#but oh the charming old fisher man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

your-nanas-house · 2 months

Text

She could be my "woman"

◇ Pairing: Robert Fisher X fem!Reader/ (future Robert Fischer X android!Reader)

◇ Warnings: angst, androids, security, fear, business, robots as "slaves"

◇ Summary: Robert fears for his safety and tries his luck with Y/n's business.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. FINALLY wrote the first part of the fic I mentioned months ago!

Robert chuckled at that.

"What is this, a movie?" he mocked, trying to lighten the mood, his light eyes staring at the old woman in front of him as if she was nuts.

He called her that day for a specific reason... his security and now she was talking about some weird futuristic stuff.

"I thought we were talking about a security system, not personal assistants!" He reminded her slightly annoyed by the situation.

When he didn't receive a response, he tried again with a softer tone this time.

"I can see why your granddaughter would need someone to try this out," he started, rubbing his chin with his long fingers, "...But I can hardly be her test case.... I can't believe androids are that advanced."

The disbelief of the young man was understandable and the older woman got perfectly Robert's point of view but was still a bit offended by the lack of trust in her... after all the years she had worked with his father.

"You're underestimating my granddaughter, dear. I tested them out as well...they do anything and if someone tries to enter your dreams they come inside as well working as your bodyguard there too" she informed him with a soft nod.

Security and assistance, Robert thought not believing at a word.

He raised his eyebrow surprised by the informations but still with the feeling of being made fun of. "This has to be a joke," he said, shaking his head.

"Your granddaughter created androids that protect you even in your dreams? I've heard some insane things in my life but that tops the cake."

And as words of mockery left his mouth he couldn't help but imagining it happen to him... Having someone watching over him even in his most vulnerable moments... it wouldn't be so bad.

After a couple of minutes in silence the older woman spoke again, her shaking and wrinkly hands put a note on his rich desk

"Think about it, if you need more information just call my granddaughter, she will be able to explain everything to you."

It wasn't a bad idea after all.

Robert looked down at the card in his hand, sighing. He had hoped to convince the older wise woman to work with him as well, but this was a nice alternative.

And as soon as she left his office he grabbed his phone, he read the number and then dialed it.

He couldn't waste any precious time and luckily for him, he didn't have to wait much.

A female voice replied after just a couple of rings, introducing herself as 'Y/n Y/l/n' exactly as he expected. She sounded calm and young.. probably in her 20s, her tone made him feel at ease and it was quite charming even though a bit awkward.

"Good morning, miss. I'm Robert Fischer... I had a meeting with your grandmother today and she gave me your number. I'll put my hands forward and tell you that I don't really believe in all this, it seems excessive and not very functional to me but... I have nothing to lose so I'm willing to try, and even if it is a scam, I'm pretty sure I could deal with it very easily. If you know what I mean..." Robert informed her with a calm tone, his hand busy playing around with his pen as his face remained tilted and rested against the back of his chair... serious as his business mask.

It was business after all, he needed some kind of security around him and the guarantee of being 100% safe every day.

"But I would like to know more about this androids" he quickly added after not receiving an answer, his heart strangely beating fast in his chest and his hand sweated anxiously

"Oh, sure thing. I can do that, are there any specific questions? Or would you like to receive the policy first?" the voice replayed softly, echoing now in his empty office.

He could actually hear her moving around, probably working or getting ready for something in a rush... not that he cared though.

At the questions Robert sat up in his seat, his grip tightened around the pen as he thought quickly before dropping it on the desk and let his light blue eyes travel towards the phone.

"I want to know everything. Starting from how they work, what they can do, where they come from and most importantly... how protected I am with them watching over me" The business man listed while staring intently at the object as if it would make Y/n reply faster at everything.

There was a soft music in the background, he could hear it, even if a bit muffled, and his mind focused on it, snapping back just when her voice interrupted the melody with her owns

"Well first of all I won't tell you how I created them. I'm not stupid, am I? They can do anything you want them to, they come from my cellar" she informed with a soft chuckle after apologizing and explaining to him the reason of the background noises.

"You are 99,9% protected, they have the ability to watch over you whenever you need or don't need. Not in a creepy way of course. They have the ability to enter your dreams if someone else does, so that they can protect you.... They are also loyal to their owners and you can set the program you prefer. There are a lot of different androids... each one more adapt for a situation" she explained with a more focused and professional tone, her knowledge and passion for her creations showing just by the seriousness of her speech.

She made it sound pretty acceptable and intriguing, leaving Robert silent for a moment, still and lost in his thoughts as he took in the informations. He honestly wasn't expecting such a comprehensive answer from her.

"They sound like the perfect companions," the man said, making an attempt at joking before asking her other questions, his hands already turning on his laptop

"What kind of androids are there, where can I purchase them and what sort of program do you suggest should be installed in them?"

It really was catching his interest, even if he didn't really believe in all the progress the science was doing lately... but he still was willing to try.

"Well... They are like puppies, Mr. Fisher. Like pets, without need to care too much for them. And it's highly depends on your situation and what I have down here." She explained while probably pouring herself a cup of something.

A moment of silence and Robert hummed lost in thoughts again, surprised and amused by Y/n's analogy.

"I'm glad that I won't have to worry about them too much," he murmured, rubbing his chin "And I'll happily take a look at what you have available. My main concern is my dreams, so what do you suggest to deal with that?" He murmured out, leaning back to stare at the ceiling and glance at the phone... she wasn't answering anymore but he could feel that she was thinking intently.

Then... her harsh words of truth came out "Your voice sounds lonely, you are probably sitting in a rich office, playing with something in your hand while you talk to me— I want to try to give you my first invention" the young woman declared cheerfully, making sure he didn't took her analysis as an insult before starting to explain again.

"I'm pretty proud of her. And I will make sure to deliver everything as soon as the payment is done also I'm sending you the contract so that you know that whatever the android sees it will remain between you and them" the young woman quickly stated, ready to say goodbye and hang up.

It was convincing... enough to bewitch Robert and his business mind, which was now fully engaged, even though a part of him was still cautious.

He wasn't really sure about allowing someone else to intrude so deep in his personal space and in such a little time. "How do I know that the androids and their recordings will remain private? What if they witness something... embarrassing or something that should remain fully private?" The man asked lowly, tapping his fingers against the rich wood of his desk.. he couldn't and didn't want to afford a scandal.

"I make you sign the contract because of that. I have no intention to look through all the memory. I just delete everything when their work it's done" Y/n reassured him sweetly with a soft chuckle, giving her availability 24 hours a day, 7 days a week in case of questions or problems.

Robert considered it all in silence, weighing his options carefully. On one hand, he was still hesitant about sharing his space with these things.

But on the other hand, they would be guarding his dreams, which was exactly what he needed. And their "mother" seemed trustworthy enough to make him take things further.

"I want to see the contract first," he stated thoughfully, adding after a small break of suspance "If I like its terms, I'm ready to sign."

And she already did, everything was in his laptop now. So Robert checked his emails, finding the contract attached.

He opened the PDF with a single click and began reading, his eyes scanning each word for any potential loopholes or hidden meanings.

After a few minutes of reading, he let out a sigh and printed it out, signing it before scanning it and sending it back to her along with a brief message:

"I agree to the terms, please start the installation as soon as possible. RF"

Since their call had ended just a couple of minutes before he could have finished to read it all.

Afyer that, the proceedings began and the young woman asked him a couple of personal questions, plus an address before reporting to him the date and the hour of the delivery.

'To: Robert Fischer, NYC'

Android n. 0.0'

138 notes · View notes

light-yaers · 2 years

Text

Lover: Chapter One

Chapter List | AO3 | Fic Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol and substance abuse, eventual sex/smut, mentions of death/cancer. 18+

A/N: hello hello!! so as said earlier, i have delved down a deep dark hole that i cannot get out of until i write this. this is a mini series based purely on the tv show characterisations, since i’ve not read the books! hope you enjoy xx

Word Count: 3.1k

Chapter One: reunited.

A thousand thoughts bombarded your skull as you walked around the side of the Fisher’s beach house in Cousins, but the main one was this—

Had it really been five fucking years since you were last here?

The summer you turned sixteen was the last holiday you ever spent here, only returning for Susannah’s funeral four years later, and now this. This of all things that you were still desperately trying to wrap your brain around; Belly and Jeremiah’s fucking wedding.

There was a part of you that knew it. Susannah had always said that you and Belly were destined for her boys, but during every summer before you left you were sure that she’d liked Conrad over Jere. You couldn’t wait to hear the stories. You couldn’t wait to simply exist with them again.

After everything that had halted your vacations here, after reeling and mourning Susannah away from them all; this was needed.

You needed to be back in Cousins with the Fisher’s and the Conklin’s again. Even if it might be the last time.

That was the hardest part to admit, for sure.

The path swirled around the back of the house, melting into the rest of the patio that surrounded the pool in the backyard. You remembered it all so vividly: nothing whatsoever had changed. This was the pool where the boys took it upon themselves to throw you and Belly into the cold water in the morning. This was the patio where you and Conrad sat after stealing a bottle of red wine from Adam’s wine cellar, chugging on the bottle and then stupidly deciding to rush down to the ocean for a late-night dip when you were teenagers.

The back door was swung open, music from the radio filtering out the back.

“Hello?” you announced hesitantly, and within seconds Jeremiah’s face popped out from the doorway.

“Oh my god,” he said first, before a smile the size of fucking Jupiter erupted onto his face. “Belly!” he exclaimed, before flinging himself down the back steps until you were within his arms.

Tears began fighting their way into your eyes, but you stopped them from forming. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to make this all the more difficult and heartfelt than you already knew it would be—

I mean... you hadn’t even seen Conrad yet. If you cried with Jeremiah and Belly, then you’d probably end up sobbing when you saw Conrad’s face.

Jeremiah held you tightly, squeezing you as if he wasn’t ever going to let go. He’d grown so much in five years, from the almost twenty-year old boy into a full grown twenty-four year old man; soon to be twenty-five. He was taller, bigger, bit still contained the same ferocious charm and love within his heart.

That would never disappear.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered, and you swallowed back the want to burst into tears. Instead, you pulled away, holding him at an arms distance.

“And I can’t believe you’re fucking getting married,” you let out, laughter bubbling between the both of you. “Did you get her a good ring?” you asked.

“See it for yourself,” Belly’s voice spoke up over your reunion, and your chest all but caved in. As your gaze scattered over her, you were hit with the realisation that she was no longer a child. All the prior grace and elegance she’d lacked at age fourteen was now replaced with a sense of herself that made you jealous.

Belly descended the steps until she was at your level; strong, beautiful, grown.

“Fucking hell,” the words tumbled from your mouth involuntarily. “You—you, you’re so—,”

“I know,” she interrupted you, smiling at you with gleaming eyes that made your heart hurt.

“You’re so beautiful,” was all you could say, coming towards her and taking her hands in yours. You spun her around once, before she catapulted herself into your chest. “You’re not a kid anymore, Bells,” you whispered.

“Neither are you,” she whispered back. She smelled like sandalwood, the staple scent that Susannah adored pumping into the beach house.

Even without stepping into the house, you could already sense her absence; this nagging emptiness that sat on a chair at the patio, on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, in the middle of the sofa clutching a cushion.

Your eyes found the doorway then, scanning the doorframe, scuttling across the windows, just trying to have a peak into the house to see if she—if someone—was in there. Steven, maybe. Or Conrad.

No, definitely Conrad.

As Belly grew, her crush on the eldest Fisher brother did as well. Her friendship with Jeremiah soared, as well. They were best friends, and now soon to be married.

You and Conrad had started off rocky. The two oldest kids in the house, butting heads and trying to one up each other, until the time you turned thirteen. That’s when the friendship had properly begun.

Nights on the beach, secret driving lessons in the golf buggies at the country club, playing chicken in the pool with Steven and Jere. Your relationship had blossomed into much more than the frenemy situation you’d started off in. When you left Cousins every summer, you stayed in contact. Whenever you were in the States, you made sure to visit him in Boston if you got the chance.

Those four years. Those four summers. Thirteen to sixteen years old.

That’s when Conrad was your favourite person in this entire world.

Maybe he still was.

Even after all this time. Even after the fight.

“He’s not in there,” Jeremiah said, shooting you a knowing stare. You frowned at him playfully. “He’s on the beach with Steven, and some friends,”

You let out a scoff. “Conrad has friends?”

“Shocker, I know,” Jere replied, coming over to snake a hand around Belly’s waist. The three of you looked out towards the ocean. “He’s been waiting for you to arrive for the past week. Everyday it’s when she gets here this and if she was here that,” he added, eyes scuttling over your face secretly. “He’s missed you,”

You breathed out slowly, ignoring the pain in your chest. “Yeah. That makes two of us,”

Walking down the dock to the beach, the pump of music and sounds of laughter got ever present. You’d never been to a bonfire on the beach; you’d always been too young; and it was crazy to realise that this was your first ever beach bonfire in Cousins. At age twenty-five. What the fuck.

You ignored your pounding heart as the dock slowly turned to sand, and slipped off your shoes when you stepped onto the beach. Your feet sank into the sand gently, as you strolled towards the circle of people in camp chairs and on inflatables.

You recognised Steven straight away, standing up to the right, arm draped around the shoulders of a very pretty girl. Steven had always been a stud, in his own special way. Like Belly, he’d also matured in a way that made the breath hitch in your throat.

You cleared your throat once, alerting some people to your presence. “Hey, nerd!” you yelled, and all eyes were upon you suddenly. Steven averted his gaze from his girl to you, and the realisation hit him like a truck.

“Oh my god,” him and Jere were still peas in a fucking pod; they even said the same fucking things. “Oh my fucking god!” he exclaimed, giving his girl a chaste kiss on her forehead before he flung himself across the beach towards you. His snarky and boundless energy was enough to make you buzz inside, copying the way he was all but jumping as he made his way over to you.

“You’re here! You’re here!” he yelled some more, wrapping his arms around you and bobbing you around in circles as his energy dispelled.

“Since when did you get so fucking tall?” you chuckled into his chest, struggling against the sheer size of the man before you.

“Same time my voice dropped,” he let out, pulling away. “It’s called puberty. You should look it up. Won’t be long until you go through it—,”

“Oh, fuck you,” you pushed him away playfully. “I was taller than you once, don’t forget that,”

“When we were twelve,” he chuckled. The inescapable feeling of happiness washed over you then, the same way the ocean washed up upon the shore. The fear you’d felt on the drive over from the airport felt silly now—

It was just Cousins. The place you’d grown up at. Surrounded by the people that saw you grow, and you them as well. It was just Belly, Jere, Steven and—

“Conrad’s swimming,” Steven said suddenly, leaning his shoulder against yours as he pointed towards the sea. “There,” you nodded once, taking in a deep breath. Steven immediately noticed your anxiety. “Five years, right?” he asked gently.

You nodded again, coming back to reality. “Yeah, five whole years,” you repeated.

“Take it from me,” Steven began, before gently laying his hand down on your shoulder. “He’s missed you more than he’ll let on,”

“That’s what I said,” Jere and Belly strolled up behind the two of you, peering out at Conrad in the ocean with you. “He’s been better the past few years, though. Who knows? He might turn back into the Connie we all grew up with,” Jere added, almost sadly.

“That would be a miracle,” Steven laughed once, crossing him arms.

“No,” Belly spoke suddenly. “I think you’re all underestimating him,” you shot a look at her; gently, thoughtfully, as her eyes danced across the ocean. “He’s been talking about you since we got engaged, you know?” Belly looked at you quickly, smiling slyly.

“You guys are scaring me more than I’m fucking scaring myself,” you let out nervously. Jere dropped his hand to your shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s just Conrad. He doesn’t bite,” he said, and you scoffed so loudly that it was lucky Conrad didn’t fucking hear you from the sea.

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” you chuckled, until you thought you might cough up a lung. It was useless stalling more, though. You had to face him sooner or later. You had to see him—and God—you wanted to. The days since you’d last hugged or talked Conrad Fisher were too many to even count.

You all watched as Conrad emerged from the sea, sopping wet. He pushed his drenched hair off his forehead, shaking himself off like a wet dog before he started walking up the beach. You took him in before you yelled. All soft curves and broader shoulders and a sharper jaw. He was the Conrad you’d always known, but he was also an image that you’d never know possible.

Conrad Fisher was grown up. Both of you were.

You whispered a peppy okay to yourself, before lunging forward playfully and exclaiming “Conrad Fisher!” through cupped hands. He looked up suddenly peering around the beach until he saw who was calling his name. “You’re late!” you added, and his gaze finally found yours.

When he stopped abruptly, you thought you were going to throw up. You started walking towards him slowly, skirt fluttering in the ocean breeze and hair flying all over the place. You stopped when you were no more than twenty meters from each other.

He was the first to smile. Your heart skipped.

“I’m late?” he replied, shouting without dignity across the beach. Everyone watched with bated breath, ready to witness you and Conrad reuniting after so fucking long. Confusion covered their faces—none of them knew who you were, same as yourself. Conrad started stomping across the beach towards you. “You’re five fucking years late,” he boomed.

You shot him the cheesiest smile possible, hands behind your back, leaning forward slightly in the signature pose of the guilty. “Who’s counting anyway?” you said, lower this time, as he stomped his way closer and closer to you without any indication of stopping.

“I am,” he said strongly, all eyes on him. His face was stern, his jaw clenched, his fists balled. God, maybe he was pissed off. Severely, really, angry.

“Okay,” you said, panicking suddenly as the gap between you both was starting to diminish very fast. You raised your hands, as if a gun was pointed at you. “I can explain—you know I can explain. We can talk this out,” you pleaded jokingly, but the line between playful and real was starting to fade.

You couldn’t read Conrad’s emotions anymore, not this soon anyway.

Ten meters between you was all that remained.

“It’s too late for explanations,” he replied, as the frown on his face slowly began upturning into a smile.

“Then—a bottle of red wine with your name on it?” you suggested.

“You’re not drinking your way out of this one, idiot,” he shut you down.

Five meters to go. You were so close now that, if you reached out, you could touch him; soaking wet skin and all.

“Then, then—,” you started clicking your fingers incessantly, but his strides only got longer, until he started jogging towards you. You took a few haste step backs. “Hey, now—Conrad—,”

“I have an idea for your penance,” he said, and he started sprinting.

“Hey—,”

“Belly flop!”

You started running before he’d even finished speaking, but it was far too late to beat him now. He was on your tail already, just am arm’s length away from grabbing your top and pulling you into his arms—which is exactly what he did.

He grabbed you by the waist, snaking his arms around your torso as he picked you, kicking and screaming, from the ground. He didn’t let up, not even when you squirmed in his arms and tried to push yourself off of him.

All the while back down the beach, he laughed as you tried to beg and plead your way out of this. The others looked on in awe, bar Jeremiah, Steven and Belly immediately rushing down to the beach to get a first-hand view of this ordeal.

“Conrad—Conrad!” you yelled, but to no avail.

“Five fucking years,” he kept saying it, over and over again as if trying to remind himself that he should be mad at you, but the smile in his face and the chuckles on his lips were enough for you to know he wasn’t at all.

“Put me down!” you screamed, bursting out giggles as he shuffled you in his grip, until he was holding you bridal style.

“Okay,” he said smartly, treading into the ocean until it reached his waist. You scrambled in his grip, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and trying to climb up higher on his tree length body. He clutched onto you tightly, sending silent chuckles into your ear as you were all too aware of the cold water beneath you.

“No, no, no—keep holding me—keep holding me!” you urged.

“I thought you wanted me to put you down?” he said smugly.

“I take it back—I take it back!” you begged.

“Rules are rules,” he said finally, as you looked back at the beach to see Steven with his phone out, filming the entire ordeal.

“You put that fucking phone down, Steven, or I swear to God—I’ll give you a wedgie as bad as the one I did when we were fifteen!” you shouted at him, and Conrad’s full laughter finally came out to play. You bobbed up and down in his arms, as his chest shot out chuckles of full belly laughter.

He turned back to the beach, just so everyone could get a good look. “Ready!” he yelled. The three of them on land cheered instantly.

“Fuck you, guys!” you yelled back.

“Together,” Conrad whispered, and you internally readied yourself.

“Wait—,” you began, but it was far too late. Conrad dropped himself to the floor, clutching you in his grasp until you were both under the water. You yelped in his arms, trying to squeeze out of his grip as you held your breath and felt the cold water cascade over every fucking inch of your skin and clothes.

He didn’t let you loose, though, but kept holding you as firmly as when he’d first picked you up.

Emerging from the water was the stuff of nightmares. Your hair, clothes, body, was drenched, along with Conrad himself. He shot himself back up to standing, laughing as you struggled in his grasp to get wet hair out of your face. When he started walking you back to the beach, you didn’t want to think about how heavy you’d be now—thanks to all the extra water weight.

As soon as you hit land, you jumped out of his arms, immediately falling to the ground and breathing heavily. “It’s so fucking cold!” you yelled, but the happiness on your face was apparent. Conrad laughed behind you, clutching his torso as he bent over slightly.

“Welcome back,” he let out breathlessly.

You forced yourself to standing, trying to ring out some of the water in your skirt. “I bought this skirt for the wedding,”

“Didn’t Belly tell you?” Conrad began, coming forward with a colossal smile on his pretty boy face. “You’re a bridesmaid,” Conrad glanced over to Belly on the beach behind you, winking smugly. Your eyes widened, as you turned round to her.

“What!” you screamed so more, but the breath in your lungs was running out fast from all the laughter you’d fucking produced.

“You’ve got a dress fitting next week,” she replied, as Jeremiah took hold of her hand. Steven was scrolling through his phone, looking at all the footage he’d just got.

You turned back to Conrad, shivering slightly as the breeze hit your wet body. He saw you shake, and let out an abrupt scoff. “Are you happy now, asshole?” you said playfully.

“I’ve never been happier,” he smiled.

“Sadist,” you let out, hugging yourself as you dripped water onto the sand. He came up behind you then, placing a gentle hand on your back. That alone made you shiver again.

He peered down at you fondly, hair covering his eyes slightly. “Come on, let’s go change inside,”

You shivered all the way to the beach house. Halfway up the dock, Conrad draped his arm around your shoulder, prompting you to hug his waist. You leaned your head into his shoulder, relishing in this closeness after so long.

“Five years,” you whispered, squeezing him affectionately.

“Five fucking years,” he repeated, peering down at you softly. Nothing more needed to be said.

He’d missed you more than you’d ever know.

680 notes · View notes

tsitpforever · 2 years

Text

Y/n and Conrad’s Wedding

Warning: Mention of drinking, kissing, extreme cuteness, loud music, flashing lights,dancing, screaming

Also: This is just a story of how the wedding would have gone with Belly in YOUR perspective. It mentions the scene while Belly and Conrad dance on the ocean, but their are more details after. Instead Belly, Conrad, and Jeremiah are all siblings. Steven is your brother.

I hear someone walk into the room.

“Conrad if that’s you, you need to go I need to start getting ready for today,” I tell Conrad.

“Aww come on y/n, just a kiss,” Conrad begs. I pull off the blanket from on top of me and Connie runs up and kisses me. “Mm your going to look so beautiful,” he whispers into my ear. Fifteen year old me would be freaking out seeing Conrad and his soft side. It’s adorably cute, but I need to start getting ready. “Connie you need to go,” I say while pushing him out. Then Belly pops out of nowhere. “Time to get readyyyy,” Belly says looking all excited. “And time for you to leave,” she tells Conrad who’s still waiting at the door. He kisses me and then I push him out for the second time. “Belly I’m so excited, I get to marry Conrad the most handsome man alive,” I say squeaking to Belly. “Yes my brother is charming like that,” she says with a wink. I love Belly so much.

I insisted on having everything done at the beach house, including the wedding. I know Susannah would have loved my decision regardless. In my room I had gotten my hair done by Belly, and my makeup done by my mother. “Oh y/n Susannah would have loved to see you right now. You look gorgeous.”

Everyone always knew I was destined for Conrad, including Susannah. I had trouble deciding between the fisher brothers, and it was a rough path but here I am about to marry Conrad Fisher. “Thanks Mom, and didn’t you say Susannah left me a couple special things for my wedding?” I ask recalling Susannah’s last moments. I see my mom begin to tear up. They were best friends, in fact they were soulmates. Laurel and Susannah forever. “Yes she did. In fact let me go grab it right now.” They wedding is starting in just a couple hours, and Steven, Dad, Jere, and Adam were setting up everything outside. Hopefully the sunny weather will carry out until the wedding. Mom walks back into the room. I feel my eyes watering. I wipe quickly before my makeup gets ruined. It was an envelope and some jewelry. “She wanted you to read this note the night of your wedding, and to wear the jewelry.” The necklace and earrings shined. They were beautiful. “Thanks Mom,” I say then I whisper, “I love you Susannah”.

I put on my dress, then clip the earrings on and slip the necklace onto my necklace. I twirl in the room, smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt. Mom helps me put on the veil, and Belly fixes up the dress and touches up my makeup. She also looks beautiful as always. Belly is also my very gorgeous maid of honor.

It’s go time. I walk down the stairs, giving the bridesmaid a first look. Everyone oohs and she’s. “Damn y/n looking sexy as ever,” Nicole shouts. Everyone laughs. I met her at the deb ball when I was 15. Then the groomsmen walk in. I hear whistles and clapping, I smile and twirl around. Then my dad and I hook arms and Mom opens the door. The sun shines bright into my eyes. The decorations look amazing, thanks to my family, friends, and Taylor my bff. We reach Conrad and my dad lets go. Conrad’s eyes water, and so do mine. I say my speech and so does he. “I declare Y/n and Conrad Fisher husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” and we kiss. I feel confetti and hear cheering all around. Conrad twirls me around, all while the sun beautifully sets.

“Hey Y/n, I have an idea just follow me,” Conrad says after everyone congratulates us and heads inside. We have a few minutes before everyone expects us inside. “Ok,” I say giggling like a little girl. We run down to the beach, and it begins to rain. Conrad picks me up and twirls me around. “I swear if you throw me in for a Belly flop, your going down with me handsome.” Belly flop was something we made up when Belly was little, and it occasionally happened to me. Conrad,Jere, and Steven would through us into the pool each time I came for the summer. It was tradition. “Then I guess we are going down baby,” and he throws me into the beautiful ocean. I laugh and we kiss. “We need to hurry up and get changed for the dance Y/n,” Connie says.

We run back from the ocean, dripping and water and my makeup completely ruined. Conrad stops and just stares at me. “I MARRIED THE MOST SEXIEST WOMAN ALIVE,” he screams and kisses me. We get back to the house, and quickly change. Finally party time. Me and Conrad do the first dance in my second dress, which is a subtle yet beautiful blue, with my hair up and wearing a flower crown. Then everyone starts dancing, or begin to get snacks. I head over to my girls. We shotgun beer, eat amazing snacks, and jam out. I swirl, and twirl around and then I grab Conrad. Time for our coordinated dance. The DJ switches it up to our song, and we start our dance. Everyone goes wild, and confetti is everywhere. After we finish, Conrad grabs me and holds me over his head while spinning.

Everyone leaves, and mom says she’ll clean up with everyone else in the family. Connie wants to go on a drive in my VW Bug with the roof open. We drive with slow music on, holding hands. I look up to the sky, and I feel happy. “I finally gave you the moon and the stars. Infinity,” he whispers and I kiss him. Then I look down and my Infinity necklace, and that moment I decided to read Susannah’s letter, and so does Conrad.

#tsitp #tsitp conrad #tsitpedit #conrad x belly #isabel conklin #lola is so cute lol #christopher briney #wedding #pov #conrad&y/n #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp fanfic #tsitp x you #tsitp x reader #tsitp imagine

77 notes · View notes

kylejsugarman · 1 year

Note

top 10 most hated movies go

oh jude u understand my haterdom :') in no particular order.....

"the open house": netflix's low to mid-budget horror movies tend to be resoundingly boring with occasional glimmers of cleverness but "the open house" is genuinely one of the worst modern horror movies. at least "the bye bye man" had some unintentional laughs: "the open house" is one of the dullest, darkest, most boring excuses for a film ever made. it doesn't even have an ending, as if its expecting its audience to have fallen asleep before then and absolving it from coming to a real conclusion. AWFUL.

"escape from tomorrow": im not the biggest fan of jenny nicholson and her content, but she absolutely nailed it with her video taking down "escape from tomorrow". its an embarrassing ego trip with no semblance of story or thematic integrity. how can u secretly shoot a movie at disney world and be such an incompetent filmmaker and storyteller that the most interesting part of said film is the overdubbing of characters saying "neosporin" to avoid getting sued

"spencer": truly dont understand what the fuck anyone was on in applauding this film. "spencer" is basically "the haunting of sharon tate" with an arthouse filter over it. kristen stewart isn't a genius, this film was a depressing and embarrassingly voyeuristic slog, and i hope we all die

"la la land": a circle jerk about old hollywood masquerading as an "ode" to the movies and old movie musicals. pasek and paul need to be barred from the industry for their horrendous songs and chazelle should be ashamed of this masturbatory piece of insubstantial garbage that frames white mediocrity and paper-thin romance as the pinnacle of cinema. also it's just racist as fuck

"split": m night has made some awful movies and i have problems with almost all of them, but jesus christ, "split" is truly fucking vile. even putting aside the obvious demonization of personality disorders and james mcavoy's laughable performance, it's a boring, uninspired slog with a screenplay written on a fisher play laptop. also the theme of horrific trauma being something that makes u Special and intrinsically a Survivor?? kys

"the polar express": this one's a little irrational, ive just always hated this movie even as a kid. the cgi isnt just creepy, its so muddled and lifeless that it can't distract from the interminable running time. this movie feels 4 hours long and its like getting ur teeth drilled the whole time.

"the sandlot": this movie exists solely for men in their forties to reflect on and say "they don't make kid movies like this any more". it is so unbelievably grating and pointless. im biased because baseball is my idea of torture, but id rather sit thru 16 hours of "minions" content than watch one scene of this kids' "classic".

"easy A": idk WHAT people see in this one. i dont find a single aspect of this film charming or clever or funny, it all feels so shallow and wink wink nudge nudge aren't we SO clever for turning THIS teen stereotype on its head?? there are a lot of "subverting ur expectations!!!!" movies from this era of late late 2000s-mid 2010s that i really dislike, but "easy A" is just the pinnacle of insufferable.

"the breakfast club": this might inspire some hate but i despise this film lol. i dont care that its a seminal work or whatever, it is so crushingly unfunny and boring and filled to the brim with unlikeable characters. in the same vein as "easy A", none of this film is charming or clever and even giving grace to the more Outdated aspects of this film, its a grossly obnoxious, unengaging flop that thinks it's saying Something.

"a serbian film": look. we could sit here for hours debating the necessity of this film and what it says about censorship, especially in eastern europe, but at the end of the day, this is a cold, uncreative shock film that indulges in its own depravity. im not above fucked up movies with depraved elements, but "a serbian film" seems manufactured, not created in its depravity. also it perpetuates the myth of the "porn to snuff pipeline", which is a huge issue with a lot of films of this ilk.

#odekirk #ask #syd squeaks #oh good this is so fucking long lol #anyway I LOVE being a hater

7 notes · View notes

armyhome · 10 months

Text

(Un) Perfects | Beomgyu

⇢ summary: Lilo is a complicated girl, but also is Beomgyu and the journey of both are a mess.

⇢ pairing: Lilo x Beomgyu.

⇢ a/n: hi my people, it's being a long time since lost in your love story right? well i was really trapped in this thing called adulthood, it's sucks i know, but for me is always better then anything i lived while i was a tennager, i'm working on that on therapy I promise, which is why this story came to me, I think, here you will find deep things about me, so please don't judge... too much... ok?I know we live in a plastic society today, where everyone is so perfect and lives those perfect lives, but in this story everyone is (un)perfect, like me, so I'm showing the most human that my perfectionism allowed me to be, hope you all undertand.

Chapter 1: Attention. Chapter 2: Ditto Chapter 3: Hype Boy

Chapter 4: OMG

Beomgyu's POV

Lilo gives me a lilac turtleneck shirt, and Soobin gives me his blue blazer, while Hueningkai pretends make my hair without care that Lilo wasn't speaking with him, unless directly.

"I will pretend I didn't notice that you are making my look the bissexual flag hyung" I jokling accuses him, and he smile at me.

"Talking about bisexual, you need have a serious conversation with Taehyun oppa" Lilo look at Soobin "I have stalking him, he seems interest on this guy" She sighs "I don't know all the details, but if you could open that old gay binary mind…"

"It will be my plesure" Soobin responds "Okay now let me look at Beomgyu" I stend up.

"You look stunning" Hueningkai says.

"Thanks" I feel my face burning.

"Let us see the boy again" Lilo asks, and I show his picture, was the first time I would go on a romantic date on cinema and all stuff like dinner, I was shaking inside. Soobin looks at the picture, so he looks at Lilo, and than me. without say and word, I know everything he wanna say.

Oh. My. God.

Lilo Fisher will drive me insane, and for some reason, I don't wanna her to stop since that kiss I feel like I was orbiting around her, was everything about her, my worries, my laughs, my fears, and if that feeling wasn't about her, I would share with her without a second thought, this witchcraft heavy shit, that's the only explanation. But god, listen to me, I'm the gayest person you delivered in the year I was born, why I'm kissing only boys that look like Lilo now?

"Here, use this necless" Lilo put around my neck, the perfume on her wrist was so good, that make me think about kiss her arm "This charm will give you luck" Was a tulip charm.

"I know it will"

The date was really good, Mark was a cool calm guy, that like literature like me, enjoy videogames like me, have great playlists, and amazing taste for movies, he holds my hand while we walk on street, and let me at Lilo's house at the end, because I lied about have forget my paperwork with a friend. But I just need talk to her before I sleep. When I lay on her bed, she was finishing math homework.

"How was your date?" She asks without looking at me, Lilo looks so cute using glasses.

"You never ask about my dates, what's wrong?" She give me her cellphone, showing a photo, of Yeonjun and Ariel at the same cinema I was, oh lord Me and Mark were in the back of the picture.

"I should be thankful that you choose someone that looks like me" She sighs "My idea is not fair to you bear, maybe we should end this fake dating thing" Those words make my heart tremble "You need to be happy in a full way…" Maybe I would be the first gay man in this world that would cry about a woman's fake romantic love.

"Maybe, I'm being too selfish with you, because I feel so comfortable with you, is like breath…." We laugh at my words, because never, even in our wildest dreams we could imagine becoming such good friends.

"If we break up what I would tell everyone?" She lays by my side on the bed, using my left arm as a pillow, and automatically I start to play with her hair.

"The truth" She simply says "I really don't mind, Ariel can think whatever she wanna, or maybe you're the kind of person that doesn't care about others' gender identity, like Soobin oppa" Her words click something inside of me, and I close my eyes to absorb "You seem sleepy, wanna take a nap before going? I can be the big spoon this time…" I turn my back to her, so she could dovetail on me.

"Are you not sad anymore, I mean because of Yeonjun and Ariel?" I ask carefully.

"I'm sad, I'm mad, and if Ariel posts that one more time that song I'll end up punching her, nothing makes me angrier than a withe girl telling a non-withe person that they wanna be on their skin…I think what hurts me more is because we were friends," She sighs "Yeonjun will be always my first love, but not my last, he keeps trying to stay in touch with me but I don't care, sometimes I wanna print every single message and post just to make Ariel suffer" I can't hold my smile, she was so brutal and honest "And you, how are your feelings about Yeonjun?"

"I'm used to seeing him dating, so nothing new, the good part is that this time I have a partner in crime…" So Lilo lay her head com my back.

"You know, we should do something fun, do you like horror movies?"

"No, I hated it, what about romcoms?" She will never convince me to watch horror movies, never.

"Only if they're Hong Kong 90's romcoms…" I turn to look at her, why her brain was so weird?

"Why do you have to be so specific?" She smile and press play, and one more time she was right, the'res magic on those movies that we don't see so much often,

So Lilo sleep on my arms, snores softly, I need to record to proves her later, this woman always saying that she didn't make a sound sleeping, but when I unblock my phone Soobin just have dropped a message that was almost a bible, so many words oh lord.

binnie: hi bear, how was your date? i hope that everything has being just great and that you found in mark your soulmate, but just in case you don't i must to say something, even kai telling me not to do, i know is not my position to do, cause my background is so differently of yours, since i was younger never make sense like just one, and when people tell me to choose, was too late hahaha', and in my case is so much more about affection than atratction, but you don't have the same luck, what make me think you may have the impression if you love Lilo in a romantic way, would make all those atrocities that you homophobic biological progenitor said about cure thruth, but love Lilo will not make you less queer I promise, this is part of who you're, and if you need to talk, i'm here, i love you young bro, and all of us will always have your back.

I can't control my tears as the same way I can't control my feelings, that night I sleep hugging Lilo, and I never slept so well like I did on her bed.

#txt fanfic #beomgyu imagines #txt #choi beomgyu #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fic #beomgyu #choi soobin #soobin #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #hueningkai

4 notes · View notes

organic-guacamole · 3 years

Text

showtime

episode 211 let's go

ok first of all, this is the second to last episode guys... I don't even wanna think about how much pain I'll be in after next week's episode

mr mazzara doing the recap-

this is so weird to me and I don't know why

WHY DIDN'T YALL JUST ASK BENJAMIN FOR HELP, THATS LITERALLY HIS THING

is Nini giving out the cards a callback to season 1 when Natalie Bagley said that Nini gave her a card or something on opening night of another musical?

STEPHY AS THE ENCHANTRESS OMG YES

Ricky in the crown gives me Harry styles in that photoshoot vibes

he's so pretty.

ok but why did we never see Ricky and Ashlyn interact before? it's been like 5 seconds and I already love how they bounce off each other and it's just so natural

OH THEY REALLY DON'T HAVE ANY UNDERSTUDIES-

well that explains a lot...

so Ricky fell on top of Ashlyn and all that broke for both of them was their wrist-

insert Jake Peralta *coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool no doubt no doubt no doubt*

of course howie was amazing as the beast, were we expecting anything less??

Ricky is so beautiful and I will not shut up about it....

let me enjoy this before the makeup crew slaps mud on his face.

Nini and Ricky talking to eachother? in a civil manner? wasn't she avoiding him just in the last episode? hm ok

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THEY CANT EXPRESS THEIR FEELINGS JUST LIKE ME HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS HILARIOUS, WHATS NEXT? THEY CUT EVERYONE OFF CUZ THEY CANT HANDLE EMOTIONS? ...ha

yes Kaden and Rico, my favourite east high boys 🥰

I mean....where's EJ?

THERE HE IS

EJ AND GINA IN THE BACKGROUND... doing something idek

KOURTNEY'S MOM IS BACK YAY

Howie is a shining star, ofc ofc

the smallest fOrk

can't wait to see the fork burst into song about how she deserves more than to be used to eat salad😌

the duster and the bluster.... ok😃

hi Gina!

hi- oh wow I didn't know Robbie Rotten was in this show!!!!!

the portwell look.

that my friends, is a married couple's look✋

GOSH EJ WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU

aww Gina's so excited for this

D word?

Die?

Delicious?

Dom Toretto?

"good, clean fun all alone with someone I dig...a lot"

sir that does not sound very clean to me

SEBLOS

Seb looks so cute standing there next to pope Carlos

DID THEYEY REALLY LIGHT ANTOINE ON FIRE-

I NEED TO SEE THAT

Seb's reading Carlos better than big red read the script in episode 102, this is great development after the "fight"

Kourtney really just made the best outfit for herself and let the rest of them suffer

the way Gina immediately goes to hold on to EJ after the announcement

"tonight we're going to put the U in UTAH"

...

"hey where are you from?"

"TAH"

SEB'S SINGULAR CLAP KILLED ME-

he's officially salt lake city's resident thanos

just wity clapping because for some reason I have a feeling he doesn't know how to snap his fingers...don't ask why

Ms Jenn do you mind encouraging your leads before the show? idk just an idea

pepto bismol product placement smhsmh

those flowers are bigger that big red himself-

*bops along to the opening theme*

that whistle at the end slaps everytime

WHY IS THE AUDIENCE SO MASSIVE

I guess they're all here to see Ms Jenn go on as a fork after Nini decides to *go her own way*

wow i am so funny

so they couldn't do many group scenes cuz of covid, but this 300 person crowd is cool? nice

OO THE VIOLIN GIRL FROM EPISODE 6 IS IN THE ORCHESTRA

HOWIEEEEEE

"Mr Caswell", he said, in the loudest voice possible while backstage at a show that's about to start.

Mazzara what are you trying to pull-

I usually like Benjamin but I don't like his tone

"iS yOuR wHoLe FaMiLy HeRe?" LIKE YOU DON'T ALREADY KNOW THATS A SOFT SPOT FOR EJ

"we've had some good conversations these past few weeks"

right so what's going to happen after you graduate?

what does he think of you not going to Duke?

what did he say about you giving the sweatshirt that's been in the family for 3 generations to a girl you're not even dating?

good old Mr. M

therapist Mr. Mazzara, they all need it.

start with Ricky though.

"Michael Bowen"

dude why did you shave, now you look less like "hot lumberjack" and more "creep at the gas station"

OH-

does she not like Mike anymore?

why does it sound like jennzzara started dating and now they just sit back and talk smack about everyone in their freetime

break the fourth wall-

uhhhh im scared

why am I scared

he's scary

hehe flowers for Ricky, obviously for Ricky, ObViOuSLY

oh boy poor Michael

this man is in love, rip

why does Ms Jenn always look at people with her eyes open so wide

LILYYYY

I'm only excited because I really like the idea of lily and Ricky being friends, nothing more.

ha this guy's got jokes

a MOAT AROUND THE SCHOOL

wheeze

also he's very pretty.

"the wolves and very talented humans"

how dare he forget to mention the very talented wolves and normal humans, smh erasure

"being nice, what a concept" ted talk by Lily who still doesn't have a last name

did she just say lol out loud

same with the hug emoji last episode-

go touch some grass babes

the way he didn't say no, but said he didn't know how the east high kids would react-

not saying he does want to date her but that's an interesting thing to think about, also another thing to write an essay analysis on just to leave it in my drafts for a few months

awww lily genuinely trying to help him

sorry guys, I've been taken by the Lily charm (didn't know it existed until now but oh well)

REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I'LL NEVER SHIP PORTWELL?

just look at me now

the Lily wink I can't she's so cute-

HELP ME I'M BEING HELD HOSTAGE BY LIL-

David Attenborough?

oh nvm it's Benjamin narrating the show in a really weird British accent for some reason.

STEPHY GOT MORE LINES YAY GOOD FOR HER

also is this to show that Nini doesn't care about being the star of the show anymore? the way she's supporting everyone else even though she's a fork?

I would pay for a special of the full musical ngl

OOO THE TRANSFORMATION WAS SMOOTH

shockingly

yo where did the makeup come from

man I wish I was a theatre kid

THIS IS STEPHY'S EPISODE NOW IDC✋

my girl is starring

"needs an X-factor"

Simon Cowbell creeps in

"it's a yes from me"

and them boom, he takes Nini and mistreats her horribly and then she comes back to theatre after deciding music isn't for her👍

"I thought she just hog-tied him?"

don't ask sebby, it's better if you don't know.

imagine they spotlight the wrong person and this dude is just some random person that likes writing down stuff during shows.

Ms Jenn just let them do what they rehearsed (at some point we never saw) or else this is gonna end horribly wrong

"help"

same Carlos, same

I love how seb is just his translator rn

I thought he said "great displeasure" instead of "greatest pleasure"....help?

big red coming out from throwing up to see his girlfriend star is the cutest thing in this show.

Ash and Gina dancing is so fun

I'm imagining them practicing at night at their home, watching the movie for the 100th time and making sure their one dance together is perfect

KOURTNEY YES

HOWIE IS IN LOVE AHHHH

I LOVE HOWIE SO MUCH

SEBBY

THIS SCENE HAS SO MUCH GOING ON I CAN'T KEEP UP

THIS IS SO GOOD

HOW???

no because I'm actually crying

I'm dead serious.

we need this musical released as a special

big red is so proud and I love to see it

Natalie: "if you do not by at least 20 dollars in concessions, you do not support art"

rando in the audience: "but I pay for ad free Spotify"

Mr Mazzara clapping in the distance

Gigi, the guy you like is talking to you, complimenting you and hyping you up

YOU LUCKY LITTLE FEATHER DUSTER

aw EJ teasing her about the chocolates in a way that doesn't make her feel bad? take notes Richard

JORDAN FISHER

there is no rest of the show idc Jordan is it for me

THE WIG CAP ON RICKY OMG

they look like they're high and having "deep" conversations on the floor

THE MEAN GIRL WITH THE EYES-

@sunshine-julie-molina YOU HEAR THAT

Natalie really just be coming for them all

Howie what is happening rn

I'm scared

"did you enjoy it"

"very much"

dude wants a kiss so bad

ASHLYN OMG

NO DON'T DO IT BECAUSE OF LILY, PUT YOUR OWN TWIST ON IT

I want a Jordan autograph please

just keep swim- oh pushing...

Gina is literally a giant next to him and I live for it

am I about to cry for the 3rd time in this episode?

yes.

Ricky's leg kicks under the table makes me so happy aw

the portwell glances will kill me.

ah yes, mashed potato snow

Mr. M.... I'm not a theatre kid but even I know you can't have your phone on backstage.

Howie please just do it

CHIP'S BIG LINE I CANT

I LITERALLY HAD TO PAUSE IT AMD SCREAM INTO MY MASK FOR A SOLID 2 MINUTES (I'm not at home rn) HES SO CUTE

oh ok bye Jordan

oo tea

NOT HIM BEING STARSTRUCK BECAUSE HE'S MEETING HIS FUTURE BROTHER IN LAW-

"we're all just glad Gigi has a big brother figure in her life"

excuse me for a few thousand hours while I laugh hysterically

THE CAMERA ZOOM ON EJS FACE AND EVERYTHING-

STOP EJ LOOKS LIKE HE'S GONNA CRY BUT I CAN'T TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY WITH THE STAGE MAKE-UP

someone else said this already but I think it's hilarious that they had to bring in 2 guest characters to create some portwell angst

omg this really is Cici's episode, found family is their thing

elevator music lol

I'm gonna bet that big red took the harness for his surprise for Ashlyn without realising what it was

did Ms. Jenn just....tell her most mentally unstable student....to commit suicide....on a disney show...was that....I'm very....well....what the actual-

oh and there she goes running off instead of trying to make it right

oh wow Nini's the hero, she's gonna save the show 🤩

😐

the judge is doing a sudoku

honestly if I went to the hsm show as well, I'd come prepared for this one too

Lily why are you looking like that-

I WAS JUST STARTING TO LIKE YOU DON'T MESS THIS UP

wow ok, there goes that.

omg

what if Howie was acting weird because he knew what Lily did and wanted to tell Kourtbut Lily threatened him so he was scared to-

anyways see y'all clowns next week when we all simultaneously lose all motivation for the week without Fridays to look forward to.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2 #hsmtmts season 2 #hsmtmts spoilers #ej caswell #gina porter #ricky bowen #nini salazar roberts #seb mathew smith #carlos rodriguez #big red #ashlyn caswell #kourtney greene #howie my pizza king #lily hsmtmts

27 notes · View notes

aurora-australis-tumbles · 4 years

Note

Heey can you do 40 (exes) for phrack?

Oh Anonymous... this went in a direction I don’t think either of us expected. 😂Hope you enjoy it anyway and thank you for the prompt!

For the prompt, “exes meeting again after not speaking for years au”

---------------------

There is a space, on the handlebar of Jack’s new bike, that is just wide enough, and just flat enough, to seat a person while it is in motion.

That is her spot.

Together they ride through the uncharted wilds of North Richmond, the jungles of Fitzroy, the shorelines of St. Kilda. And when he is with her, Jack feels like a true adventurer, a pirate of legend, an explorer of old.

(He isn’t sure who is the captain and who is the first mate, but he suspects they are trading roles with every voyage. He is surprisingly comfortable with this.)

She does a good job of holding on without impeding his view, but sometimes, on the really tight corners, he has to lean forward, his face precariously close to her breasts, so he can see where they’re going.

One those days he makes sure to thank Great Uncle Ted in his prayers.

Well, Uncle Ted and the ice cream man who wouldn’t take her IOU.

Jack had stepped in, offered to pay. She’d declined, told him she didn’t require assistance. He’d then suggested her could see her home, if she wanted, and one look at his bike had her accepting that proposal.

Six months later they spend all their spare time together.

They are an odd pair, from the outside. He’s relaxed, scholarly, funny, sweet. She’s skittish, shrewd, sarcastic, restless. He loves school and thinking about the future. She’s brilliant, but not studious, and can’t plan past the next hour. He’s respectful, she’s defiant. He laughs easily, and she doesn't, but when she does… oh when she does it is earned. He’s from a large, loving family who he speaks of often, but doesn’t even know if she has relations other than a cousin she mentions with a kind smile. He is an open book. She’s never even told him her surname.

But they share a wicked sense of humour, care about the same causes, are both explorers at heart.

They see each other.

His mates think her wild, but she’s not. What she really is is unconstrained, and the distinction may be lost on his friends but to Jack it is everything.

She is everything.

He thinks he might love her but he’s both too juvenile and too precocious to commit to the term. He doesn’t even know if he’s her only… friend. But he would gladly be her boyfriend, her proper boyfriend, if she’d let him.

Not that they’re always proper. He doesn’t lose his virginity to her, but he comes awfully close.

He is just working up the nerve to ask her to make it official when she tells him she is going away. She is only 16 but there are many more years of sadness in her eyes as she says it.

“Where?”

“Europe,” she tells him, but doesn’t elaborate.

He feels like he’s been sucker punched by an entire continent.

“Maybe I’ll see you there,” he manages through the hurt. “I’ve been thinking of enlisting.”

They meet one more time after that, and he gives her a gift. Something he’s been holding onto for a while.

“I can’t take this,” she tells him, knowing its value instinctively.

“You must,” he replies. “How else will you get away with it?”

“With what?”

“Everything.”

She laughs, truly laughs, and then she cries and he holds her and kisses her goodbye.

The poets make this part seem much more noble.

“Will you… do you think you’ll write? I’d like it very much if you did.” It is murmured into her hair, but she doesn’t answer. He knows she doesn’t make promises she can’t keep, but in this case...

“Just one then,” he negotiates. “When you arrive. So I know you’re safe and alright.”

“Jack… I’m not.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that so he just holds her tighter, and eventually she leaves.

His handlebars always feel empty after that.

The world has changed, though, and he feels duty bound to change with it.

He enlists, asking his parents to please pass along word if he receives any letters from Europe.

He doesn’t.

---------------------

The years pass, eventful and mundane, and he never hears from her. Assumes he never will. So when he next lays eyes on her, two decades later and at a crime scene no less, it is a shock to all his senses.

He is trying to keep up as she spins her theories like spiderwebs around the room, but in the end he is just caught in them himself.

She plays the whole thing so coy he’s not even sure she knows who he is.

The idea hurts more than he thought it would.

Still, it would be understandable; Jack feels like several lifetimes have passed in the intervening years.

He eventually finds his footing though, manages to evict her from the room and avoid her as much as possible after that. Calls her Miss Fisher to maintain distance and propriety despite the fact that he once had his hand clumsily up her skirt in the middle of the Fitzroy Gardens.

And then the case is over and good thing too because he’s not sure his nerves can handle much more of this.

When she announces her new occupation he actually spits out his champagne.

He goes to see her in her hotel room that evening, not even caring if she remembers him or not.

She answers the door with a smile and welcomes him inside. As he’s removing his hat, she leans back against the door and crosses her arms.

“You know you used to throw pebbles against my window. I don’t know what to do with this knocking on the door nonsense.”

Oh. So she does remember.

He shrugs without turning to face her. “You’re staying on the top floor,” he reminds her. “And my arm is 20 years older.”

She laughs, easily he realizes with a twinge of something he can’t quite name, and asks him to remove his coat and have a seat.

He does, but keeps his coat on; some situations require armor.

She sits across from him and he gives her a nervous smile. “So…” he begins, uncertain how to actually begin.

“It’s been a while,” she says, saving him a little, and he barks out a laugh.

“Yes,” he agrees.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, and he can see she means it.

“It is. I’ve often… I wondered how you were. I’m glad you’re…” He huffs out a sigh, annoyed at his own tied tongue. He feels seventeen again and not in a good way. “You seem well,” he finally settles on.

“I am. As do you. A Senior Detective Inspector. Impressive.”

“Uh, yes. Yes. Thank you.”

“And useful.” She gives him a gleeful grin, and that look hasn’t changed since they were teenagers. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”

“Yes, about that.” Beguiling smile or not, this is his opening and he has something to say. “Have you thought this through, Phryne?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you don’t have the best track recording for sticking with things.”

“Excuse me?” She seems piqued and he rushes to continue.

“You’re… don’t get me wrong, I know it seems fun. And you always did like a lark. But crime — victims of crimes — they’re not just a distraction.”

She fixes him with a serious look. “And I would never treat them as such.”

“Oh come off it. You’re flighty. Which is fine. Charming even. But this line of work… this isn’t another book you’ll never finish or scarf you’ll never complete. I know you and — ”

“You do not.”

Now it is his turn to be affronted. “Excuse me?”

“You barely knew me at sixteen. You do not know me now. And I’ve really outgrown lectures from men on who I am and who I am not.”

She stands up and walks over to the door, opening it and making it clear he is no longer welcome in her residence. He nods and puts his hat back on. As he passes her he gives her one more long look and that’s when he really sees it. The change in her. The skittishness is gone, replaced with pure resolve.

He leaves, assuming, once more, he’s unlikely to see her again.

And then he gets a call from an irate local sergeant.

He tells himself her involvement is not the reason for his, and for a while he even believes it. He certainly has no plans to use her, except this kid is being so recalcitrant and has obviously been through the ringer and he remembers this one time back in Collingwood, when they came across a lost little boy and Phryne had been so gentle with him. She’d known exactly what to say to calm him and he figures what the hell, maybe she’s still got the magic touch.

What she actually has is a car she uses to kidnap the victim's daughter and one of his suspects.

But when he goes to welfare, and speaks on her behalf, it is with the memories of both that lost little boy and Jane’s smiling face in Phryne’s kitchen.

He gives up on avoiding her. It isn’t worth the effort or bromo-seltzer.

Her intervening years are revealed to him in bits and pieces, and he responds in kind. An ambulance driver and a digger. A pilot and a picketer. Still single and still a marriage.

When he sees her portrait, the first thing he comments on is her hair.

“You still had it long then.” He’d always liked it long.

“Mmmm. Sometimes I miss it.”

He looks up at her and offers a small smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think this suits you now.”

When he finds out about her sister, he’s devastated. So many puzzle pieces fall into place, so many odd moments from their time together then that make sense now.

He wishes she’d told him, of course, but he understands why she didn’t. All he can do is be here for her now.

And when she reaches for his hand at the grave, he is.

All in all, he is genuinely enjoying their time together. Thinks she is too. It gets a little more complicated after his divorce, but it’s mostly just innocent flirting. He remembers that from the early days of their first acquaintance and relishs it just as much this time around.

Until she goes too far. Withholds evidence, shields a murderer, lies to him. He’s had it and he tells her as much.

He semi-apologizes, admits he’s giving her up. Hopes she doesn’t cry.

She doesn’t.

“You’re not sorry, you’re a coward,” she accuses.

The words sting and he lashes out in kind. “Why, because I don’t let you get away with everything anymore?”

She glares at him. “I don’t need your protection, Jack. I’m not a child!”

“Well you could have fooled me. This is suddenly feeling very familiar.”

“Stop it. This isn’t the same at all.”

“Of course not; this time I’m the one leaving.”

“And ask yourself just why that is. This isn’t about a stocking or a car crash. You look at me and you see all the possibilities of your youth and you’re angry because you just had to confront losing them for a second time.”

It’s an astute observation, but not quite accurate. Doesn’t account for what he actually cares about losing. Doesn’t account for her.

“And what do you see, Miss Fisher? A safety net? Something to be taken for granted, a distraction until the next adventure without even a letter to let me know you’re alive.”

“Fuck off,” she spits out.

“Gladly.” He turns to leave, and she shouts at his still turned back.

“I never promised I’d write.” He pauses in the parlour doorway, but doesn’t turn around.

“You never promised anything, Phryne. That would have been too much like something real.”

He leaves, for the first time hoping he won’t see her again.

The case at the college is excruciating. They get through it, but it's a close thing, and the irony of it ending with them both on a bike is not lost on him.

But he finds he does not wish to never see her again after all.

They share an alcohol-fueled accord after it is over, negotiate the new terms of their fractured partnership.

She makes the suggestion after the third glass.

He agrees after the fourth.

He meets her on the airfield the next morning, and is ungenerously pleased to see she is just as hungover as him. They share some of Mr. Butler’s tonic in companionable silence and wait until they are both fighting fit.

And then they fly.

It is an experience unlike any Jack has had before. He finds he rather agrees with Mr. Hugo as they dip and swoop in the air; he feels the thread of the infinite and he loves it.

Eventually they land and Phryne grins. “So how did you like my handlebars, Jack?”

“I liked them very much, Miss Fisher. Very much indeed.”

He walks her back to her car, and she turns to face him. Takes a deep breath. “I did write,” she confesses and he is literally stunned silent at the revelation. “Heaps of letters. I just couldn’t bear to send them. You said you were enlisting and… I was afraid they’d be returned. And I found the thought unbearable. I decided it was better to live in hope.” She reaches into her pocket and hands him a small wrapped item.

A beaten up sheriff's badge.

He never thought he’d see that again either.

“It was real, Jack. It was. But so is this. It’s different and it’s new but it’s real. And we’re missing it.”

He looks at her. Really looks at her. Not the distant, foggy memory of his first maybe love, but the living, breathing, remarkable woman in front of him.

What memory could compare to that?

He returns the badge to its rightful owner and asks her a question.

“Miss Fisher… may I buy you an ice cream at the foreshore?”

“No,” she tells him for the second time in their acquaintance. He nods. Accepts her answer this time as he had the first. “But I’ll buy you one.”

He smiles and it feels lovely and odd in the sun. “It’s a date.”

It is.

The first of many.

So much has changed in 20 years. They have changed. But they get to know each other again, anew, and find that much has not.

They still share a wicked sense of humour and care deeply about justice.

They still see each other.

Jack’s virginity hasn’t been an issue in a long, long time, but eventually what he does give her is his heart, and when he does he knows she will protect it. (She still has the badge after all.)

And now he knows he loves her.

There is a space, on the corner of Jack’s desk, that is just wide enough, and just low enough, to seat a person while he is working.

That is her spot.

It always has been.

| Short Fic Ask |

#mfmm fanfic drabble #mfmm fanfic #ask meme #exes

84 notes · View notes

ohnopoe · 4 years

Text

Wish You Were Here - Hercule Flambeau

Ship: Hercule Flambeau x Reader Prompt: Wish You Were Here - Eddie Fisher Word Count: 1.1k+

There were always days filled with regrets, days where your mind would fill with memories and missed chances, with a near constant stream of wistful dreams and alternative lives you could have lived. It wasn’t a new revelation, it wasn’t as if one decision had suddenly lead to such thoughts, but oh, it had added to them greatly. Too often you could find yourself sitting at home, a perfectly good book in your hands simply lacking that contentment you used to feel. It was as if the things that once brought you joy were now dull, lacking in the excitement you had found for that brief glimpse of time, that same excitement you had turned your back on nearly a year ago now.

You had been given a chance, a chance to run away from it all, to live a life of thrills, on the edge of your seat, but it was also a life constantly on the run and that was just too much of a gamble. Life was fine, you had a small but comfortable home, a pleasant job, food on the table and good, if rather interfering, friends at your side. How could you give all that up for a life that had no turning back? A life that only knew excitement as it knew danger, in extremes.

There were days, days when you could ignore that wistful feeling, or the way your mind wandered off, pondering just what adventures you might have been on and where. Today, however, was not a day for reality. That restless feeling that had needled away at you for the better part of a year was digging away at you from the moment you woke up, reminding you just how small Kembleford was, and how large and magnificent the rest of the world must be.

But there was something else, something even more nagging than the thought of what the world held in its grasp. There was him. Sure, he was suave and charming when he had to be, and oh, how well he turned on those charms, but he was also fascinating and sharp witted, and ever since your first meeting there had been something there that you simply couldn’t shake. Yet, when he held out his hand, when he asked you to run away with him, to let him show you all the wonders of the world in a life filled with excitement and passion, you had hesitated. The world was incredible, and so was he, but it was also a big step up from the sleepy town you lived in; no matter how many mysteries it happened to throw your way.

The Father was the only one who knew of the offer the thief had made you, in fact he had half expected the offer to be made. But more than that, he was the only one who saw how you regretted your choice to stay. Helping Mrs McCarthy organise a bake sale was nothing in comparison to planning a heist with the man that had captured your heart, and as much as it pained him, even he knew that Kembleford was not the place for you forever.

Your arrival into your kitchen was late, but you couldn’t care for appropriate breakfast times when your mind was so filled with daydreams. Images of where you might be now, had you taken his hand, often took over your thoughts, as it did when you walked past your front door. It wasn’t until you heard the slightest crunch under your slipper that you finally found yourself in reality, albeit begrudgingly. Bending down to see the small stack of mail at your door you couldn’t help but cringe at your clumsiness, hoping there was nothing crucial amongst it.

A bill, some advertising and, oh! A postcard! A beaming smile broke out on your smile without a hint of reservation as you looked down at the brightly coloured slip of cardboard, happily discarding the rest of the mail on back on the floor as you made your way into the living room. The room had once been warm and comfortable, and technically it hadn’t lost any of its appeal, but the colour of the curtains or the way the rug perfectly matched the armchairs didn’t matter to you as much as the small collection of cards you had on display on the mantle.

Paris. Munich. St Petersburg. Venice. So many more places all shown on brightly lit postcards.

So many months, and still they came with never more than your name and address to find you. The image was a small hint to show you where he was, to let you into a glimpse of his adventures without giving himself away. And, more importantly, a reminder that even after all this time, he still cared in his own way. It never ceased to bring a smile to your face, or a slight jolt to your heart.

It had been so easy to doubt he would stay interested if you left with him, so easy to believe he would tire of you like a new conquest rather than someone he truly cared about, but with each postcard you were reminded that even without contact, you were on his mind.

The cards held a prominent position on the display, and had often brought about questions, ones that never received truthful answers, and often an odd look you couldn’t place from Father Brown. But they meant too much to you to simply box them away and hide them, they were everything you could have had, everything you longed for, with the man you dreamt of even still.

You were ready to read that careful handwriting, practically painting your name and address on the back of the card, the only piece of him you ever got. But something else caught your eye. There was more writing, not much, but anything was more than you were used to. In a careful script, the ink seeped into the card were four simple words:

Wish you were here x

There it was again, that feeling of your heart skipping a beat. Your finger couldn’t help but run over the writing, as if you could absorb it, engraving his words and writing into your mind with a sappy smile.

Perhaps you could do it, perhaps you could pack the essentials and simply run off to be with him, to travel the world, to simply be with him.

Running the card over for any clue as to where he was now, you found yourself stunned at the sight before you. How had you not noticed the image before? It was so generic yet so familiar, surely your subconscious ought to have jumped at the site that graced the front of the card.

In all its beauty and grace sat a sight that had you nearly dropping the card in surprise. St Mary’s Catholic Church stared back at you with all the familiarity of an old friend. He was here, he was in Kembleford.

#hercule flambeau #hercule flambeau x reader #father brown #father brown imagine #hercule flambeau imagine #father brown fic #father #my fic

30 notes · View notes

imaginesofeverykind · 4 years

Text

Oh Partner, My Partner || Chloe Frazer x Elena Fisher

[literally the only gif i could find with the two of them together omfg — yall i wish these two had more scenes together]

This took so LONG because I had no idea how to write these two best gals without them just trauma bonding over how much of a shit Nathan is lmaooooo I might have to do a part 2 idkkk man 👀👀

Request: Hello! I just saw your post about fanfic requests. Can you write something for chloe x elena (as a ship) from uncharted? Please. Thank you!

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None ! Just a bitta flirting

“Step on it! We got Company!”

Everything was a complete blur, happening in rapid succession that it was nearly impossible to process. Elena Fisher had partaken in her fair share of shoot outs, some incredibly similar to the current situation she was in, the difference now was merely semantics.

She barrelled down the narrow walkway, ancient ruins encompassing the way out in a claustrophobic manner. If the circumstances didn’t call for panic and nimble feet, she’d take a moment to admire yet another long lost civilisation in her wake.

Gunshots echoed through as the army-for-hire attempted to hit the two figures, the two barely managing to exit the choke point and out into the open.

Elena took a moment to catch her breath, lamenting on the fact she could never simply get a story nowadays without being shot at. Her eyes trailed over to her partner — who was equally out of breath, however urged her to press onward.

“C’mon, take one of their trucks, we’ll be lucky if we hit the nearest town before they tail us.” Chloe Frazer motioned for her companion to follow, as unlikely as the pairing had been, the two women found each other’s company much more bearable than initially expected.

Of course, it wasn’t without needing something the other had. Elena had been stumped just days prior at the prospect of losing a big story after her source had been unceremoniously blown up — quite literally. It just so happened that the bar she weighed out her options had also been the same bar the familiar Australian woman had been on the lookout for her next big break.

The two hijacked one of the unmanned vehicles, tearing up some of the lush terrain as they made their quick escape. Both looking back with wide smiles at the near death experience turn successful lift and having enough proof to run a highly intriguing article.

“I can’t believe we did that!” Elena laughed out loud, her heart still thundering in her chest while the adrenaline surged through her. Her hands gripped the edge of her seat as she beamed at her companion, who was rather proud of the work they completed today.

Chloe weaved the truck in and out of major obstacles, having some indication where they needed to go in order to get to town, “we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

The blonde was taken aback by the compliment, a light blush painting her cheeks as she flustered to find an answer. In the short few years she’d known Chloe, it was clear that the Australian was hard to impress, rarely allowing anyone in too close. To hear her point it out was an honour.

“Y-yeah… I think we did great.” Elena beamed, her eyes lingering over her partner a little too long.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Chloe raised her brow, her eyes trailing back and forth from watching the road to her passenger.

It was a miracle they managed to both make it out alive and managed to get enough evidence for the journalist, unlike other times which resulted into her having to sacrifice her story just to make it out alive.

This time was different, and both of them were aware of that major difference; No Nathan Drake. As much as they equally admired and appreciated his heroic efforts, they couldn’t deny the fact he was quite literally the worst treasure hunter. Somehow, someway always finding the ability to blow up his latest find in some spectacular feat.

Without him in the picture, it was unexpectedly easy to pull off the job.

In the several days finding the next lead, following the trail of some illicit blackmarket group, Elena saw a side to Chloe she was quite happy to see. That sentiment also applied for the Australian, no longer believing the outspoken journalist was as bothersome in her regard.

The two had driven for the most part of two hours, ditching the truck somewhere ambiguous while they trekked the rest of the way into town. The dark haired woman praying that their plane ride out of the secluded outback town was still available, wanting to get the hell out of dodge as soon as possible.

With the harsh summer sun beating down on them, the trek felt much longer than it actually was, the American completely out of her comfort zone as she watched in envy at her companion who was seemingly unbothered by the heat. Elena fanned her face with one hand and held up the other to alleviate the glare from the sun, cursing herself for not thinking to bring sunglasses — of all things.

Chloe looked back in amusement, finding it funny that her partner was sweltering in the blistering heat, “bit hot, love?” The facetious tone not at all deterring the glare she got in response, merely laughing more as she wipes away the sweat beading on her neck.

She pointed lazily ahead, “town’s not too far away — won’t melt on me, will you?”

Elena squinted at her, only because she was so conveniently placed right by the sun, “y’know what, I just might.” She panted, taking a short breather.

The local stifled a laugh, “c’mon hot stuff, that article of yours won’t write itself,” she strode ahead, not particularly overthinking her comment coupled as she could just spot the town ahead.

“Here I was thinkin’ I’d catch a break from the shameless flirting… must be a common trait among thieves.” Elena was smug, catching up with her strides as she walked in sync with Chloe. The statement was purely a soft jab at the way people in this specific profession tend to talk to one another.

“Oh — was I not being clear enough?” Chloe retorted, an equally as complacent smirk on her face, even more so upon noticing the flustered look on the blonde's face, “I’ll be more obvious next time, love.”

It was hard to determine whether or not she was being sarcastic, her accent lent little to the imagination with the monotonous drawl, but her sultry tone of voice often always contradicted the accent. As someone who knew her relatively well, how she spoke to other people and carried herself; Elena was still confused.

Maybe the flirty comments were always so obvious when she was directing them elsewhere, then again, Elena was sure that it was simply a shared trait among the many within this business.

Truth be told, the only other person who had attempted to charm her was Nathan, and his measly endeavors were so blatantly obvious it was borderline cringeworthy. She could barely count Harry Flynn as an eligible contender considering he tried to blow the lot of them up.

She wasn’t sure why she was so stuck in her thoughts about it, she was an adult after all and didn’t need to overthink every single remark made her way. Yet here she was, the familiar feeling bubbling up inside her all the while her partner walked in a proud strut.

“I’m sorry — are you joking? I - I really can’t tell if you’re pulling my leg.” Elena eventually spoke out, deciding that the adult approach was the best way to feed into Chloe’s zero bullshit, blunt attitude. She was well aware now wasn’t the time to be having a conversation like this, and typically she’d be happy to let the comments fly by with having a witty retort. This time felt more urgent, like she needed to know before proceeding further.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Chloe winked, jogging up ahead as they entered into the small isolated town. Elena laughed to herself, finding a sense of relief fill her from that sufficient answer. If she was being completely honest, she hadn’t met anyone quite like Chloe before but she had an alluring aura, even when she was being unlikeable; one couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Elena was no exception.

Nevermind that the pair of them looked like they actively fought some of the native wildlife, the two of them disregarding odd looks thrown their way as they casually strolled down the main street.

The local ushered her companion into a dingy old pub that definitely looked like it wasn’t up to code — if that even existed this far in isolation. The town itself was home to one grocery store, two pubs, an abysmal excuse for a doctors office and one lousy looking police station that sat surrounded by approximately twenty-six houses.

Inside the pub was not much different than outside; muggy with a thick musk scent that mixed with the aroma of sweat from the patrons. Elena must have pulled a face subconsciously, earning a chuckle from her partner as she guided her through the building, “mining towns aren’t all they chalk up to be, aye? Poor bastards leave their families for months at a time to live in luxury at a shit hole like this.”

“Yeah — I guess you could say that…” Elena nervously laughed, not a big fan of the way the workers were eyeing them suspiciously. She wasn’t quite sure if they were looking at them because they were quite clearly outsiders, or for some other reason.

“Stop your worryin’, love — you got me to protect you.” Chloe flashed her a smile, opening the backdoor to the sweet sight of their getaway plane. The makeshift airport was barely manned, only passing the odd pilot or two on their way to greet their pilot.

Elena looked around cautiously, knowing that typically this was the part of the job where they get ambushed; then again, they had pulled this job off without the antagonising presence of Nathan Drake, so the likelihood of something like that happening was incredibly low. It wasn’t his fault he had an undeniable knack for pissing off the ‘bad guys’ effortlessly.

Seeing that she wasn’t in the conversation, Chloe reached over to her and softly grabbed Elena’s hand, “Tommo’s ‘bout ready to leave, you still with us?”

The blonde snapped out of her preemptive panic, giving her partners hand a squeeze as she nods, “only if you’ll have me.”

“I think I’ll keep you around a bit longer.”

#uncharted #request #imagines #one shots #chloe frazer #elena fisher #chloe x elena #imagine #uncharted imagines #uncharted ships #uncharted imagine

16 notes · View notes

rhetoricalrogue · 4 years

Text

31 Days of Wayhaven: Day 5

Prompt: Moon Rating: G Characters: Penelope Fisher, Lina Fisher Words: 1,251 Summary: The first full moon shift of a young werewolf’s life was an important event, especially in the Fisher family.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

“But Tante, tomorrow is special!”

Penny began to pace the tiny safe house Unit Charlie was currently using and pulled at her hair. “I know it is, Knuddelbär, and if I could be there with you, I would.”

“My first full moon!”

From his seat in the living room, Cam gave her a sympathetic half-smile. If anything, knowing he was listening calmed her down from the verge of tears her favorite niece had brought her to.

While werewolves didn’t transform based on what phase the moon was in, the full moon was always preferable for her family’s pack gatherings just so the extra light could help them keep track of the younger participants. Within her family, it was an important traditional milestone when a child was old enough to be deemed ready for their very first official shift and run with the rest of the pack. A milestone that was certainly slightly frowned upon for missing, especially amongst close family members, of which she was considered. A milestone that she was definitely going to miss due to being on a mission that didn’t necessarily even need her skillset.

What made matters worse is that this was the last of the first full moon runnings for a very long time, unless one of her sister-in-laws had another child anytime soon. She’d gotten to share the experience with all of her five brothers’ other children and it was unfair that Penelope was going to miss the one she was looking forward to being with the most. Little Lina had always been a sickly baby, so much that Penelope had taken leave from Unit Charlie to help care for her and as such, had developed a tight bond with her niece that was almost as close as a mother to her daughter. Lina was definitely the smallest of her nieces and nephews, but that fact didn’t stop her from roughhousing just as hard, and at times even harder than her siblings and cousins.

Not being there to see her shift for the first time and hear the tiny, warbly howl she had spent weeks practicing over the phone with her in person was killing Penny. “I’m so sorry I can’t be there,” she started, then stopped and put her hand over her mouth when she heard the telltale faint sniffle on the other end. “But you know what we’ll do?”

“What?”

“Right before you change, look up at the moon. I’ll be looking up at the exact same moon right with you. I’m going to stand very still and listen for your howl and I’m going to give you an answering call.”

“But you’re so far away! How will you hear me? How will I hear you?”

Penny wiped at her damp eyes with the heel of her hand. “Oh, mein kleiner Schätzchen. Family will always hear the other, no matter how far away they are. You just hear them with your heart instead of your ears.”

Her heart broke when she heard the shaky inhale of breath, then a clearer one as Lina fought to get control of her emotions. “I love you, Aunt Penny.”

“And I love you too, my Lina. I love you so much, Liebling.” There was a shift and Penelope heard her eldest brother get on the line. She spent a good ten minutes speaking with him, the both of them reverting to the rapid fire German they had grown up speaking. She repeated how sorry she was that she was going to miss Lina’s big milestone, and while she knew her brother was trying to calm her, she could hear how sorry he was that she was missing it too. They hung up and Penny sank onto the sofa next to Cam.

“I’m sorry that this mission took you away from your family,” he told her quietly.

“Nonsense,” she replied, giving him a watery smile. “Unit Charlie is my family too, you know.”

“You know what I mean.” Penny froze as Cam reached out and caught a tear she’d missed with his knuckle. “Which is why I’m sending you to them.”

“What?”

“This mission is all but wrapped up. I’m handling the remaining negotiations and Nicky has been the charming person we needed him to be to get this treaty signed. If you leave tonight, you can be at your family home before nightfall.”

Penny shook her head, eyes wide. “But...what about airfare? Cam, I can’t book a flight on such short notice out to the middle of…”

“It’s already been taken care of.” He held up his phone as he typed. “Give me a second to email you your boarding pass and once you grab your gear, I can drive you to the airport.”

She stared at him and she couldn’t help the fresh sting of tears that blurred her vision. “How long have you been planning this?” she asked, jumping as her phone pinged in her hand. A quick glance at the notification screen told her it had been Cam sending her travel tickets to her.

“Since I found out that we’d be traveling at a time when you should be with the people who matter most to you.” He would have said more, but Penny flung herself at him, her arms going around his neck.

“Wonderful man,” she told him, voice muffled at the side of this neck. “I could kiss you.”

She felt his hand tangle in her hair as he pulled her closer into a friendly hug. “Come on,” he said, his voice cracking a little as he pulled back enough to look her in the eye. “Any more of that talk and you’ll miss your flight.”

Penny jumped off the sofa and hurriedly ran over to the room she and Winona were sharing to shove clothes into her backpack. She noticed that Cam had already taken the liberty of pulling out any Agency gear from her bag so she wouldn’t have to worry about airport security, and her heart warmed at how thoughtful he was.

He’s a good friend, she thought, zipping up her bag and slinging it over a shoulder. I only wish he knew how much I loved him. She knew about his past, about how he’d been betrayed by the woman who was supposed to love him in a fit of jealousy over nothing. She also understood that even decades later, he would be reluctant to ever love again, and yet there she was, captivated by his gentle manner, ocean-blue eyes, and brilliant mind. She wished that they had met years earlier, that maybe then he would have perhaps thought to have something more than a friendship and professional partnership with her. Had he entrusted his sealskin to her, she would have guarded it with her life, protecting it from harm and giving it to him freely to use whenever he wished.

But that was neither here nor there. If his friendship was all that he was able to give to her, she would take it gladly, giving hers to him in return.

They bumped into Winona and Nicky on the way out, both of them wishing her a safe trip. Of course they would be in on it too. Now it made sense why everyone had been so focused on this mission to get things done in a timely manner, to wrap things up as quickly and efficiently as possible.

She’d have to thank them later. Right now, she had a very special niece to get to.

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #penelope fisher #MUTUAL pining? In MY fanfic? It's more likely than you think!#Unit Charlie

10 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Best Romantic Movies on Netflix

https://ift.tt/3a6cb9I

Romance movies are not that different from horror movies. Both are incredibly hard to pull off, are heavily watched during a cold time of year, and hopefully end with every character covered in blood.

With that in mind we present to you a list of the best romantic movies on Netflix. Because romance deserves it, damn it. Virtually every song ever written is a love song but poor romance can’t get a fair shake at the movies. Whether it be a rom-com or just a straight-up soul-enlightening/crushing romance, our list of the best romantic movies on Netflix will get you back in touch with your cold, dead heart.

Set It Up

Set It Up is Netflix’s most accomplished original romantic comedy yet.

Zoey Deutch and Glen Powell star as overworked assistants Harper and Charlie. Harper is an assistant to Kirsten (Lucy Liu) the woman behind a sports media empire. Charlie works for finance maven Rick (Taye Diggs). Harper and Charlie realize that their respective workloads might lesson if their bosses were more focused on their love life and less focused on work. So they…set them up.

Set It Up is a fun, novel high-concept romance movie positively filled with chemistry on all sides.

Outside In

We embrace every kind of love on our list of the best romance movies. Sometimes that includes some questionable, and some would say “icky” kind of love. So…Outside In is a teacher-student romance. But don’t panic! It’s ok.

Jay Duplas stars as Chris, a man who was wrongly imprisoned at age 18 and who is relased at age 38. When Chris is released, he immediately meets up with his old high school teacher, Carol (Edie Falco), who was his penpal when he was in prison. He wastes little time before he declares his love for her.

Despite its subject matter, Outside In is a mature, well-handled exploration of love and what it means to love someone for themselves as opposed to what they do for us.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

With a name as long as The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, the movie better be good to justify how many times we poor cultural commenters must type it out. Thankfully Guernsey is quite good!

Based on a book by the same name, Guernsey is a historical love story set in 1946. Lily James stars as British writer Juliet Ashton. Juliet begins exchanging letters with residents of the islands of Guernsey, which was under German occupation in WWII (so like two years before the movie starts). While there she meets the dashing Dawsey Adams (Michael Huisman) and romance begins to blossom.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society is an excellent, watchable classical romance

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before

Oh hey! Another Netflix original with a long title based on a book. Like the Potato Peel Pie Society, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before is another effortlessly enjoyable romantic romp – this time of the teen variety.

Lara Jean Song Covey (Laura Condor) experiences every young person’s nightmare when private love letters to five boys she has or has had crushes on suddenly and mysteriously become public. But fear not. This is a romance movie, not a horror movie. So this sudden reveal has to go well for Lara Jean, right? RIGHT?!?

To All the Boys P.S. I Still Love You

The To All the Boys team returns for a sequel that teaches kids the harsh lesson that there’s no such thing as happily ever after! OK, so that’s a bit harsh, but To All the Boys P.S. I Still Love You does bring back its characters for another round of romantic angst.

Movies

To All the Boys: P.S. I Still Love You Review

By Delia Harrington

Movies

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before Review: A Pleasurable Netflix Rom-Com

By Delia Harrington

Lara Jean (Lana Condor) is now officially Peter’s (Noah Centineo) girlfriend. But before they can relax and enjoy their lives together, an old flame of Lara Jean enters the frame. That’s right, John Ambrose (Jordan Fisher) is here and he wants to steal your girl, Noah Centineo.

The Danish Girl

2015’s The Danish Girl tells the story of a kind of love nearly unprecedented for its early 20th century time. Eddie Redmayne stars as artist Lili Elbe, who was born Einar Wegener and is believed to be one of the first individuals to receive sexual reassignment surgery. The film follows Lili’s journey and her love with wife Gerda Wegener (Alicia Vikander).

When Gerda asks her husband to stand in for a female subject in her painting, Einar does so and quickly comes to terms with the gender identity he’s been suppressing. The newly confirmed Lili and Gerda navigate this new dimension of their relationship and Lili continues her work as a subject for Gerda’s now very much in demand paintings.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Beauty and the Beast

2017’s live-action version of Beauty and the Beast isn’t the best depiction of the classic fairy tale ever but that’s ok. It doesn’t have to be. All Bill Condon’s Beauty and the Beast really needed to be was a fun little dip into nostalgia with sumptuous visuals and a believable romance. On that front, everything goes according to plan.

Movies

Emma Watson on Beauty and the Beast: ‘I’m Very Grateful That This Character Exists’

By Don Kaye

Beauty and the Beast Disney+ Prequel Series Set with Luke Evans and Josh Gad

By Joseph Baxter

Emma Watson stars as Belle and Dan Stevens is her beast. Belle heads off from her small French town to the Beast’s castle to rescue her father. What follows is Stockholm Syndrome: The Movie. But sexier. Beauty and the Beast really does look good and Watson and Stevens have just enough chemistry to make this a worthwhile romantic experience.

50 First Dates

50 First Dates has a somewhat disappointing Rotten Tomatoes score. Ignore that. It’s probably partially due to many critics’ distaste for at least one of the actors in the above screengrab. Not that they can be blamed. The presence of Adam Sandler or Rob Schneider in any comedy is rarely a good sign. In 50 First Dates‘, however, it’s not an issue at all.

50 First Dates is a legitimately funny and romantic romantic comedy. Drew Barrymore stars as Lucy Whitmore, a woman with short-term memory loss. Due to a car accident, every day she wakes up believing it is October 13, 2002. Sandler’s character Henry Roth meets her in Hawaii and the two must overcome this bizarre condition to establish a lasting relationship.

Carol

Todd Haynes, director of Carol and Far From Heaven knows longing. And if there’s an element that makes for an excellent romantic movie experience its longing. That desperate sense is baked into nearly every frame of Carol. Based on a 1950s romance novel, Carol is the story of a young photographer (Rooney Mara) and an older woman going through a divorce (Cate Blanchette) undertaking a forbidden affair.

Forbidden because, you know, ’50s. And that’s where the longing comes in. Nothing is more romantic or sexier than a forbidden romance. Carol channels that romantic energy into something mature, fascinating and heartbreaking.

Silver Linings Playbook

Silver Linings Playbook is all about how generally terrible it is to be a Philadelphia Eagles fan. OK, fine – it’s only a little bit about that. This star-studded 2012 film from David O. Russell is more about the challenges in finding love when one isn’t sure they even love themselves.

Bradley Cooper stars as Pat Solitano Jr., a young man with bipolar disorder living with his parents after being released from a psychiatric hospital. Pat is determined to win back his ex-wife and to that end enlists the help of young widower Tiffany Maxwell (Jennifer Lawrence). The two become closer as they train for an upcoming dance competition and share their respective damages with one another.

Silver Linings Playbook works because Lawrence and Cooper have a real crackling chemistry. And they both just happen to be devastatingly, almost supernaturally attractive.

Runaway Bride

From stars Richard Gere and Julia Roberts to director Garry Marshall to conspicuous usage of enormous cell phones – Runaway Bride is an intensely ’90s film. And to the rightly organized mind, that just makes it the platonic ideal of a low-stress romantic comedy.

Roberts stars as Maggie Carpenter, an alluring young woman who has made a habit of leaving multiple fiancé’s at the altar. Gere is Ike Graham, a New York columnist seeking to tell the definitive story of this “runaway bride.” Runaway Bride is a charming experience that will make you think long and hard about how you really like your eggs prepared.

Loving

It feels reductive to call Loving a “romance” movie, as its more of a historical exploration of the very real, very tragic legacy of American racism. At its center, however, the film is about love.

Loving tells the story of Richard (Joel Edgerton) and Mildred Loving (Ruth Negga), a mixed-race Virginia couple challenging their state’s law against interracial marriage in the Supreme Court. The details of the Lovings struggle for basic human rights are astonishing. Edgerton and Negga’s empathetic performances make sure the film never loses sight of the humanity at play amid all the legal drama.

Always Be My Maybe

Everyone always talks about “the one who got away”, but what about “the one who was always kind of around”? 2019’s Always Be My Maybe tells of one such story.

Ali Wong (who wrote the film) stars as Sasha Tran and Randall Park stars as Marcus Kim. Marcus and Sasha grew up next door to each other and also embarked on a brief, ill-fated relationship in their teenage years. When Sasha returns to San Francisco to open a restaurant, she discovers that romantic energy remains between her and Marcus. But is that enough to spark love in the busy, chaotic adult world?

Always Be My Maybe has a lot to say about family and growth. It also features a truly winning performance from Keanu Reeves playing…Keanu Reeves.

The Kissing Booth

There’s an interesting dynamic at play in teenage romantic comedies. Oftentimes, the worse they are, the more watchable (and rewatchable) they become. The Kissing Booth is a prime example. Based on a book by the same name from Beth Reekles, The Kissing Booth isn’t exactly celebrated for its realistic portrayal of American teenagers.

Thanks to charming lead performances from Joey King, Jacob Elordi, and Joel Courtney, however, that doesn’t really matter. The Kissing Booth is all about how one girl’s first kiss turns into an emotional minefield of teen angst. That alone is enough to support 105 minutes of pure high school drama…and two sequels!

The post Best Romantic Movies on Netflix appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/38Fd7ho

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

6 notes · View notes

queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

the way home | Ch. 3 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 3,417

Warnings: language, violence, mention of blood

Read from the beginning or continue on Read on AO3

Tag list: @writinghereandthere ------

Whatever Robert says or does against Rhodes seems to work.

For the next week, as they hop from island to island, he gives Elena a wide berth. It doesn’t stop the death glares he gives her on the regular, but she’ll take those over him dropping a sack over her head and kidnapping her, as her nightmares depict.

He can’t ruin today, though. The next outpost is St. Sylvain -- finally, a place where Elena has contacts of her own. Well, Charlie’s, she considers, which brings that familiar rush of heartache. She misses her best friend; misses her snarky, carefree attitude; misses her crude jokes and compassionate heart. Though Robert tries with his sarcastic tongue, he can never measure up to Charlie’s quick wit.

As soon as the ship docks, Elena is off, flapping a hand at Robert’s reminder to only ask for information from those she trusts. Down the gangplank and across the port, she makes her way into the open-air market and searches along the rows of brightly-colored stalls. As if no time has passed, Bronte leans out from her own stall and waves at her as she approaches.

“Ah, the fiercest pirate in all the seven seas!” she crows, her wrinkles creasing as she grins. “You’re Charlotte’s friend, aren’t ya? She’s been looking all over for ya.”

“She has?” Elena asks, tightly clenching the leather strap across her chest.

“O’course. She was here…” she trails off, tapping a finger against her stall as if counting up the days in her head. “...oh, sometime before the big storm. Was makin’ her rounds of the place, askin’ if ye’d been around.”

“Did she say where she was headed?”

“Afraid not.” Settling her weight across the table, she opens her mouth, then pauses to squint at something along the market. Elena glances over her shoulder, but spots nothing of interest among the crowded stalls. “But here -- let me give ye something.”

Bronte bends down and heaves up a basket of what looks like knitting supplies, clicking her tongue as she digs through it. Sweeping her hair to one shoulder, Elena keeps watch of the market until the older woman hums a noise of victory. She pulls out a makeshift cross, bound with red thread. “‘Tis made from the twigs of a Rowan tree. Keep it on yer person. It’ll offer ye protection from evil spirits on yer journey.”

Given her recent history, Elena’s made a point to avoid picking up any old object. But she doesn’t want to seem rude, and who is she to argue against something that will bring protection? Taking the charm, she tucks it into the pocket of her coat.

“Thank you -- for the protection, and for speaking with me.”

Bronte smiles at her once more. “If I see young Charlotte, I’ll be sure to send her yer way.”

------

The rest of the day is a wash.

Her stop by the St. Sylvain Inn to speak with Mary takes the better part of an hour. Most of that time, however, is taken up by helping Mary toss out an unruly guest. What little chance at conversation they manage to have, Elena finds that her knowledge about Charlie’s whereabouts is limited.

“She asked if I’d seen you, actually.” Mary’s face brightens at the memory, before she bites at her lip and frowns. “But this was months back. Certainly well before the hurricane.”

At the blacksmith’s, Elena wanders around the shop as the man there speaks with a customer. They hem and haw over the fine details of a new gate, going back and forth about prices. She bides her time by looking at a row of gleaming blades. One of the daggers catches her eye for the level of details carved along the hilt; it reminds her of the pistol Charlie gave her, all those years ago. The customer eventually leaves, having refused such a high cost for ‘such subpar craftsmanship.’

“What can I do for ye, ma’am?” the blacksmith calls out to her, wiping away the sweat on his face. “Interested in anything?”

Elena leaves the wares and crosses the room to be heard above the roar of the forge. “No, sorry. I was wondering if Tripp was working today?”

The blacksmith turns back to his project, tapping at a piece of glowing metal with his hammer. “He don’t work here no more.”

“Oh. Do you know where he works now, then?”

“No.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No.”

“Do you know where I can--”

He slams the hammer down and a burst of hot sparks flares up into her face. The sword is in her hand and at his throat before she realizes it -- and before the man has the attempt to lift the hammer in defense.

“Listen, alright.” He licks his lips and eyes the sword’s gleaming edge. “He left about three months ago. Said that he was going to try and head back home.”

“Where’s that?” she snaps, though she eases the sword back a few inches to give him the illusion of space.

“I don’t-- maybe, maybe St. Fisher, or England. I dunno, I never asked. All I know is that he went off, and I haven’t seen ‘im since.”

Elena flicks her sword away and slides it back into its scabbard, suppressing her smirk at the man’s audible breath of relief. Brushing past another woman on her way out, she starts her trek back to the market to try any other of Charlie’s contacts. She’s nearly reached the main drag when there’s a voice from behind her.

“Is yer name Elena Montgomery?”

Elena spins around to face the stranger. It’s the woman from the shop, her auburn hair matted to her neck from the heat -- and, presumably, from chasing Elena down. Her accent is similar to Kendrick’s, her voice low and rich.

“It is. And you are…?”

“Oh, sorry -- I’m Fran.” She shifts the satchel she carries from one shoulder to the other, trying to catch her breath. “I’m sorry, too, for chasing after you like that. I saw you at the inn, talking with Mary. Are you looking for Edward Mortemer?”

“I am.”

“I just met a lad who talked about doing business with him.”

“When?”

“Two hours ago or so, I think. I was out near the market and we struck up a--”

“No, when did he see Edward?” Elena clarifies.

“Oh.” Fran’s nose scrunches up as she tries to recall. “I think he mentioned it was o’er the summer? I’m not for certain. I can take you to him -- if he’s still at his stall.”

It’s too good to be true. After weeks of searching, a lead like this doesn’t just fall into her lap. She would be a fool to go with some random woman, despite how cute she is. But she can’t turn her back on an opportunity like this.

“Yes, please,” she all but begs.

Fran guides her through the streets, clearly a local in her knowledge on how to avoid the congested areas. She isn’t much for talking, which Elena appreciates, as she’s too caught up in her own thoughts. Even if this man saw Edward over the summer, does that mean it was here, or somewhere across the globe? If it was over in Portugal or the Philippines, then what the hell is she supposed to do? What if she returned too late? What if Edward, Charlie, and the crew were one of the twelve ships lost in the storm? Elena fiddles with the necklace, worrying the chain in between her fingers. She knows the risk of using the whistle again -- but she will, if it means saving their lives from such a fate.

“That’s a pretty charm you have there,” Fran says, breaking the silence between them. “A bit odd-looking, but pretty.”

“Thanks.” Feigning a smile, Elena tries to subtly tuck it back into her shirt.

They reach the market soon enough. Along with Bronte’s, most of the stalls are boarded up or packed away. Out in the harbor, strong winds batter at the ships’ flags and rigging. Thick clouds roll along above the island, warning them of the approaching storm. Across the horizon, lightning dances atop the white-capped waves. Fran continues down to a covered section of the wharf, shadowed by a large building for ship repairs.

“Tommy! You still here?” she calls out as they round the next corner.

Tucked back along the building are a few more stalls. Their choice in location isn’t lost on Elena. This is where other sorts of deals take place. If it weren’t obvious from the grizzled men that leer at them, the crates of pistols, bolts of fine lace, and casks of wine are enough of a statement on their own.

“Aye, I’m here.”

Dread rings its alarm bell loud and clear inside her skull when Rhodes steps out from the group of men. From the corner of her vision, Elena sees several more men approach her from behind. “Very good,” Rhodes croons at Fran, dropping a few coins into her waiting palm.

“I also snagged us this. Figured we could rough it up a bit and pass it off as the Bonnie Prince’s.” From her satchel, she pulls out the dagger Elena eyed at the shop. “And that charm she’s wearin’, that could go for a fair bit o’ coin.”

The roof groans under the sudden onslaught of rain. Shoddy patch jobs let some of the water through, soaking the dry earth under their feet. Taking the blade from Fran, Rhodes tosses it between his hands, eyeing Elena all the while. That crooked smirk of his widens.

“Fran speaks the truth, ya know. I spoke with your captain not long before the storm. He told me a lovely tale about how he’s sailed the world looking for his love. It brought tears to my eyes, it really did.”

“Touching,” Elena all but spits back at him. She lifts her chin to keep her eyes on his. Her hand hovers above her sword’s hilt.

“Too many heartless bastards out there, he said, trying to pull one over on ‘im.”

Her eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. “And you’re going to be different?”

“O’course. He’s been chasing after lies for far too long. The lad wants proof.” Rhodes strikes; he throws an arm across her chest and slams her back into the wall. Her face smacks against the rough stone; she tastes blood on her tongue. “So, I’m going to slice off one of those pretty fingers of yers, and if he don’t respond to that, I’ll keep sending him more until he--”

Elena spits in his face. He reaches to wipe it away and she ducks under his hold, using the muddy ground to slide from his next punch. Knocking his arm away, she slams her fist against his kidneys. Rhodes collapses to one knee and growls out a long string of curses.

“Send him one of yours instead,” she snarls.

Swiping the dagger from his hand, she twirls it and grips it tight before seizing his other hand. The blade slices clean through three of his fingers. His howl of pain disappears under a loud clap of thunder.

“You fucking--”

His insult never lands. With a quick snap of her knee, she knocks his head into the wall. He collapses in a heap, mottled with blood and muck. Elena bends down and wipes the blade on a clean patch of his shirt.

When she stands up, she finds Fran gone and the other men watching her from a few yards back. Sliding her new dagger into the sheath at her breast, she throws the men a mock salute and heads out into the storm.

------

She’s woken by the smell of blood.

Her hand goes up to attend to her nosebleed before she realizes the scent is a memory from her nightmare, the last dredges of it lingering in the confines of her quarters. Not wanting her bunkmates to wake to the sound of her crying, Elena climbs out and heads for the deck. With the skeleton crew this late at night, she has no trouble sneaking past them to reach her corner of solitude at the stern.

If she closes her eyes, she can pretend she’s aboard the Revenge. The salty ocean breeze and the rhythmic swaying of the ship could fool her so easily. When she opens her eyes, though, there is no Henry badgering her about trying his latest creation; no Charlie sauntering up with a bottle of rum; and no Edward drawing invisible lines between the stars to teach her the constellations.

The same stars she’s looking up at now, knowing that somewhere out there across the sea, he might be gazing at them, too.

The small pinpricks of light start to grow fuzzy. Elena folds her arms against the railing and buries her head in them, trying to muffle her crying. The idea of spending another month chasing after Edward is frustrating to no end. If this was her own time, she could just hunt him down on social media or track him down with a PI. Maybe it would be better if she planted her ass down on an island and waited for him, at this rate.

“Are you bawling because you killed him?”

Elena jolts up in surprise. Her ribs smack against the railing. Rubbing a hand over them to soothe the ache, she turns and glowers at Robert.

“I don’t remember inviting you to my pity party.”

“You didn’t. I crashed it.” Moving to stand beside her, he spends a long minute overlooking the dark ocean in front of them. Once she’s finished with trying to hide her tears, he asks again. “So, did you?”

“No.”

“A shame.”

Captain Delaney was the only one to ask about Rhodes when he didn’t return. When no one else responded, Robert mentioned that he decided to take a position on another ship. The lie -- and the fact that no one cared all that much for the man anyway -- seemed to work. Delaney promoted another sailor to Rhodes’s position, and that was that.

“I should’ve listened to you,” Elena laments, not-so-subtly wiping her tear-stained sleeve against her face. “This woman approached me and said she had information about Edward. I was baited -- hook, line, and sinker.”

His hands clench tight around the railing. “Love can make you do stupid things.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Aye, actually, I am.”

“Bullshit,” she says. “You’ve never once mentioned someone important. You only wanted to come back for the freedom, the adventure -- you said so yourself. And I understand that, I really do. The adventure is why I stayed in the first place. I could’ve snuck into Edward’s cabin or seduced him for the compass like that,” she snaps her fingers for emphasis, ignoring Robert’s snort of disbelief. “But once I had the chance… I stayed. It became about more than the thrill of it.”

“Why is it that you younguns think love is only for the thirty-and-under crowd?”

“‘Younguns’?” Elena repeats with a grimace.

“I was trying out some of yer Texas slang.”

“Nobody says that.” When he opens his mouth to protest, she holds up a hand. “Okay, nobody who didn’t fight in the fucking Alamo. But -- seriously, I want to know. Is there someone…?” she trails off, encouraging him to open up.

Robert lets out a long, ragged sigh before digging into his coat. The compass in his hand is set into a simple wooden box, much less ornate than the previous one. Cradling the compass close to shield it from the wind, he digs a fingernail into a hidden switch and a small compartment slides open from the bottom. A twist of raven-colored hair falls into his palm, tied with a tiny length of twine. He traces his thumb across the coarse texture, his breathing unsteady.

“His name is Julien. We met in Panama City while searching for Sir Francis Drake’s treasure that he stole from the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción. Though we never did find the gold, we ended up running a ship together and stealing some of our own.” Without glancing down, Robert slips the lock of hair back into the compartment and snaps it closed. It’s telling how reflexive it is, as if he repeats the move a hundred times a day. “We didn’t want to deal with the Spanish anymore than we had to, so we sailed to St. Lucia. ‘Twas run by France at the time, and our contact out there bragged about running a smuggling route right under their noses. But when we arrived, we found him in a gibbet. He’d been there a good while. Julien only knew ‘twas him from the ugly, purple trousers he wore.”

Having seen the skeletons hanging along some of the ports, Elena is thankful she missed seeing the late stages of decomposition. “Not long after, we were captured by the French. We managed to escape, but were forced to separate in order to get our crew out. Being French himself, Julien had a better chance at disguising himself as a local. The last I saw of him was when he went back in to retrieve Charlie. And then,” he pauses to clear his throat, “she came out and he didn’t, and we had to escape the island or risk getting caught all over again. And his attempts would’ve been for nothing.”

Elena wants nothing more than to wrap her friend in a hug. Knowing that he’s not big on physical touch, though, she gives what comfort she can by placing her hand alongside his on the railing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“O’course you didn’t, because I never told you. Even in the future, there are places where our relationship would be met with the business end of a pistol.” Robert shrugs at the idea, but she can see in the set of his jaw how angry it makes him. “But even after I gained your trust and you told me about your past relationships, I felt like I still needed to keep him a secret. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

“Tell me about him,” she requests.

With a quiet chuckle, Robert shakes his head.

“There isn’t enough time in the day to describe him, and I’m not one to wax poetic. But he is… kinder than me, certainly. A better shot than me, too. He’s the one who taught Charlie everything she knows. The chain I gave you, that’s for him.” He puts a hand up when Elena immediately reaches up to return it. “No, no -- that whistle is much too important. The chain isn’t the… I’ve already gotten a new one. I was hoping -- I have my grandfather’s ring that I would like him to wear. If he agrees, o’course.”

She suppresses the smile that wants to form at seeing Robert flustered.

“You’re referring to him in the… do you know if he’s alive? Where he is?”

“The last confirmed sighting of him was three years ago in Curaçao, a small island off the coast of Venezuela.”

Her brows knit together as she studies him. “Then why are you here, in the north?”

His shoulders sag with the weight of his sigh, though she can see the beginnings of a smirk on his lips.

“Because I made you a promise, remember? Last year, when we tried our hand at stealing the sceptre from the Crown Room. The only reason I’m not locked up in some Scottish ‘House of Special Purpose’ is because you came back for me. And I told you that I would stay by yer side until we found Edward.”

“I mean, if I had left you there, you would’ve just ratted me out as an accomplice.”

That gets a proper laugh from him. “True enough, but I’ll wager the thought never crossed yer mind, did it, kid?” Her small shrug is enough of a confirmation for him. “Julien’s somewhere out there, waiting for me,” he assures. “The man has the patience of a saint. So, I’ll be sticking with you ‘til then. Make sure you get home safe and all that.”

Annoyed at the night’s second round of tears trying to make their appearance, Elena keeps her eyes on the whitecaps in the distance.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” In a rare show of friendship, Robert knocks his elbow against hers and jostles her from the railing. “Seriously, don’t. I do have a reputation to uphold.”

------

References:

The “House of Special Purpose” is another name for the Ipatiev House, where Emperor Nicholas II, his family, and members of their household were executed in 1918. To my knowledge, there is no Scottish version -- mostly because MI5 operates out of the Thames House in London.

#distant shores #edward x mc #edward mortemer #choices #distant shores fic #Kaila writes things #f: the way home

8 notes · View notes

floralguccistyles · 4 years

Photo

three: a new hope

My first and only relationship had been during my second year of university. His name was James Trinity, and while at first I had been excited because he had the same name as Captain James Kirk from Star Trek, the novelty wore off very, very quickly.

It wasn’t that James had been a bad boyfriend. On paper, he had checked off all the necessary boxes. He remembered dates, sent me sweet good morning texts, and wasn’t an embarrassing eater that I couldn’t take out to restaurants. The problem with James was that he was so...boring. He always suggested we went out to a movie and then dinner for our dates. And while that was perfectly acceptable while we were starting our relationship out and getting to know each other, it got boring after awhile when that was all he wanted to do.

There was also the flower problem.

When my dad picked up my mom for their very first date, he bought her flowers. When he picked her up for their second date, he bought her flowers. When they got married, he didn’t bring her flowers because she already had her own bouquet, but he had drawn a rose on a note and had one of his groomsmen deliver it to her before the wedding. It was a stupid tradition that in reality I actually should have hated, but my heart stopped every time I thought about a guy bringing me flowers. I wanted someone to pass by a bunch of daisies and think, I’ll get some of these for Petra to brighten her day.

James hadn’t bought my flowers.

I knew it was stupid and if James had been my dream man, my deal breaker wouldn’t have been an absence of flowers. But paired with the fact that all he wanted to do was watch movies and eat, and he had been on his phone when my parents had come to London to meet us for dinner, the lack of flowers were a big deal.

After James, there really hadn’t been anyone that had caught my eye. I was more focused on Alien Crossing, anyway. I didn’t have time for a relationship. The only relationships I needed were with Jeremiah, Veronica, and Melody. Anyone else took a backseat.

Except, of course, my parents.

“We were listening to your podcast, love,” my mother said from the other side of the Skype call, smiling in confusion because technology still freaked her out. My dad was the one that dealt with all the computer and phone problems they had, but given that he was in Bristol to help with construction of a school there, my mum was alone this time to deal with the Skype call. She had already accidentally hung up on me twice while trying to turn the volume up. “The lad you had last time, that Harry fellow. Didn’t you go to school with him?”

My experience with Harry on AC the previous week was odd, to say the least. Realistically, he had done fantastically for his first time on a podcast. He had answered my questions seamlessly and the conversation flowed a lot easier than I thought it would have. I supposed it was because he knew so much about music. And though the scores of big movies were different to the music he created, it will still interesting to hear what he thought of them. I had, regrettably, been sitting on the edge of my seat every time he had answered one of the questions I asked. It was easy to discern why people loved him all around the world. He was charming, charismatic, and knew what he was talking about.

I hated him for it.

“Yeah, I went to school with him. He was the one that bullied me all the time and then became a famous singer.”

“Right, right. His mother sent me an edible arrangement once. I offered it to our neighbor a day later because he husband passed away.”

I felt a little stab of selfish satisfaction when she told me she hadn’t eaten the edible arrangement. I’m sure Harry’s mum was a wonderful enough lady, but she had spawned Satan himself.

I hadn’t spoken to Harry since I had watched him drive away from Outset’s lot at around three in the morning. After recording, he had stuck around to listen to the editing that Jeremiah and I did, which was unnverving but we got through it. Then, he had done that weird handshake-bro-hug thing with Jeremiah and had offered me a polite smile. He probably knew that if he tried to hug me I would have thrown him off Outset’s roof. That smile was the last thing I had seen before he got in his nondescript black sedan and drove away.

“So are you two friends now?” my mother asked. She hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with Harry being on the show. She had called me the day after we recorded and when I had complained, she had reminded me that it probably took a lot of guts and courage for him to apologize. She was a little annoyed I hadn’t accepted and forgiven, but I reminded her that I was a grown woman and could make my own decisions.

“No, Mum. Believe me, Harry Styles and I will never be friends.”

I heard her click her tongue disapprovingly. “Sweetheart, he was very kind to apologize,” she reminded me, “and you shouldn’t hold grudges. It isn’t good for you.”

It was the same argument every time. Harry wasn’t brought up much with my parents, but when he was, it was always the same. Forgive him, Petra, he didn’t mean it. Oh, he was just a kid, Petra. I could probably guess what she was going to say verbatim. It did nothing but piss me off. Did they not care that this was the kid who had me sobbing in my room at two in the morning because I felt like shit about myself and it was his fault?

“He made my life hell, Mum,” I said through clenched teeth.

“He was sixteen years old, sweetie. He didn’t mean what he said. And look at how successful you are now! Obviously he didn’t do any lasting damage.”

I wanted to scream. I had weekly appointments with Doctor Thorne. I was hit with waves of insecurity that debilitated me. I sometimes didn’t even want to go out of my house and deal with people because I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to call me names and make fun of me. Of course, she wouldn’t see the lasting damage he and his friends had done. I hadn’t let her known. But dear god, shouldn’t she have seen that something was still wrong? Did she really not know me?

“I’ve got to go, Mum. I’m meeting with the publisher today for my book.”

“Oh, I’m so excited for it! You’ll tell your father and I when it’s available for pre-order, right? We want to get a hard copy and he’s going to load one onto my Kindle.”

When she said things like that, so vocal in her support for me, it made me think being mad at her was foolish. “Yeah, Mum, I’ll let you know. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, sweetie. Give your father a call when you’re free. He misses you!”

I hung up feeling the way I always did. Confused and tired. Talking to my parents shouldn’t have left me feeling so exhausted, but it always did. It was like I was divided into two different versions of myself: the version I was and the version they wanted me to be. I knew they wanted me to forgive Harry, forgive all my schoolmates that had made me go literally mad. But that wasn’t who I was. I wasn’t quick to forgive. And I hated feeling like I had disappointed them because of it.

While I loved what I did, sometimes I wish I had a normal nine to five. If I had a normal job, I would have to bury thoughts my mother had put in my head and be blissfully distracted until my day was over. And by the time five rolled around, I would probably be over it anyway. Instead, I would sit and stew and work myself up. I picked at my fingernails and decided that I wouldn’t allow myself to focus on it today. Today, I would be blissfully distracted.

I grabbed my purse and changed into some leggings, shoving my feet into my slippers while I locked my door shut behind me. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I needed to get out of the house. Melody was unfortunately at work so I knew contacting her wasn’t an option. I could try Jeremiah or Veronica, but I didn’t want to bother them if they were doing something important. Obviously, my parents were out of the question.

So I found myself at a coffee shop.

I had a habit of carrying around a book with me everywhere I went. I kept one in my purse at all times. The book this time around was The Princess Diarist, or the book Carrie Fisher had written before she died. I had already poured over the pages four times, but the book never got old. Ordering a peppermint coffee, which were still luckily around because it was still early January and the festivities of Christmastime hadn’t completely worn off yet, I sat at one of their tables in the back and flipped through the pages of the book, drinking in the words like a giraffe leaning over to drink from a pond. When I read, I devoured. I was sure I looked a little crazy, sitting there wide-eyed and so invested, but I didn’t care.

“Any good?”

I didn’t hear the question at first. It was only when someone cleared their throat that I jumped a little, looking up from the text to see a man around my age standing next to my table. He had a drink in his hand and was offering it out to me. I eyed him weirdly. “What?”

“The book. Is it any good? Also, this is your coffee. My name’s Peter so they messed up.”

I could only stare at him for a few moments, still enveloped in the world of Carrie Fisher before I processed what was happening. “Oh. Thanks.” I took the coffee from him, our fingers brushing just slightly. Peter was an attractive man. He had dark colored hair that was cut pretty close to his head and a strong, angular jaw. His eyes were the same color as the wood grain on the table I sat at. “You like Star Wars?”

“Is that a trick question?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Top three characters, go.”

If my insistence phased him, he didn’t show it. “C-3PO, Obi-Wan, and Vader. But only Vader from the original three. Anakin’s annoying. You?”

I was impressed by his answer. Really, there was no wrong answer to this question, but it was nice to see he had taken my question seriously. “R2, Leia, and Obi-Wan.” I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the peppermint taste before I sent him a smile. “And yes, the book is good. Might change your perception of Harrison Ford a bit, but it’s nice to read Carrie’s version of events.”

“I’ve been meaning to pick it up, but haven’t gotten the time. I was thinking about just ordering the e-book.”

“You should get the print, if you can. There’s something nostalgic about reading her last memoir in an actual book.” I, ironically, had The Princess Diarist in my Books app on my phone, but I much preferred reading it from the original source.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Before he could say anything else, the barista called his name. “Ah, this must actually be mine.” He went to go collect his coffee and I thought that was the end of it. This stranger had just somewhat made my day better and that was all he was going to do. So, I lowered my eyes to my book again. It wasn’t until I heard the chair across from me scraping against the floor that I realized Peter had come back.

“Mind if I sit?” Peter asked, gesturing to the chair.

“Your admission price is a question. Favorite Star Wars film?”

“Well now, that’s a hard one. Empire Strikes Back, probably.”

I crinkled my nose. “I guess you can sit down.”

“Ouch,” he mentioned, though he was grinning. He lowered himself into the seat and scooted the chair back in. “What’s yours?”

“The original three are the best because of their iconic status, no doubt,” I countered, slipping a bookmark into the page I was on before shutting it. “But the new trilogy is developed so much more. And the plot line is better. So I’d probably go with The Force Awakens.”

“The horror,” he said, clutching his chest and laughing a little. It was a nice laugh, deep and strong. It filled my stomach with butterflies. “But I’ll concede. The Force Awakens is brilliant.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, what do you do, Petra?”

I was going to ask how he knew what my name was, but as if anticipating his question, he pointed to my name scribbled on the cup. I wanted to laugh. “I run a podcast. And I’m publishing a book soon, once my editor and publisher get their act together.” He laughed again and I swore in that moment I would try to make him laugh at least three more times during our conversation. His laugh was too addictive and sexy to not hear it. “What about you, Peter?”

“I’m afraid I live a much more boring life. I’m an accountant.”

“The horror,” I parroted.

“Believe it or not, I enjoy it a lot. I’m good with numbers.” He took another sip of his coffee. I noticed that his hands could wrap around the entire cup and he still had room to lace his fingers together. I almost swooned. Something about a man’s hands was extremely hot. “Tell me more about this podcast. What do you talk about?”

“Mostly stuff like this,” I answered, gesturing to the book I had set on the corner of the table. “Amongst other nerd things.”

“Would these nerd things include Harry Potter?”

“Naturally.”

“Let me guess,” he said, trailing off for a moment as he gave me a once over. “Hufflepuff?”

“I self-identify as a Hufflepuff, but Pottermore has spoken. I’m a Ravenclaw.”

“Damn. Do I get half a point?”

“I’ll give you the full one, just because you’re speaking the language of my soul. Which is, of course, Harry Potter. You’re definitely a Ravenclaw.”

“Hole in one. Though I self-identify as a Slytherin.”

I smiled. I wanted to ask him more about him self-identifying as a Slytherin, but his phone beeped from his pocket. He wrestled it out of his jacket and stared at it for a moment. “Unfortunately, I have to go. I only get a thirty minute lunch break.”

I felt myself deflate like a balloon. “Oh. Right. Have fun with the rest of your work day.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he stood. “I really enjoyed talking to you, Petra. Would you…” he trailed off, chuckling nervously. “I don’t know. Would you want to hang out some other time?”

I was already sliding my phone across the table. “Put in your number. I’ll text you.”

He grinned and typed in his phone number, thumbs almost too big for the buttons. When he handed it back to me, his contact glared at me like a giant neon sign. “I’ll hopefully hear from you soon, Petra.”

“You will,” I assured, giving him a smile.

“Great,” he said simply, grabbing his coffee. “Bye.” The farewell was spoken sweetly and had the butterflies swarming again. I repeated the sentiment and watched him walk out of the coffee shop door, smile permanently on my face.

I was too excited to even pick up my book.

“Are you wearing your good bra?”

Melody’s question came from the small speaker of my phone. She was propped on my vanity dresser in my room, on the tiny FaceTime screen. She had spreadsheets scattered around her on her kitchen table, and I could hear her roommates playing the telly too loudly. Every five minutes or so, she gritted her teeth and refrained from telling them to go fuck themselves.

I’d only met her two roommates once. There was Cassandra, who was a petite girl who Melody had met in uni. She had been there on a volleyball scholarship, which I didn’t think existed until I met her. She had blonde hair that was pinstraight and was always pulled back into a ponytail. The other was Vera, who had been born in Canada and moved to London with her boyfriend from uni. They were still together as far as I knew. I didn’t like being around Derek, her boyfriend, because he never stopped staring at Melody’s tits. Or my tits. Or any tits that were in his vicinity, besides Vera’s.

Therefore, I could understand her ire.

“I didn’t want to come off as presumptuous,” I answered her question, twisting and turning in my dress to try and see how the material moved. I had already tried three dresses and none of them seemed to be working for me. This one was a short green dress, but you could see my underwear line and all my seamless ones were in the wash.

“It’s not presumptuous to wear a good bra,” Melody argued. I heard the volume of her telly turn up and saw Melody roll her eyes.

“It’s kinda presumptuous. Like I assume I’m going to have sex.”

“I hate to tell you this, Pet, but you probably are going to have sex.”

“Still, I don’t want to look like I was expecting it.”

I stripped off the green dress and stood in my room, clad in only my underwear and bra. I heard Melody tisk in the background, so I assumed my bra was not to her liking. I didn’t care. This bra was comfortable and I liked it. Although it was comfy and had completely molded to fit my boobs (as most good bras did over time), it was still white and lacey, so she couldn’t complain much. My underwear didn’t match, but didn’t white go with everything?

“Try the burgundy one. That one makes your legs look long.” This was a feat, because I had short legs. I reached for the burgundy dress she was talking about and held it up to my body, inspecting it in my vanity mirror. It was decent, I decided. Not too fussy but not too plain. “And for God’s sake, put on a new bra.”

“I’m not putting on a new bra,” I admonished, rolling my eyes as I slipped the burgundy dress over my shoulders. It had short sleeves and ended just past mid-thigh. Once it was on, I decided it was perfect. “Coat or no coat?”

Melody snorted. “I don’t care how hot this guy is, he’s not worth freezing your arse off. It’s January in London. Don’t be a twit.”

She was right, of course. I grabbed a black coat my mum had gotten for me a couple Christmases ago. I slipped on some short black boots and did a little twirl. “What do we think?”

“Better if you changed the bra, but this will do.” At my glare, she chuckled. “You look great. You’re going to know Peter on his ass. I can’t believe you met someone as nerdy and weird as you. It’s just your luck.”

“I don’t always have this luck.” I checked the digital clock I had on the stand next to my bed and decided it was probably time to leave if I wanted to make it there on time. We were meeting at a little Mexican restaurant at six, and it was nearing 5:45. “I’ve got to go, Melody.”

“Good luck babe. You’ve got this.”

“Melody, can you shut up? Vera and I are trying to watch Hollyoaks!”

I saw Melody shut her eyes. I could only guess that she was debating homicide. “If I haven’t killed myself by the time you’re back, call me. I want to hear all about it. I might also stay at your place tonight.”

“You’ve got a key. Come over whenever you want.” I was used to Melody letting herself into my flat, especially when Cassandra and Vera were being annoying.

“Might take you up on that. Have fun tonight. Do everything I wouldn’t do.”

I ended the chat and ordered myself an Uber. I really needed to get a car. Maybe I could bribe Zach to drive me around like he did with Jeremiah. Melody had complained that Peter hadn’t offered to come pick me up for our date, but I didn’t tell her that I preferred it that way. In case there was need for an escape, I wouldn’t have to feel pressured into him driving me back to my flat.

I had been looking forward to this date all week. We had been texting back and forth about various subjects of nerd-ism and then after about three days of texting he had asked me out. I would not admit to jumping around my flat like a loon when he finally did ask me out, but I wouldn’t deny it either. It had been so long since I had been interested in someone that I nearly forgot the protocol for how I was supposed to act on the days leading up to the date, but the conversation had still flown well.

Once my Uber had dropped me off at the restaurant, I texted Peter to let him know I was here. Assuming he was already inside, I pushed open the door to the restaurant and walked to the front.

“Hi. Reservations for Gerber.” The hostess clicked a couple of buttons on the computer and gave me a smile.

“Great. Follow me,” she said. I noticed her name tag said Stephanie. I don’t know why I noticed her name tag first, but I liked to know people’s names. My dad had always instilled in me that I needed to be polite and get the names of everyone I came across, whether it was an employee or boss. It showed respect, he mentioned. And it was true. My dad knew the names of all of his builders and still kept in touch with some of the people he had contracted for.

I followed Stephanie to where Peter was sitting at a booth. He was dressed in a nice navy blue jumper and dark black pants, shiny loafers on his feet. I wondered briefly how much accountants made, but didn’t dare ask. I would simply have to look it up when I got home later.

“Wow,” he said, standing to give me a quick peck on the cheek. He smelled heavenly. “You look amazing.”

“You too,” I responded, giving him a smile as I sat across from him.

“You want some wine?” he asked.

“I’m not a connoisseur by any means, so I’ll trust whatever you get.”

He ordered some fancy bottle of red wine I couldn’t pronounce the name of and Stephanie set off to go retrieve it. “How was your work week?” I asked, grabbing my napkin and setting it in my lap. I’d be damned if I let any food get on my dress. “I’ll have you know I’m very intrigued in accounting now. I know almost nothing about it.”

“Lots of numbers, lots of financial documents, lots of typing. The rest of the week was good. I was looking forward to this.” My heart fluttered a little bit at his confession. “But accounting is boring when you’re comparing it to podcasts. How was your work week? Any cool guests?”

“Work week was great. I don’t record this week’s podcast until tomorrow, so I’ve got tonight free. The guest is Ray Holman, who did the costuming for several series of Doctor Who.”

“That’s exciting.” Stephanie brought back our wine and poured us each a glass. When she asked if we were ready to order, I shook my head. “Couple more minutes, please,” Peter suggested. Stephanie left with a smile.

“Have you been here before? I wonder what’s good.” I opened up my menu and started scanning the entrees they had listed.

“I was going to ask you.”

“This is my first time here.” I looked around the restaurant. It was decorated with varying shades of neon colors. It looked like a festival of some kind. There was a mariachi song playing over the speakers that had a lot of trumpet sounds. It made me want to get up and dance.

“Yeah, but you’d probably still know what’s good,” Peter said. I looked at him in confusion and raised a brow. He furrowed his brows, like he didn’t understand what I wasn’t getting about his statement. “You know… because you’re Mexican.”

Because you’re Mexican.

I was lucky. In England, I hadn’t been made fun of for my race until high school, when Nathan Penrose had gotten tired of me not responding to his other taunts and teases. He told me to go back to Cuba, where people like me belonged. I didn’t let it bother me because I knew Nathan Penrose was a jackass. Plus, he had been in high school at the time. Though it was no excuse, teenage boys were incredibly stupid. Peter, however, was no teenage boy. This was a grown man. Who had just said I would know what to order at a Mexican restaurant because… because I was Mexican.

“I’m Cuban, actually,” I said in a whisper, unable to come up with any other response.

“Aren’t they sort of the same thing?”

I wanted to throw up. I wanted to burst into tears. I wanted to curl up in a ball and bury myself underneath blankets. “No,” I responded, my voice still pathetically quiet. “Cubans are from Cuba.”

“But you grew up in Cuba, right? So you probably know what kind of food is authentic or not.”

“I was born in Cheshire,” I tried to argue, but my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. I didn’t have time to say anything else when Stephanie was back, notepad in hand and a cheery smile on her face.

“We know what we want?”

“I’ll take whatever he gets. I have to go to the loo.” I couldn’t stand up fast enough. I felt the embarrassment fill my veins, like ice water. My throat was tightening, a sure sign that I was going to start crying. I didn’t want Peter to see me cry. The jackass didn’t deserve it. I wobbled in my heels, teetering as I marched to the bathroom, but I didn’t care if I fell flat on my face. It would still be less embarrassing than what Peter had just asked me.

My tunnel vision for the loo was so severe I almost didn’t hear someone call my name. I didn’t realize anything until a hand suddenly grabbed my wrist. I jerked away, thinking it was Peter and preparing myself to scream at him and admit defeat in front of all the patrons of the restaurant, but the face I saw when I turned was familiar and comforting.

“Petra?” Bailey asked. Her short red hair was pulled into a tiny bun at the base of her skull and her blue eyes were watching me with worry. “Are you okay?”

Numbly, I nodded. And then I sniffled. Bailey’s eyes widened. “Come on,” she said softly, standing from her seat. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I could only imagine this meant a tear had escaped and my mascara was running. “I’ll be right back, lads.”

It was then that I noticed who she was sitting with. There were two men sitting at the table with her, one of them nodding his head and thinking nothing of Bailey’s weird departure. The other, however, I knew.

“Petra?” Harry asked, eyes widening when he saw the tears on my face. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. I just turned and made a beeline for the loo, feeling Bailey following behind me. I burst into tears fully when the door of the bathroom shut behind me, and Bailey was immediately at my side, brushing my hair away from my face like a mother would to a child.

“Oh, Petra,” she signed out, her gaze pitying. “What happened, love?”

So I told her. I told her about how excited I was to go on a date with Peter, how swimmingly things had gone when we were texting, and then the cold reality that hit me like ice. Her eyes narrowed and hardened as I blubbered through an explanation, my words barely sounding like actual words and more like garbled sounds strung together. Her hands on my shoulders rubbed reassuringly as I buried my face in my hands.

“He’s a prick, Petra. A racist, selfish prick. He doesn’t deserve a second of your time or your tears.” Bailey grabbed some toilet paper from the stall and handed it to me so I could dab my tears away. My makeup was beyond saving, but she grabbed her purse and held out a concealer. “It’ll be too light for you, but it’s there if you want it.”

I didn’t care that Bailey was at least ten shades lighter than me. I sniffled, picked up the concealer, and smeared some underneath my eyes so the mascara tracks disappeared. I looked like a ghost, but I didn’t look like some racist arsehole had just stomped on my heart. I preferred the ghost. “I don’t even want to go back out there.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll take you home. Jeff and Harry won’t mind.”

That brought on the second topic of discussion. “How the hell do you know Harry Styles?”

“I don’t, actually. Jeff and I are family friends though, and he worked with Harry on his record. Jeff just said a friend was in town and asked if he could come to dinner with us.” Bailey raised her finger to blend in a spot of concealer I missed. “But Jeff’s really understanding. He’ll get it if I need to drive you home.”

“I don’t want to ruin your dinner,” I said quietly. “I’m just being stupid.”

“No you aren’t,” Bailey responded vehemently. “He’s being an arse. C’mon love, it’s better than taking an Uber home. Between you and Veronica, I’m sure you’re funding the entire Uber company on your own.”

I managed a small chuckle and tossed the toilet paper in the bin. “How much do I look like Casper the friendly ghost?”

“On a scale of one to ten, an eleven.” But she smiled. “You look fine, love. Let’s head out, yeah? Maybe you, Veronica, and I can have a good old-fashioned slumber party?”

“I’m afraid my front room won’t fit us all.”

Bailey laughed and linked her arm with mine. When we opened the door to the loo, I almost hit someone with it. Standing outside, leaning against the wall, was Harry Styles himself.

“Christ, wear a bell,” I muttered.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He reached out, as if to check me over himself to see if I was alright, but decided better of it. His hands dropped back down to his sides. He probably knew that if he tried to touch me, I’d bite his fingers off like a rabid chihuahua. “What happened?”

“None of your business,” I grumbled angrily.

“But everything’s okay now, yeah?”

I knew he didn’t mean his concern. It wasn’t genuine. He couldn’t give a fuck about my feelings when Nathan Penrose was screaming at me to go back to “where I came from” and he couldn’t give a fuck about me now. “Leave me alone, Harry.”

Bailey and I said goodbye to Jeff, leaving Harry standing outside of the bathroom. I didn’t even look in Peter’s direction as I left the restaurant with Bailey at my side, making sure to slip Stephanie a five before I left. Bailey kept her arm linked through mine, as if she was afraid I was going to fall over if she let go. Oddly enough, I appreciated the support.

Minutes later, I was tucked into Bailey’s small little Volvo and we were on the way back to my flat.

“Do I want to know what’s going on with you and Harry?”

“Too much to explain. I’m surprised Veronica hasn’t mentioned it.”

“She mentioned that you guys grew up together in Holmes Chapel, but didn’t mention much else. There some bad blood there?”

I let out a wry laugh. “You could say that.” We pulled up to my flat and I saw the light on. Must have meant Melody had actually taken my offer. “Looks like Melody’s there.”

“That’s good. Didn’t want you to be alone.” She parked the car and turned to face me. “You’ll be okay, right? I don’t need to stage an intervention?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks Bailey. Veronica’s lucky to have you.”

“Damn right she is,” Bailey laughed. She leaned over to give me a quick hug. “Try not to dwell on what that arsehole said. He’s just insensitive and rude. And the first thing I want you to do when you get inside is delete that prick’s number.”

“Will do. See you later.” I hopped out of her car, wobbling slightly on my heels but gaining my balance pretty quickly. I walked to my front door, digging through my clutch to get my keys and holding them up triumphantly to Bailey. I unlocked my door as her headlights faded away.

Melody was sitting on my couch, her spreadsheets spread around her again. She had her glasses on (which she hardly wore) and her hair was up in a wet ponytail. She must have taken a shower. She looked up when I shut the door behind me and waved. “Thanks for letting me come over. I couldn’t get any of my shit done with Vera and Cassandra blabbering about Hollyoaks in the background. How was…” she trailed off when she saw the expression on my face. “Oh no, Pet. That bad?”

“He said I should know what to order because I’m Mexican and I would know what was authentic.”

“He didn’t.”

I nodded as I flopped down on my loveseat, not wanting to disturb the organization strategy she obviously had going for her spreadsheets. “He did.”

“What a prick! I’m glad you wore the bra you did. He didn’t deserve the good bra.”

“No he did not.” I toed off my boots. “I should have known the second I walked into the restaurant. He didn’t bring flowers.”

To anyone else, this statement might seem weird, but Melody knew what I was talking about. “Someday someone will get you flowers, Pet. You’ll be sick of getting flowers. He’ll buy you a whole florist shop.”

I didn’t believe that for a second, but it was a nice idea. “Whatever. Bailey was there with one of her friends and she drove me back. Speaking of which, Harry Styles was there.”

“And the night gets better and better.”

“Exactly.” I shrugged off my jacket. “I need a shower. I want to wash this night off of me. Will you order some take out? I didn’t actually get a chance to eat.”

“Sure. I’ll surprise you.”

I sent her a half-hearted thanks as I made my way to my bathroom. Tossing my dress on the floor as if casting off the events of the night, I turned the water to boiling. My underwear and bra joined my dress on the floor as I stepped into my shower.

If I stupidly cried a little bit more, I made sure my sobs were quiet. I didn’t need Melody knowing how pathetic I was feeling about this whole experience.

Once I was clean and in some warm pajamas, I walked back out to the living room. In addition to the spreadsheets, Melody now had a box of pizza and paper plates spread out on my coffee table. I reclaimed my spot on my loveseat and thanked her for the plate she offered me. “What’re you working on?” I mumbled through a bite of pizza.

“Shit Trennan was supposed to get done. I’m almost done with it, but I’ll be mad about it for the rest of the week.” She looked up and gave me a small smile. “You want to watch Avatar the Last Airbender?”

“I thought you were working.”

“Eh, I can deal with you watching the telly. You don’t scream at it like Vera and Cassandra. Plus, I know seeing Zuko’s character development always makes you feel better.”

She was right.

“Okay.” I grabbed my Apple TV remote and pulled up my Amazon account, where I had already purchased all three seasons. “Thanks, Melody.”

She didn’t look up from her spreadsheets, but she smiled as I clicked on the first episode.

“Who the fuck is at your door at nine in the morning?” Was what I was woken up to. Melody was standing at my bedroom door, clad in the pajamas she had packed when she left her flat last night. I was bundled in my blankets, head barely poking out above the fleece as I groggily stared at her.

“What?”

“Someone’s knocking on your front door. Woke me up, the prat.”

“It might be Bailey checking on me. She and Veronica wake up weirdly early.” I pushed back my blankets and shivered when the cool London air hit me. Shoving my fuzzy socks on my feet before I dared to put them on the cold wood floor, I stood from my bed and blinked slowly, trying to wake myself up. I had watched the entire first season of Avatar the Last Airbender before both Melody and I decided to call it a night. I had gotten about four texts from Peter before I finally decided to just block his number. I didn’t feel like dealing with him again.

“Tell Bailey that the rest of the human civilization doesn’t wake up at nine on Saturday morning.”

“I’ll be sure to pass the note along.” I padded out to the living room. The knocking seemed to have stopped, but I still looked through the small peephole to make sure whoever it was had left. “There’s no one there anymore.” I didn’t remember ordering anything online, but I could have purchased something for AC while half-asleep one night. It had happened before.

However, when I opened the door, it wasn’t a cardboard box at my doorstep.

It was a pretty bouquet of flowers. There were baby’s breath sprinkled in with pretty dusty rose colored tulips. There was some greenery mixed up with them, but the tulips were the center of attention.

“If those are from Peter, toss them in the fucking garbage.”

I lifted them from my doorstep and kicked the door shut with my foot. I brought them over to my kitchen counter, staring at the beautiful arrangement. There was a small little card attached to a silver bow, wrapped around the vase. My fingers shook as I reached for it.

Petra,

I hope you’re feeling better. These are a thanks and a sorry. Thanks for letting me be on AC and getting to know the world of podcasts. Sorry for everything else.

- Harry

P.S. That Peter guy is a arse. Don’t let him get to you.

“Well, shit,” Melody muttered as she read the note over my shoulder.

Well shit indeed.

#1dff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ou #ac

49 notes · View notes

notaburgler · 4 years

Text

I’m gonna beat you

Fem!reader

Triggers: cursing and sexual themes (at times)

Summary: You work as a waitress at a restaurant along side many of our lovely haikyuu boys. Your goal: get more tips than Oikawa!

You always hated how Oikawa would make off with more tips than you. Yes, he was good looking. Yes, he was charming. YES, he was the senior server at the chain restaurant you both worked at; but you were an attractive, smart, and amazing waitress!

It was a nightly ritual for the servers. After the doors closed and the customers were gone, you’d all sit at the large round table in the middle of the restaurant and count tips. It was a game- who made the most that night? You always came in second. He’d beat you by a landslide. How?!?! You were one of three girls working there, and most nights, you were the only girl. Seiko was the only other female server. She floated between serving and cooking and tonight, she was on cooking duty.

Kiyoko was the hostess, seating patrons and making the rotation fair. She knew of the game all of the servers played, and never picked favorites. But you had to wonder why when large groups crowded the lobby, Oikawa always managed to wrangle them into his section.

Yachi was a nervous wreck around people, but she was efficient and detailed. She did most paperwork and scheduling and helped in the dish pit when it was needed, but begged for staff not to come to her with complaints about the schedule. She’d panic and direct them to the assistant manager Ukai to solved them. She just couldn’t handle the stress. She tried serving one night when staffing was low… never again. It was a complete fuck show. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” she may as well have changed her name tag to I’m sorry instead of Yachi.

Tonight was no different than any other Saturday night. Being so close to the university filled your pockets quite well on weekends. The only difference about tonight was that you were going to beat Oikawa and get the most tips, you could feel it.

You had the largest section and it was packed full. The head chef on staff, Kuroo, had the hots for you. The bussers were sweet and kept a close eye on all sections, but the flash of a few extra dollars made their eyes pass by yours a bit more often. The stars were aligning for your triumphant victory over that cocky bastard Oikawa. It helped that the new guy had the small section next to Oikawa, and since he was the senior server, he was training.

The new guy was good. This was his first night alone and he seemed to be keeping up. Kyoko made sure to send what she thought would be easy orders his way so he wasn’t overwhelmed. He was a bit stoic though. He didn’t smile much and was pretty straight forward, but the customers seemed to like him and left a few bucks under the centerpiece.

You watched him fumble around a bit, Oikawa having to take a moment to correct him, ignoring his customers waving hand and impatient expression. It was gold. Tonight was the night! You could feel it deep inside of you. And the look Kyoko gave you from the podium up front made you that much more confident you’d destroy that cocky bastard tonight.

The group entering was loud, as most of them were. With a good bar on site and being so close to the dorms and fraternities, you saw quite a few young, drunk men come stumbling in, unable to properly control the volume of their voice. But drunk men meant lowered inhibitions; which meant great tips for the only girl on staff.

“Place us with your hottest server!”

His letterman’s jacket told Kyoko he hadn’t accepted he was no longer a high school football star. “Our hottest server is Oikawa.”

She glanced over, Oikawa smiling and laughing with a table of two older women. He could charm the pants off of anyone. At times, he’d even be able to make straight men question their own sexuality. He really was good at his job, and it drove you up the wall.

The drunk college boy grumbled, “I meant your hottest chick server.”

Kyoko hated these types and her eyes falling back to you, silently asking if you were up for the task showed her clear irritation in them already. You nodded. It was your turn to fill another table, and your pockets were lighter than they should be for how late in the night it was. There was one other table you needed to tend to before them, and you knew you’d need to prepare for all of the remarks about how cute you were and if they could get your number. Even Terushima wasn’t as bad as drunk college guys, and he was relentless.

Luckily, Kyoko was on the receiving end of most of his advancements. And lucky for her, her boyfriend Tanaka put a stop to them as they happened. As the bus boy, he was able to keep an eye on everything that happened throughout the restaurant, even eyes on his precious girlfriend.

You turned your back for one second- ONE SECOND- and Oikawa was already trying to steal your loot right from under you. With a charming smile and his sports knowledge, he lured the large group of drunk men over to his section like a fisher man with a weak catch. But you had something he didn’t: boobs.

With a quick adjustment to your top, you caught the attention of the leader of this pack of hungry wolves and beckoned him back over to the dark side. Nearly floating across the floor, he was led astray from Oikawa's clutches and landed dead center of your target.

“I thought you said you wanted the prettiest server?” A pout on your lips in a playful fashion, “am I not pretty?”

It was sleazy and way below your moral code. But Oikawa would be defeated tonight. You would reign supreme and scream your battle cry upon victory. You would have his head!

“Your the only server worthy of taking our order hot stuff.”

Hot stuff? Was that even a compliment anymore? The demeaning qualities of these delusional pledglings… ugh. You were gonna be in for a long night with this crowd.

You forced the corners of you mouth to curl. You probably looked more like the joker than a woman thrilled to be waiting on such classy lads, but you didn’t really care much. Your mind was wandering over to Oikawa's section where an eruption of laughter caught you off guard. Those women were eating up everything he said, even running their old, wrinkled fingers along his hand with flirtatious eyes.

You couldn’t let that wet paper towel beat you!

“I’ll be back in a bit to get your drinks ordered.” You turned and fled back to the kitchen.

Normally, such low ball tactics weren’t your thing. You preferred to get the job done the honest way. But today… today you’d play dirty.

“Kuroo!” His head darted up at your angelic voice, “I need you.” Words that stopped his heart and made him ascend to the heavens.

“Kuroo!”

He shook himself. Was he daydreaming again?

“What’s up sugar puff?” His nicknames always made you blush, and this time was no different.

After composing yourself, “I’m gonna beat Oikawa tonight.” You clenched your fists and stomped in excitement.

Without thinking, he grabbed the closest item, a broken broom handle, and smiled a wicked smile, “I’ll help.”

Did anyone like Oikawa?

You tried to hide the snicker that forced it's way up your throat, “no no…” his enthusiasm was endearing, but a bit too much. “I mean, I’m gonna get more tips. And you are a master schemer.”

That look. The look on your face made the butterflies in his stomach flutter uncontrollably. He could barely hold himself back from what his desires egged him to do.

“Ok…” he tossed the broom handle and went to work.

“Oh!” His hands grabbed at your shirt, “Kuroo! What the fuck?!?”

****

Oikawa's head turned to the commotion in the dish room. His usual smile faded for a split second, he recognized that voice. There was no doubt that you were up to something, he’d have to pull out the big guns tonight.

He was well aware of your desire to beat him. He never worried too much. He had each customer that sat at his tables wrapped around his finger the second he waltzed up to their seats and spoke. You’d made it abundantly clear that one day you’d make more in tips than him. He figured the sound was just you attempting some low ball move. He wasn’t wrong. He scoffed it off as some inferiority complex and walked off with a smile, his next order was up anyway.

He got to the window to see Bokuto sliding his plates to him, “order up.” His big goofy smile made the bile in Oikawa's stomach rumble upwards.

Bokuto was fun and always the life of the restaurant. Alongside Kuroo, the two were a great team. Kuroo cooking and Bokuto prepping, the food was flawless each and every time. But when Kuroo was on break, and Seiko was nowhere to be seen, Bokuto ran the kitchen, that’s when the chaos ensued.

He was a walking disaster. The only reason he wasn’t constantly in the hospital, or the building was still standing and not a pile of smoldering ash, was because of Kuroo. With a watchful eye, he guided the reckless prep cook into success. But the man burnt water if left unattended.

Oikawa grimaced, “Did you cook this?” Most of what Bokuto dished out was garbage.

“Yup. Specially made, just for your customers.”

Oikawa reluctantly grabbed the dishes and took in a big breath. He repeated over and over to himself, please don’t suck, please don’t suck as he placed the plates in front of each person.

“Enjoy your meal…” he couldn’t even say it with confidence. Bokuto's cooking was like feeding toxic waste to lab rats.

He scurried off, scared of the reactions. He couldn't bear facing them if that owl looking disaster had messed it up.

As he made it to the bar, his eyes caught you leaving the back. Something was different about you this time- something… sexy?

He couldn’t place it. Your hair was the same. Your posture was a bit better than before. Your smile bigger. But given your current table and the patrons staring happily at you, why wouldn’t you smile. Drunk college kids in this town tipped great! Their mommies and daddies paid for everything, and none of them had any concept of what’s too much money. He stared in question, wonder just what the hell happened to make him unable to remove his sight from you. He’d always been attracted to you. This was proven by his countless attempts to ask you out on dates only to be denied with a harsh no.

When he got closer, eavesdropping on your conversation, he saw it. It was your shirt.

You hadn’t changed it. You hadn’t adjusted it, only unbuttoning the top button to show more cleavage, something Seiko did all of the time. But that wasn’t it. It was what lay under either that thin fabric.

Your nipples were protruding out like you had been in the arctic tundra with no protection from the harsh elements. They stood attention and were thrust out slightly by the change in posture.

“Oh really?” He hummed to himself waiting on the drink order, “two can play that game.” His eyes falling to the older women he had been shamelessly flirting with all night.

****

Back and forth and back and forth, both of you attempting to outdo the other. The other waitstaff felt their restaurant was turning into a glorified strip club with the amount of skin showing and bulges resting on the edges of tables.

“Kagayama, Tanaka, Noya.” You curled your finger to draw them close. “I’ll show you my bra strap if you guys spend more time on my tables than Oikawas.”

Like golden retrievers, the three enthusiastically nodded their heads. Kagayama would have done it either way, you knew this. He hated the guy. He had watched him for so long, hoping to one day be taken under his wing and shown how to serve and get the best tips. But Oikawa ignored his request and moved along like the self centered, clogged salt shaker he was.

You took your break, albeit reluctantly, and counted your cash in the back room. Based on the large bulge of money in Oikawa's pocket, you had to have been almost one hundred dollars behind him. How?!?! You had done it all: showing more skin, Kuroo took off your bra and shoved your chest against the freezer door, you flirted and bent over farther to show off the goods. You played nice with the kids and smiled when they broke the glasses. How was he ahead of you?

You passed Oikawa as you came back. He was waiting in the back for a salad. His toe tapped furiously on the ground. Kagayama had been on salad duty for a few weeks and it was working out just fine. The customers loved how beautifully arranged they all were. The lettuce laying perfectly, the toppings strategically placed to allow the color to pop. The dressing- not too much or too little. If only the kid didn't take forever to put it together. When people ordered salads, all of the servers grumbled internally while maintaining a pure smile. It was a task and a half to get it out to them in a timely manner. Kagayama, the perfectionist, would not allow any of his masterpieces to leave without his stamp of approval, even if it meant they would waist for it. And since the person waiting to deliver was Oikawa, he gladly took his time.

When you returned to the floor, your section was bustling. You noted the new guy had helped keep your customers happy while you were gone.

“Thanks.” He was cuter up close.

This was the first time you had really been near him. He normally worked the morning shift to train. But now that you saw him up close, it was a surprise how good looking he was.

He didn’t speak, he only nodded and went back to his tables. He sure was a strange guy though. You hadn’t seen him smile, but his customers always seemed to be happy.

Kuroo summoned you to the window, “Bokuto is cooking all of Oikawa's meals tonight.” That devious smile, “the idiot has to learn somehow.”

Although this was good news, you also knew Bokuto had been improving over the course of the past few months. He had been cooking at home to practice and used you as a test subject for his concoctions. His food was nowhere near as gastronomically astronomical as Kuroos, but he was good enough to pass off as a cook now.

“Thanks.” You grabbed the plate and left.

When you saw Oikawa sneak off to the back, you made your move, quickly dropping off the plate and heading to his section to scan the people.

One table seemed happy, but Bokuto's food showed they were already not thrilled- no need to interfere there. Another table had already placed the tip and were getting up to leave. You weren’t above backhanded tactics to get better tips, but stealing tips from anyone was not your style. The older women… yes! The older women would be perfect. He had been working on them all night.

You weaved through the people and tables. Your eyes glued to your target like a heat seeking missile. “Good evening ladies.” Your smile brought comfort to them, “your server, Oikawa, will be right back. He just has to put some cream on his rash.” You bowed slightly, “is there anything I can get you while you wait for him to put some cream on his large, itchy rash?”

The collective looks spreading across each face was priceless. This young, handsome boy that had been charming them all night long was doing what?

“No thank you dear.” Her sweet voice was a bit shaky. You wondered if it was from age, or from the information they had just gained.

As you left, you saw them getting up and leaving. A quick peek to the table made your cheeks burn in excitement. Only a few measly dollars tossed to the table.

The games got dirtier and dirtier as the night went on: Oikawa spilling spaghetti on your white shirt. You bumped into him “accidentally” a few times forcing him to spill drinks and drop plates. He made comments about your girlfriend and how jealous she was that you flirted with guys at work, and you told a clearly straight man that Oikawa thought he was cute and handed him Oikawa's actual phone number.

You passed by him as he swooned some young college girls and dropped off their food. “Oikawa..” you said in a yell like whisper, “I saw you didn’t wash your hands. Go.” You pointed to the restrooms in the back and raised your brows.

The girls quickly looked down at the plates he had just had his hands all over. “Ladies, it’s just a gag. Our servers are so playful.” He growled his last word as his eyes seeded holes into your sauntering figure heading back to the other side of the restaurant.

An order up for tour section brought you back to the counter of food waiting.

You grabbed your next order and placed it in front of your customer, “anything else?”

Her face contorted as she looked down like you had placed the severed head of her mother in front of her. Once you noticed, you gasped in shock and retrieved it as quickly as possible.

“I’m so sorry!”

A rush order was placed. “Oh! An issue with the food? Kuroo is normally so good.” Oikawa snagged his order, the same order as yours and walked away. The bastard stole your food, switching the plates.

“That son of a bitch.” A snarled rumbled from the pit inside you and coiled around your larynx.

****

The end of the night had finally come. The last customer leaving with a full stomach and a smile. All of the tables were bussed, cleaned, and reset for the next day.

The cooks cleaned the grill, and the bussers did the dishes. You were assigned to vacuum the floor and the new guy, Iwaizumi mopped the hard surface. The bartenders, Tsukishima and Lev stacked clean glasses and counted his tips. No one bothered comparing their tips to them. They beat the wait staff every night- no exceptions.

Now was the moment of truth. You all gathered at the large round table as normal. All servers present. Akaashi, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Daichi, Atsumu, Matsukawa, Suga, Semi, and you.

Your nerves trembled leaving your hands weak and your brain a bit cloudy. That night was busy and you weren’t so lucky as to have the more cute servers over the down right handsome ones working with you. In all honesty, you’d rather have had Tadashi, Hinata, and Kenma as the other wait staff. They were tipped well, but weren’t the type to flirt or charm. Kenma was the worst, and somehow barely trailed behind you in tips almost every time you worked together.

You saw his stack of cash and that stupid grin pointed right at you. He was such a cocky asshole and all you wanted was to hold his head under water until the bubbles stopped coming up. But instead, you aggressively counted your money.

Once finished, Daichi instructed everyone to write down how much, just like every other night. Of course, anyone could choose not to disclose the number, but the competitive nature and relationship you all shared, it came as no surprise that everyone was eager to win.

The assistant manager, Ukai, although he wouldn’t encourage this type of behavior, totally encouraged this type of behavior. Even the cooks were involved, anxiously waiting to hear who came out on top.

“Alright alright! Everyone be quiet!”

No one was talking. Just light banter while they waited. Their assistant manager was a weird guy, but he was fun and didn’t mind the games they played while on the clock.

Matsukawa started, “two hundred and fifty three dollars.” He smiled. This was a huge number for him.

Atsumu huffed and rolled his eyes. If Osamu has been working that night, the two of them easily would have beat everyone. “Two hundred and seventy eight.” He smirked.

If there was one person everyone hated just as much as Oikawa, it was Atsumu. He was just as cocky and just as much of an asshole. He made your teeth grind when he spoke.

Everyone else outed their numbers: Daichi, Akaashi, Suga. It was a shock that Akaashi didn’t get more. He was so pretty and sweet. Normally women would walk in and practically throw their wallets at him. You guessed tonight was just an off night.

It was time. Oikawas stupid smirk made you shake with rage.

“Three hundred and forty five dollars.” He slammed a pile of cash in front of him to show his earnings.

Instantly you rose to your feet and celebrated. “I did it! I finally beat that deflated volleyball! ” You screamed in celebration, “four hundred and two, you moldy cantaloupe!.”

You cheered. Kuroo coming out from the kitchen to join. The two of you danced to your own little tune, if you could even call what you we’re doing dancing. It looked more like what Beavis and Butthead did when they danced than any actual dance moves.

You turned to him to high five when his lips pressed to yours, “good job.” You blushed.

A clearing throat drew your eyes from Kuroos to the table, “four hundred and twenty two.”

“Huh?” A collective hum of confusion.

“I made four hundred and-“

“We get that!” Oikawa kicked his chair out, “but how? That table of old ladies wouldn’t leave all night.”

Iwaizumi sighed, “Those women are the wives of some crazy rich business men. Their husbands have been out on a business meeting on the other side of the globe for a few days now, so they came here to get out of the house.” He explained.

He rolled his eyes, “They commented on my arms and left me a tip of four hundred dollars. I didn’t even do anything other than wait on their table.”

When he mentioned his arms, and lifted them to show, you understood exactly why those women tipped him so well. The drool practically fell from your mouth seeing the tight muscles twitch as he moved.

“There you have it.” Ukai said getting up, “now go home and relax. And no bullshit tomorrow.” He glared both you and Oikawa down. He put out to many fires that night for his liking.

You glared at Oikawa from Kuroos strong arms, “I still beat you, you overgrown weed.”

#oikawa tooru #female reader #pranks #getting paid #beat that idiot #akaashi keiji #sawamura daichi #iwaizumi imagine #haikyuu!!#bokuto #kuroo tetsurō #shenanigans #tips #waitressing is hard

36 notes · View notes