In Questa Bella Verona, Due Casate, Di Pari Nobilt, Si Scagliano, Per Antico Rancore, In Sempre Nuove

In questa bella Verona, due casate, di pari nobiltà, si scagliano, per antico rancore, in sempre nuove contese che macchiano di sangue veronese mani di veronesi. Dalla tragica progenie di questi nemici sono nati sotto cattiva stella due amanti che con la loro pietosa morte mettono termine alla furia dei loro parenti. Lo sventurato corso del loro fatale amore e l'odio costante delle loro famiglie, troncato soltanto alla fine di queste creature, saran per due ore l'argomento della nostra tragedia. Ascoltate con orecchi pazienti e noi ci sforzeremo di rimediare ai nostri difetti.

oops i didn’t mean to post so late i hope this doesn’t flop

request: “Can u do one where you’re a new (maybe 2-3 years on the job) like idk kindergarten teacher have little baby hemmings in class and singe father Luke comes in for a meeting and stuff ya know those ones yeah lol this is worded weirdly sorry”

a/n: can i have luke’s kid in my class when i teach thx

You loved your job as a kindergarten teacher. The kids in your class were sweet and listened well and you were very grateful. You’d made it to the point in the year when it was time to have parent-teacher conferences to discuss your children’s progress throughout the year. You always secretly dreaded it, because sometimes it meant telling a parent that their child wasn’t ready to move on to the first grade, and that made you sad.

There was one boy in your class that was especially nice to his peers, and he was a true joy to have in class. He had night blue eyes and curly blonde hair. His parents dressed him in band t shirts of bands that you listened to when you were a teenager, and he never wore the same one twice, suggesting that his family had money.

You called his home one evening after school and a man with an Australian accent answered, catching you off guard.

“Hello, Hemmings household,” The man quipped, and you lost your train of thought focusing on his accent and quick way of speaking. You regained your composure.

“Hi, it’s Ms. Y/L/N, your son’s teacher. I need to schedule an end of the year conference to discuss Logan, and I was wondering what day and time would be best for you?” You inquired, pausing to hear Mr. Hemmings’ response.

“How does tomorrow after school sound? I’ll get a babysitter, in case it takes a while.” You smiled and nodded, even though he couldn’t see you.

“Yes, that’s fine, Mr. Hemmings, I’ll see you then, thank you!” You hung up your phone, wondering how you would react to actually seeing Mr. Hemmings if you reacted that way just from hearing his voice.

The rest of the evening dragged on, and you thought about the man you’d spoken to on the phone. You knew the last name sounded familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. You thought that maybe there had been a Hemmings in a band when you were growing up, but you couldn’t remember his first name or what he looked like. You figured there were lots of men named Hemmings and you knew it probably wasn’t the one in the band, since you taught in such a small town. You shook your head to clear your thoughts and returned to the task at hand, which was checking your student’s papers for spelling problems.

That next morning, you put on a simple dress and nice jewelry. Your mother had always told you that first impressions were the most important, and you could only make them once. You put on light makeup, nothing too far from your usual. You thought about the man you were meeting this afternoon, and your palms began to sweat with anxiety, although it was probably nothing.

Your day flew by, thankfully. You walked your students out to their parents and the busses, and a tall man came up to you.

“Are you Ms. Y/LN? I’m Mr. Hemmings,” He said, extending a hand out to shake yours. He smiled, and you noticed his white teeth and the stubble lining his jawline. You blushed slightly at his attractiveness and you held out a small hand for him to shake.

“Yes, I’m Ms Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hemmings.” You smiled up at him as he returned yours. You led him into the school and into your classroom.

You had a portfolio of his son’s artwork and writings in front of you. You gushed about how smart he is, and how much he writes about him and draws pictures of him. You handed Mr. Hemmings a drawing, which was a favorite of yours. He had drawn a blonde man playing a guitar with a few others on various instruments. Underneath the picture, he had written “my daddy and my uncles” in purple crayon.

“Yeah, I guess that’s supposed to be me and my bandmates. You might’ve heard of us, we were called 5 Seconds of Summer. We broke up when he was born since his mother left me in charge of him and I couldn’t handle a toddler and a band.” You nodded, confirming your earlier suspicions about Mr. Hemmings. If you remembered correctly, his name was Luke. The band had gone through a pretty bad breakup and it was all over the internet for many months following. It was obvious that they didn’t want to break up, but they did it because they had to.

You continued to speak to Mr. Hemmings about his son, confirming that he was more than ready for 1st grade. He was excited when you told him this.

He leaned closer to you and almost whispered “I bet he won’t have a teacher as pretty as you in 1st grade,” his left eye dropped into a wink and you blushed profusely.

He scribbled his number down on a piece of brightly colored paper from your desk. On the note he had written “yes, I’m single. Thank you for not asking. When Logan’s in 1st grade, give me a call.”

You looked up and he was gone.

LUKE’S LITERALLY LICKING THAT MIC?! WTF!? [x]

hands of love @drewissharing 🍁❤️

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