Before he could answer, she turned to her friends, “I’ll see you probably tomorrow.” They said their goodbyes, and a few of them flirtily waved Kuroo goodbye. In return, he gave them a sly wink, “Ladies.”

“If you have other friends in this class, though, I won’t be offended at all if you sit with them,” his attention snapped to her. He held the classroom door open and gestured her in. She unthinkingly led them to the same side of the room as the one Kuroo usually sat, a few rows ahead of his normal seat.

“Actually,” he said, “All my friends were smart enough to take other classes,” he laughed. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to sit next to a such a cute girl?” he gave her a cute wink.

‘What a flirt,’ she thought.

“Is that your signature move?” she teased.

Kuroo put a hand to his chest in mock offense, “Move? A gentleman doesn’t use ‘moves.’”

“Are you a gentleman, then, Kuroo-san?”

“If you wanted me to be.”

“Cheesy.”

“Don’t worry. I get worse over time.”

(Y/N) mentally cheered. If Kuroo was flirting with her this blatantly, surely he must have a feeling that she and Kenma weren’t serious. Then, Kenma would have to admit that she wasn’t oblivious and she’d win the bet!

Kuroo’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. “But don’t think I’m trying to steal you from Kenma. Bro-code is sacred text, you know.”

Oh. Well. That’s okay! He might not figure it out right away, but surely when he sees that Kenma doesn’t care one bit that he was flirting with his ‘girlfriend,’ he’d figure it out eventually! ...right?

“Don’t worry.” She replied, “He couldn’t care less.”

The professor walked in about 2 minutes before the class officially began. The man in about his mid-40’s cracked his RhedBhull energy drink and chugged the whole thing in one go. Crushing the can in his fist, he tossed it into a nearby trashcan and started plugging the projector cable into his laptop. In a way, Kuroo was glad even the professor was having as much of a hard time with this class as much as he was.

While he’d been watching the professor prepare himself, he hadn’t noticed the girl next to him pull out a notebook, two mechanical pencils, a big eraser, a set of highlighters, some gel pens, and some sticky tabs. At first he thought she was the type to make pretty notes and not actually learn anything, but as the class dragged on, whenever he glanced at her notes, he noticed that her diagrams were frighteningly detailed and every bit of information had its place. He didn’t want to be that guy by constantly looking at her notes, but even the comments in the little text bubble she drew made more sense than anything on the lecture slides.

Leaning in towards her, the taller male whispered, “I’m sure you don’t need the help, but do you want to study together sometime?” No answer.

“Kenma can come too, if you’re worried about him getting the wrong idea.” Nothing. Was she ignoring him? Had he somehow managed to offend her? He was nearly offended until he realized that nothing was affecting her at all. Not when someone sneezed or when the glass side door slammed loudly and nearly everyone jumped out of her skin. Save for her hand working like a machine, she hardly moved. Just her hand and her eyes flitting up, down, up, down, up, down from the projector to her notes. A tornado could rip through campus and Kuroo wasn’t entirely confident that she’d move.

‘Cute.’ Kuroo shook his head at his own thoughts. Sure, she was cute, but she was as off-limits as possible.

‘Though,’ he reasoned, ‘Being friends isn’t a crime.’

Lost in thought, the end of the lecture came sooner than anticipated. Twisting in his seat, his spine made a loud crack. Ah, the ripe old age of 21. In his defense, the chairs in the lecture hall weren’t exactly ergonomic.

“I doubt that’s a healthy noise for your spine to make.” She peered at him over her bag as she gently organized all her pens into a baby pink pencil case with little green aliens on it.

‘Cute,’ he thought.

“Thanks! It was a gift,” she chirped. He blinked.

“Huh?”

“The pencil case? I got it as a gift.”

It took Kuroo a moment to register what in the world she was talking about. When the realization dawned on him he mentally kicked himself.

‘I said that out loud???’

They headed outside where the sun had nearly set. She asked him what his plans were later on, and he mentioned his volleyball scholarship.

“Wow! It’s super competitive just to get on the team here. Congratulations!” He chuckled at her enthusiasm and thanked her for being so encouraging.

“So…” she trailed off for a moment, “You’re Tooru’s teammate, then?”

Kuroo gave an ugly, barking laugh.

“Yeah. Not sure if that’s good or bad. He’s the best setter I’ve ever met, but he’s also super cheery and will smile while he roasts you within an inch of your life.”

They both chuckled. (Y/N) looked at the ground shyly and said in a small voice, “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“You know each other?” it suddenly occurred to that she and Oikawa were on a first-name basis. “You a fangirl of his?” he teased.

She squeaked. Waving her hands in front of her frantically, she said, “No, no, no! I just-- We just-- We both went to Seijoh, that’s all.” Kuroo was mildly offended that she thought he’d believe such a poorly delivered lie, but he decided to let it go. For now. Changing the subject, he said,

“So, where are you headed? Practice to watch your boyfriend?” She tensed, then quickly relaxed.

“I’ve never been to a practice since I always seem to have a shift at the same time. I have work at 5:30 today, actually.”

“You’re walking around when it’s this dark?”

“It’s only about a 20 minute walk from here. Don’t worry, I have pepper spray.”

“Mildly comforting, but not much. If you don’t mind, I could walk you there?”

His gesture was rewarded by an adorable eye smile, “Oh, that’s so kind of you. Okay, if it’s not too much trouble.”

On the walk there, she told him all about Chisai Tea House and about Grandmother, the sweet old woman who owned it.

“I worry, though. Gran is getting old. She’s not in a condition to work all day like she does.”

Kuroo looked up at the darkening sky, “When people love something, it’s hard to pull them away.”

“Mm, don’t I know it?”

Kuroo asked what kinds of things Chisai served. Besides dim sum, of course.

“What people order just depends on what they want at the time. There’s no ‘good’ thing to get because everything’s amazing! We make traditional green teas, Korean songpyeon, khao neeo mamuang, and don’t even get me started on the har gao and sumai, and all the dim sum stuff. All of our recipes have been passed down through families for generations.”

Around 5:20, she stopped at a door along the line of shops. The place was bustling with customers, and the air around it smelled of sweet treats and green teas. The whole place had a traditional Chinese feel. Through the windows, the busy place looked busy, but peaceful. On the tables nearest the window, he saw moon cakes and songpyeon that made his mouth water.

“Thank you for walking me to work! If you have some free time, would you like to come in for something to eat? My treat?” she offered.

“I wish I could, (Y/N)-san, but I have practice--!” Kuroo choked on the word. Practice! How could he forget? He’d been going to volleyball practice on weekdays since he started high school!

“Is there something wrong?” the shorter girl asked, concerned. He shook his head.

“Not at all. Thanks for keeping me company,” he winked. He didn’t want her to feel like him being late was her fault, so he waited until she was fully inside the tea shop before he turned tail and hauled ass. The gym was about a 10 minute walk, so there was a chance he could make it.

After some hardcore sprinting, the boy almost cried tears of relief when the building finally came into view. He flung himself through the locker room door. Inside, he saw all his teammates finishing up getting dressed, putting on knee pads, tying shoelaces, the like. Every head turned his way.

“Bro! What’s-- Hey! Why are you all sweaty?” Bokuto shouted from the far end of the locker room. Kuroo meant to respond, but he found himself completely out of breath. Volleyball players might not be cut out for long distance sprinting. At least, he definitely wasn’t.

“Overslept?” Iwaizumi clapped his teammate on the back as he brushed past him through the doorway.

“You know coach doesn’t like it when people are late to practice. Better hurry up, Tetsu-chan!” Oikawa said in a tone all too gleeful to be genuine. Forcing his legs to move, Kuroo stumbled as he yanked his shirt off and ran to his locker while simultaneously trying to shimmy his pants off. Bokuto came up beside him during his frantic clambering to get ready.

“What happened, man? You don’t usually get here this late?”

Kuroo glanced over his shoulder at his friend’s worried expression.

“I’m good, bro, I just...” he panted, “I just lost track of time.”

“M’kay, if you’re sure everything’s Gucci?”

“Yeah, man, I’m good.” The wing spiker nodded and headed out the door. Alone at last, Kuroo stuffed his feet into his shoes and rested his head against his locker for a moment. Next time, he’d stop creeping on Kenma’s girlfriend and focus on making it to practice on time. This wouldn’t happen again.

(A/N): At last! We have tapped into the interactions between Kuroo and (Y/N)! And yes, the Bro-Code is very important! (Well, I'm female, but I’m fully aware of how it works lol). Please continue to give/leave your feedback and thoughts on the story! Be sure to check out the Tumblr/Wattpad for more updates! Thanks and see y’all soon!

- Admin Kiwi-Chan

(A/N): Yeeeaaaaaa boiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

- Admin Mango-Chan

Taglist: @joyful-jimin

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #bokuto kotarou #kozume kenma #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tōru #oikawa tooru #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyu

102 notes · View notes

omgjasminesimone · 5 years

Text

Homecoming Part 4

Author’s Note: We’re nearing the end! Just one more part after this I think.

Summary: Bryce and Casey attend Abigail’s wedding. They both drink too much.

Word Count: ~ 3600

Previous Part: Part 3

Next Part: Part 5

Bryce sighs dramatically as he takes a seat at the long dinner table. It has been quite a long day and he just wants to get back to Casey and his hotel room.

Ryan had set a very early appointment for the tux rental fitting, followed with an awkward breakfast with all the groomsmen. Bryce knows most of them from prep school, and Francis is a groomsman too, but he doesn’t like any of these people, so he would have much preferred brunch with Casey.

Bryce was distracted during the rehearsal, thinking about what Casey might be doing at the moment. She told him she was going to go on one of the hotel excursions, a hike to Manoa Falls. He wanted to text her throughout the day, but knew she likely didn’t have cell reception.

His entire family was at the rehearsal, and it was the first time he’s had to interact with them without Casey as a buffer the whole trip.

It was almost unbearable. His mother was completely overbearing, seemingly in charge of every aspect of this wedding and directing the rehearsal like some kind of deranged dictator.

Francis and his father brought up the real estate business at every opportunity, but he ignored them to the best of his ability.

Maybe worst or all, Abigail has paired him with his ex-girlfriend for all the wedding party duties.

He and Tia dated his senior year of high school, and then two more years while he was at the University of Hawaii. She’s pretty, long blonde hair, big blue eyes, the kind of girl his father approves of. She was probably his first love. He can’t remember exactly why they broke up. He vaguely remembers a huge fight. And that she had cried.

She seems to have forgiven him though, spending most of the time at the wedding rehearsal flirting with him. He brought up his current girlfriend several times, but Tia is undeterred.

Even now, she’s trying to play footsies with him at the dinner table. He moves his foot away subtly.

“Sir, are you ready to order?”

The waitress’ question leads him to glance through the fancy French food on the menu. Ryan’s parents are paying for the rehearsal dinner, and they’ve picked the most expensive French restaurant in Honolulu to showcase their wealth. They can’t be upstaged by Kate Lahela’s opulent displays.

Bryce hates rich people food. “Can your chef make a custom order? Burger and fries?”

The waitress looks taken aback. “Umm... probably?”

Bryce flashes her a megawatt smile. “Thanks.”

She continues around the table, collecting more orders. Bryce pulls out his phone, sending a text to Casey.

Bryce: how was your hike?

He immediately sees the dots indicating she’s responding.

Casey: Amazing!!! ❤️❤️❤️

A series of photos follow, the breathtaking views from her hike making him smile.

Bryce: glad you had fun. hope you weren’t too lonely 😔

Casey: I wasn’t lonely. You know how easy it is for me to make friends.

Casey: I met a couple on their honeymoon and they let me hang out with them.

Casey: They even invited me to dinner. We went to this Italian place and the pasta was soooo good. 🤤

Bryce: and what are you doing now?

Casey: Took a long shower, and now I’m in bed watching A Star is Born.

Casey: Lady Gaga is so talented.

Bryce: in bed? what are you wearing?

Bryce: (hoping you’re naked) 🤞🏽

Casey: Not naked, but I’m in that teddy that you like. I’m waiting for you to come rip it off me.

Bryce bites his lip, reading her last message again.

A photo comes through, Casey posed seductively in the bed in that deep red silk teddy. It’s not a selfie.

Bryce: who took this?!

Bryce: is that couple with you?

There’s a slight pause before he sees she’s typing again.

Casey: I used the timer you jealous dork. 😂

Bryce chuckles a little under his breath, his jealousy dispelling. He scrolls back up to the photo, eyes scanning over her greedily.

His uncle lets out a low whistle, glancing at his screen. “Damn Bryce, you did good.”

Bryce flushes and immediately pockets his phone, his uncle Tito chuckling beside him.

Dinner takes forever, countless speeches by friends and family about the bride and groom. His own speech is short and to the point. After what feels like eternity, but is really 3 hours, he’s finally able to get in his rental car and head back to the hotel.

He practically jogs from the elevator to their room, shoving his keycard in the door impatiently.

“Baby, I’m home-” He begins, trailing off when he sees she’s asleep. She’s snoring softly and the tv is still on, bathing her in a blue glow.

He turns off the tv, shrugging out of his suit jacket. After a quick shower, he climbs into bed beside her, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her forehead before falling into a deep slumber. He dreams about returning to Boston in just two days time. He’s ready, he’s had more than enough family time.

...

Bryce arrives at the church where Abigail and Ryan will be married very early in the morning. He’s unsure why his mother insisted on such an early time, since the men all spend the time awkwardly sitting around after getting ready in less than 30 minutes. He can only assume it takes the women longer.

When Abigail, his mother, and the bridesmaids are finally ready, it’s time for photos. They must take over a thousand photos, moving around the church, then outside the church, and then, hey, why don’t we get a view of the ocean, now how about a view of the church? It’s never ending, and he’s exhausted.

They finally get a lunch break, food laid out on the picnic tables outside the church. He can’t help but laugh as his sister delicately tries to eat some pineapple without ruining her lipstick. She’s covered her dress with a large bib to ensure it remains pristine and white.

“Abs, want me to chew it for you? Then I can regurgitate it into your mouth like a mama bird.” He jokes.

She flips him her middle finger, with a perfectly manicured French tip, and continues to slice the pineapple into minuscule pieces with a knife.

Tia tosses her lunch trash and approaches the table where he’s sitting alone. All morning, she’s been using the photos as an excuse to hang all over him, somehow almost always managing to end up on his arm.

“I saw some guests heading in when I went to the bathroom. Almost time to get this show on the road. We’re almost free!” Tia exclaims excitedly.

Bryce quirks a small smile. “You really should have declined her bridesmaid invitation. You know how our mom is. There was no way she wasn’t turning into a complete momzilla and making this whole process a living hell.”

“You didn’t refuse either.” She points out.

“They didn’t give me much of a choice.” Bryce insists.

“Well, it’s not all bad. I like these blue bridesmaid dresses. And I do get to hang out with you.” She grips his arm.

He peels her off. “Tia, I told you. I have a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend isn’t a wife.” She retorts, winking cheekily.

“No, but one day she’ll be my wife. Casey is the one.”

Tia looks more hurt by that than he expected. The hurt on her face is quickly replaced with anger, and she storms away from him.

“Well damn, I guess Bria isn’t happening.” Abigail laments, throwing away the packaging from her lunch.

He rolls his eyes at the old couple name she used to call them. “Why would you pair me with her Abs? You knew I had a girlfriend.”

“To be fair, I hadn’t met Casey yet, so my loyalty was 100 percent with my girl Tia. I really like Casey though, I think she’s good for you. But it’s too late to change the pairings for walking down the aisle now, so just grin and bear it.”

“I’ve been grinning and bearing all day.” He retorts.

She smiles at him sadly. “Yeah, me too.”

Bryce becomes uncharacteristically serious. His little sister can always bring out his protective side. “Abigail, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, our parents would love if I pulled a runaway bride. Can you imagine what all those hundreds of guests would say? ‘First, she gets knocked up as a teen, now she runs away from her very appropriate and wealthy fiancé, what’s wrong with that Abigail Lahela?’” She chuckles mirthlessly.

“Who cares what they’ll say? You don’t even have to stay here. You and Haku could move in with me in Boston. I have a guest room.”

“Bryce, I’m a big girl now. It’s time to get out on my own. Ryan is a good guy. He treats me well and this is an important business connection. I married for love before, and that didn’t work out too great for me.”

“Wow Abs. They’ve really brainwashed you. You sound just like our parents.”

“Whatever Bryce.” Abigail mutters before heading back over to her bridesmaids.

They go back into the bride’s and groom’s dressing rooms in the church, retouching makeup and preparing to finally walk down the aisle.

The wedding coordinator Mrs. Lahela hired appears. She looks frazzled, like she can’t wait to get paid and be done with this wedding. “It’s go time people.”

The wedding party splits into their assigned pairs. Haku fidgets nervously at Bryce’s side. He puts a reassuring hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “You’re going to be a great ring bearer kid.”

Traditional Hawaiian music starts playing. This is something their dad was against, but Abigail managed to get him to agree to her being in charge of one thing at her own wedding, the playlist.

Francis and Gabrielle are the first pair down the aisle. A few more pairs go before it’s Bryce’s turn. He offers Tia his arm, and she smiles at him.

They walk down the long aisle, to where Ryan is standing at the altar. They split off from each other, Bryce joining the groomsmen behind Ryan.

Bryce searches the room for Casey as the maid of honor and best man conclude the aisle walk.

He spots her in the aisle seat of the fourth row. She’s so beautiful, in a silver strapless gown that hugs her in all the right places. Her curls are up in a delicate updo, light makeup accentuating the look. He has no idea how he got so lucky with her. He throws her a flirtatious wink, and she blows him a kiss in return.

Haku and the flower girls, who are Lahela cousins, walk down the aisle. Haku stands beside Ryan and he claps his soon to be stepson on the shoulder reassuringly.

Finally, the wedding march starts. Abigail comes down the aisle on her father’s arm. Bryce has to stop himself from scoffing at the smug look on Aoloa’s face. He’s probably already counting the money this union will bring him.

…

The reception is held immediately following the ceremony at the Lahela mansion. Bryce grabs a drink from cocktail hour in the formal dining room before heading out to the backyard.

His mother has really outdone herself. There are literally peacocks strolling around. Twinkling lights and lanterns add to the party atmosphere. A large tent is set up, with a dance floor and dinner tables.

Bryce strolls over to the tables, frowning when he sees a place card for Mr. Bryce Lahela on an elevated table at the front of the tent. Not only does the Mr. instead of Dr. bother him, he also wants to sit with Casey, not the wedding party.

He feels like he’s barely seen her over the last two days. He spots her at one of the circular tables where she’s currently sitting alone since most of the guests are still at cocktail hour. She’s sipping on a tropical cocktail.

He takes the seat beside her, glancing at the place card. Mr. Joseph Grant, an older gentleman who owns a private beach and beach club. A notorious bachelor, who will likely spend the entire evening flirting with Bryce’s girlfriend.

He frowns, glancing at the other place cards and seeing that this table is full of Lahela business contacts. His mother could have at least placed Casey with fun people, like his cousins and uncles. Or his friends.

He tosses Joseph’s place card to the ground, claiming the seat for himself.

“Amor, it seems like your mother put a lot of effort into these seating arrangements.” Casey gently chides.

Bryce takes Casey’s hand, placing a kiss to her palm. “Don’t care. I’ve barely gotten to see you baby.”

Casey smiles. “I missed you too. But I’m not going to let you steal Mr. Grant’s seat.”

“Fine.” He stands and easily picks her up, sitting in her seat instead and placing her in his lap.

Bryce kisses her shoulder, and then her neck. Her skin is so soft, and she smells like something he can’t quite place, but it’s flowery. “You smell amazing.”

“I went to the hotel spa this morning and got a scrub. I forgot my purse, so I charged it to the room, but I’m going to pay you back.”

“No, you won’t.” He nibbles below her earlobe. “Very willing to pay for this moment right here.”

Casey laughs, turning slightly so she can capture his lips. “Your mom is glaring at us.”

She is. The guests have started to migrate to the tent, and Mrs. Lahela is sitting at the wedding party table he’s supposed to be at.

“Let her glare.” He rubs gentle circles in her side through the silky fabric of her dress.

“I still want her to like me Amor. You should get back to your seat. Please.”

Bryce frowns, but Casey knows he can’t refuse her anything. “Fine, but you owe me later. Save me a dance.”

She stands so he can leave. “I’ll save you several.”

Before he leaves, Bryce grabs a pen out of Casey’s purse on the floor. He crosses out the Ms. on her place card, replacing it with Dr. “We didn’t go through medical school to not be referred to as Dr.” He reasons.

Casey laughs, kissing him one more time before he walks off.

When he returns to his assigned seat, he uses the borrowed pen to correct his own place card as well. ‘That’s Dr. Bryce Lahela to you.’ he imagines himself retorting if his brother or father bring up the real estate business one more damn time.

…

The newlyweds’ first dance concludes, Ryan hugging Abigail close and placing a kiss to her forehead.

“And now the dance floor is officially open!” The DJ announces, John Legend’s You and I coming over the speakers.

Bryce is quick to hop down from the wedding party table. Now that dinner, the speeches, and the first dance are all done, he’s finally completed his groomsman duties. Time to actually enjoy himself.

He spots Casey over by the open bar with his uncles. He approaches, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She leans back into his touch.

“Aren’t they adorable?” Tito asks the assembled group. “Definitely more in love than the newlyweds.”

Bryce grins. “Sorry to steal her, but I was promised a dance.”

“And dance we shall, but first peacock selfie!” Casey detangles herself from his arms, pulling him to the edge of the lawn where the peacocks have gathered. “I can’t believe your mom rented peacocks! This is definitely going to be my most liked pictagram photo ever.”

She’s clearly a little drunk. Since he was at the wedding party table all night, he had to settle for the champagne he was expected to drink after every toast. But Casey’s been free to hit the open bar, and he’s watched her take full advantage.

They crouch near the prettiest peacock, Casey fiddling with her phone and struggling to unlock it.

Bryce pulls out his own phone, unlocking it easily and snapping a selfie while he kisses Casey on the cheek.

He shows her the photo. “It’s cute!” She exclaims, so he chuckles and uploads it to his own pictagram account.

“Alright, now we dance.” Bryce declares, intertwining their fingers and leading her back to the dance floor.

The song has changed to Bruno Mars’ Just the Way You Are. Appropriate. “Girl you’re amazing, just the way you are.” Bryce sings in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I love you Bryce.” Casey says softly when the song ends, hands rising from his shoulders to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you too Casey.” He promises before capturing her lips.

They gently sway to several more songs before Bryce is interrupted by a finger tapping on his shoulder.

“Dearest, so sorry to interrupt but the ambassador’s son is here, and I’ve spent so much time gushing over you that he wants to meet you.” His mother explains, not looking all that sorry to be interrupting.

Bryce sighs irritably. He hates mingling. It’s one of the worst parts about his mother’s parties.

“I’ll be right back.” He promises Casey.

She waves him off. “Take your time.”

…

Of course, his mother doesn’t just want to introduce him to the ambassador and his family, she parades him around the whole place. Brags about what an accomplished surgeon he is, how proud she is. All for appearances of course, she’d been just as against medical school as his father.

The open bar helps him get through it, stopping to get another drink between each group his mother insists on introducing him to.

He’s more than a little tipsy when he finally manages to slip away almost an hour later, immediately looking for Casey. He spots her at a dinner table, drinking with his friends.

She’s very drunk, he realizes almost immediately. She looks like she’s about to fall asleep at the table.

“What did you guys do to her?” Bryce playfully accuses, taking the seat beside Casey and allowing her to lean on his shoulder.

“She thought she could out drink me. I told her she couldn’t.” His oldest friend announces smugly.

“I’m…. not … conceiting…. confeated…” she mumbles drunkenly.

“Conceding.” Bryce helpfully supplies.

“That! I can out drink you. I just need a little break first. Maybe some water.” She reaches for the water pitcher, knocking it over accidentally.

His friends chuckle as Casey pouts. “Okay Dr. Valentine, time to concede. Let’s get you to bed.” Bryce says before lifting Casey and cradling her to his chest.

“Bed? We’re staying here?” Casey asks, playing with his blue tie as he carries her.

“Well you sure as hell can’t drive. And I’m a little drunk too.” He explains, entering the house and carefully climbing the steps towards his childhood room.

He gently deposits her on his bed, removing her shoes and clothes. He changes her into his old T-shirt and high school gym shorts. He admires her for a moment, pushing her curls out of her face since her updo has long since come undone.

He’s about to get up, but she grips his arm. “Stay.” She pleads sleepily.

Bryce kisses her forehead. “I’m just going to say goodbye to my friends and my uncles. I’ll be right back.”

Casey nods, yawning and releasing him. She rolls onto her side, and he turns out the lights before leaving the room.

Bryce returns to the backyard just in time for the beer pong tournament his Uncle Tito has started. His mother would never allow this, it’s too low class for her tastes, but she’s turned in for the night. She’s probably chugging a bottle of wine, finally away from prying eyes.

Bryce loves beer pong, so of course he joins. But he’s already tipsy, so he’s not as good as usual. He finds himself missing several shots, being forced to drink more and more as Uncle Tito hits almost all his shots.

An hour later, Bryce is definitely drunk. He stumbles into the house, heading towards the guest bathroom. He’s about to turn the door knob when the door opens, surprising him. Tia crashes into his chest.

He steadies them both by wrapping his arms around her. He’s trapped against the hallway wall, Tia leaning against him.

Tia glances up at him, smiling. “You smell like beer.”

He smiles back, the room is spinning, but he tries to focus. “You smell like vanilla. Are you still using that same perfume?”

“You remembered.” Tia says softly, her hands tightening in his white dress shirt.

Suddenly she leans up, aggressively pressing her lips to his.

If he was sober, he would have stopped this immediately. Pushed her away and quickly returned to Casey, the love of his life. But he’s so drunk. And her lips feel nice, and taste like the strawberry lip gloss she was always so fond of.

He kisses Tia back, hands tangling into her hair. Her blonde tresses are silky and smooth, so different from Casey’s dark curls. And that’s enough to break the drunken spell. To make him realize what he’s doing. That he’s cheating on Casey.

Glass shatters at the exact moment that he pulls away.

Bryce’s wide eyes meet Casey’s. The glass of water she was bringing to his room shattered on the expensive tile floor.

…

Author’s Note: You’re probably wondering why I did this. And to be honest, I’m wondering the same thing. But the idea just came to me and I wanted some angst and conflict.

Taglist: @octobereighth @sibella-plays-choices @hazah @akrenich @lovehugsandcandy @professorortegasstudent @regina-and-happiness @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @lizeboredom @desiree-0816 @hellooliviaolivia @dreaming-of-movies @friedherringclodthing @weaving-in-words @fairydustandsarcasm @goldenjellyfish12 @pessimystic-fangirl @mimikoasahina @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl @god-save-the-keen @caroldxnvxrs @cora-nova

#open heart #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #choices fanfiction #playchoices #choices #bryce lahela

99 notes · View notes

raybansandcoffee · 5 years

Text

Adventure of a Lifetime: Chapter Eight

If you haven’t read the first seven chapters you can find them HERE.

*****

A piece of my hair fell from my messy bun into my face. As I reached for it Jeremy’s hand reached up and brushed it out of my face. His hand stopped and his thumb brushed against my cheek. Our eyes connected as I looked up. I could feel the blush creeping into my cheek. It was that intense kind of eye contact that could make you feel like your stomach had temporarily relocated into your throat.

“I love you,” Jeremy said before bending down to kiss me. Our lips connected and a jolt of electricity shot through my body. The kiss ended and I backed away to look up into his eyes again.

“I love you too.” As he pulled me back in for another kiss and started to unbutton my shirt Michael Giacchino's theme from JJ Abram’s Star Trek filled the air at an almost deafening volume. “Where is that coming from?” Jeremy started to get blurry in my vision when the same 30 seconds of the song started to play again at that same unbearably loud volume. I shot straight up in bed. It was my phone ringing and waking me up from a dream.

“Hello,” I answered without looking at my phone to see who was calling.

“Hey Charlie, it’s Jeremy.”

“Hi.” Fuck. He was in my dream. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “What’s up?”

“I was calling to check and see that you were awake before I headed over.”

“Yeah, I’m up. Come on over.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in a little bit.” With that, I hung up the phone and fell back onto the bed. I pulled my pillow over my head and screamed into it. This was NOT supposed to happen. I was not supposed to be having dreams about my daughter’s best friend’s Dad. I was not supposed to be having sex dreams about Jeremy. I mean I know it wasn’t a sex dream yet but it was totally headed that way if I hadn’t been woken up. One more scream into the pillow and I crawled out of bed. I wandered into the bathroom before mindlessly making my way into the closet. I definitely should not have stayed up as late as I had and should never have drank as much tequila as I did. I pulled on the shorts I wore yesterday, a red lace bralet, and a faded black Pink Floyd t-shirt. The sleeves had been cut off of the shirt and showed a little bit of the lace on the sides and at the neckline. I put my feet in my slip-on red and black checkered Vans then I hurried back into the bathroom and put a little bit of makeup on before going downstairs.

“Good morning,” Savannah said. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. I sort of feel like I was run over by a truck.”

“Same,” Tony groaned.

“How are you alive and in here already this morning?” I asked.

“I woke up because there is SO much light in my bedroom and I couldn’t fall back asleep. Then I got bored so I came in here to hang out. I thought about waking you up but didn’t want to get my head taken off.”

“If you had you would not be getting Nonna DeLuca’s meatballs.”

“Meatball!” Axel yelled.

“Yup dude. Mama’s makin’ meatballs today. She might need to make coffee first.”

“Did someone say coffee?” I turned to see Jeremy walking in the door. He had a drink caddy from a coffee shop in his hands.

“You are like an angel.” He came over to me and handed me a cup that had my name on it.

“Good morning, Charlie.” He hugged me and I felt him leave a kiss on my cheek.

“Good morning to you, my coffee-delivering hero.”

“Good morning Tony and Savy. Hey Axe-Man.” He proceeded to give a coffee to Savannah and Tony and high-fived Axel. He took the coffee that was meant for him and threw the caddy into the trash in the kitchen. “Where are the girls?” he asked after taking a sip of his coffee.

“They wanted to play with the Barbie Dream House this morning so they are still upstairs. I just checked on them about 10 minutes ago,” Savannah answered.

“Nice. So weren’t you supposed to be cooking?” Jeremy asked as he looked at me.

“I was maybe asleep when you called. The fact that I was capable of making myself look human before you got here should leave you impressed.”

“Oh, it does.” He raised his eyebrows at me before taking another drink of his coffee.

“Okay, you two are in charge of the tiny humans today, I am in charge of the meatballs. Jeremy do you want to be in charge of going with me to the grocery store to buy what I need?”

“Sounds great.”

“We will be right back,” I said before I walked through the first floor towards the garage. Jeremy followed. I grabbed my purse from where I’d dropped it in the butler’s pantry yesterday and opened the door to the garage.

“What’s up there?” I hadn’t taken Jeremy on the tour of the garage half of the house.

“The room my sister usually stays in. There’s a small room off of it that she can use to work when she’s here. Though she’ll probably be evicted from it when my Dad and Mandi come out.”

“Damn, you’ve got toys.”

“These aren’t even the toys. The garage under Tony’s place has some ATVs and stuff. Michael bought every single toy you could imagine wanting out here. There’s even a thing that’s big enough to plow the driveway which is ridiculous because the driveway is heated.”

“Seriously?” I nodded. “So what are these if not toys?”

“Well, the Wrangler is my baby. Most girls in Beverly Hills ask for a cute, zippy little sports car. I asked for something I could go off-roading and into the desert with.” Jeremy started to laugh. “I was still driving it when I turned 35. My Dad convinced me to sell it to him and I bought a new one.”

“Why did your Dad want an almost 20-year-old Jeep?”

“Umm, for me to not be driving it, mainly. It’s still at his house. I think he drives it for fun on occasion. It was also only a 2-door. I would’ve been fucked if I still had it.” I pointed to the Ford F150 Raptor in the other garage stall. “The Raptor was Michael’s toy here. He bought it when they bought the house.”

“So what is that flashy ass Benz I’ve seen you drive in the school pick up all year?”

“That was Sam’s. It was her push present for Axel. She’d really wanted a G Wagon but Michael made her get one with a third row because he wanted to have more babies.” I giggled a little. “When they died everything was left to me. Everything was paid off for the truck and the GLS because Michael refused to have car payments, so I kept both of them. The idea of taking the babies around in a Wrangler had me terrified. I also maybe love having the doors off of it WAY too much to let kids in the back. It’s really, really difficult to get them in and out of the Raptor. I have to do it for both of them, the GLS Ellery can climb in and out of now that she’s in a booster seat.” The doors were currently off of the Wrangler, along with the roof. Something I’d done over the weekend. I walked over to the Wrangler and climbed in. I plugged my iPhone in, picked some music and put my sunglasses on. “Wait? Did you just say all year? You’ve seen me in the school pick up all year? I met you two freaking days ago.”

“Of course I did. My daughter’s best friend had a hot mom who either showed up in a flashy ass Benz or a giant truck. It’s hard to miss you in one of those.”

“Every damn Mom in that parking lot drives some luxury vehicle. Most of them have more than one.”

“Also, you are one of the few parents who didn’t sit in the drive and honk their horn at their kid while they stare at their cell phone. You seem like the kind of Mom that gets involved and cares.”

“I definitely try to be. Deep down I’m the girl that wants to pull the doors and roof off of my Jeep and pick the kid up with classic rock blaring to scare the Moms but alas, I don’t.”

“You probably had way too much fun in a Wrangler when you were younger.” I backed out of the garage, turned and started to head down the driveway.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I still have too much fun in a Wrangler. My friends all got speeding tickets in their Audis and BMWs. I usually got stuck or tried to see how far I could take it before we thought the Jeep would flip. Frankie did the typical thing and got a cute little convertible. She and Mandi tried to convince me I wanted an M3 like they both had. Which of course makes it sound like we were spoiled brats that I could’ve picked a BMW M3 as a 16-year-old. But honestly, that was the life I grew up in. I didn’t know anything other than that life and I didn’t want any of it. Frankie embraced it. She was super popular, cheerleader, varsity athlete. I either had my head in the books or my hands on an instrument. I worked my ass off to get a full-ride scholarship to college so that I didn’t have to accept money from my parents and could do what I wanted and never worry that I wasn’t living up to their expectations with their money over my head.”

“So sexy and smart. You’re the whole fuckin’ package.” I started nervously laughing again.

“I am far from it. I am awkward, a bit neurotic at times, and have been known to talk to myself, like a lot. I am just really good at hiding all of that in this package.” I waived my hands around me while I laughed. “Which by the way is not sexy, just a bit crazy.”

“Oh, it is. Also, a little bit crazy can be fucking sexy.”

“Stop, the flirting isn’t necessary. I’m cooking you dinner tonight without it.”

“Flirting is fun. You just seem a little out of practice. Which is cute. You nervous laugh every time I flirt with you. That’s adorable. You just need to get back into practice.”

“Being out of practice is an understatement. I was in a relationship for 5 and a half years. I haven’t had to actually flirt in so long I don’t even remember what flirting is.”

“You should re-learn how to flirt. It’s fun. You’d like it. I certainly enjoy it.” I glanced over at him and started to laugh.

“You might be the crazy one. I mean you invited me to your house without knowing me. I could’ve been a fucking stalker.”

“If you were a stalker you would’ve been at Ava’s birthday party and not sent your teenage nanny.”

“Probably true.”

“Definitely true. There are Moms that showed up at her birthday party and stayed, even though they didn’t have to and instead of watching their kids tried to flirt with me or just stare at me while I was trying to play with all of the kids.”

“There are some weird Moms. I learned quickly that I did not fit in with the PTA Moms at school.” We continued to talk about the weirdness of parenting by ourselves in this environment on the drive to the grocery store. I pulled into a spot near the door and parked. When we walked inside Jeremy grabbed the cart as I pulled up the list I’d made on my phone while Tony and I were drinking last night. “So do you or Ava have any food allergies? Is there anything she doesn’t like or that you both don’t eat?”

“Nope. We will both eat anything and are really damn lucky to be getting a home-cooked meal like the one you are preparing.”

“You’re both just lucky that I love my brother because this is something he makes me cook often despite it being a pain in the ass. Frankie and I are the only ones other than our Grandma and one of our aunts who can make it. I keep trying to convince Tony that men who can cook are attractive and that he needs to learn.”

“I’ve heard that. I’ve maybe even impressed a woman or two in my life with my skills in the kitchen. You should come over for dinner soon. Ava is obsessed with tacos so it’s always Taco Tuesday at our house.”

“I love a good taco. I miss living in LA. There were so many awesome restaurants or trucks. There was a truck that was always outside of our studio and I think I ate at it every single day.”

“Maybe you’ll have to show me where your studio is some time.”

“I miss it, it doesn’t exist anymore though. When I sold it so I could move here the company that bought it gutted everything and it became a doctor’s office. I’ve got a friend with studio space in Santa Monica that I know I can just show up and he’ll let me have space to work.”

“A fellow composer?”

“Yes and no. He does some composing for film and TV but he’s also in a couple of bands, he’s done some producing of stuff. He grew up around music and honestly some of the world’s greatest musicians so he does a little bit of everything. And his space is amazing and close to my Dad’s place so I’ve been known to just wander in, find one of his guitars and start goofing around.”

“That’s nice to still have there. I have a studio in my house in LA and here. Not nearly as nice as yours but it’s a new project. I’m working on making it better. Your expert help might be needed.”

“I just might be able to provide some help and contacts for you. I work with a lot of great companies that gave me some great shit when I set mine up.”

“That would be awesome. I’ll have to let you check the stuff out and tell me what you think I need.”

“I sort of geek out about the tech stuff so I’m just warning you now.” I grabbed several bags of lemons from the produce section.

“Lemons for spaghetti and meatballs?” He raised an eyebrow because the idea of lemons being used in spaghetti and meatballs would be unconventional.

“Dessert.”

“Oh. You’re baking too?”

“I am. Lemon pie. Tony didn’t ask for it but he’ll be really excited to have it. I also am almost out of the batch of homemade limoncello that I always have around. So I need to make more since it takes what feels like forever to be ready.”

“You make homemade limoncello?”

“I do. I’m Italian. This is a thing we do, at least in my family. I learned how to make it when I was a teenager. And with my family being here soon I need to have more than what I have in the house right now because I’m down to my last bottle. I’ve baked with it recently so I ran through the last batch faster than I normally do.”

“That’s sort of awesome. I’m going to have to watch you make this too. I’m intrigued by everything that you are doing today. It’s like the adorable little Italian housewife. Only this one is in a Pink Floyd t-shirt.”

“Oh, I can pull out the stops and become the little Italian housewife. I spent several summers perfecting it when I was younger and still question why I ever came home. It’s even better when I have dark hair because I fit the stereotype.”

“You lived in Italy?”

“My family has a villa on the Amalfi Coast. I spent at least a month of every summer growing up there with my Dad. Then I lived there the entire summer before I started college. My ex was a writer so traveling was easy for us. We stayed there for a month and a half several years ago while he worked on a novel. I haven’t been in way too long, my last trip was like 18 months ago. I miss it. It’s my favorite place in the world. Lounging in the pool. Wandering through town on a Vespa. Waking up with views of the sea out my window. Afternoon naps in a hammock with the breeze and smells and now I miss Italy. The obsession with lemons is because I’d get to pick fresh lemons from our little lemon orchard. I baked. I made limoncello. Homemade lemonade. Lemon everything. We are planning a trip as a family at the end of the summer so the kids can go for their first time.”

“That will be nice. Really, every summer as a kid? So do you speak Italian?”

“I do. I don’t speak it often enough because basically, only my family speaks it. I tried to teach Savannah when she was a kid. She’s been with me several times since she was little. Eventually, I’ll try to teach the kids. I considered only speaking to Axel in Italian when he was a baby hoping he’d grow up bilingual but it weirded out Elle so I stopped doing it. Someday I’ll teach them both, growing up bilingual was fun. Frankie and I essentially spoke in code around friends, women that Dad dated before Mandi, and some of our cousins who never learned.”

“That would be fun.”

“Oh it is, we still do it because Ryan has no idea what we are saying and neither do any of the kids.” He laughed at that. It was really funny to watch Ryan’s face contort as we started to speak in Italian. We could talk about him and he had no idea what we said. We wandered through the grocery store and I watched as he threw junk food in the cart. The last stop was the wine aisle before we headed to check out. I used my expert blocking skills when he tried to pay for the groceries.

“You know you could’ve let me pay. You are doing all the hard work,” he said as we walked to the car.

“I could have. But I also didn’t have to. I find it hilarious that you doubted my skills when it came to blocking in there. I am the middle child. I grew up playing defense.” He helped me load the groceries into the back of my Wrangler and we climbed in to head back to my house.

“So when does your family get here?”

“Two weeks and they will be here for four or five days. By the time it’s over I’m going to need a vacation from the vacation of them being here.” Jeremy laughed. “Frankie wanted to plan every moment of it so that I didn’t have time to think about the horrible thing we are together to memorialize but I tried to convince her we didn’t need to do that. I just want everyone here. I’m sure that with the number of kids that will be here that not having a pool will become a pain in the ass. These are California kids. There’s only so much they are willing to do that doesn’t involve water in the summer.”

“You can borrow my pool.”

“I’ll figure something out. There are some resorts around here.”

“Seriously, you can borrow my pool,” he said again. We stopped at a stoplight and I turned to look at him and smiled. “I like you. It’s going to be a rough weekend for you. If I can help make it easier by giving the kids something to do that keeps them busy and gives you a chance to breathe, then I want to help. Plus I love kids. The more my house is filled with the better.”

“You are way too kind. For real. You’re the nicest person I’ve met since I moved here.”

“I could probably say the same about you. I mean I’ve lived here longer but you’re still the best person I’ve met here. While the circumstances that brought you here suck and while I am so sorry that you had to go through that, I’m glad I met you. Extremely glad.” I felt the blush creep into my cheeks. I turned my eyes away from him and to the lights just as they turned green. The rest of the drive home was fairly quiet, I didn’t really know how to reply to that. I mean, I felt the same way but knowing someone for two days and admitting that they are the best thing the last year has brought you seemed psychotic. It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t seem logical or practical or anything. It seemed crazy. Which I guess fit the theme. The last year of my life had been completely crazy and unpredictable and unstable. It had been an adventure that while I would give everything to have Sam back, I was doing my best to start enjoying it. To embrace this role and life I’d had thrust upon me in an instant. To do everything I could to live the way Sam would want me to and not just sit and cry about her not being here anymore. She’d be absolutely irate with me that I stopped living when she died.

I pulled the Jeep into the driveway and parked in the garage before Jeremy and I started to unload the groceries. He sat at the island talking to Tony, who was making more coffee, while I put the groceries away. I started to pull together the ingredients and spices I would need for the sauce and meatballs and put them on a tray before taking them out of the pantry taking them into the main part of the kitchen. I grabbed the biggest pot I had.

“You bought a grove’s worth of lemons today,” Tony said.

“I did. I’m down to one full bottle and one partial bottle of limoncello. I need to make a batch before the family gets here.”

“There’s enough for at least two batches here.”

“I’m baking you a pie too.” Tony walked over to me and engulfed me in a hug. He stood there squeezing me as tightly as possible.

“You are the best sister ever. Just don’t tell Frankie I said that.”

“Never. She also would totally agree with you if I baked her a pie.”

“She would,” Tony replied laughing. “You are the best of us, I’ll easily admit that.”

“You’re such a good ego boost to have around here.” I hugged him tightly again before bumping him away with my hip so I could get started. “Alexa,” I said and watched the device that sat on the counter light up at the sound of my voice. “Turn on my cooking playlist.”

“Now playing Charlie’s Cooking Playlist on Amazon Music,” the device replied as music started to fill the kitchen. I grabbed myself another coffee and got started on the food. Eventually, Savannah went upstairs to put Axel down for a nap and play with the girls. Once the meatballs were in the pot, the lemon pie was out of the oven and in the refrigerator to cool, and the batch of limoncello was in the pantry to start its long process, Tony and Jeremy followed me downstairs to the studio. Savannah had promised to stir the sauce so I could have grown up adult time for a while.

“Okay, I need to know the guitar hiding spots,” Jeremy said. Tony’s eyes lit up. Even he didn’t know all of them so having a partner-in-crime when trying to locate the hiding spots made him happy.

“I did find my favorite guitars of hers last night. She even let me play Lucy,” Tony said.

“I need to meet this Lucy,” Jeremy replied. I walked over to a set of doors that had a keypad on them to lock the doors. I entered the code and opened the door. Inside were several guitar cases placed like books. My hand gripped the handle of the familiar case and I took it out, making sure that I did so carefully and that none of the other guitars inside tipped over. Tony and Jeremy were sitting on the couch I had in the studio, I placed the case on the table and turned it to face Jeremy. He slowly opened the case revealing, Lucy. “She’s beautiful.”

“She plays like a fucking dream,” Tony said.

“Clapton’s review was basically that he couldn’t tell the difference between this and the original. If I had to pick a favorite guitar that I own, it would be this.”

“Despite the fact that if you listen to anything she records she uses her Strats on basically everything.” Tony loved to pick on me explaining it like my Fender was my steady relationship, the loving husband that would go nowhere. The Gibson was the person I cheated on and made sweet love to but kept that hidden. It maybe helped that Fender had always been extremely good to me working to build guitars just the way I wanted them to be and continued to let me fiddle and change things until I had a perfect guitar. I’d only ever bought Gibson in a guitar shop or online. I’d never worked closely with anyone at Gibson the way I had with Fender since I was fairly new in the game.

“A Strat is my workhorse. That guitar has honestly never done much then get shown to people and played a handful of times so that I can feel like I’m Eric Clapton being taken into Abbey Road to record with The Beatles. You know, when I’m living out my little fantasy in my mind.” Jeremy strummed the strings lightly as sound quietly rang from them. “Here let me show you how great she sounds.” He handed the guitar to me and I walked over to my amp set up and plugged it in before turning the amp on. Tony smiled knowing what I was doing. He stood from the couch clearing the coffee table and hurrying to the piano. He expertly played McCartney’s opening piano part before I came in on guitar.

We’d learned to play together when we were young and at one point he’d tried to convince me we were starting a band together. I almost considered it but instead convinced him that getting into Stanford was a good thing and he didn’t need to run away from all responsibility. I’d tried the same thing. I nearly didn’t get on the plane in Italy to come back to the states to start my freshman year. By that time I’d already met Sam who threatened me within an inch of my life if I didn’t get on that plane to be her roommate. Tony and I were kindred spirits, which I think terrified our parents just a little. We could read each others mind, finish each others sentences, and in a moment like this with a guitar in my hands and my brother’s hands on the piano keys I could zone out and forget everything going on in the world. I easily played through the lead guitar part of ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’ as if it was the thing I did best in the world and in this moment, it almost was.

“That was fucking beautiful. Is that your favorite song?” Jeremy asked.

“I can’t pick a favorite song. It’s a fun solo to play. I mean essentially anything from Clapton is fun to play. One of my main work horses is based off of his guitar, Blackie. I’ve made very few adjustments to it. The other is based off of David Gilmour’s Black Strat.” I watched Tony walk over to the glass door and open it, letting in my two tuxedo cats, both black and white, one slightly chubbier than the other.

“Hi boys.” I bent down to pet each of them as they meowed their greeting at me.

“I didn’t realize animals lived here,” Jeremy said as the larger of the two jumped onto the couch beside where Tony had sat with one of my guitars that he’d grabbed from a rack as I packed up Lucy. I placed her back into the special closet before grabbing one of my main Strats and plugging it in.

“She has two cats. This is Harrison and that,” Tony gestured to the skinnier cat who was now sitting in the chair that was at my computer. “That is Clapton.”

“What not Lennon and McCartney?” Jeremy asked. “I mean they are after all the dream duo right?”

“Nah,” I answered. “Clapton and Harrison for sure. They made beautiful music together and hell what more of a dream duo can you have. They even shared a wife. Ellie had two fish named Lennon and McCartney. It wasn’t pretty. Her Dad didn’t realize that beta fish should be alone.” Laughter filled the room. “So that’s a traumatic experience for her. I adopted Clapton and Harrison 8 years ago from a rescue that I volunteered for.”

“Trust me, when she named them one of her friends told her she was crazy.”

“Only because he suddenly didn’t know if I was talking to him or the cat.” Jeremy’s face looked confused. “My friend with the studio in Santa Barbara.” Jeremy nodded recalling our prior conversation. “It’s Dhani Harrison, George Harrison’s son. So my cat is sort of named after him which he found weird at first and then it became this ongoing joke that every time he was at my condo he took selfies with the cat. He actually asks to talk to the cat when we FaceTime when I’m on the struggle bus with a song. I do still need to round out the crew. I want a Hendrix, Petty, Dylan, and Gilmour.”

“Gilmour needs to be a dog. Dogs of war and men of hate. With no cause, we don’t discriminate. Discovery is to be disowned. Our currency is flesh and bone,” Tony sang the Pink Floyd lyrics that rounded out his theory.

“Your niece wants a dog so that might happen. Though she’s not so sure how she feels about Gilmour as a name. She keeps trying to call Harrison, Harry which I sort of let slide. She tried calling him Dhani and then George which has kind of won. Poor dude is confused. Clap on the other hand is a no, so she calls him Eric. Which is almost too hilarious to listen to a kid as small as her have conversations with cats who have such basic human names.”

“She’s my favorite human.” Tony really did love her. Him being here was going to be a good thing.

“She is pretty much the best. She’s young and already has her mother’s sense of humor. Teenage Ellery will be the death of me.” Jeremy started to search through the cabinets and drawers looking at my guitars. I kicked Clapton out of my chair and sat down at my computer. “T, I need you to hear what I’ve been writing this week. I feel like I’m stuck on something that you can help me figure out.”

“What is the score for?” he asked as he stood up and walked towards me. He knew that I was often going the extra step when working of splicing the video and the music together so I could watch the scene with the music in the places I thought the production team would use it.

“That Netflix series. I sent it to Dhani the other night but I’m fairly certain he spent yesterday on planes to get home to spend some time back in England. So he’s been useless at helping me.” Tony, being the weirdo that he is, sat down on my lap to see the screen. I watched him hit play and take in the way I’d put it together. “I feel like the piano needs to be….more sweeping or something.”

“You’re too critical of yourself. It sounds phenomenal together. I get what you’re saying but I think the more subtle sound works well with the scene. I mean I don’t know what’s happening in it completely but it works.”

“I didn’t catch the scene but the music sounds great,” Jeremy said. I watched as he sat back down on the couch with one of my acoustic guitars and started to strum it. “So what else is in with Lucy? I mean I assume it’s your favorites because it’s locked and fireproof, right?”

“It is. How did you guess?”

“Most people aren’t going to leave a $15,000 guitar just laying around the house,” he replied.

“Umm, a couple of special ones from friends. One that my Dad gave me when I got my masters degree. It’s signed by my professors, family, and close friends. It was the guest book at the party he threw for my graduation. I have a couple of other special edition guitars in there too. All of the ones that are are essentially irreplaceable. I also have Sam’s favorite guitars in there so they are safe for the kids.”

“Did you keep all of her instruments?” Jeremy asked.

“I did. There’s a fireproof safe not in here that has most of them. I won’t use them for daily use type stuff but the kids might want them some day. Michael’s drum kit is in there as well. The only instrument of their’s not in the safe is the baby grand upstairs.”

“That’s good of you to keep that stuff for them. They will cherish it someday.”

“I hope so. Piano lessons with Ellery are tough.”

“She’s not you or your kid,” Tony said. “You at 5 loved it.” He glanced to Jeremy. “I’m well aware that I wasn’t alive when she was 5 but you should hear our father go on and on and on about her. The prodigy. The savant. The child star. One of us runs an incredible non-profit that is helping women achieve equality around the world all while getting her law degree and having three kids because she’s a fucking overachiever, the other of us got a full-ride scholarship to multiple Ivy League schools, including both Harvard and Yale, as well as Stanford and then proceeded to graduate with honors and two degrees. You wouldn’t even have a clue about that. The only one he brags about is her.”

“I am 100% Dad’s favorite,” I admitted. “There’s no question about it. It’s basically because I let him come with me to premieres and award shows. Plus I will tolerate his desire to play music with me. You won’t and Frankie can’t.”

“He likes to sit around and pretend he’s Bob Dylan, not like just play the song but impersonate him. Raybans, weird hats, and all. He’s a strange dude sometimes. He used to do that when I had my friends over thinking it made him the ‘cool dad’ instead of the suit wearing, lawyer Dad. It was just weird.” Tony was laughing as he spoke. He had the exact same laugh that I did which was also our Dad’s laugh.

“These days when he does that he’ll even sit on the deck by the pool and smoke some pot too. Unlike me, Dad didn’t have the benefit to choose whatever he wanted to be when he grew up. He had to be a lawyer. If you ask him now, he still says he wants to be Bob Dylan when he grows up.”

“That’s great. It’s also awesome that your family gets along that well. That you can all sit around and play together.”

“Most of us can,” Tony said.

“Frankie is helpless when it comes to music. Could never learn to read music, couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. I tried really, really hard to teach her stuff and she’s just helpless. Which is funny because her husband can play guitar and piano, it’s part of what won her over.”

“Is your mother also a musician?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. I mean she can sing but she never really cared to do it. Her art was photography. Everything from music photography, which is probably her biggest love, to photojournalism that took her to warzones, developing nations, major national and world events. She’s an incredible photographer and I’m glad that she was able to pursue it the way she wanted to.” I truly was. Despite the occasional abandonment issues that still crept up in my life from being barely a teenager and having my mother pack up our house, drop us off at my Dad’s and hop a flight to London because she was hired to be a UK based photojournalist for the Associated Press. These days she no longer worked full-time. She’d ended up back in the US for a while, decided she needed a home base and picked one so close to my sister that the distance between them wasn’t even as big as the property my house was on. She wanted to be close to us again, which was great. She’d embraced the role of grandma or Nonni as she preferred to be called. She was still traveling, still taking photos but these days they were seen more in fancy art galleries than on the cover of a newspaper. She loved love in a way few people I knew did. She was always either in a relationship or waiting for the next great love of her life. I envied the way she so openly gave her heart to people, an ability that I didn’t have because of how often my heart had been stuck in a blender by the people I’d chosen to give it to.

“Is that her work?” Jeremy gestured to the walls of the studio where there were several photos that were fairly large and framed around the room. Most were artsy shots, all of me or a few of Sam that I had put up on the walls, all with an instrument or something music related like a record or sheet music. Some of my favorites were of me in the midst of playing without even noticing she’d taken the photo. My signature checkered Vans on my pedal board with an electric guitar in my hand. My hands on the keys of a piano. The silhouette of me and my guitar in front of a sunset. Sam goofing around on Michael’s drum kit. Sam in a record store hiding behind a Fleetwood Mac record. The two of us sitting on the beach playing ukuleles on this old blanket my Mom had that she always kept in the back of her car when I was a kid, just in case we needed a picnic. There were so many more, it just felt weird to surround myself with photos of me. I put them up because for some reason it made me feel a little different about my relationship with my Mom. She showed her love through her art. Over the years she’d taught me what she could. I was a decent photographer, basically meant I had a really artsy instagram and some great photos of my friends and kids.

“They are beautiful photos. Personal favorite is the black and white of you in the leather jacket. ‘The Rebel Girl Within Me Will Never Die’ I love it.”

“Thanks. That’s from my last visit trip with my Mom to London. We were walking through the city at night after she’d taken me to some club she loved hanging out at when she lived there. That trip was only a couple of weeks before Axel was born. The rebel girl is still in me somewhere but she doesn’t do much anymore.” Both Tony and Jeremy laugh at that.

We continued to goof off on guitars, pianos, drums, and everything else we could get our hands on in my studio which was a lot. Hell, I had enough kazoos in the studio that we could have an entire kazoo orchestra if we wanted to. Within a few hours, we sounded like we could play a local dive bar on a Friday night and not sound horribly. It was nice to play music again and not alone. To have an excuse to go nuts on a guitar and relax into a solo instead of focusing on music for a scene. It made me miss being in college and being surrounded by other music students who were always down for a jam session. Or living in LA when I could wander into Dhani’s studio on a Tuesday and play. A guitar in my hands was a form of therapy for me and the project I was working on was very heavily piano. I felt the best I had in weeks.

We eventually emerged from the dungeon that was my studio to cook some pasta and have dinner. It was the perfect end to a great day. We had three kids covered in marinara sauce and four adults full enough that multiple asked to be wheeled to bed. Tony volunteered to clean Axel up and get him changed into his pajamas while Savannah went to Ellery’s room with the girls to get everything of Ava’s packed up. I went outside onto the front porch with Jeremy. Within a few seconds, he lit a cigarette and started to walk down the stairs, over the bridge that ran over the creek that went through the property and towards the driveway.

“Today was great. You are almost as great of a cook as you are a guitar player.” I laughed. “Okay you’re probably tied in both but honestly, you’re an incredible musician. I guess I imagined a composer for film and television scores to be different.”

“Different how?” I asked as I reached for the cigarette in his hand, stole it and took a drag.

“I didn’t imagine that a composer could play a guitar and sound like they’d been sprinkled with magic fairy dust by the greatest guitar gods.”

“I wish I was sprinkled by magic fairy dust. Wait, I was. Last week. Ellie threw glitter at me and told me to think happy thoughts and I’d be able to fly.” I took another drag of the cigarette before handing it back to Jeremy.

“I didn’t realize you smoked,” he said.

“I don’t and I didn’t realize you did either.” He laughed at me. “I quit smoking a really long time ago. Okay, I quit smoking cigarettes a long time ago. I’ve snuck a few cigarettes over the last year and there’s maybe been a time or two when I shut off the ‘Mom Brain’ I’ve developed let Savannah take care of the babies and sat in my bathtub and smoked some pot. Stress is a bitch.”

“Yeah, it is. You truly are amazing,” he said. He handed the cigarette back to me, his fingers brushing lightly against mine. It was like an electric shock went through my body. I looked up and into his eyes as I took a drag off of the cigarette. When he smiled it showed in his eyes, which were already beautiful enough that I had lost track of what was happening looking at them a few times today. “Today was great. Thank you for having Ava here last night, letting me play with all of your instruments today, and making the most amazing dinner. I’m going to dream of meatballs tonight.”

Well, at least it’s not like last night when I dreamt about you.

I’d never been so glad that I resisted the third glass of wine so that I could retain that thought inside my head instead of blurting it out loud. A strand of my hair fell from my messy bun and into my face. He reached up and tucked it behind my ear before his thumb brushed against my cheek. I was fairly certain every single millimeter of my skin was instantly covered in goosebumps. And almost exactly like the dream I had last night, my stomach had made its way to my throat.

“I’m glad you liked it. And thank you for today, too.”

“No need to thank me. All I did was play your guitars, eat your food, and drink your wine.”

“I haven’t had this much life in this house in a long time. There’s often people here but the energy today was so happy and full of everything I’ve missed for the last year. I haven’t been able to play with other musicians in nearly a year. I haven’t clicked with another musician like this since Sam. You helped me feel alive today and not like the walls were closing in. There’s honestly not enough thanks in the world for allowing me to feel that way. To get lost in a guitar riff and just have fun rather than feeling like there’s a gun pointed at my head to write music. Today was the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

“I’m glad I could help with that. Honestly, I’m happy to hang out and play music with you whenever. In fact, I’m happy to just hang out with you whenever.” I felt the blush creep into my cheeks and was so glad it was dark outside. “We should do dinner this week.”

“That would be nice. I’m sure I could whip something up for all of us again.”

“No, not everyone. Just us for dinner. You and me. Like I pick you up and take you out for dinner and a couple of drinks one night this week.”

“That might be nice.” My brain was arguing with itself at that answer. Going to dinner with just him. Possibly having an adult I could spend time with. A chance to be the 36-year-old single woman that I truly am and not the Makeshift Mother I became a year ago in an instant. The idea of maybe at some point going on a date and hopefully, it was before Axel turned 18 and abandoned me for college. The other side of my brain was reminding me that I was a Makeshift Mother. I needed to put these kids first. I needed to not worry about my love life, or more accurately my lack of a love life. I didn’t need to think about the way his laugh sounded and his smile looked. More than anything in this world I needed a friend who understood what I was going through that was physically here, not just someone to call in when they could.

In truth, I deserved a night out and if the only thing that came of it was another friend I was all for it. If at some point in the future of my life there was someone of importance that fulfilled a romantic need in my life that would be great. But I needed to have a life to get there. I needed to let myself move on and allow myself to feel and live. I had essentially allowed myself to stop living when I lost Sam and Michael. It was the worst thing I could’ve done. The thing she would’ve been angriest at me for. I was doing absolutely everything I could for her kids but not for myself and it would’ve made her incredibly disappointing. It was time to live again, for her, for the babies, and most importantly for me.

“Actually, I would really like that.”

****** AUTHOR'S NOTE *****

First things first, I am so sorry this update took so long. I have a few chronic health conditions that flared up recently. After a 10 day course of antibiotics and a lot of rest, I am back on the mend and was able to finish this.

It's my longest chapter to date for this book coming in at 8,002 words. The last thing I wrote my chapters somehow all ended up at 12,000 words which is really difficult to keep up with and made updates have longer gaps between them, so I hope I figure out how to not be so long-winded in chapters.

Now about the chapter. Reading back through it there is a lot that happens even though it's only in the span of a day. Charlie's subconscious is starting to tell her that there is something special about Jeremy. That dream *WOO* what could have happened if that phone call didn't happen.

I want to make Charlie seem relatable even though she's probably the furthest thing from me ever. I base my characters in reality and often have a few things in common with them. One of the things we have in common is that we are Italian, though she's full-blooded and Ancestry's DNA test crushed my soul reminding me I'm only 24% Italian. Her parents are divorced, Dad's remarried and Mom is an artist. My parents divorced when I was 7, Dad remarried when I was 10, I have a brother named Tony but he's older and not a half brother (it's a common Italian name so I ran with it - it's also my grandfather's name). Oh and my mother is an artist, though she prefers acrylic paints at this stage of life, when she was an art student she studied photography and has a brilliant eye, she just hasn't figured out how to work my DSLR. I also have a cat named George who is named after George Harrison, my house has 3 cats and a dog, all rescues because rescued is my favorite breed. I have a red Squire Stratocaster (Fender is out of my price range) but I haven't been able to play it since I was 21 when I took lessons in college), I have my grandma's old out of tune piano, and a keyboard that the only song I can play on it is the theme from The Godfather. I sing along with every song on the radio because my brain uselessly stores song lyrics but I haven't attempted to sing in any formal way in almost 20 years when I was done with high school choir.

Charlie, however, grew up with a privileged life I didn't know. My Dad was a teacher at a community college and my mother worked in the events industry in everything from a massive arena to higher education in the years of my life that she worked. Until I started school she worked from home so I was lucky to never experience daycare or nannies because I had my Mom around. My first car was a Pontiac Grand Am, not a Jeep though I tried really hard to convince my Dad I NEEDED a Jeep, he didn't buy it. But he did eventually buy one or two for himself and refuse to let me drive them.

While Charlie grew up with everything that money could buy her life was far from perfect and she worked hard to earn her piece of the pie. She didn't want a handout though I'm sure somewhere there is a nice trust fund in case she ever did try to run away to Italy. She struggled to embrace the status in a way that the rest of her family didn't. She wanted to have a say in her life so she didn't live like her Dad always dreaming of being Bob Dylan, she gets to be whatever she wants. I also realize that making her friends with a Beatles' kid is a bit weird but Dhani Harrison is actually an incredible musician who is also a composer. I wanted her to have a contemporary that she could still rely on for advice in her career that also allowed her to have fun and act like a kid. I love Dhani almost as much as I love his Dad so he seemed like a fun fit for me though perhaps random for the story context.

I don't have kids and will not be having them, there are multiple reasons that play into that most being health-related and also the fact that being an aunt is the only title I want for a kid. I am actually SUPER open about it so if you're curious, ask. I don't hide it even though society judges me a lot for it. So I can understand a bit of Charlie's internal struggle that she's a Makeshift Mom and doesn't feel like a real Mom especially when you add that children were never in her plan for life. She had struggles with her own Mom when she was younger that would honestly make anyone leery about taking on that role themselves. And then she was thrown this curveball and she's stopped allowing herself to be herself really. She thinks she needs to fit the mold of Mom and she is starting to rediscover herself as the year anniversary of Sam and Michael's death approaches. Being willing to open herself up to people and maybe *hopefully* open her heart to someone at some point.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'd LOVE to hear from you. Feel free to comment, message me, whatever. I'm an open book, love feedback, and just meeting new people. Thank you so much for reading this. It means the world to me.

Now it's time to turn on some music (currently it's Eric Clapton Essentials on Apple Music because the chapter inspired me), wind down for the day (I was up at 7 AM to pre-order my new iPhone - I work for myself so 7 AM is not a time I see often), and probably start working on the idea for the next chapter. I have two ideas I can't decide between. Hmmmm, Wonderful Tonight just came on. That might help lead me a direction. ;)

xx. Annie

#jeremy renner #jeremy renner fanfic #jeremy renner fan fic #jeremy renner fanfiction #jeremy renner fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #oc fanfic #oc fanfiction #oc fanfic writer #oc fan fiction #oc fan fic #marvel #mcu

12 notes · View notes

ladyofmind · 6 years

Text

July... Oh, July

Where did you go?

Seems like it was just the other day that I got home from that weekend trip and tried to find my routine again. Yes, I didn’t post much about my Nano camping or victory, but that editing work got done. The book itself isn’t finished, but I need a break!

Where else did July disappear to? Some good things came with my minor query attempt... I am waiting for more answers and managed to find myself an AMAZING editor to help me get this massive series into some shape. (Seriously, message me about her, I will be glad to share!) So yeah, that’s where I’ve been, plus or minus a sugar coma birthday weekend... 32 years old now, and that was way too much food. Well loved and over fed for sure.

As with any of my month end wrap-ups, I do like to keep those hashtag games in one place... For the above-mentioned reasons, I didn’t finish all my games this month so I will try my best next month...

More after the jump...

#wipwordsearch

1- Woods started tuning and testing his guitar before finally deciding on the one he wanted, a wicked little smile of his own forming. Two could play this game.

2- Pulling into the parking lot of Woods' building, Remmy stayed silent again, about what was ahead for Tweet.

3- Malta went in bounding search of Remmy, flying at the man for the second time that day.

4- Unfortunately, Malta took his compliment, despite his eyes traveling Tweet's form as discreetly as he could.

5- "He's certainly got my attention, cute little fishy he is." When both girls gave Tweety a look, she shrugged "You know like plenty of fish in the sea?

6- Tweety wanted to be Woods' muse, his sexy little siren, the thing he didn't take his eyes off of and drew inspiration from.

7- NO TURQUOISE

8- Rounding, she held the giggle at Brandon's confusion, even as the show went on. She felt a bit like those streakers that ran through sporting events, the way she was disrupting things. Though this time it wasn't her fault, but if you're already making a spectacle of yourself, might as well go full on.

9- Grabbing his music player and speakers, she continued on, shirt starting to climb up her back as she walked to the bathroom, tossing it just inside the doorway.

10- Woods wasn’t helping the cause, leaning against the door he held open, a mix of dented pride and cat with the canary.

11- NO BLOSSOM

12- She started to move again, softly swaying to the song.

13- He could tell Bebe was the type to do as Tweety wrote, and now Sly wondered if that was the reason miss Tweety sponged down that particular table so.

14- In Frost's mind, this was what a successful operating business looked like; something he'd been trying to have happen in the years he'd been the manager.

15- He had to think a moment to make sure he hadn't said anything other than a comment on food. He couldn't help but smirk, she looked as if he just said the smartest thing ever, and he knew himself well enough to know that couldn't happen.

16- That left Malta and Tweety to finish attempting to send the men on their way. Of course they were not being forced out, but the party had wound down nicely, and those boys needed to be up early to ship out, so they were trying to be mindful of this.

17- It could be called pretty, even if it sorely needed some updating. She looked past him, down the row of empty spaces, her own history easily meshing here too.

18- NO CHISEL

19- She somehow had bags of stuff again but knew the last stop she needed to make before getting to work; ordering two boxes of assorted cupcakes from her bakery boys, who seemed a bit surprised (she) came back.

20- Tweet just felt it more, the enormous mistake this would be.

21- That didn't quite help because he gripped the edge, and sunk down a little. "Maybe you should take ten first? You don't look so good."

22- Returning her attention to the drinkers, who had abandoned all the empty bottles, moving instead to the couch, swigging from some dented flask.

23- NO ZOOM

24- She'd lost count of them all now, and that probably wasn't a good thing to admit to. Just because she chased after one man, didn't mean she wasn't being tailed by more than enough of her own.

25- "Maybe if I could get another drink? I guess I can't drink through my skin." Deej gave the stink eye to Roger, before shrugging and rubbing the back of his head with a chuckle. "Anyone got an extra shirt?"

26- Woods laughed with a nod to the rest of the group, stepping a little closer to the microphone "I do believe the naughty nurse Trouble just issued another challenge, one we intend to take on."

27- Malta started to sway to the music, causing Tweet to do the same, and then they covered an ear each when the club could hear the way Frost boomed "Lass!"

28- Making a face as he downed the drink, Collar figured partying too hard wasn’t as bad as alliteration. "Good luck sir." He saluted and then wandered off, finding a nice table of random people to bother.

29- She could write a book about how to divert attention from yourself.

30- NO HAPHAZARD

31- Her back ached as if she had jumped into a pool and met with the solid wall of water, stinging her all over.

#CharactersTell

1/7- "Ballentine Rajneesh Siyamak, but you can call me Sly for short." In an old school fashion, Sly bent at the waist. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, and welcome to Soulful. Are you here to see Tweety about the Red Letters series?"

2/7- Sly- "Back in the old country, I slept under the stars, or in a tent a time or two. Now? I suppose one might consider me a hotel camper, if one sees the club's bedrooms as a hotel, even if I hardly use it…"

3/7- Sly- "I know my way around a few things, been around a while. I once managed a spider infestation with a loo brush and pail."

4/7- Sly- "I love the outdoors, big fan of walking around at night, contemplating life in the darkest time of day."

5/7- Sly- "I don't get scared, so I must be telling them? I am not aware I am telling scary stories though, given that I am already often told how terrible I am at noticing flirtatious behavior aimed at me."

6/7- Sly- "Cooking? I am more of a concocter. I make a mean milkshake, and have been known to mix up some drinks and make something new."

7/7- Sly- "I like music, I do, but I don't sing. Not unless it will lighten the mood, and that is a last resort option."

8/7- "Oh? I've never been to camp! Hey fellow campers, I'm Raven, and I'm in a cabin all by my lonesome, stop by for a visit won't you?"

9/7- Raven- "Stargazing? I mean there was this one time, in an outdoor hot tub," *blushes* "We were under the stars but I didn't notice them much…"

10/7- Raven- "Why do we talk about me so much? I want to know about you. What's your favorite activity? I'll try anything once, twice if it's a good time…"

11/7- Raven- "Why ask me something like that? Do you want me to follow you? Because I totally would."

12/7- Raven- "Depends on if I'm taking that dip alone or not. Will you be joining me? I'd do it with you."

13/7- Raven- "Of course I am, anything you want, I'm willing to do, even change for you, so long as you love me."

14/7- Raven- "The bar that was home changed, so that sense of home is gone for a while now. But if you're offering to have me move in with you, of course I will!"

15/7- "Cop" Collar- "Hm, the Intel said that scumbag was here. Better let Nira know Tim's still out there." *texts back and forth* "What do you mean go camping for a while? I wasn't prepared to camp here…."

16/7- "Cop" Collar- *chuckles while unloading car* "Depends on the mountains… More of a poolside camper lately, but apparently I'm stuck in this forest for a few days."

17/7- "Cop" Collar- *finishing pop up tent* "I flirt all the time, ladies love the man thong, men too. Unless you mean a different kind of tent?" *pulls half deflated blowup doll from trunk into tent* "Leftover from a prank, but a good mattress you pervs."

18/7- "Cop" Collar- "I really shouldn't because alcohol starts the party… but I am off duty for a few days before the big bash…" *Chugs a large high proof bottle*

19/7- "Cop" Collar- *bleary eyed* "Always… Where's my thong? WHO TOOK MY THONG?" *spies a guy lost on the path* "You! You must have taken it!" *gives chase to poor guy* (this author spares some details for PG purposes)

20/7- "Cop" Collar- "Oh, great with knots, not so great with shelters."

*finishes hog tying guy with only man thong as rope*

"Collar, dude, it's Nathan Winners. Chef Nathan, you know, your buddy? I never stole your thong! You gotta stop that. Man, Deej owes me for this mess."

21/7-"Cop" Collar-"Usually I'm great at weathering a storm, but in this case, I gotta head back, someone has to help with club security. The big bash is a big deal. If you can get free & bring my man thong, you can get home Wieners." *pats hog tied man & leaves.*

22/7- Chef Nathan Winners- *struggles to get free* "It was a cute joke or pet name the first time. Haha, Chef Wieners. I am never helping Deej by delivering a meal to the woods again. Never stole the stupid thing!"

23/7- Chef Nathan- "I like walking thru the parks and taking the scenic route on my 4am supply runs. It's calm and quiet, plus who doesn't love getting the freshest food to cook with?"

24/7- Chef Nathan- "Did… did you not see what happened this time? That's the worst it's ever been for me. I prefer going alone and wandering the farmer's markets. No danger there, just me and the ingredients."

25/7- Chef Nathan- "I am not adventurous beyond my food. Unless you count navigating the strange people that are my friends, like Collar and Deej."

26/7- Chef Nathan- "I wander and take the long way home on nice days, but never get lost. Probably why a certain cat man calls me whenever he's hungry or lost but not lost."

27/7- Chef Nathan- "Urban legends? Not that I know of. I know a lot of food legends, and there are myths about some of the wilder things that happen in the bar's front of house."

28/7- Chef Nathan- "Is anything weirder than getting hog tied with Collar's man thong? Like seriously… I better get it back to him before he comes back to torture me more."

29/7- Antag Raven- "OMG I SING!!"

MC Sly- "… I suppose that means I shall be forced to play music?"

30/7- Yes! NO!!

SC Collar- "What do you mean no?"

BG Nathan- "You are not someone I want to turn my back on, let alone close my eyes around…" *returns the rope thong*

31/7- Sly- "Tell stories?"

Raven- "Karaoke!!!"

Collar- "Can't we just drink instead…?"

Nathan- "Time to pack, definitely time to leave camp."

#WIPJoy

2- Quick pitch? A women's journey through a life that is 'Cheers' crossed with 'Animaniacs' and surviving mostly sane. That's the Red Letters series!

3- Tweety took a breath before a gorgeously wicked smile spread her face. "Wouldn’t you like to know deary?" Shoulder lifting in a halfhearted shrug, "Probably will have to stick around to find out."

Song- Trouble for me/Britney Spears https://youtu.be/DQNm-P_1VVY

4- Woods started tuning and testing his guitar before finally deciding on the one he wanted, a wicked little smile of his own forming. Two could play this game. #RedLettersTeasers

5- Side char love?

-Malta the Cockney with a bold streak.

-Bebe that crazy friend who makes you do things.

-Roger the lynx cat with an attitude and cupcake addiction.

6- #1randomques Tweet's sorta done this before. But she'd say "It's just a woman's life, full of love, friends, and some legendary stories. It's up to you to believe me or not."

7/8- Tweet's care package includes:

-purple and red pens

-fun notebooks

-new music for her player

-cupcakes

9- Tweet likes pancakes and bacon or chicken fingers with french fries.

10- Tweet's got some food issues, being a picky eater… But Woods, another MC is allergic to cherries.

11- …close enough lol…

"He's certainly got my attention, cute little fishy he is." When both girls gave Tweety a look, she shrugged "You know like plenty of fish in the sea?" #RedLettersTeasers

12- Cupcakes. Thank goodness there is a temperamental cook or two that can make real food too…

13- #1randommques I'm a Gordon Ramsey fan. So, one char would be in trouble for the "herbs" in his brownies. Another might have a distance contest about flinging food, while a third would just be trying to figure out how to frost the chef…

14/15- Tweet has a chef to cook, but left to her own devices, it's candy. Or basics learned as a kid- cereal, quick processed foods, the no cook, doesn't expire for 5 years types of things. So, might be going to the diner to eat.

16- Tweety- "Things were rough growing up, but I always enjoyed chances to be near the water. Pools, oceans, it always called to me.

17- Antag- Brandon- "That's simple. Get off the stage, drink until that night's groupie is ready to play, and pass out around dawn."

18- Collar stepped up to the sink, like he would wash out his shirt, careful to slur his speech as well. "Swell party, til your drink ends up on your gut, not in it." #RedLettersTeasers

19- Tweety- "I can't tell you that. I have a few regrets in my life, but I also try to be a private person, even in the middle of a crowded nightclub."

20- #1randomques - Let's see… My chars are glad that I have managed to overcome bouts of depression, and that I am progressively working on the crippling anxiety. But they are still concerned about what part of the brain "Tim" comes from, and the things he does…

21- Antag- Lady S- "I hired her."

22- Most tech savy- Nira, considering he runs and watching the security system

Least- Deej fries his fur on the jukebox regularly.

#month recap #july #writer #game #characters #characterstell #wipjoy #wipwordsearch #editor

1 note · View note

bruceedickinson · 6 years

Note

Do em all man im bored and need something to read xD

1: Do you ever wish you were someone else?I used to when I was suffering from depression, not anymore though, I’m happy with the way I am2: What is your full name?Suzanne Michelle [last name]3: How old are you and how old do you get mistaken for?20, I usually got mistaken for someone who was 14-16. I don’t really get that much anymore (maybe I’m curvier than I was a couple years ago lol)4: Have you ever dyed your hair?Yep, been dying it for nearly two years5: What’s your eye color?Hazel green6: Your opinion about your body and how comfortable you are with itI love it the way it is (I have off days every now and then but everyone does); it might not be petite or whatever society strives for but who cares, I love being thick. I’m extremely comfortable with it, never been more so at any point in my life7: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?No tattoos, one piercing in each ear8: What would you say is your best quality?Possibly my ability to empathize, not sure9: What are you really bad at?Math10: What talent do you wish you had?Athletics11: Are you nice to everyone?Overall yes I am. I can be a right asshole at times though (but usually that’s only if the other party is being an asshole first)12: What do you think about the most?Bruce/Maiden, but I’ve had the Saxon m&g on my mind since it happened, I really wanna meet my goofy South Yorkshire boys again13: Things you like/dislike about yourselfThings I like:Taste in music, brows, eyes, hair, curvesThings I dislike:Scatterbrained tendencies14: What is your least favorite word?Ex-friends’ names probably15: What is your favorite word?Tomfoolery16: Are you more like your mom or your dad?I’d say I’m a good mix of both, at times I’m very much like my dad since we’re both neurodivergent17: Would you ever smile at a stranger?Yes, it happens somewhat often too18: A reason you’ve lied to someoneI didn’t want them to know about my tumblr or something like that19: Are you lying about anything right now?I don’t believe so20: Have you kissed someone older than you?Yes 😏21: Do you believe in love at first sight?Yes22: Do you believe in soulmates?Yes, although I believe it’s possible for someone to have multiple people they can have that connection with23: Are looks important?It depends; for me, looks get me interested but the personality is what does me in24: Opinion on relationship age differencesAs long as both parties are above 18 I don’t really care, but for me personally I prefer a guy who’s older than me, their maturity level is more closely related to mine that way25: Would you date someone off the Internet?I wouldn’t say no to the right person26: Have you ever cried over a boy/girl?Yes27: Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?YEP LMAO28: Anyone you’re giving up on right now?No one29: Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?I’ve become friends with a lot of people my ex-friends used to talk shit about if that counts30: Have you ever liked your best friend?No31: How does someone win your heart?Charm, charisma, dorkiness, ability to make me laugh, self-confidence/unafraid to express how dorky/goofy they are, mutual interests, kindness, patience, expressing interest in friendship first rather than a relationship/flirting nonstop from the get-go, I like knowing that you genuinely want to get to know me rather than just half-assing things in order to get into my pants as quickly as possible (in which the joke’s on you, I’m not sleeping with anyone until marriage)32: What turns you on?A nice smile, facial hair, traits I mentioned in the previous question33: What turns you off?Arrogance, misogyny/general bigotry, when a guy I don’t know starts flirting/asking if I’m single not two messages into a conversation34: Do you get jealous easily?I used to, not anymore35: What is your definition of cheating?The moment your heart and mind actively belong to someone else when you’re already with someone36: Do you forgive betrayal?Depends on if they’ve genuinely changed or actively want to change, I’ve had instances where people acted that way towards me at first but it didn’t take long for me to realize they just missed treating me like shit ¯\_(ツ)_/¯37: Have you ever been cheated on?No38: Have you ever cheated on someone?No39: How often do you listen to music?Literally like all the time I’m not even exaggerating40: First concert you attendedNeil Diamond tribute in 200641: Last movie you watchedHeavy Metal Thunder: The Movie42: Favorite type of movie80s/90s, I also really like documentaries (if those count)43: Is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about?Yes44: Are you good at hiding your feelings?Yes45: Do you fall in love easily?I don’t fall for people my age very easily, whereas I fall for any band member who interacts with me lmfao46: Do you think people say I love you too much?No, I think people don’t say it enough47: What’s your favorite holiday?Halloween48: Are you a forgiving person? Do you like being that way?Yes, and I do49: Where’s the most magical place on earth?Any Maiden, Priest, Saxon or Ghost show/the front row at said shows50: What’s your “type”?(preferably stocky) Dark-haired men who are massive dorks and can grow hella nice facial hairThank you!

3 notes · View notes

emotionalsupportaudino · 6 years

Text

For @nuciablue for the @mkrholidayficswap! I’ve had you as my recepient two years in a row so I, uh, really hope you’re okay with my writing, lol. Anyway, a dippy AU about why you should never give Umi alcohol and why Ferio is a Bad Friend. (No it’s a shipfic I promise)

Drinking with Umi somehow always wound up… regrettable. And on this, the Ryuuzaki family’s giant fly-to-the-Alps, rent-out-a-ski-lodge, relax-for-a-week annual holiday vacation, it had been no different. Until, of course, Hikaru and Fuu had lost track of Umi, who may have drank a few glasses more champagne than could be advised. They’d scoured their rooms for her and had no luck until, they checked the balcony. There, they had been powerless to watch as Umi came down the slopes on a snowboard that was decidedly not hers, that she did not know how to use, wearing her evening gown and jacket, with almost all the lights out and almost nothing to see by, and flung herself from a ramp into a snow bank.

Still clad in party attire, Fuu and Hikaru had thrown on their snow boots and dragged Umi out of the snow and into their rented car. Being the only sober driver (Hikaru still had not learned), Fuu had helped her to the car and told Hikaru to set up Umi’s room for when they returned before driving off to find the nearest ER.

And that was how she was here. She sighed, her body sagging forward in the plastic waiting room chairs, watching the door for the nurse who had taken Umi back not too long ago. Glancing at her phone screen, she saw it was 11:30 on December 24th. She was resigned, then, to be spending part of Christmas in the ER. No wonder it was so quiet. When she’d come in there’d only been on other person waiting. A young man, dozing on a chair near the back. She’d lost track of him somewhere between helping Umi register at the desk and her being brought back, and now the room was empty and it was supremely lonely. She hadn’t even had time to pack a book. She noted that she was still in her party dress and boots and she shivered, closing her eyes. Now that things were calming down, she was cold.

“It’s a little clod to not be wearing a jacket, you know.”

Fuu glanced up at the young man who’d been here before them. He was holding two paper coffee cups and a plaid fleece blanket that smelled unmistakably like car. “Well, it was an emergency, after all.”

He offered one of his cups to her, and she took it gladly. It smelled sweet and warm and, at the moment, like pure comfort. Setting the other cup down, he unfolded the blanket and dropped it over her shoulders. She sipped at the drink and enjoyed the flavor of hot cocoa just cool enough that it didn’t burn her tongue.

“The last thing you want is to be back here tomorrow morning with a cold, right,” his voice was playful and his eyes were shining with some level of mirth that Fuu couldn’t quite gauge.

“I appreciate it. We left in such a hurry, I didn’t even think of it. Are you here with someone?” She could be conversational, and honesty, it was nice to not be alone while she waited.

“Yeah, a friend.” He blushed a little, looking away. “I, uh, might’ve given him a few holiday drinks. Didn’t realize Ascot was allergic to peppermint…”

Fuu winced at that. “Will he be all right?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s fine, they’re just keeping him to watch another few hours. I saw your friend go in… seems like an interesting story.” He smiled and judged her.

“She might’ve taken a few holiday drinks of her own.”

“And then went skiing?”

“Snowboarding.”

The young man barked out a laugh that he didn’t seem to anticipate. Fuu couldn’t help but giggle along with him.

“I’m Fuu, by the way. Fuu Hououji. It would be rude to not introduce myself if we’re going to be talking.”

“You can call me Ferio.” He winked at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Fuu Hououji. It’s a shame we haven’t shared a drink elsewhere.”

Was he flirting with her? Was that a flirting wink? Fuu had gone to an all-girls school through her entire middle and high school careers, and even now, as she was finishing her first year of University, she had no idea how to handle something like that. Instead, she sipped again at her hot chocolate, avoiding his eyes.

Maybe it was from the late hour, but she had to admit he was handsome in a roguish kind of way. His hair was all tousled and his eyes were this bright kind of gold He had a few light scars on his face, and they were charming in a way. He was sprawled pretty confidently, too, wearing a too-big dark green sweater and a pair of old jeans. He was relaxed but still came off as almost, well… regal. She wouldn’t exactly mind if he was flirting with her, but… she was probably taking it wrong.

“Hm? Did I say something?”

Ferio peered at her over the cup and she jumped. She’d been silent too long. She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the blush she felt rising on her cheeks.

“Not at all. I was just lost in thought, for a moment. … It’s a shame you have to spend Christmas Eve in the ER, though.”

“Honestly? I was just going to be at a big boring party, otherwise. It gave me a good reason to get out.”

“You don’t like crowds?” Fuu tilted her head quizzically. He seemed quite charming, after all. He must be good with people.

“It’s not that. It’s just that I don’t like the expectations… besides, my sister’s the one who does all the entertaining. I’m just there out of obligation.”

“You dislike it more than the Emergency Room…” She raised an eyebrow.

“What can I say. If it gets me a conversation with a cute girl, Fuu Hououji, then I won’t say no to it.”

She almost choked on her drink, her face burning red. And she could hear him laughing over the sound of her heartbeat in her ears.

“I-I—”

“Though I have to say, the evening dress and snow boots really add to your look. You might be onto a new trend.”

“Well! I told you, I couldn’t help it!”

“Come on, don’t be mad.” Ferio nudged her, playfully. “It’s not something you expect out of someone in the ER. And you’re cute when you blush.”

“That’s more than enough of that!” Fuu wished more than anything she could learn to control the heat in her face.

The night was long and quiet in the ER, and Fuu was sure she saw the nurses give them more than a look or two as he continued to tease her and she continued to protest. But it was good natured and after a few more rounds, it was easy. Outside of shooting off a few texts to Hikaru, there was really nothing else for Fuu to do, but talk to him.

And they talked. Hours of chatter, from playful banter to a discussion of her first-year philosophy class, to moments on global politics that Ferio seemed to be particularly well aware of while shrugging it off while saying he didn’t enjoy it. Somewhere around 4AM, though, the pair had begun to drift off, Fuu sinking down without thinking onto Ferio’s shoulder. He hadn’t protested, leaning his head on hers and falling asleep not much later.

Fuu awoke to familiar snickering and blinked awake, feeling his weight lift off of her. She straightened herself and blearily recognized Umi in front of her, on crutches, with a cast on her foot.

“Cozying up to a boy while I’m in the hospital, huh?”

“Umi-san! Oh, I—” She frantically shook her head, looking at Ferio with her face red again. “I’m so sorry, Ferio, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He only chuckled. “It’s all right. Let me walk you guys to your car.”

As Umi hobbled to the car, protesting any offerings of help, Fuu followed along, searching her bag for her keys. Ferio watched them with that same playful grin he’d had all last night right until Fuu took the crutches and packed them in the backseat of the car so Umi could shut the passenger door. Before she could get into the driver’s side, though, he took her hand, slipping a scrap of paper he’d torn off one of the hospital brochures into it.

“You don’t have to use it, but… I’m in town for the next few days.” He winked at her again and his grin widened at the sight of her blush.

She scrambled for a moment and pulled a business card from her bag. She was always told they’d come in handy, but she never expected it to be like this.

“Wait! Um—please take this.” She handed it over with shaking hands. “I’ll be busy helping Umi-san today, so please… feel free to use it.”

“I certainly will.”

She hesitated. She didn’t necessarily want to say goodbye but she really did have to get Umi home. “Maybe we’ll see each other again?”

“Hopefully.” With an elegant bow, Ferio caught her hand again, pressing it to his lips. “It was nice to meet you, Fuu.”

Words couldn’t even come to Fuu’s mind as her heart seemed to stop. He finally let her go with a chuckle.

“See you soon!” He lifted a hand as he turned to head back inside and Fuu, startled, held her hand close to her chest. He was definitely flirting with her.

She sank into the driver’s side seat, still processing and looked at the number on the paper. He’d actually given her his number? Oh, she was going to have to use it…

Umi nudged her from the passenger seat, smartphone in hand. “Hey, Fuu.”

“Yes… what is it?” Her voice was still airy and dazed.

“So, I thought that guy looked familiar and—” She held up her phone to show Fuu an article. Something about foreign royalty visiting the town they were in. Ferio’s picture, next to a girl with a crown. It was captioned ‘The Princess and Prince.’ “You exchanged numbers with a prince, Fuu. Look at you! And I thought you’d be single your whole life—”

Umi getting drunk was always regrettable in some way shape or form. And as her phone chimed, she saw his number pop up.

‘Dinner 2nite?’

A glance in the rearview mirror showed Fuu that he was leaning on a column in front of the door, watching the car with a smile on his face and the phone in his hand.

Well. It was time to get Umi home. She needed to get some sleep if she was going on a date with a prince tonight.

#mkrholidayficswap #nuciablue #fuu hououji #ferio #fuurio #magic knight rayearth

9 notes · View notes