#but in my defense my phone ate a good portion of that story | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 119

Insight into the writing process for the last.... Sixtyish? chapters of this story: @baelpenrose and I have a couple days a week set aside where we hop into the shared documents for our various projects, and we will work on one chapter for me and one chapter for Bael, while the other is either on the phone or in a chat, riffing away. It’s super interactive, usually fun, and sometimes heartwrenching.

Due to scheduling conflicts with the holidays and living on opposite coasts, we weren’t able to ‘live-beta’ this chapter, unfortunately. However, our wonderful friend @charlylimph-blog stepped in to work with me on this chapter. Real-Charly is arguable more of a delight than fictional-Charly, so...

HUGE warning for your ribs hurting. Please consume this chapter responsibly.

(Also: Shoutout to @zommbiebro, as always, for Jokul.)

“Arrows are better for distance though!” Charly insisted as she, Tyche, and I headed to the gym for a workout. After spending the day figuring out schedules for meeting with my new mentees and deciding what they can and cannot be privy to just yet, Tyche and I had plenty of pent up frustration and energy to get out, and Charly was always willing to come spar with us.

We had the weirdest concept of a girls’ night, in retrospect, but it worked for us.

“If I’m that far away from them, I’ll run or hide or both,” Tyche waved off the objection. “Besides, I can set snares for hunting, so really a knife is much better. Very all-purpose.”

“Hand knives are usually not balanced for throwing though,” I pointed out. “There’s a lot of compensation going on with that.”

Tyche flicked a small dagger out of, apparently, the ether and started flipping it through her fingers. “This one does both, and very well. I should know.” Smirking, she held it out, handle-first for Charly to inspect.

With a comically grudging sigh, she took it before inspecting it closely. Balancing it across one finger, she jiggled it slightly. “The center is still half an inch toward the handle,” she grumbled before handing it back.

Tyche grinned sunnily. “I knew you’d like it!”

“I still have all ten toes, so I’m going to assume you don’t have that out for me,” a sardonic voice intoned, interrupting our conversation. We turned around to see Arthur, Jokul, and Ivan behind us. “Three way spar today?” Arthur asked, nodding at Charly.

“Weights and hand-to-hand,” I confirmed.

“Someone’s stressed.” His eyebrows lifted in slight surprise.

I nodded before eyeballing the other two men. “What about y’all? Don’t you normally spar with Conor if you want a third?”

“They want to work on grappling and wrestling techniques today,” Ivan smiled and waved. “So, first we’re going to show cutie-pie here the basics, then we’ll show Conor.” He elbowed Jokul jokingly.

Jokul looked down and shuffled his feet. It was almost cute. Clearing his throat, he looked up and very pointedly looked at me and Tyche, but not Charly. “Grappling is a gap in my defense,” he confessed. “Even Conor is better at it, for all that he lacks technique.”

“Oh, Ivan can definitely help you with that,” Charly confirmed, ignoring being ignored. “He taught me how. He’s an excellent teacher. No offense, Mr. Farro.”

Arthur smirked and assured her, “None taken.”

Oddly, Jokul seemed to pale as he glanced down at Ivan. “You know each other?” he asked with barely-concealed panic.

“Oh, absolutely,” Ivan agreed, to Jokul’s apparent horror. Thankfully, the taller man was standing slightly behind his partner and couldn’t see his expression. “When she found out I’m a blacksmith, she practically demanded that I make her something for kettle corn. She had all the designs drawn up and everything. It was really cool.”

Tyche and I glanced at each other as the final piece clicked. This is the man responsible for the whirlypop.

Charly nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! And then one night, we got drunk, someone dared us to wrestle, and -“

“And she won,” Ivan cut off, winking at Charly. “The less said about that the better. Someone here fights dirty!”

“Did she bite you, too?” Arthur asked, more curious than sympathetic.

Charly, Tyche, and I all three automatically shouted in unison, “THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

“Wait, she bit you?” Ivan asked Arthur, eyebrows rocketing upwards. Arthur shook his head before gesturing toward Jokul. Ivan turned, finally, to his partner. “You!? What did you do to make her bite you, mister?” His scolding tone gave me second hand embarrassment as I watched Jokul turn practically neon red.

“There was… a misunderstanding.” Jokul stammered out. “Of sorts. It was before, when I had… issues, with Councilor Reid, and Ms. Harper pushed her out of the way, and - “

“Okay, I get it,” Ivan cut him off mercifully. “You took a swing at her friend, she took the hit, then she bit you.” Gently stroking Jokul’s hair, he made reassuring noises. “It’s okay. I swear she’s not that scary. She only bites in emergencies.”

“Or for fun,” Charly chimed in.

“Or for fun, with consent,” Ivan added. “I’ve sparred with her loads of times and she never bit me in the process.”

All I could do was nod in agreement, while Tyche pointed at herself and did the same.

“To be fair, it was a real fight and you’re twice my size. I wanted to get your focus off Sophia and end the fight. So, overwhelming force,” Charly pointed out. Slowly, she walked over to Jokul, eyes glued on his reaction the entire time. “But, we’re friends now, right? Ate lunch together and everything? Well, you ate Sophia’s lunch and I ate mine, but still.”

Jokul squinted at her skeptically, nodding slowly.

Arthur patted him roughly on the back. “I know, it takes getting used to. Generally she uses her chaotic necromancy for good, though.”

“No necromancy in the house!” Tyche gasped, jokingly swatting Charly on the arm. “We talked about this.”

“But how am I supposed to find my cleaning supplies!? I don’t want to carry them all over the ship!”

“Store them next to the mustaches and the popcorn?”

“Those are kept next to the reanimated corpse of the Elder God in the basement,” Charly sighed. “I guess I’ll need new ones.”

“New mustaches?”

“New corpses.”

“Is she like this all the time?” Jokul asked, panic melting into confusion as he glanced between Arthur and Ivan. “Mustaches… a basement?”

“You get used to it, cutie,” Ivan chuckled.

Arthur nodded. “And there are far more otters and boba tea involved than biting, I’ve found.”

“Otters? Tea?” The confusion devolved into complete bewilderment.

I explained Charly’s pranking tendencies, including hacking the settings on Arthur’s datapad. “And sparkly pens,” I added, making Arthur groan.

“They were pink!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “Of all the colors! Pink!”

Jokul arched an eyebrow at Arthur’s antics, looking more like his normal, imperious self. “Miss Harper. Please tell me more about the boba tea and otters portion of this. I do believe we could negotiate a truce.”

“Jokul, those were pranks she played on people,” I warned him.

He waved a hand at me. “I want to see what is necessary to get polar bear cubs,” he insisted before dangling an offer that made me groan: “I will teach you to throw axes.”

Charly cackled with glee as she hooked her arm through his. “Why, Mr. Bjornson! I believe this may be the start of a beautiful friendship! Throw in a sparring match or two and you shall have all the baby polar bears you could dream of.”

“Heeee’s doomed,” Arthur pronounced, not even bothering to be quiet about it. “He’s negotiating with a chaos entity who is quite likely from another dimension. He. Is. Toast.”

“Yep,” Ivan, Tyche, and I agreed in unison.

“And Charly is going to learn how to throw an axe,” I pointed out.

A round of collective sighs preceded another “Yep.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #found family #original science fiction #learning to write #aliens #apocalypse #earth is space australia #learning to live #humans are space fae #humans are awesome #humans are strange #hfy #weapons

54 notes · View notes

eves-library · 4 years

Text

Day One - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The box of Christmas decorations traveled to a new family every year.

Word Count: 3048

Warnings: Family loss, pregnancy, fluff.

A/N: Okay... So I said this was going to be short in length but it just got out of control (oops). I honestly didn’t know what I was gonna write with this first prompt but I gotta say I love this concept, hence the length. Days two and three will be posted in a few hours just so I get on time. Day four will be posted on Wednesday 4 at around 9 p.m. along with (hopefully) one of those Sweat Pea fics I promised over a week ago. (Sorry for that, again)

Also, if anyone knows how to put the keep reading thing and would be so kind as to tell me how, I will highly appreciate it!! Now, enjoy it!

You've been waiting for this day for months, ever since you dragged Bucky with you to the community center near your childhood home. You had explained to him that you spent a lot of time there with your parents before they died. You also told him about a certain tradition the community center has. Every year members pay for raffle tickets to take home, on December 1st, several boxes with Christmas decorations. These decorations consisted of Christmas lights, some had ribbons, others had mistletoe and other types of decorations, but the one thing every box had were cardboard spheres with pictures on it from members of the community center with their families and loved ones. The tradition started many years back when the community center couldn't afford decorations for Christmas. They had decided to ask for the members to bring pictures of their families and they would make the cardboard spheres as frames. Over the years the tradition stayed and soon the community center had more spheres than they needed, so instead of rejecting the pictures and spheres they started making packages to raffle and give to the winners.

When you were a kid, you and your parents had honored the tradition and made your own cardboard sphere. Christmas after Christmas you guys would buy raffle tickets and although not every year you got to take a box home with you, you remembered your last Christmas together decorating the Christmas tree with pictures of lots of different happy families along with other decorations. You were fond of this memory and you yearned to make a new one with Bucky.

You ran down the stairs to receive the package that came from the very well known address for you. You thank the delivery boy and made your way upstairs once again. Bucky had gone out to the tower to a short meeting he had with Steve, and promise to be back on time to help you start decorating. You knew it wouldn't take much as his meeting was at around 10 in the morning and it was just 11:30. You started unpacking the decorations you had just received by mail and the others you and Bucky had bought a week ago. You were completely excited about the decoration task as you also have a small surprise for Bucky. Just as you finished taking everything out and laying it down the door opened and two super soldiers came through the door. "Y/N, Babe, I'm home! And I brought company!"

You could clearly saw Bucky and Steve from your spot in the living room, "You don't have to shout Buck, I can see you both from right here." You said fake annoyment on your voice and a teasing smile on your face. You moved closer to Bucky as he made his way towards you. Once at arms reach he pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours. Even though the kiss was short and sweet, you felt your whole body melting and a content sigh escaped you.

You then move to greet Steve with a kiss on his cheek and a complicity look. "Hey Y/N, I hope I'm not intruding, I just had nothing to do and Buck said instead of doing nothing I could come help decorate." You moved to face your decorations again and smile, "Of course you are not bothering at all Steve! The more the merrier! Now," you turned to look back at the boys, "let's get to work!"

Steve and Bucky started hanging garlands on the windows and door frames, even on the frame of the countertop between the kitchen and the dining room had now a garland and white Christmas lights. You started working on making some centerpieces for the counter and table you had seen on Pinterest. You guys worked for a few hours, a break here and there. Between stories from when Steve and Bucky were younger and jokes filling the space as much as the festive mood, the little apartment you shared with Bucky felt cozier and a warm and fuzzy feeling crept up your chest.

It was nearing 4 o’clock and you guys decided to go grab some food and return to finish. Thanks to the three of you working in tandem, the only thing left was to put the tree up and you were almost vibrating with excitement. You excused yourself to the bathroom before leaving to grab takeout. Once you were out of earshot Bucky turned to Steve and in a hushed whisper said, “Okay, give me the gift. I can go hide it in the room while you guys head out and I’ll stay with the excuse I forgot my phone.” Steve chuckled and took a box from the pocket inside his coat and gave it to Bucky. “I still don’t get what why didn’t you kept it, it’s not like Y/N would check your pockets, she’s not even expecting something for today, is she?” Steve asked Bucky a little amused by the nervousness clear on his demeanor.

“Of course she’s not, but she could of feel it when I hugged her, I didn’t want to risk it,” Bucky said as Steve had said the dumbest thing, which for him he had. You walked out of the bathroom and grabbed your coat and wallet. “Okay, let’s go get some good burgers and pie, please!” Both guys chuckled Bucky helped you get your coat on, then you guys were heading out of the apartment when Bucky suddenly excused himself. “Wait! I forgot my phone, you guys head out I’ll see you downstairs.” You and Steve nodded and head out. You needed to speak with Steve urgently and you will take your chance. Walking a little faster than needed you dragged Steve one floor of stairs before you started to speak, not without checking if Bucky wasn’t following yet. Steve was giggling and shaking his head, he was sure of one thing, you and Bucky are mad for one another. “Okay, so I have the camera ready, it is hidden on the top shelf next to the counter in the kitchen. When we are done setting the tree up I will excuse my self to our room and I need you t go grab the camera with the excuse you want a beer or something, stay on the counter, you’ll know when to take the picture, I’m counting on you, Steve.” Your tone was stern but there was a big smile across your face. He didn’t know what was it you were going to give Bucky but he could see you were excited and just how important this was, not only to you but for his best friend too. “I won’t let you down Y/N, I cross my heart.” He said and made the motion of crossing his heart.

While you were plotting with Steve a floor down, Bucky was looking for the perfect place to hide the gift he had gotten you. It needed to be somewhere you wouldn’t accidentally found it while you guys finished decorating but somewhere he could reach easily for when the time came to give it to you. Bucky was nervous as hell, he didn’t know if you will like his gift. He had been searching for it for at least two weeks, knowing he needed to have it ready by December 1st, wether you guys won the raffle at the community center or not, it was a deal you and him had made, December 1st was going to be decoration day. He knew his gift would be either the cherry on top of winning the raffle or the perfect way to distract you from losing. Once Bucky decided to hide your gift inside the drawer he kept the videogames Sam keep on buying him he let out a breath and head to the door a smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to finish decorating and give you his gift.

You guys ate in record time, especially because you had ordered an extra portion of fries and when dessert time came, you asked two spoons of ice cream on top of your extra-large portion of pie. Once you reached your floor you were dragging your feet, Bucky almost carrying up the last couple of steps. Steve and Bucky were laughing at you and your antics, “Oh god, why did you let me eat so much Bucky!” that made Bucky laugh harder. “In Bucky’s defense Y/N, you did threaten him when he tried to eat part of that big slice of pie, I think your exact words were ‘You are gonna spend the rest of the day in Tony’s lab if you dare take a bite, cause I’ll cut your hand with this spoon if you do!’” You just groaned and stuck your tongue out on Steve’s direction, which just caused the two supersoldiers to laugh harder. Once inside the apartment, Bucky spoke, “Okay, so we just got the tree left, you already untangled the lights, so this should be fairly quick.” You agreed and just like that the excitement flooded your body once again.

It took you and the guys around forty minutes to finish setting the tree, you were just missing the star at the top of the tree. You were sitting on Steve’s shoulders while Bucky was holding the tree from the base so it wouldn’t fall. “ You gotta get a little closer, Steve,” you directed, “Now to your left, no my left!” “Y/N is the same left!” Steve exclaimed as he moved right, “Either way you got the idea didn’t you?” you said as you leaned closer to the tree holding the top branch and finally inserting the garment at the top. “Done! Now get me down, I wanna see it!” You said as Bucky stood straight up and helped you off Steve’s shoulders. Steve took a seat on the couch and Bucky hugged you from behind, his arms circling your waist and his head on your shoulder, “Do you like it, doll?” Suddenly your eyes starting watering a little and your throat seemed to have a knot so you just nodded, after a few seconds you composed yourself and speak, “I love it, thank you, Buck, for letting me do this, it means a lot.” you turned your face towards his and you find him already looking at you. “It means a lot that you want to share this with me Y/N. I love you.” you both smiled at each other and you closed the minimal distance between your faces and kissed him. It was a strange angle to kiss but it was perfect. After a few seconds, you broke apart and you snuggled further into Bucky’s embrace, Steve had disappeared into the kitchen you assumed, maybe stealing one of the cookies you had bought on your way home to eat later in the afternoon. “Steve Grant Rogers, if you so much as eat one cookie you won’t be getting the cinnamon rolls you like so much tomorrow!” Steve’s head popped from behind the counter eyes big as one of a deer caught in headlights. You chuckled and gave him permission to eat one of the cookies. Bucky had left and when you turned around you found him with his hands hidden behind his back and a cheeky grin. You look at him suspiciously and a smile threatens to brake in your face. “What is it, Buck?” You asked stepping closer. “Y/N, I know how much this tradition means to you. The moment you told how the last Christmas with your parents was spent this way I knew I wanted this Christmas to as closer to that was.” Bucky took one step closer to you and from brought his hands in front of him, a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper and a golden ribbon. “It took me a while to have this ready, but after asking for some help I had I found it, they say you can keep it if you can, as a Christmas gift.” Your brows furrowed as you took the gift in your hands. You took a seat on the couch and started unwrapping it. when you took the wrapping paper you found a box, you opened it, your eyes grew to double their normal size, and you had gasped. Once the initial shock from the surprise wore off your eyes started watering, this time there was no chasing the tears away or hiding them. Two tears, one from each eye run down your cheeks and you brought your hand to your mouth. Bucky was kneeling in front of you and you looked up, a sob scaping you at the same time a big smile broke on your face. You threw yourself to him and he caught you easily. You spent a few minutes like that until you composed yourself and seat back, this time on the floor Bucky by your side. You leaned into him and held the object up still with watery eyes.

When you had gotten the box that morning you had taken out all the cardboard made spheres and carefully examined each one of them. You knew it was a long shot to find the one your parents and you had made all those years ago, but you still hoped to find it. Sadly, you hadn’t and even though you felt a weight in your heart you stayed happy because nothing was going to ruin your Decoration Day with Bucky. What you didn’t know was that the moment Bucky heard the story of this tradition he knew he had to find that sphere for you. He had gone to the community center the next day after you guys bought the raffle tickets and spoke to the person in charge and explaining his plans to them. They had easily accepted to help Bucky as they remembered your parents fondly. He spent several days looking through all the boxes at the community center until he found it, now those late nights at the compound going through reports with Steve made a lot more sense.

The click of a camera brought you back to your living room. and you looked up to find Steve holding the camera in his hands and smiling at you both. Bucky spoke as he knew words may still be hard for you at the moment. “Where did you even got the camera, punk?” He said with a laugh at the end of his sentence, and it was as if a light had gone off in your head. You bolted to your share bedroom and Bucky looked confused as you ran off. not five minutes later you came back with a gift bag in your hands. “I got you a little something too, Bucky.” You said taking your spot next to him once again, a shy smile on your face. Bucky took the bag from your hands, “I thought gifts were meant to be given on Christmas, baby.” He said as he took out the three objects out of the bag and you shrugged. “I thought this one couldn’t wait until then.” You said and watched him carefully, now a little nervous at his reaction. Bucky looked at the three objects a little confused, the biggest one was a sphere similar to the one he had gifted you but this one was made of wood and at the top, the words “Our Little Family” were painted with golden paint. The next was a piece of paper, black and white and he couldn’t really make out what it was about until he finally looked carefully at the third object, it was a white stick, a pregnancy test he realized. His eyes went from the test to the ultrasound, he now realized and finally to you. You were biting your lip and holding your breath waiting to hear him speak. “Y/N, are you pregnant?” he asked and you slowly nodded, “I’m going to be a father?” His lips turned into a giant smile and now his eyes were the ones watering. “We are going to have a baby, Buck.” You said softly and he was the one throwing himself at you know, hugging you tightly to his body as he cries tears of happiness.

In the background, you hear the soft clicks of the camera but you could care less. Last week you had noticed you hadn’t had your period in a couple of months, you then had a suspicion but before panicking, you went to the pharmacy to buy a test. You wanted to tell Bucky right away but thought better of it. The next day you went to the doctor just make a final test and she made you an ultrasound. You had already sent the sphere to be made in wood to gift it to Bucky as a mean to tell him he was now your family and will be for as long as he has you. When you got the message from the guy at the store that your sphere was done and ready to be picked you came up with the idea of telling him today.

Once Bucky composed himself and separated from you, did Steve came closer with tears brimming on his eyes. He congratulated you both, “The extra food and threats have more sense now,” he said jokingly and you punched his arm and he started chuckling.

You had lost your parents years ago, right before you became a legal adult and life had treated you roughly, but you wouldn’t change a thing. It was what had led you to this moment with the love of your life and your future family.

One year later…

Bucky had an arm wrapped around your waist as you guys walk to the community center with your baby on asleep on your arms. Today was the day the community center opened the cardboard spheres workshop and the sale for raffle tickets started. On his other hand, Bucky had a folder with some pictures you guys had taken just a week ago, for this specific reason. Your little family is going to follow the tradition and make your own cardboard sphere to be donated to the community center.

#31 days of christmas #day 1 #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #james barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x you

37 notes · View notes

musicalmukebox · 6 years

Text

Let’s Get (Back) Together | l.h. (3)

Ctto of the gif!

AU: Parent Trap Dad!Luke

Summary: A strong love which led to a strong marriage and twin daughters. Yet in the end, it didn’t turn out so well. You strongly refuse to encounter him ever again. But what happens when both of you coincidentally send your twin daughters to the same summer camp in Florida after 10 years?

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: SLIGHT sexual content and swearing

A/N: This is where the real story takes off. Also here and onwards, the italicized story in the beginning is a flashback. Enjoy, my loves!

- Brielle

I don’t own Parent Trap and its ideas. It’s only used as inspiration.

1 / 2A / 2B / 2C / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

Feedback/Questions/Others? Here.

2019, Los Angeles

“Shut the fuck up, Luke!” You exclaimed, throwing your pillows at the annoying, child-like manchild that is Luke, who kept distracting you from reviewing for your French final exam by singing a mix of his and All Time Low songs really badly.

Ever since the Valentine music video shooting more than a year ago, you two kept in touch. You both would find your middle ground time (since he’s always abroad) so you can message or call to talk, and hanging out when he’s in L.A., which is pretty common now. In fact recently, you joined him on the North American part of the band’s tour last summer when you were on break. That really bonded you both, which made the other 3 guys suspicious.

“Aren’t you guys cute?”

“Stop making me single when you guys are around.”

“Jesus, someone get me a girlfriend.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t fucked yet.”

“Hey cupid, you forgot me!”

“Something tells me that this friendship isn’t just a friendship.”

Those were some of the things they would say. Yeah, you’ve both been annoying to each other out of stupidity, open when you rant to each other about any bad things that occurred, and touchy too yet nothing like that makeout scene in Valentine. Well, yet.

“Oh, come one, (Y/N)! You still have tomorrow. I mean your exam is at 3 pm!” He defends himself.

“I know, but I have to really need to memorize these words and their conjugations if there’s an essay portion, you know?!”

“But I’m here!”

“You could’ve been with the boys drinking!”

“But I’ll be seeing them for a good 6 months on tour!” He argued back.

“You know very well that I was going to be studying tonight!”

“At least I get to spend time with you though.” He gave a wink, which isn’t surprising because he knew that it annoyed you, sometimes.

“I figured though that you would be gone after we ate Panda Express a while ago.” You assumed, only to be wrong.

“Nah, I need some chill time right now, and you are the chilliest person ever.” He shares his opinion, resting his body on your couch and shifting a bit to be more comfortable. Sometimes, you could be dense, wondering whether if he was flirting with you or just giving you friendly comments. For Luke though, his feelings for you remained platonic, but recently, he’s been feeling something more with you, especially during tour. He couldn’t be too sure just yet whether it’s just a phase or it’s really legit.

“Sadly, you’ll be getting some quiet time too.” You bluntly say, looking back at your notes.

“I’m not leaving until you’re done so get used to me.”

“Luke, I’ve already accidentally saw you butt naked on tour. I think I’ll be fine.” You finished the conversation, resuming to scan through your notes. You also put on your reading glasses to further comprehend the words that you have written on those index cards.

“Devenir, Revenir, Monter, Rester ..” You read in your mind.

Luke stood by his statement, bound to bring out his phone to seek immediate gratification. However, he didn’t feel it in his back pocket and to make things worse, he didn’t bring any bag that would hold it. Standing up, he looked around frantically in the room, which was quite distracting as you were memorizing. You thought that this was a trick, but you weren’t going to give in. “Okay, where the fuck is my phone?”

“I don’t know, in your pocket?” You bantered, sticking your tongue out.

“Ha, very funny (Y/N), but really now.” He walks over to your deskside area, making you scoot over.

“Luke, what are you doing now?” You asked the nervous boy, pacing back and front in your dorm. “Did you hide my fucking phone?”

“No, I’ve been talking to you the whole time without moving my butt on this chair!” You pushed him out of your minimum space.

“Fuck, I can’t find my phone!” He yells, looking through your couch and bed.

“It’s just in my room for sure, unless you placed it somewhere else right?” You tried to calm his nerves, putting your hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, we did just come from the garbage bins outside right to throw away the pizza box right?” He remembered as he scratched the back of his head out of stress.

“You didn’t.” You narrowed your eyes, realizing what he’s up to. Without a second more, he took hold of your doorknob, twisting it to the right to open and making a run for it before things get worse.

“Goddamnit, Luke.” You say, smacking your palm to your face in stress, before running after the lanky boy. Your mind was already drained, and your legs were sore from your workout session hours ago. Breathless, you made it outside your dormitory building. Walking in the dark with very dim lighting emitting from the post lights, you caught sight of a tall guy rummaging through one garbage bin at a time in search of his phone. As you got to his side, offering him help to find, he beat you to it.

“I found it!” Luke yanks out his phone from the garbage bin, grinning from ear to ear like a child. He looked cute triumphant.

“You’re stupid, you know that?” You teased, punching him in the arm and heart rate still racing. Well, for two reasons.

“Yeah, it is a fact. Tell me something I don’t know.” He challenges, his gaze on you intensifies as he puts his phone securely on one of his front pockets of his black jeans.

“Do you really want me to answer that, Hemmings?” You straightened your back, giving him a strong, badass vibe as you also crossed your arms.

“I dare you.” He insisted, taking one step further towards you. As you were to open your mouth again, his phone rung abruptly, the song “Bail Me Out” by All Time Low ft. Joel Madden playing. Bringing out his phone swiftly, he checked to see that it was from Ashton. Upon answering it, his competitive mood switched to a more stressed mood.

“Hey Ash, what’s up? … No, why? …. Fuck why, you’re so stupid. … I’m with (Y/N), hanging out in her dorm. … Is it urgent? … Fine, I’m on my way…. No, nothing happened, bye see you in 10.” He hung up.

“What happened over there?” You asked nicely, trying not to tick him off like he already is.

“Ash lost his key to the house, and needs to get in now, but I’m still with you.” He pouts like a child.

“Dude, go back there and help him! I bet he hasn’t packed yet.” You hypothesized, getting a strong laugh from him.

“True. But when I leave, I’m seeing you in like half a year.”

“There’s always Facetime and iMessage, Luke. It’s not like we’re not seeing each other ever again.” You emphasized, playing his fingers so his nerves won’t get the best of him. He is a reserved guy after all, wherein he keeps so much to himself yet you see through his eyes and actions that he just needs to calm down.

“I don’t know, love. I just got used to you so much.”

“I’ll still be here when you’re done, and when you are, we’re going out to drink and get high like always except today. Besides, I’ll drop by some tour destinations when I got the time, just as long it’s in the U.S.” You reassured, patting his shoulder for his comfort.

“Now, that’s something to look forward.” He pondered, his arms reaching out for you for a hug. Returning such, you felt him lift you a bit and when he brought you down, he kissed your forehead.

“You’re honestly a best friend to me just like the boys, (Y/N).”

“Your best friend? I’ve only known you for more than year, Luke. You’ve known the boys since you were 15-16.”

“In our case, sometimes time doesn’t matter if you really vibe well with someone’s character, (Y/N).”

---

2034, Los Angeles

Waking up with a hangover is the worst thing for you as a working actress and mom. But in your defense, you haven’t had alcohol in a while. Rubbing your eyes to make yourself more awake, proceeded in standing up and walking to the stairs. First thing you already see as you got to the ground floor is Mark toasting some bread.

“Morning, Mark.” You greeted, stretching your tense arms. Mark didn’t bother to ask what happened because by the pitch of your morning voice, it could be two things: over fatigue or hungover. Could be both. “It’s more like good afternoon, Miss (Y/N).” He corrects, making you look the clock.

12:37.

“Looks like I really slept in last night. But hey, at least I only have one interview, which is at 4 pm!”

“Let me guess, wine was the culprit?” Mark wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Whatever, Mark. Anyways, I know it’s late but can I have some pancakes and bacon? Maybe some coffee too.”

“Of course, miss.” He follows, grabbing the ingredients of flour, milk and others from the refrigerator and other cabinets. As you expressed your thanks, you take a seat and brought out your phone to check on any texts from Gina.

Gina: Hello, Miss (Y/N)! Today, aside from your interview with Vogue, you’ll be having dinner with your other co-stars in Take Me or Leave Me, like Timmy Chalamet, Miles Teller and Cami Mendes at 7 at the Maximillia. See you later!

You: Alright, got it. Thanks, love!

Putting your phone down, Mark serves your desired food to your table mat. You view of the pleasing meal and inhale at the sweet and salty aroma, excited to dive in. Taking that first bite of the pancake side by side with the bacon is alleviating your hangover so quickly, really treasuring every bite.

“Thank you God for this meal.” You praised, not realizing that *Stella* just breezed through the dining room, sitting right in front of you. Mark served her spaghetti and meatballs, with orange juice on the side. Unlike you, she looked fresh and awake, dressed in better clothing while you still wore your outfit from last night since you passed out on your bed as soon as Timmy left.

“Hi, mom. I see you’re finally awake.” She commends, sipping on orange juice while looking at her phone, in which you spanked her hand away. “Hey, what gives?” She hissed in pain, putting it down.

“No phones while at the table.” You reminded, getting an exasperated sigh from her. Why would she not follow that rule? It’s been established ever since she got the phone last year. “But you used it before I came in here!”

“But it was only me in the table. Unless someone is with you in table, no phones.” You reinstated, hoping she doesn’t argue any further. “Using your phone is still using your phone, mom!” She budged, ticking you off more. This and dealing with a hangover? It won’t end well.

“Don’t raise your voice on me, or I’m confiscating it, Stella.” You argued back, your fatigue getting the best of you. But come on, she wouldn’t stop. Her temper was so identical, almost like his.

“Whatever, mom. Phone is out of my grasp.” She placed her phone on the other side of the table, continuing her consumption of her meal. As you took a sip of your coffee, feeling less and less hungover by the second, you noticed something different with Rebecca as you observed her facial features. “Are you wearing eyeshadow, bub?”

“Why? You’ll ask me to remove that too?” She rudely responded, rolling her eyes in annoyance. You weren’t having this disrespect from her, not today or ever. So you stood up and walked to her side, grabbing her phone away from her vicinity.

“Mom, what the heck?!” She grumbled, dropping her utensils loudly on the table before she also stood up trying to reclaim her phone. Her blue eyes darkened with anger and annoyance. But you raised your hand higher so she wouldn’t bother to try getting it. You pointed right at her, your eyes narrowed.

“You don’t disrespect me like that, okay? Because of that, I’m confiscating your phone for the day.” You concluded the argument, heading back to your chair on the other side and putting her phone on your pocket. “Ugh, you are evil!” She raged, stomping her feet on the way to her room, banging the door too.

“What is up with her lately?” You pondered, loudly. Were you being too strict? Did you let your stress out on her? “Miss (Y/N), all she did was forgetting a rule and you handled it too seriously, but she grew too aggressive as well. Don’t wanna intervene here, but she feels bad I know it.” He is right though, wherein your take was harsh but to recall, she retaliated fire with fire.

“Ugh, I just want to go back to sleep.” You sighed, going back to your room to get ready for the day and placing Rebecca's phone under your bed so she would never find it. Scrolling through your closet, your back slouching because of the fatigue, you settled on a black romper with black open sandals. Not even bothering to put on makeup since there are makeup artists at the interview anyways, Timmy texted you that he was at the venue already, anticipating your arrival to give you some “stress relief” since these interviews and everything else are getting too overwhelming.

“Your car again?” You replied, giddy at the frisky opportunity. It flatters you highly at how by the thought of you, he is so aroused.

“Yes. Now hurry, I can’t hide this boner any longer.” Laughing, you raced downstairs to your car, putting on the first pair of shows at your sight, which were ballet flats. Getting to your car, you quickly revved on the engine and drove off so you wouldn’t be late. What a way to wake up.

“Ugh.” Rebecca groaned as she banged her door, locking it as well. She mindlessly jumped on her bed, lying down and pressing her face to a pillow to soften her shouting. As much as you pissed her off just minutes ago, this was something she has never felt with Luke. Yeah, they had their fallouts but to have it with you, her mother, felt different. Luke has never reached that level of arguing with her because it wouldn’t end well, so they would equally wait until they were calm to solve the problem. But with you, it was fire vs. fire. And discreetly, she felt glad that she had this kind of dilemma for the first time. It was like a weird way to bond with you.

“Stella.” Rebecca’s daze was interrupted at the voice of Mark, knocking at her door. Still filled with annoyance, she reluctantly got up from her cozy position and turned the knob on her door, revealing Mark holding some clothes.

“Hey Mark, what’s up?” She casually says, crossing her arms in front of her butler as she wasn’t finished releasing all that stress in her.

“Firstly, young lady, doe these jeans belong to you?” He unfolded one of the jeans, the black one which is ripped on one side by the knee. “And this shirt as well?” “He unfolded the black shirt to reveal the words “5 Seconds of Summer” with a picture of lips above it. Shit, she could get caught by now.

“Actually, yes. I traded some clothes of mine with the same girl from New York in camp. Thank you for giving them to me.” She got hold of the clothes, turning her back on him as she walked towards her bed to refold them again. Assuming Mark was going to leave her as is, he didn’t. He leaned by the door frame, one brow raised. “That New Yorker friend of yours, she’s into music of old bands?” He asks with a hint of interest.

“Yeah, she got that interest for 5 Seconds of Summer from her mom she said. That shirt is practically vintage, but I traded my denim skirt for it because it looked cool.”

“That’s pretty cool, huh? I mean wow, being familiar with 5 Seconds of Summer to kids like you decades later? They really did it.” Mark commends them. This made Rebecca’s heart flutter to hear positive words about Luke because she knows that he wholeheartedly deserves it, especially after everything he has been though.

“Also speaking of that New Yorker friend of yours, how long were you guys talking last night?” He continued on, growing suspicious. Does he know something you don’t?

“I don’t know, around an hour?” Rebecca said on the spot, praying to the heavens he would stop. She already had you to deal with drama that day, not Mark too. “Hmm, so at 10 pm here, why would she be awake at 1 am?” He pestered.

“Well, she texted me first that she couldn’t sleep so we just talked. Nothing wrong with that, right?” She came up, feeling a drip of sweat from her forehead out of nerves.

“Hmm, the talking to friends isn’t, but going at it that late? You’re only 11! Take care of yourself now, okay?” Mark prompted, releasing some fatherly vibes at Rebecca out of concern. Although Luke will never replace him, it felt refreshing to have a piece of home at the moment.

“Okay, Mark. Sorry about that.” She apologizes, putting down her pride and turns around to face him so he could see how sorry she really was.

“Nah, it’s okay. But you should be saying sorry to someone else though.” He straightened his posture after leaning too long. “Mom? Ha! She overacted over a simple rule I forgot. I am human, I forget things!” She reckoned, her pride slowing growing on to her again. It’s without a doubt bad trait she inherited from Luke.

“I know, but cut her some slack at least? She’s tired from doing interviews and press stuff, not to mention having an Australian premiere next week? Just spare her.” He rationalizes again. Rebecca was reluctant, but he did have a point. A strong one.

“W-wait, an Australian premiere?” She stammers at the new information, hoping it doesn’t ruin the plan. “Yeah, next week? You’re going with her, and you have a dress that’s being delivered?” He answered, giving you a questionable look, exemplifying “Did you forget?”

“Oh yeah that! I forgot for a moment, but now if you don’t mind, I will be fixing this and my room, might take a nap too.”

“Alright, Stella. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” He stated, slowly walking away only for his name to be called out again to stop him. “Thanks, Mark. For everything.” Rebecca sends him a hopeful smile, feeling calmer than earlier.

“No problem, bub. Always here to help you out.”

---

2034, Sydney

The heat down under was unreal, and the best way to unwind was swimming. Stella couldn’t wait to jump in and feel refreshed. Well, again if lunch 2 hours ago wasn’t enough. As much as she loved swimming back home, Sydney would feel a lot better because there were times the cold breeze there would leave her in shivers that would make her sniff a whole lot.

Meanwhile, there was a nervous couple waiting for the 11 year old’s arrival in order to lay down the news once and for all.

“Luke, babe, are we really telling Rebecca about us today?” Sierra dreaded, lying down on poolside bed and drinking a beer Luke gave her earlier. She knew Rebecca since she was born, yet she had problems that reached to the media, which made her nervous as to what Rebecca thinks about her. Especially since she will be her new mother. Likewise to Luke, he wanted his little girl about the news as soon as possible so it is over and done with.

“Today, Sierra. She’s just dressing up into her swimsuit before meeting up here.” Luke reassured Sierra as he was sat on the edge of the bed. Well tried. “Shit, I want her to like me. Well, she does as an aunt but still.” She worries, drinking more of the beer than usual because she always drinks it slowly. Her fingers tremble while at it, spilling some of them on her blue dress.

“Yikes, Sierra. Let me take that.” Luke grabs the beer from her, putting on the table beside her. He put one hand on her thigh and the other on her cheek, brushing away some of Sierra’s hair behind her ear to see her face clearly, filling him up with so much admiration.

“Even when you’re nervous, you still look gorgeous.” He complimented, making Sierra blush and bite her bottom lip. “God, you’re distracting me from my thoughts.”

“You like it, though.” His hand was still at by her cheek, bringing her closer to his lips. “More like I need it.” She chuckled, being the one to go closer this time, eventually closing the gap between them. Their lips crashed, moving in sync to the album of Daniel Caesar playing through the speakers of the pool area. Luke’s hands lowered down to her waist, while Sierra’s arms tangled to his neck and legs remain at his lap. This was nothing compared to the heat they were facing. Sierra shifted her legs to his waist, hands rubbing under his red floral shirt, feeling his fit abdomen. Luke bit her lower lip as they kissed, knowing damn well how much she liked it.

“Fuck.” She moaned, feeling Luke’s pointer finger dangerously near her core as he trailed it along her inner thigh. She wanted it badly, but to her dismay, he let go first.

“You tease!” She protested, pouting at the chuckling man in front of her.

“You know I wouldn’t hesitate to fuck right here, right now, but my daughter could be here at any second and I don’t want her to be scarred at this.” He directly says, urging Sierra to unlock herself from him. “You owe me, big time.”

“We have the whole afternoon, when Felicia goes to the grocery and Rebecca swims.” He kissed her temple, then at his peripheral view, he sees a blonde girl wearing a blue one-piece and black round sunglasses, running to the stairs. “Finally, here’s the little poppet!”

Undoubtedly, Stella was excited to swim but she grew confused to see another person at the area. She wasn’t there a while ago. “Rebecca, you remember aunt Sierra, right?” Luke reintroduces, Sierra looking up from her black hat to face the little girl.

“Rebecca! You grew a few inches taller after camp, huh?” She began, shifting from lying down to setting on the edge of the bed. “Uh, yeah. Doing a lot of sports does stretch limbs, I believe.” She adlibbed, internally cringing at that random fact she gave.

“Ooh I see! That’s really interesting.” Sierra comments, turning to Luke and giving him a “you should tell her” look, just like Rebecca with Timmy and you previously. Luke got the hint, kneeling to Stella’s level.

“What’s up, dad? What’s with looks you’ve given each other?” Stella asks curiously, her interest skyrocketing. “Well, poppet. We have something to tell you, which is very important.”

“What is it then, dad? You’re scaring me.” Am I caught already she thought. Luke looks at Sierra again, with a smile of reassurance with some nerves.

“Rebecca, your aunt Sierra and I are getting married.”

Stella was dumbfounded. Uncle Timmy and you dating was news that she still couldn’t comprehend, but now dad and Aunt Sierra getting married? Like in a church, saying “I do” and all was much more challenging to handle. It’s an actual commitment that can’t be messed with. Well, you and uncle Timmy is a commitment too, but who knows things may change? Yet, she put a fake smile for her dad and sucked it up.

“Wow, that’s amazing! I love you both, you guys have made each other happy all these years.” She lied, knowing well that only you can make him very happy. Luke and Sierra were astonished as they received a better response than what they expected. Out of that emotion, Luke gave Stella a warm hug.

“Thank you, poppet! We should celebrate this with some drinks.” He rejoiced.

“Uhm dad remember, I’m only eleven.” Stella realistically confronted. “Hmm, I’ll just get you a soda perhaps.” As he runs back to the house to get drinks, Stella is left with Sierra, feeling forced to talk to her. Her blue eyes eyeing on her short blue dress, exposing her legs. She went here for another reason maybe. Nonetheless, she kept her cool luckily.

“So Aunt Sierra,” She instigated, removing her shades and putting them on the table. “My dad, huh?” “Yeah, he’s a great guy. I mean, I’ve known him for like 20 years?”

“Oh wow, that’s long. Anyways, how old are you if you don’t mind me asking?” Stella fired another question, wanting to know more of this woman who may be her future step-mother.

Switch that “may be” to a “would never be” if she and Rebecca change that.

Stella took a few steps to the edge of the pool, sitting there momentarily as she awaits Sierra’s response. She laughs at first at the question, but not hesitant to hold back. “I’m 42, love. And let me say this, you are just as great as him. He talks highly about you a lot.” She compliments, making Stella’s heart flutter despite the compliment being meant for Rebecca.

“Oh he does? Well, we only have each other in this life.” Stella stood up then jumped right in, splashing some water on Sierra. She flinched and shrieked in disgust, trying to wipe off any excess droplets.

“Oh shiz, did I get any water on you, Aunt Sierra?” Stella put her hand on her mouth, half genuinely apologetic and half impressed at her intended act of mischievousness. Let’s see what how she’ll react, will she be fake or real?

“Well, just a little bit, love. But that’s alright.” Sierra gave her a fake smile as she grabbed a tissue to wipe a second time. Stella had a gut feeling she was right about her intended action; she was being fake about it.

“So, aunt Sierra, what did my dad have to say about me?” She wondered, grabbing a donut floatie and lifted her body to lie down there. Sierra settled once again on the poolside bed, avoiding the wet spots to touch her dress.

“He said that you’re just as into rock as him, playing the guitar and piano, and also football.” She says slickly, hoping to win her favor. So far, Stella was still questioning such. “Aww, thanks you’re such a great girl, but,”

“But?” Sierra widened her eyes, eager to know what the eleven year old is prompting. Was she still lacking something?

“Do you really wanna know what’s up?” Stella playfully trails, liking how one word can really make someone interested. She was ready to fill her with lies. Naughty.

“Tell me what’s up then, Becks.” Stella cringes at her calling Becks at first, but continued on.

“Well, you’re not the first girl he’s liked in this way in a long time and not the first time a girl of his talks to me like this.” She affirms, floating along with the water.

“Oh r-really?” Sierra stammered, astonished again. As much as she and Luke have been friends been for so long, has he missed any details about him or this girl is just trying to get rid of her?

“Truly. He’s done this before; he invites the girl on a few dates, then to his house, and in a few months, breaks up because he’s never happy. That’s one flaw about him sadly. But you should’ve known that since you’ve been friends for long. Hey though, you made it this far, to the level of marriage, which is impressive! Maybe another glass of wine or beer and consider yourself really lucky.” Stella shrugged, noticing how convinced Sierra was at her white lies. To top off the cherry on the sundae, Luke returned to the scene, holding a few bottles on both his hands.

“Here babe, another bottle of beer, and Rebecca, I got a bottle of rootbeer for you. So that we’d be the same, having the word beer in it.” He bantered, handing it to her whilst still in the donut floatie.

“Oh my god, dad.” Stella cringed at the dad joke. After all, he is one and takes any opportunity to annoy her with that kind of jokes. She then looked at Sierra, raising her bottle to her.

“Cheers, aunt Sierra, or may I say, step-mom. Welcome to the family.” She smirked at her, receiving another fake smile from her. “See, I told her she’ll like you.” Luke beamed at the bonding, clinking her beer at her.

“Yeah, I’m sure she is.” Sierra kept in that smile, annoyed at the little girl who will be her step-daughter.

“I need to get rid of this brat.”

152 notes · View notes

mlnmoongle · 6 years

Text

Love Speaks in Flowers

Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Romance, Awkward Romance

Pairings: TaoHun;

Rating: Mature;

Length: Chaptered - 3/12;

Note: WIP;

Warnings: Smut, Semi-public;

Summary: Sehun's mundane job as a florist clerk is the same day in and day out. Until one rainy morning brings a change in Sehun's life in the form of Tao, a tattoo artist next door, and Sehun's not sure he's ready for him.

Sehun opened Twenty Flowers again today. He had a real love-hate relationship with opening shifts. The love came from getting off early to have the rest of the day off and the hate came from waking up early and having to deal with customers, but so far, today wasn't an awful day. There were only a few hiccups that occurred but were easily settled so before long by mid-noon, Sehun was assisting the last customer. Since Sehun was working the shop alone today, Junmyeon allowed whoever was working a shift alone a full hour break with the store closed. Preferably around the same time daily, but Sehun was running behind. Sehun very politely smiled and nodded at the customer's lame jokes as he was finishing up with him. The customer talked Sehun's ear off as Sehun walked him to the door. He stood with a strained smile as the man finished up his story and it was then that Sehun was politely urging the man out the door. Once the customer left Sehun immediately locked the door and flipped the plastic Will Return sign and sighed in relief, leaning against the door. At last, Sehun had a whole half hour to himself to sit and eat or nap, whichever sounded more appealing honestly, but before he did that Sehun needed to clean off the mess on the counter. So he walked back to the front and started cleaning off the counter, discarding stems and petals and leaves and whatever else was sprawled across the white top. He already felt more relaxed with the area being neat and tidy now. Sehun was still full from breakfast so he opted to not eat lunch and instead laid his head down on his folded arms at the counter. He really wasn't expecting to nap but just closing his eyes and resting his mind was good enough. The last few days have been stressful for him. Emotionally exhausting, actually. His mind has been non-stop thinking about his talk with Jongin and Tao and how complicated this all felt. Not that it needed to be complicated but Sehun couldn't make up his mind, or feelings. In his defense, he didn't know anything about Tao, but in Tao's defense, going on a date would solve that sad excuse. However, Sehun couldn't help but think back to dating Chanyeol. Chanyeol was also handsome and charming but left Sehun, so what would stop Tao from doing the same? Sehun groaned. This was stupid, so stupid, he was over Chanyeol, he was. A jarred clunking noise interrupted his thoughts and Sehun rolled his eyes. "Can't people read?" He mumbled to himself, not bothering to look up at the door because maybe if he played dead the moronic customer trying to get into the shop would eventually go away. So he ignored it. Then not even a minute later the phone was ringing. Sehun desperately wanted to ignore that too, but the last time he intentionally ignored a phone call almost ended in his termination, and he wasn't going to risk that again. With a heavy sigh, but not opening his eyes, Sehun answered the phone. "Hi, thank you for calling Twenty Flowers. How can I help you?" He intoned, and oh my god, he was not expecting the voice on the other line. "Hey!" “You." Sehun breathed and snapped his eyes open to gaze out the window to see Tao, waving to him outside the shop. "Hi. Did you know the door is locked?" Came Tao's familiar, husky voice. Sehun exhaled heavily. "I'm aware." He drawled. "Oh." Tao made a small noise on the other end. "Can I come in?" "I'm on my lunch break," Sehun informed, his tone still steady. "Great! Cause I brought lunch." Sehun watched Tao hold up a small bag, and he could only sigh. "If you must," Sehun droned, not sure if Tao was aware of his tone because Tao was smiling wide. Hanging up the phone, Sehun slid off the stool and made his way over to the door. He took one look at Tao grin as he unlatched the door. Sehun had no idea why he was doing this, but he was stepping aside anyway and letting Tao into the shop. "Hi." Tao said pointlessly, and Sehun offered a soft, "Hey" of his own. "It was good timing, wasn't it?" Tao strolled over to the counter and sat the small bag down. He immediately started unpacking the goodies he brought. Sehun eyed him as he did, walking back to the counter to sit on the stool again. "Was this really a coincidence or are you stalking me?" Sehun asked, attempting a joke if his small smirk indicated anything. Tao burst out a laugh and shook his head. "I promise you, I'm not stalking you. It's just...I don't know, a universal lunchtime?" Sehun gave Tao a questioning, but amused look. "Yeah because that makes a lick of sense..." He rolled his eyes but there was no animosity behind it. Tao laughed lightly and placed a small container in front of Sehun and then himself. "I hope noodles are okay. I don't know what you like, but they're pretty generic, I suppose." Sehun looked down at the container before scooting it away back towards Tao. "Wow you sure know how to make a meal sound mouth-watering," his tone clearly sarcastic and whether Tao caught on to it was beyond him, "But I'm not actually hungry..." He watched Tao's face compress as he stopped fidgeting with his own container. "Oh. Then we don't have to eat." Tao grabs Sehun's container to put it back into the pack and then tightened the lid on his own to put it away, too. "Well, that doesn't mean you don't have to eat." Sehun reached out to lightly grab Tao's hand to stop him from putting his portion away. "I don't mind if you eat..." But Tao didn't respond because he was too busy looking at Sehun's hand that was lightly grasping his wrist. Sehun pulled his hand back when he made eye contact with Tao and cleared his throat, folding his arms close to himself. He tried to fight the heat crawling across his face when he added, "I mean unless it's awkward for you? I really don't care either way..." Tao gave a small smile and pulled his container back out to open it. "It's not awkward, and besides...I'm starving." His smile turned sheepish and Sehun couldn't help but give his own small smile. As Tao ate, Sehun took it upon himself to get a good look at Tao. Now that he wasn’t dripping wet he actually looked like a decent human rather than a wet dog. Tao had his bleached hair messily pulled up in a small bun on the top of his head, some pieces hanging loosely over his forehead. His messy bedhead look was complemented by a sleeveless logo t-shirt and dark jeans. Of course, Tao would wear sleeveless shirts and pants that made his ass look absolutely fuckable. And Sehun was positive Tao didn’t wear a sleeveless shirt because of the summer heat or tattoos, or for comfort, but so he could flaunt his toned arms in front of him. Sehun was sure of this. Also, Sehun noticed Tao was wearing thin-rimmed glasses this time, too, and his eyes weren’t a striking light blue anymore but instead a soft brown. He looked absolutely gorgeous. Sehun couldn't keep his eyes off him and was starting to feel hungry. Minutes pass in silence with only the sounds of Tao’s soft chewing and the light outside noises filling the space. Sehun propped his chin in his palm as he watched Tao inhaled his lunch, wondering if he's even tasting it. “What are you doing here?” Sehun finally asked with an indignant expression on his face. Tao swallowed the mouthful he had. Sehun watched Tao's throat move with the action. “Eating lunch?” Tao answered.

Sehun clicked his tongue. “Obviously. I meant, why are you here? A flower shop isn't typically a hot spot for dining.” He quipped.

“Oh. Well, I'm going to buy flowers, too, of course.” Tao answered easily and added, “You said I could come back if I was a paying customer, and when I’m finished eating and you’re off break then I will be.” He smiled as he slurped up a noodle.

Lovely. “You literally just bought flowers not even two days ago.” Sehun pointed out. Tao smiled fondly. “Yeah, I know.” Uhg, why did he have to look at him like that? Brushing off the heat in his chest, Sehun composed himself again. “Let me guess. More Lilies?” Sehun asked dryly. Tao shrugged. “Hmm...Sure.” “‘Sure’,” Sehun repeated mockingly. Then with a cruel smile, he asked, “Did you just come here to bother me while I work?” Tao’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “Hm. Maaaybe.” A playful yet mischievous smirk spreading across his face as he packed the empty container back into the bag.

Sehun took a minute to retort because what were they doing right now? Were they flirting? Was he really allowing this? Sehun hummed, smirking. “Well, you’re out of luck then.” He started, narrowing his eyes at Tao, but Tao only leaned in closer, grinning now. “And why’s that?” He questioned.

"Because, you can only stay if you’re buying flowers, if not then you need to leave.” Sehun snarked, feeling triumphant in his retort. “Okay. Then I want those. Right over there.” As far as Sehun knows, Tao pointed in a random direction to one of the many racks of flower displays and Sehun followed with his eyes to which he was pointing to. “The... Chrysanthemums?” Sehun deadpanned, looking at Tao. Tao bit back an amused chuckle when he heard Sehun’s, barely audible, lisp. It was incredibly endearing. “Mhm. Those exactly.” Tao was still leaning on the counter, still close to Sehun’s proximity. Sehun could smell the faint aroma of peach radiating off Tao and it suited him so well, Sehun thought. With Tao being so close to Sehun, he was able to skim Tao's whole upper body greedily, to take in the details that he missed from the last time. Taking a quick glance at Tao’s arms, Sehun skimmed his beautiful tattoos again. Somehow they deemed from eye-catching today than the other day. Maybe it was because Tao's skin was just glowing today. The way that Tao had his arms folded under his chest made his biceps flex and, god, they looked so firm and delicious just like chest. Sehun was thankful that he was sitting because the sight made his knees weak.

Blinking the salacious thoughts from his mind, Sehun reminded himself that he needed to keep this professional and end the shameless flirting. So putting on his best poker face, Sehun stared at Tao for a moment, internally debating if he should even bother asking the number of Chrysanthemums he wanted or what color. Unfortunately, that was part of his job so crossing his arms, Sehun finally asked, “Okay then. What color?”

Tao pursed his lips in consideration. “Violet?” He answered unsurely. Sehun hummed acknowledgment with a small nod. “Alrighty. How many?” “Ah! I want a bushel!” Tao answered right away, and proudly as if he’s been waiting for Sehun to ask. He probably thought it was a step up from the other day when he used a ‘bunch’ as an amount. Sehun gave a deadpan expression as he mouthed ‘a bushel’ and it took everything Sehun had to not to tell Tao to just leave.

“A ‘bushel’ isn’t a specified amount, Tao” Sehun informed flatly. “So if you don’t tell me how many you actually want, then I’ll have to just guess and charge you for whatever amount I pick.” He warned but Tao hunched his shoulders in a small shrug. “That’s fine. Surprise me.” He says airily, however, there was a challenging tone in his voice. With that, Tao leaned closer, If possible. He wasn't quite laying on the top of the counter, but he might as well be, and now Sehun was able to get a good whiff of Tao’s scent. Aside from the light peach scent, he could also smell Tao’s natural, virile spice mixed with a light antiperspirant. He smelled so damn good, and it stood out strongly even amongst the other aromas of the flowers and plants.

And to add insult to injury, the way Tao was leaning over the counter made the collar of his shirt hang low, giving Sehun had a clear view down his sun-kissed chest. Sehun only glanced for a moment but Tao must have followed his eyes because Tao was grinning wickedly, but before he could say anything Sehun was moving, walking around the counter and to the plant racks despite the light swelling against his pants. Luckily, he was wearing an apron so nothing was visible, he hoped. But for good measure, Sehun asked offhandedly, “So, are these for references again?” He was desperate to cut the tension between them because Sehun knew his face was red because he could feel it, and he knew there was a subtle tremble his voice because he could hear it betraying his stoic demeanor. Sehun hated this. He hated how attractive Tao was even when he wasn’t intentionally doing anything, and he hated how riled up he got over nothing. Sehun wanted nothing more than to run into the back room to hide or jerk off. Sehun had to lean down to gather the Chrysanthemums, and as he waited for a response he braved a brief glance over his shoulder at Tao, just in time to see Tao quickly avert his eyes up and to his face. “Huh?” Tao asked dumbly.

Sehun’s ears were probably red now, too. He turned back to the flowers. “ The Chrysanthemums. Are they for a reference piece or?” He asked again.

“Oh. No. Just for me.” Tao answered quickly, and Sehun stood up, turning to look at Tao with a raised brow. “Uh, my apartment is looking a little dull, so I thought these would brighten it up or something,” Tao explained, straightening up as Sehun was back behind the counter. Sehun nodded, setting the flowers down. “Well, these are a good pick…” He mumbled. “Good to know.” Tao smiled. Sehun ended up not picking an outrageous amount of Chrysanthemums and actually picked out enough for what he thought would look decent in a vase. Which reminded him, “You have a vase, right?” Sehun asked, bending down to grab tissue paper that was stored on a shelf below the counter. Tao was quiet for a moment as if the question was some kind of test. So, taking it as such he answered what he thought would please Sehun the most. “...Yes?” His response was weak and a dead giveaway that he was lying, but Sehun didn't call him out on it and instead shrugged it off with a simple. “Okay.” Sehun tapped in the numbers to ring up tao's total. They exchanged money and with that, Sehun said, “Well then, you’re all set to go.” with a small smile, but Tao didn’t move.

“Did you need something else…?” Sehun asked. “Do you want to get coffee later?” Tao blurted out. “No,” Sehun replied quickly. Tao’s brows furrowed, all hope disappearing from his face. “Why not?” This conversation felt like deja vu. “Because I don’t like coffee,” he lied. “Do you like lunch?” “Yes.” “Then how about we go get lunch sometime?” Tao tried again. “No.” “Breakfast?” “Wha.. -No?” "Dinner?” “Uhg. Tao, why are you so persistent?” Sehun asked, feeling exasperated and the start of a small headache forming. “Because I like you,” Tao’s answer was simple and embarrassingly blunt. “You don’t know me,” Sehun reminded him crossly. “Well, I could get to know you if you would give me the chance to.” Tao countered. Shit. Well, he wasn’t wrong. Sehun was silent for a long moment and considered Tao's offer, but he rejected the thought immediately. Tao wasn’t awful or anything, and in fact, it really wasn’t about Tao at all. Sehun was keeping himself guarded because he didn’t want to fall and trip on his face for another gorgeous, charming, funny guy again. Sehun looked down at the counter and avoided Tao’s face and the question. “If you don’t need anything then else then please go. I have to get back to work.” He spoke softly, barely a mumble. Because Sehun refused to look at Tao as he rejected him for the second time, there was no way for Sehun to see the hurt expression on Tao’s face and how Tao quickly covered it up with a small, frayed smile. “Alright. I’ll let you get back to work. See you around, Hunnie.” Tao grabbed his flowers and lunch pack and headed out the door. Sehun only looked up when he heard the door chime open then chime shut. Sehun went home exhausted that night.

#taohun #taohun fanfic #taohun fanfics #exo fanfic #exo fanfics #huang zitao #oh sehun #fanfics #LSiF #LSiF fanfic

1 note · View note

differentworlds-fiction · 7 years

Text

NICOLE

It was never my intention to give her the cold shoulder.

The sudden hiccup in communication between us was far from deliberate, yet my beloved maternal figure insisted otherwise.

I drew a line in the sand, Barbara concluded in one of the three-part passive-aggressive emails idling my inbox. A crippling sense of uncertainty riddled me the longer I pondered on what my reply should be. Responding back with a defensive tone would earn me nothing but a hostile talking to and me running the risk of potentially being motherless all over again. No matter how thorough the explanation and my reasonings behind failing to reach out by simply picking up the phone were, my behavior would always be deemed as ‘sketchy’.

I was on the losing end of the battle; criticized for the distance that had wedged between us.

“Our relationship is falling by the wayside because of your doing”, according to Barbara.

The statement like a harsh blow to the gut, weakening me more than she’d ever know.

Above all else, Barbara Dawson despised feeling slighted. And as mentioned in part two of her lengthy laundry list of discrepancies, we hadn’t spoken to each other in a month of Sundays.

Had it, been that long?

Sure enough, calls had been far and few between, much of that having to with the ironclad obligations taking up my schedule. In the instances where I wasn’t expected to tag along with Mya to dress alterations appointments or listening in on conference calls where the indecisive bride-to-be made changes to the reception menu, I enjoyed any bit of slumber I could take.

Being the close friend Mya Evans wasn’t the quintessential walk in the park as the public presumed it to be.

My fingers were set into motion across the phone’s hypersensitive touchscreen attempting to form some sort of response.

Silverware purposefully clanking together on the opposite side of the table prompted me to place my phone down altogether. I huffed inwardly, allowing my eyes to roam over the Caprese salad placed before me that had gone untouched. Soon the aimless din pervading Rosemary’s, an Italian hotspot for brunch located on Greenwich Avenue, became unbearable; a pair of eyes belonging to my recurring lay bore into mine.

Our shared silence bothersome, intensifying the moment he followed my stare downward.

Before I could raise my arm to pick the phone up again, he beat me to the punch and grasped it, placing it to the left of him soon afterward.

“You’re awfully quiet.” He observed, fiddling with the small portion of smoked salmon lingering on his plate.

“I’m always ‘awfully quiet'. That isn’t so out of the norm.”

He offered the barest hint of a smile; the fact that--more times than not--our lulls sufficed, resonated the longer we stared at one another.

Our relationship hadn’t been built on typical courting.

Screwing each other’s brains out and the routine outing for a meal where we happened to engage in what seemed like contrived small talk just for the sake of being polite was more our forte.

Two weekends ago, however, a dramatic shift was initiated.

I accompanied him to Complex’s cover reveal for their highly anticipated summer issue.

Solange Knowles, their cover girl, was in attendance.

Not mixing in with the crowd and taking those expected snapshots in front of a blow-up photo of the magazine cover, but DJing. Most of the partygoers, permalance journalists as well as digital content editors and record label bigwigs who tended to scope out unsigned talent at those particular events, stood around in disbelief -- flabbergasted at the carefree creative and how down to earth she turned out to be.

She was personable and coy, all while playing R&B songs from the nineties.

The sweltering rooftop gathering erupted in nostalgic delight that evening as classics from yesteryear livened the sticky summer air.

It was a night to remember for many reasons, the most significant basis being that it rendered a shift in my dealings with Troy. Although we were successful in the aspect of not labeling our circumstance as dating, his arm remained draped across the small of my back throughout the entire night. I could’ve chalked it up to him wanting his colleague to witness him acting chummy with a model, but I didn’t.

It felt genuine.

It felt right.

At the same time, it also petrified me; feeling at the very moment develop actual sentiments for this man beyond lust. I was beginning to crave him beyond the encounters within the confines of my home. I wanted to know him, wholly.

Shrugging away the flurry of thoughts cluttering my mind, I picked up my fork and dug in. In comparison to Troy’s need to eat with gusto, I ate with apathy.

“So do you plan on holding my phone hostage over there, or do you intend on handing it back anytime soon?”

“Eat first.” He instructed, indicating my full with his fork. “It wouldn’t hurt to go few minutes without it. You haven’t looked up from that thing since we ordered.”

“Something of great importance must’ve had my attention then.”

“Perhaps. What’s so important that we can’t engage in conversation while we eat?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” He let out a timid chuckle. “Humor me, Nicole.”

“My mother,” I spoke in an even tone. “Hill’s mother. I should’ve specified beforehand--”

“--But you look to her as a mother.” He gathered.

“Very much so. During my childhood, I acquired guardians. What the foster care would deem as remarkable or promising maternal figures. I had a ‘father’ too once. But Barbara Dawson is my mother. The only mother I’ve ever had.” The statement hung in the air for quite some time. Stolen glances substituted for words that failed to be expressed. Her piercing brown eyes bore into mine, longing to inquire about why a former lover’s mother had been my epitome of a maternal figure. “My biological parents were never in my life. If by some chance they were walking alongside me on the street, I wouldn’t even be able to tell you what they look like.” My attention drifted towards the table able, perusing the Alaia laser cut tote bag. Its white exterior embossed by numerous punctures reminiscent of lily-white doilies. “Up until my teens I was in and out of foster homes,” I murmured, “I harbor a bit of resentment and anger because of that.”

“Given your circumstances, you had a lot to be angry about.”

“Right.” I reaffirmed without saying too much.

I would’ve gone on a spiel about the young interracial couple in Woodhaven and told him that I was their little introduction into parenting. They treated me like porcelain--as if I came equipped with directions to treat with delicacy. By the end of my year-long stay, none of that mattered, anyway. The truth of the matter remained that whenever I reached a point of normalcy, it was ripped right away from me.

By my tenth birthday, Olcott Street out in Forest Hills became my new home.

Due to my firm assertion to call her everything but ‘mommy’, we never quite meshed.

A series of school fist fights landed me at Sister Gloria’s doorstep. Social workers responsible for the livelihoods of other children referred to the Astoria resident as a Godsend due to a number of foster children raised in her three-bedroom home. At one time I vaguely remember there being six children living there; three boys and three girls, including myself. All of us were expected to carry out daily chores once homework was completed. Wednesdays evenings were devoted to bible study. The running joke amongst the congregation Sister Gloria and her children never missed Thursday choir rehearsal; rain or shine, sleet or snow. On Sundays, Sister Gloria woke us all before sunrise to prepare us for morning service. Aside from hearing the good word she sought out that the seven of us would occupy the second row of pews inside the sanctuary, right behind the deaconesses.

I could’ve bored Troy into a thoughtless story about Sister Gloria and her ultimately ending my cycle of being passed from promising parent to promising parent. Though she didn’t quite fit the mold of the mother I yearned to have, I was blessed to have crossed paths with her.

“I’ve been through some shit,” I declared, “Internal shit. I’ve been through more foster parents throughout my childhood than you can count. It wasn’t that I was some difficult child looking to act out at any given moment. It was either they acquired too many children at once, or a pair of doting foster parents fresh out of pre-service training realized taking in some random child carrying wasn’t as easy as they perceived it to be.” I elaborated, lifting up my fork and placing a generous slice of mozzarella and basil. “You ever meet a person, and for whatever reason, you two just happen to click?”

“Sure.” Troy retorted sparingly, propping his head on his palms.

“Well, Barbara’s that person for me. From the moment Hill introduced me to his family, we clung to each other. And despite the fact that her son and I are no longer together, we’ve still maintained our relationship.”

“There was some uncertainty in your voice during that last part.”

Troy countered, his eyebrow-raising in suspicion.

“Was not.”

“Was so.”

“Eh,” I sensed where the conversation was beginning to shift eased down a bit in my seat, “How about I spare you the long-winded version?”

“Either way I’m all ears.”

Although he opted for either version, I refrained from dishing out too much.

Glancing at the practical wristwatch I donned, time was of the essence.

There was somewhere else I had to be.

Despite my best efforts to squeeze in an afternoon quickie, I was met with a docile kiss on the forehead; far more reserved than the ones we exchanged in the familiar setting of my apartment. “I have to run. Gotta finish this write-up,” He murmured against my skin, “Have fun at the bridal shower. Call me when you get back from the Hamptons.” We separated, rejoining only seconds after to kiss again.

My excruciating two-hour commute to East Hampton couldn’t have ended soon enough. Aside from fighting the urge to tell the driver that I wasn’t up for engaging in aimless conversation and being ill-equipped with nothing other than responding to work-related emails to keep me busy, regret set in the once a returning draft from the truck’s AC rushed against my skin.

Perhaps nixing a bra with the lace off-the-shoulder top I threw on at the last minute wasn’t such a good idea.

The SUV cruised onto the property along the stone pathway, parking under the porte-cochere supported by stark white columns.

Though he made the drive unbearable, I gave my thanks to the burly chauffeur and mentioned that I hadn’t to stay the whole duration of the party.

My mind was set on seeing Mya, handing her my gift, and leaving.

I arrived amidst a somewhat frantic transition from activities.

The host--chief editor of Blakewood Publishing Group and close peer of Mya--soon followed happy hour up with the gift portion of the party.

Subsequent to spotting yet another article of La Perla lingerie removed from a plain box, I decided I’ve had enough and ventured off, setting my sights on the bar.

That was, until, I discovered the bar located by the home’s waterfront entrance

At the bar, I indulged in a dirty martini.

One turned into two.

Two almost turned into three, but before beckoning over the brunette behind the bar for another martini, I acknowledged the set of eyes that had been peering over at me devouring an olive. “You’re staring?” I blurted out, sinking my teeth into the flesh of my bottom lip. Recoiling atop the lucite barstool, I pushed the empty glass aside with one hand, tossing the bare toothpick along with it.

“My apologies.” The woman with deep-set dimples uttered apologetically. The space between us lessened once she ditched her seat at the bar’s opposite end and claimed the empty seat beside me. “Eileen Darby.”

“Eileen Darby. Eileen Darby. I’ve heard that name before. Where have I heard that name? Ugh. Either I’m well past tipsy or my memory isn’t what it used to be.” I mumbled.

Delicate snickers floated through the thick air muddled with inebriated coos coming from the drunken pack of partygoers behind us.

A settled Mya sat clad on one of the multiple pieces of aqua patterned furniture, clad in a skintight midi dress that hugged every curve in her figure. Over low cut ‘do sat a personalized veil she was rumored to be given upon her early arrival; her forthcoming name change, ‘Mrs. Pratt’ was hand-stitched on its back in wide cursive.

“Media. You’re in media, aren’t you?”

“You can say that,” She pursed her lips into a thin line, nodding sparingly. “I worked in casting some years back but with some success, I’ve been lucky enough to executive produce a few hit reality shows.”

“Reality TV, huh?”

As the liquor sank in, a newfound courage emerged, fueling me to spar with a media juggernaut who force-fed dysfunctional behavior to the masses.

“Oh, a hmph from Nicole Warren. Interesting. Trust me I could detect the criticism.”

“That wasn’t criticism,” I paused, “Okay maybe it was. Could you blame a girl for having her assumptions about the madness you display on television?

“Entertainment.” She attempted to correct, earning a firm head shake.

“You consider drink throwing and belligerent women charging one another ‘entertainment’?”

“Personally no. But according to the average two million viewers any of the shows I’m the executive producer of, it is.”

“Is it really worth it though? What good is garnering millions of viewers every week when the castmates are being presented in a bad light because of the contrived situations they’ve been placed in?” I challenged, managing to not slur my words. My brow rose as Eileen and I engaged in a staredown.

Though I made it a priority to stay far from pursuing any form of reality television that involved an ensemble cast with ego inflated by meager accomplishments, I was hip to the behind the scenes antics production tended to pull on the individuals who hoped to establish themselves as household names.

The over-consumption of liquor during filming.

The contrived meetups with cast members that set the tone for anti-climatic squabbles that were always cut short due to on-site security.

In the grand scheme of things, none of the horrid behavior was worth the negative exposure.

“In some ways, it is worth it to these reality stars. They’re getting noticed-- some more than others, but still noticed nevertheless. It’s all about gaining publicity and getting the masses talking.”

“Early on in my career, I was told that all publicity isn’t good publicity.”

I learned that hard lesson in during London Fashion Week.

An after-party hosted by Burberry’s creative director left me sloppily teetering out into the paved streets with Hill guiding me into a town car parked nearby. The two of us were tossed into the throes of success at the same time and transitioned of those who were inexperienced to individuals who traveled out the country on a regular basis.

“Look at you, all drunk and shit...This ain’t you.” He reprimanded me like a parent reprimanded their child. “You’re gonna be plastered all over the internet by morning. Watch. Mark my words.”

Of course, I was too intoxicated to form a verbal reply then.

To acknowledge that I’d heard him I nodded just as my head hit up against the car’s window. Before a drunken cat nap pervaded me on the way back to our hotel, I remembered the slick utterance, “All publicity ain’t good publicity. Craig told me that.”

By that time I’d been just about sick hearing about the decrepit trainer he regarded as family.

Turns out he was right. By the morning, I was referred to as the runway model who couldn’t seem to handle her alcohol. For a week I was a public spectacle.

It was safe to say that that particular London Fashion Week, for me, was a complete dud.

I turned back to Eileen, shrugging Hill out of my thoughts. This time I traded in my tight-lipped smirk for a look of indifference.

“Maybe I shouldn’t judge all reality stars by lumping them all under the confrontational umbrella. But you have to admit they’re pretty extra. Are you okay with having your name attached to all that madness?”

She offered a halfhearted shrug, far too timid to outright answer at this point.

“Not all of my shows are centered around confrontation. I’ve co-produced a family oriented mini-series following a rapper and his family.

“Oh you mean the rapper doing damage control after his multiple affairs and secret children were brought to light?”

“Yes, but the show was still centered around family. The children he and his wife shared met the children he had outside the marriage.”

“After the mothers got into a heated argument in a restaurant parking lot.” I tutted.

“For someone to be walking runways and posing for ad campaigns, you seem to know a lot about my shows.”

“I’ve watched a few,” I confessed with an earnest shrug, recalling the four-month long hiatus I’d taken from modeling. Amidst keeping tabs on Hill as he ventured from city to city on a frequent basis and caring for myself I binged watched a marathon in awe at the behavior displayed. It was as if I were witnessing a trainwreck. No matter how much I wanted to look away, I couldn’t seem to turn the channel. “Petty fighting aside, I could see why the average viewer tunes in every week. I’m guessing you and whoever’s head of casting orchestrate the tangled storylines --”

“I’m afraid not. You’d be surprised how little production has to do with the storyline. Yes, we might set up a scene where friends may meet up somewhere to film together. And unbeknownst to them a rival of theirs may or may not have also been listed on the call sheet and mandated to show up for air time.”

“So you’re saying, you and your production staff have -- to an extent-- contrived storylines.”

“I won’t say yes, and I won’t say no. Can I ask a question?” She didn’t bother to hear my answer before starting up again. “Why do you have such reservations about reality television --”

“Not all reality tv, just the ones you’ve happened to have a hand in producing,” I quipped, easing the jab with a glib grin.

“Well, as an individual who strives to do better, may I ask what I can do in order to improve my programming?”

“I don’t work in television so I wouldn’t know.”

“But you do watch tv, my shows specifically.” She added, countering my petty jab with one of her own. “So tell me what can I do to improve my programming.”

Before dishing her the answer Eileen sought out to receive, I beckoned the bartender over and ordered another dirty martini. “For starters, you can tone it down on all the alcohol I’m certain the castmates are being provided. All that liquor only fuels bad behavior. And if the people on your shows are striving to elevate their careers to the next level, being filmed with a glass of whatever in your hand will hurt them unless are they’re looking to do business-wise is earn a collaborative deal with a bottom-shelf liquor brand. Another thing would be to allow genuine situations to happen. Not of that manipulated bullshit should fly, like ever. In a perfect world, production should let situations be organic.”

“Well said. Concise, even.” Eileen tilted her head. “Now if you were to be given a show what would be its premise?”

“I don’t know. Maybe me and a few of my girlfriends -- actual friends of mine by the way, not some people I halfway don’t know or like for the matter-- panning through our circumstances but also helping each other out at the same time. Sorting our own bullshit out, you know. Not in an unhealthy, belligerent way.”

“Funny. Mya said you’d say something like that.” Her hand adorned with gold plated midi rings motioned in Mya’s direction. “‘We’d been in close contact for some time now. I thought greenlighting eight episodes with the network about a show surrounding Mya Evans as she juggles the many hats of being a wife, career woman, and friend to an assorted group of women would be interesting. She wasn’t too fond of the other shows I’ve been attached to but she didn’t shy away from the pitch. We played with the idea of which of her friends would make it on. Your name was the first to be mentioned, of course. I think you’d be a great addition to the tv world.”

“Oh no, no, no…I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? Just imagine if you graced millions of viewers’ TV screen every week. Of course, they’ll associate you with being just another pretty face. But once you open your mouth and articulate yourself, they’ll fall in love with you.”

“Me? Of all people why me?”

Eileen sighed, tugging a sandy brown wisp behind her ear. “I don’t know you on a personal level and I’m solely going off of what I’ve read in magazines and seen in interviews. Women would reason with you--connect with you, especially if you let that prissy guard down of yours and actually open up.”

“Prissy?”

“Oh please! Has no one ever called you prissy? I’ve heard stories about you being quite the diva.”

“Assertive bitch--maybe. Classifying me as a ‘diva’ is a bit of a stretch.”

“Don't shoot the messenger, darling. I'm only telling you what I've heard from photographers and their people.”

I pursed my lips into a snide grin. “I may have had a few choice words for an unpaid intern or two in my past..”

”You’d be surprised how much gossip I’ve heard about folks in the entertainment industry that I don’t care to follow up with and determine whether it's factual or not.”

Somewhere between laughing at a joke and Eileen recalling a squabble on set where extra security had to resolve two women pulling each other’s hair out, Mya removed herself from the party’s epicenter and joined us at the bar. “I’ve seen you met Eileen.” She took a sip from her champagne flute, her other hand running down the ivory colored number she wore for today’s festivities.

Eileen cleared her throat and downed the last bit of the brown liquor on the rocks she’d been nursing throughout our entire conversation.“Yes, we’ve been having a little pow-wow over here,”

I tussled my wavy wisps. Mya’s eyes peered into mine, assessing whether there was something else on my mind, something that I wanted to say. Though our friendship hadn’t dated back as long as some of the women gifting her with the cliche silk monogrammed pajamas with her forthcoming married name on the back or high-priced jewelry Mya had the means of getting herself, she knew me well enough to know when I was holding back.

As Mya continued to assess me, Eileen stood up from the barstool and bid us farewell. We exchanged a firm handshake while Mya was quickly engrossed in a hug.

“So when were you planning on telling me about the reality show you’re doing with Eileen Darby?” I uttered the moment the cunning executive producer mingled with other guests.

“Eh, I hate the term reality show. It has such an ugly stigma. I prefer to refer to that project as a docu-series.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I quipped. “Why was my name brought up in that conversation? And don’t lie and say that it wasn’t because Eileen herself told me.”

“Can’t we talk about this sometime later? Like tomorrow when there are fewer people around.” She attempted to walk away, taking quick, eager sips from her champagne glass, but I reached forward and lightly grasped her arm.

“No, we can talk about this right now.”

“Fine. Follow me.” She spat. We ventured away from the party and headed up a flight of stairs that led to the home’s second floor. With each step made, our footsteps made corresponding clicking noises that echoed the further we trudged along the hardwood. Two wooden chairs bedecked with patterned cushions that looked to be far too firm were located at the end of the hall, along with a row of potted plants positioned by the wide, sun soaking windows. Mya and I engaged in a staring match for what seemed to be an eternity until she gave in and sat down, unfastening both of her sandals’ ankle straps, tossing the high heeled shoes aside before retrieving her glass again.

“I was offered the deal after my co-writers and I submitted a few chapters of the book. I wasn’t sure how word got out there but maybe a week after that I ran into Eileen and an OK! Magazine event. We exchanged numbers and maybe went out to lunch once or twice. She presented the idea. I was completely turned off by it. And from there, we began discussing who’d be a great fit for the show. And that’s that. Nothing else.” She spoke, tilting the champagne flute’s base upwards. “I haven’t signed off on everything yet. My attorney’s still looking over everything. But if I were to sign on, I wouldn’t begin filming until after my honeymoon.”

“Where do I come in at in this whole thing?”

“However you wish to come in at, Nicole. You don’t have to come in at all if you don’t want to. I’d respect your wishes. Convincing someone to do anything they have reservations about was never my thing. It’s your life and your reputation on the line. Television could make or break you.” She rushed out before taking another gulp of champagne. “I should be back in Manhattan a week after the wedding. Jason finally settled on a location for the honeymoon.” She said, her eyes beaming with enthusiasm. “It’s looking like Santorini for us, and thank goodness it is because he strongly considered the Maldives even though we just spent my birthday weekend there last March...” She blabbered on.

Unbeknown to her, I tuned out at the mention of the moment the Maldives were mentioned.

The South Asian island arrayed with more sandbanks that I could count was where Hill and I had spent our last vacation together. A three-day two-night stay in an overwater villa was followed by a two da yacht ride along the waters of the Indian Ocean.

We conceived there.

Our relationship reached its peak there.

The reason behind its demise, among other aspects, had originated there.

A reciprocated passion wasn’t the uncompromising issue.

Our displays of affection never dwindled, whether we were at odds or working out over the periodic rough patches of an overzealous dispute. Kissing, groping and heated lovemaking were constants that bound us; it was the glue that held us together--that joined us from the very beginning.

We were doomed from the start.

“Call me when you’ve thought it through. I guess I’ll present the idea to my other two girlfriends.”

“Hypothetically speaking, what happens after that?” Part of me wanted to prod around about the ‘other girlfriends’ that she considered to be part of the docu-series but decided against asking. Mya was fond of knowing the who’s who in the entertainment industry. From urban models to overly-privileged wives of record label execs.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to refill my glass. If I’m going to judge a damn contest based on which dress made of toilet paper is the prettiest then I need me a buzz.” She snickered before grabbing her heels and her glass. She paused and then reverted her gazed to me. “Thank you for the gift. No one’s ever gifted me with cooking classes before.” She said prior to hurrying back down the hall.

#Different Worlds #Different Worlds Fiction #fiction

11 notes · View notes

samanthasroberts · 5 years

Text

Pretty Little Liars Recap: Confessions Of A Mid-20’s Drama Queen

Welcome back to another week where I sit through my own personal hell, aka , and try not to put myself into an alcohol-induced coma. And shoutout to all the keyboard warriors who love to type shit in the commentsyall take this show way too seriously.

We start with Mona and Emily discussing Charlotte, who apparently stood Mona up the night of the murder. What kind of loser gets stood up by another chick at a shitty diner?

Emily is like and Monas like, uh no? I feel like thats pretty much the only answer you can give at that point. Emily figures that Mona changed her mind in the trial so that Charlotte would be out of jail and Mona could get to her, which is like real far-fetched.

Mona is like and OKAY thats a line straight out of .

Chris Hanson: Did you know that this was a 13 year old girl? Mona: I, uh, just came to talk to her.

Monas like *what would you do if your son was at home, cryin all alone on the bedroom floor.* and Ems like Monas like, well even if I wanted to kill her, she fucking stood me up so yeah. Of course, this whole conversation is overheard by A.

Aria is like,lets tell the police it wasnt me at the diner! Arias really seen some shit lately. She got burnt and questioned by the police. All Hannas had done to her is getting shitty room service food with a cryptic note. Spencer is like,

Lucas is back. Goddammit. Anyways, he overhears Hanna talking to weird ass Jordan on the phone, and is like Hannas like, Where are you gonna seat him Han? No one wants to sit next to the virginal weird kid from high school. You cant just mix the band geeks with the Plastics, thats not how this works.

Besides, there is this scenario:

Priest: Speak now or forever hold your pe- Lucas: MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Hanna is like, . Wear those ties Lucas, you look like a second place winner at a science fair. He tells Hanna that hes thinking of buying some factory and giving Rosewood a second chance. LOL rookie mistake.

Ali and Snaggletooth are being sexually aggressive in some shit bed and breakfast somewhere in bumfuck nowhere, East Coast. The Ali from Season 3 would have been honeymooning in fucking Paris rn. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Speaking of falling, Ali trips on her skanky heel and takes a tumble down the stairs, effectively knocking herself out. OKAY, did I not set that up just perfectly?

Alis in the hospital with a concussion, and Snaggle is like, you need to stay in the hospital. Shes like and its like, because thats how injuries work dumbass. The manager of the shit hotel is like and its like duh you know that shit is tampered with.

Ali: I was really happy before I fell, maybe this is my karma Snaggle: Thats not how the Universe works

ARE YOU SURE? Because pretty sure its an established fact that what goes up, must come down. Also, Ali its not karma, you just clearly dont know how to put one foot in front of the other and walk like a normal fucking human.

Snaggle is like, its an accident and he would know all about those, since his face looks like it was a victim of a tragic lawn mower accident. Ali decides to text her friends a selfie of her in the hospital, because concussion photoshoots, so hot right now.

All the Liars are like . They have 3 days to give up the murderer, because A is a psycho. All the girls are shit talking Mona and Hanna comes to her defense, because Hanna is like, such a good friend.

Aria and Ezra are getting ready to go to a dinner with their boss and Ezras talking about how he doesnt like the book ending or some shit. Arias like and that shit is about to go from an Ernest Hemingway to a really quick with Ezras freaky self.

Hanna goes to visit Ali in the hospital and Ali tells her she is going back to Rosewood when she can gtfo of this hospital. Ali has flowers all over the room, because apparently people like her, wtf?, and Ali says that they are all from Snaggle.

Of course, Hanna is looking at all the flowers and sees a very creepy card that has pictures of a staircase, and all of them on it. Either Snaggle is one fucked up dude, or A is just like, really a dick. Honestly, probs both. Obvi, Hanna steals the card.

Emily facetimes Spencer a video of Mona and Sara Harveys body guard dude chatting it up. Weve all seen , Im expecting some bodyguard three-way action ASAP. Also, how did Emily even remember that body guard? I watch this show every fucking week and make it a point to write down every flaw they have, and even I didnt remember this. Wow, I need to get it together.

Also, them talking looks like any relationship I have ever had: Mona talking shit and the dude sitting there looking awkward. Spencer and Emily follow the bodyguard when he leaves.

Back to Snaggle and Hans. Hanna is like, And Snaggle is like, Im sure you said the same thing about that B and B, you human chipmunk. Hes like and its like cough, cough, lesbianssssss.

Spencer and Emily follow the bodyguard and act like idiots on crack and pretend to hit the bodyguards car. Hes like uhhhh no its fine, and Spencer somehow manages to get information on the papers he is holding. I have seen better body guarding by the fucking preteens in Project X. Seriously who is this dude?

Spencer learns that the documents our shit security guard has are blueprints to Radley, because of fucking course. Do they just hand out blueprints willy nilly in this town? God I hate myself every time I watch this stupid fucking show.

Aria is reading Ezras newest chapter and it flashes back to a conversation with Ezra and Nicole. Ezra is begging Nicole to come with him, but shes like

Anyways, Ezra goes to his typical EZRA MAD, EZRA SMASH mode and basically yells at her and leaves fucking pissed off. And yeah, thats the last time he saw his girlfriend. One girlfriend you took advantage of when she was a teenager, the other you let get kidnapped by terrorists. Let that soak in.

Hes like , and Arias like,

Emily follows the bodyguard to a fucking ice cream truck? Wtf? And hes just casually sitting there, licking a Drumstick, when Sara Harvey drives up and gets something from him. Wait a second, she cant text and grip shit because of her hands, but she can drive? The streets of Rosewood are not safe. Maybe she was the girl who tried to run over Emily at the diner. She wasnt really trying to run her over, she was just making a very sloppy three point turn.

Hanna shows Caleb the staircase card. Caleb is like why did you come to me? And Hanna is like They decide to call As bluff, because that plan has worked every time before.

Spencer is on the phone with Emily, when she is greeted by her boyfriend and his ex. What a time to be alive. They act super weird, and then Hanna makes up some bullshit story about how she killed Charlotte. She starts crying to Spencer and Spencer is like YOOOOO THIS IS HEAVY SHIT.

Then Hannas like PSYCH and tells Caleb Well thats the stupidest shit Ive ever heard. Caleb is like and its like NO WTF HANNA DOESNT KNOW JACK SHIT. LITERALLY ANYTHING AT ALL. NOTHING. SHE KNOWS NOTHING. Why doesnt anyone understand this?

Aria and Ezra are at dinner with the editor and shes like, l Arias like and Ezra is like NAH I GOT U FAM, Ill have it to you by next week. Ezras that dick in every college class who votes against the deadline extension. There is a special place in hell for you.

Hanna and Caleb are pleading their case to Emily and Emilys like And for once, I agree with her. Spencer backs up Caleb and Hanna and is like, *under her breath* . This sounds like every parental argument.

Emily/Dad: We cant support our daughter moving in with her boyfriend Spencer/Mom: We need to support her, because if we dont shell work against us. And I want grandbabies!

Hanna is like and grabs Calebs hand very lovingly. Spencers like and its all v awkward. Spencer does what I would 100% do in this situationmake snarky jealous comments and guzzle a shit ton of red wine. I am Spencer, we are all Spencer (without the bangs, obviously.)

Emily also suggests they visit Ye Old Lizard King Toby and let him know about this whole shindig. Again, this idea never works out.

The editor lady tells her that Liam isnt on the team anymore and Aria is like, uhhhh okay. So I guess that relationship is pretty much dead. Good talk.

Spencer flashes back to a night with Caleb in Europe, talking about art and his foster homes or some shit. Yawn. For once, Spencer actually looks good in a nice dress. You did okay PLL wardrobe, dont get too excited over your one time you didnt fail.

Its a pretty pointless flashback, except it shows major sexual tension between Spencer and Caleb in Europe, which is like right after they both broke up with their significant others. See, I told you it was pointless?

Caleb goes to drop Hanna off at Lucas place and he asks Caleb on a very awkward man date. Below are the actual quotes:

Lucas: Do you lunch? Caleb: Uh, yeah I lunch. Lucas: Lets lunch!

A whole portion of dialogue that could have been summed up to we should get lunch sometime. Fuck yourself, Freeform.

Lucas shows Hanna the factory he wants to build and is like Shes like If she even THINKS her shit is going to be better than Clothes Over Bros, shes straight trippin. Lucas is like Bitches love companies.

Okay my high school friends will barely buy me a beer, let alone give me a fucking factory.

Ali has a dream of some kind and sees her mom, dressed in a fugly green top and with some bushy ass hair. I know they have leave-in conditioner in heaven, you lazy bitch. She tells Ali that Snaggle will take care of her and that she loves her, yadda yadda. For a loving mother, she also looks like she lowkey wants to strangle the shit out of Ali.

Mona and Sara meet up, the two sketchiest bitches on the block. Sara looks like Miley Cyrus if she ate herself and took makeup inspiration from a raccoon. Seriously there is like 6 pounds of eyeliner on this bitch.

Mona is like and Sara is like Sara is like, . Oh stfu Sara. You look like a balloon shaped like Nick Carter and your only friend is a dude who eats ice cream on a street corner like a fucking poverty stricken 6-year-old.

Ezra and Aria are having tea like a bunch of pussies and Aria drops the A bomb on him. She goes from 0 to 100 real quick and is like I HAVE TO END THIS.

Back to Ali and Snaggle. Lucky us. Ali tells Snaggle to go to his conference in Chicago and that when he gets back theyll resume their daily programing of boning each other (what a fucking gross mental picture.)

Caleb and Hanna present their shit idea to the group, who all agreeits a shit idea. Caleb is like . Hes getting awfully close to Hanna and Spencer looks like she is about to cut a bitch.

Caleb: This isnt a cheer-ocracy Spencer: Youre being a real cheer-tator, Caleb!

The plan starts by Hanna sending a message to A saying leave my friends alone and then a Carly Rae Jepsen-esqe version of Call Me comes on, while the binary code of her text shows up on the screen. A gets the text of that dumbass admitting to murder. Its about to go down.

div.body_middle_part_right .bodypart:nth-child(n+2), a.prevBody{display: none;}

Source: http://allofbeer.com/pretty-little-liars-recap-confessions-of-a-mid-20s-drama-queen/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/12/17/pretty-little-liars-recap-confessions-of-a-mid-20s-drama-queen/

0 notes

adambstingus · 5 years