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kagedaddy · 4 years ago

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Hi! My birthday is on Easter, so I was wondering if I could get something with Kuroo, Kenma, and Atsumu forgetting it was their s/o's birthday due to to it being another holiday? An angst to fluff if possible. Thanks so much!!

bday today - kuroo, kenma & miya

warnings: none

kuroo tetsuro

kenma kozume

miya atsumu [masterlist]

hey hey hey! happy happy birthday hon, sorry it’s quite late but i hope yah had a great day and that no one forgot yah special day! heheh.

You rub the sleep from your eyes as your body begins to wake itself, you were extra happy today, it was Easter Sunday and your birthday. Rolling over the bed to face your partner but you’re met with empty space, sitting up you notice a note neatly folded on his side. Excitedly thinking it was a cute morning birthday greeting, expect it wasn’t a cute birthday greeting you were hoping.

‘babe there was an urgent meeting at the company, I’ll see you later.

oh can you buy chocolate Easter bunnies for our nieces to bring later.’

You stare at his messy handwriting, confusion clouding your expression, for sure he wouldn’t forget your birthday you’ve been married since you graduated university and not once has he forgotten your day. You shake your head denying the thought that he forgot, you’re sure that he’ll call you, he did say the meeting was urgent, something big must’ve happened in the company but still he wouldn’t forget. Sighing in defeat you throw the covers off yourself and started preparing for the day.

Dressing up in a white sundress and pulling on your heels, you’re out the door and heading to the nearest shopping center. A smile graces your features at the selection of chocolate bunnies, they had them in different flavours and sizes, momentarily forgetting the sadness of your forgotten birthday but a little cat chocolate catches your attention and the sadness seeps in you. Reminding you of a certain dark haired male who has forgotten your birthday, pouting you purchase the chocolates nearly breaking them, stupid Easter overtaking your special day. Just as you got into the busy trains, your phone buzzes and a hopeful feeling fills you but yet again no peep about your birthday, you were now convinced he forgot.

‘Did you get the chocolates? I’ll meet you at your mom’s place and let’s drop them off together, love you’

Finally arriving at your parents place, you looked around and Kuroo’s car was no where in sight, your frown deepens and as you huff in frustration. Pulling out your phone and quickly dropping him a text.asking where he was, he replies surprisingly quick.

‘Sorry babe, caught in traffic. Go in ahead, so you’re not waiting in the street.’

Annoyed that he hasn’t remembered your special day, you enter your parents home, grumbling as you step foot into the threshold before a loud popping sounds rips a scream from your chest.

“Surprise!”

You jump in surprise as the smiling faces of your family greets you, tears form at the corner of you eyes as your family walks over to greet you and give you hugs. After everyone had given you their greetings there standing with the brightest smile was your husband. He slowly walks up to you with his arms open wide, ��Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”you snuggle into his chest, tears falling from your eyes, “You’re so mean Tetsu, you made me think you forgot.”you pull away a pout settling on your lips.

His melodious laugh is contagious and a smile overtakes your features, “You know I would never.”he tilts your chin up and your lips meet in a sweet kiss, “I wanted to give you a good surprise.”you had the biggest smile as you pushed your lips hardest against him and his hands settle on your hips.

“I love you so much sweetheart.”

“Kenma Kenma Kynnnmaaa!”you hop over to your hunched over boyfriend, eyes trained to his glowing monitor as his fingers rapidly press buttons on the controller. A smile gracing your features as you approach him and the victory banner flashing across the screen, perfect timing. “Kynma, come let’s have breakfast.”you peck the soft cheek of your partner and he pulls the headphones of his head allowing himself to be pulled by you.

You had prepared a big big breakfast for your birthday to share together, knowing you and Kenma you were both huge homebodies so you just wanted to spend your birthday cuddled up together. “What’s with all the food?”Kenma asks as you both reach the dining table, face contorted in confusion, you stare at him. Was he making a joke, it was your birthday maybe he had a surprise for you. “Do you know what today is Kenma?”you ask your boyfriend but his face was genuinely confused, “it’s Easter Sunday?”he says unsurely as if questioning you.

“And?”

“And what? Is there something I’m missing?”this time he looks to you and you feel slight annoyance and sadness brewing in your gut, you knew he can get too immersed in his games but you expected him to give you the respect of remembering your birthday. You actually feel heartbroken that tears begin to form and are threatening to spill down your face. “It’s my birthday Kozume.”you drop his arm and turn to your bedroom, tears now freely falling, shutting the door and turning the lock as you slide down, silently crying.

“Pudding, I’m sorry. It completely slipped my mind.”Kenma softly knocks on your shared bedroom room, his voice quiet and full of regret. “Go away Kenma, I wanna be alone.”you sobbed out, as you wiped your tears and curling in a feral position by the door, “I thought I was Kynnma.”his voice shook and your heart clenched but you were too upset to care why was he hurt. It was his fault he forget your birthday, you always made the effort to remember all his game releases and any special event revolving around his life.

“Hmph! I don’t know you, go leave.”you spat at him and you hear him sigh in defeat, “kitten come on come out, this is my house too.”he begs as you hear him slide down the door and sit, “Then go play your games.”you bit back, purposely kicking the door earning a groan from Kenma. “I don’t want to, I want you to come out.”you ignore him and allowed the silence to envelope the both of you, your eyes become heavy and you begin to drift off, crying had drained you and thinking of Kenma hurt you even more.

“(your name)”

“Kitten”

“(your name)”

“Kitten.”you stir awake, eyes heavy from crying and back aching from sleeping on the floor, everything comes back to you and you become upset again but you just wanted to cuddle Kenma and as much as you hate that he forget, you love him too much.

“Let me make it up to you, what you do want? Please Kitten open the door.”you almost felt bad that you had made him beg for this long but you were upset and hurt. You got up from you position and slowly open the door, peeping your head out, his figure was slumped against your bedroom door and his head buried between his hands.

“Cuddle me.”you answer and his head shoots up, eyes meeting yours he scrambled to his feet and taking you in his arms, “I’m really sorry Kitten, I know being busy isn’t an excuse.”his lips meet your head, arms tightly wound around you, he carries you to your shared bed cuddling.“I booked a week vacation for us, I’m all yours kitten. I’m sorry forgetting.”He presses sweet kisses to your neck and whispering his apologies and promises.

“Because I love you I forgive you but if you do it again, it’s another story.”

*ding*

Your ears perk up from the sound of your phone, you excitedly run to your phone and swiping it open, you pout when you read over the name, it wasn’t who you were hoping it was. It was Osamu, wrong twin.

‘(your name)-chan! Happy Birthday Idiot #2! Come by the shop I’ve got a special onigiri for you!’

A sad smile graces your lips, at least someone’s greeted you, shutting off your phone you sigh in sadness as you get changed to meet up with Osamu.

*ding*

Another notification pops up and your eyes lights up at the sight of your partner’s name, clicking the message.

‘Hey bunny, happy Easter. I got chocolate bunnies sent to the apartment, I know you love them so much. Miss you, call me later Kay?

love you baby’

Like clockwork, the doorbell rings, low and behold the delivery man from your favourite chocolaterie hands you a neatly wrapped package. Your frown deepens, it wasn’t just Easter. it was your fucking birthday too, you grovel as tears prick at your eyes. Is he serious? Did he really not remember, upset you don’t reply, shutting your phone and leaving it on airplane mode, hmph you decided to ignore your setter boyfriend. The soft jingle of the shop door sounds in the restaurant and Samu turns to you with a smile, you give him a weak one followed with your dead greeting.

“He only greeted me happy Easter, what the fuck is that?”you moan in sadness as Osamu sets down your special onigiri, “I can’t believe he forgot, is he that busy?”

“My brother might be an idiot but he wouldn’t forget your birthday, he loves you.”Samu tries to brighten your mood but it does nothing to make you feel better, “Does he? I know he’s busy and all but at least a fucking text or a call to greet me would’ve been nice.”you grumpily take a bite of the special ongiri Osamu made just for you. You sigh in frustration, angrily chewing the rice ball, it was so good but you couldn’t enjoy it like you wanted. Stupid Atsumu for making you feel this way, did he really forget about your birthday. “Ugh, Samu I’m sad.”you pout and lay your head on the counter, Osamu pats your head, cooing at your saddened state, after spending your afternoon with the grey haired counterpart you decided to head home, he sent you off with more onigiri for dinner.

“Thanks for spending my birthday with me Samu.”he pats your head one more and sends you off with a smile, you were at least glad Osamu was nice enough to keep you company, trudging your way home. Sighs of disappointment ever leaving your lips, turning on your phone there hasn’t been a message from Atsumu since this morning, great now it’s like he’s forgotten you. Defeatedly sliding your keys in the lock you sluggishly push your door open.

“Did you really think I forgot your birthday?”

The all so familiar voice of your boyfriend pulls you out of your thoughts, raising your head you meet his warm chocolate eyes, there he was standing infront of you with a beautifully decorated cake in hand and the prettiest smile on his lips. You drop your bag as tears fall from your eyes, he sets aside the cake and opens his arms for you to run into them, “You’re here! How?”you bury your face in his toned chest, not believing that your boyfriend was home.

“I wanted to surprise you, so I flew in.”his lips press soft kisses all over your face, allowing a bright smile to sit on your lips, “I love you Tsumu.”you finally meet his lips, the kissing professing your love to him, you might have been sad this morning but fuck his lips make up for everything. He lifts you up and you’re legs automatically circle his waist, “Aren’t i the best boyfriend?”he tease you and your roll your eyes but he truly was, you were over the moon, kissing him again before darting out your tongue to tease the setter’s lower lip, hinting him of what you wanted.

“Happy Birthday Bunny! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

sorry i’ve been missing these past few days, sorry but i’m taking a break, its pretty abrupt and short notice but my minds in the gutter right now. hope you all still enjoy the stuff i write, leave a like and comment if you did. might move some of my works over to ao3 but idk, have a great day. jaa ne!

all the love xx

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fallingstarnovel · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter One

Evan Golightly didn't consider himself an unlucky kind of guy. It wasn't like he was wandering around winning the lottery, but he also wasn't getting hit by chunks of blue ice from the sky from a passing airplane.

This week was just like every other week he had experienced so far. As he walked to his lecture across the university campus, he saw the same people he usually did and went to the same places as always. He didn't step on any cracks in the pavement, and he didn't walk under any ladders. He didn't find any four leaf clovers either, and he didn't have a lucky rabbit's paw on his key chain. He had a coffee cup in his hand – medium sized, not big and not small.

He was a little late, because he had stopped to pet a black cat that lay on the pavement in front of him, but that was okay. The lecturer was very forgiving, and most people were a few minutes late anyway due to a clash in timetabling.

Evan couldn't remember if seeing a black cat was good luck or bad luck. As the kitty purred and rubbed itself up against his fingers, he couldn't help but smile and talk to it quietly.

"Oh, you like that? You like the scritches? You're so handsome, such a handsome boy..."

Someone behind him coughed disapprovingly. A little embarrassed at getting caught, Evan straightened up and kept walking, forgetting all about whether black cats were lucky or not.

As he approached the building where his lecture was held, Evan started climbing the concrete steps up to the entrance.

If luck could be charted on a bell curve, with some people being extremely lucky, and some being extremely unlucky, then Evan considered himself to be slap bang in the middle. If he entered the lottery, he might win one of the smallest prizes, but not very often. If he got onto a crowded bus, there would be a seat available, but not a very good one. If he chose answers at random on a test, he would get a 50% grade at the end.

There was a meow from down by his feet. The black cat was following him. It had big green eyes which were staring at him as it meowed again.

"I'm sorry, I would love to play with you, but I'm late," Evan said. He knew the cat didn't understand, but he still felt like being polite.

The cat meowed very loudly and then started walking in between Evan's feet as he climbed the stairs. He started to worry that he was going to trip, slowing down and trying to shoo it away with his foot. It meowed again, but ran away, standing at a distance and staring at him.

Evan had always been weak for cute things. He bit his lip. "Ahh, I'm sorry! Wait until my lecture finishes, I'll come back and give you scritches then!"

He was almost at the top of the stairs now. Evan turned away from the cat – only to see a small black shadow out the corner of his eye down by his sneakers. He felt something brush against his leg, and then he tripped over something, and before he knew what was happening, he was falling backwards down the stairs.

Evan let out a sharp cry, his arms windmilling around him as he went into freefall.

Not the stairs... not the stairs! This was why he hated stairs! He always knew they would kill him one day!

Before he could fall any further and roll down the stairs and smash like a boiled egg, he felt someone grab his arm and hold him still. His bag hit the ground and his coffee cup went flying, bouncing down the steps and spilling coffee everywhere, but Evan...

Evan was being held up at the top of the stairs by a strong, sure grip.

He looked around in surprise. Holding his arm was a smiling youth with curly blond hair, tumbling in cherubic whorls around his ears. The youth looked just as shocked, his eyes big and wide as he stared at Evan. As he stopped Evan from falling.

There was a moment of silence. The youth pulled Evan forward onto the flat ground at the top of the steps, and let go.

"You..." Evan said in a rush. "You saved me! Thank you so much, I thought I was a goner..."

The youth hesitantly smiled back, his eyes flickering down the stairs. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just tripped on a–" Evan said, gesturing to the cat.

The cat was no longer there. It had disappeared.

"... Huh. Guess I tripped on nothing. Um, thanks. Oh, man, my coffee..."

The youth picked up Evan's bag and handed it over to him. His eyes were wide, like he was recovering from a sudden shock. "Sorry. I'll buy you a new one."

"Don't worry about it, it was my fault," Evan said with a laugh. "I owe you for saving me. I should buy you a coffee!"

The youth looked at Evan. He couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were light grey, bright and cold, crinkling at the corners in a warm smile. "There's no need to thank me. You don't owe me a thing."

Evan had heard those two sentences before many times in his life. He had heard it from friends who had done him a favour, and from customer service workers who helped him get a discount for his broken laptop, and from the nice woman in the corner shop who sent his mom flowers when she heard his grandfather had died.

They had always been said with varying levels of sincerity. A lot of people said "no need to thank me", but secretly wanted to be thanked very much. If you didn't thank them, they wouldn't help you in the future. People were weird like that.

But when this guy said it, for some reason Evan understood that it was the absolute truth. Like it wouldn't matter if Evan thanked him or not – he would still help him.

Feeling a little flustered, Evan scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I have a lecture now, so I better... uh, you're sure you don't want a coffee afterwards?"

The youth seemed to think about it for just a second too long, before shaking his head. His smile was apologetic. "It's fine. Enjoy your lecture." He started walking away.

"Ah, uh, you too," Evan said in a panic, before quietly smacking his own face. He had no idea if the guy even had a lecture. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

The youth came to a stop. He slowly turned around, an angelic, apologetic smile on his face. "Actually, I'm a little lost. Could you tell me where room M42 is?"

"That's – that's where I'm going now! That's where my lecture is!" Evan gave him a wide grin. "Astro 228, right?"

The youth nodded. "Right."

"Just follow me, then. Huh... I didn't know we shared a class, sorry I didn't recognise you!"

"That's okay," the youth said quietly from behind him as they entered the lecture building together. "I tend to stay quiet."

Watery winter sun did its best to shine through the floor length windows of the lecture building. It shone off the back of Evan’s pale neck, the black hair that fell in every direction. It reflected off the otherboy’s grey eyes, making them seem more luminous, more pallid, as they watched Evan with keen, unwavering interest.

Evan walked slightly ahead to lead the way. "Well, I definitely won't forget you now. You saved my life! What's your name?"

The youth was quiet. Evan waited for an answer for an uncomfortably long time, before wondering if he had spoken too quietly. He was about to repeat the question when a soft voice from behind him said "Ruth."

Ruth? Wasn't Ruth a girl's name? Was this guy actually a girl? "Oh, Ruth? Ahh, that's a cool name."

"You don't think it's weird? That a guy has a girl's name?"

Oh, thank god, he didn't have to try and subtly ask awkward questions about pronouns. Maybe the guy was used to this kind of thing and anticipated the awkwardness. "No, I don't think so. As long as you like it, then that's all that matters. I'm Evan by the way."

The youth hummed. "I know."

Now Evan felt guilty. He didn't even remember seeing this guy around, but he remembered Evan's name. Ah, this was too bad. He would definitely make an effort to remember him now. "Well, here it is. Just in time–"

"Actually, you go ahead," Ruth said suddenly. "I need to use the bathroom."

Evan turned around and blinked at him. "Oh. Sure. I'll see you in a bit, then."

The youth nodded. He hesitated, before speaking again.

“It was nice to talk to you.”

He gave Evan one last beatific smile, before walking away and disappearing around the corner. Evan quietly let himself into the lecture and scurried to the back, mouthing "sorry" at the lecturer, who ignored him.

He made sure to keep the seat next to him free for Ruth even as other students trickled in.

The lecturer coughed several times to get the attention of the class.

"So, last week I opened the lecture with the following quote: God does not play dice with the universe. This is oft quoted and attributed to Einstein himself in a letter to a friend criticizing what he saw as the unacceptable flaw in quantum mechanics, that is, the possibility of unpredictable random events on a molecular level. In many ways, he was right. We have been learning how to chart the movement of objects in a vacuum – predicting the orbits of distant planets and stars around the insatiable black holes that are, themselves, in a perpetual state of movement. I know that most of you have grasped the basics of this particular module very quickly. Predictability is a magnetic lure – one gets lulled into the false sense of security knowing that we can work out the trajectory of some far flung meteor to a high degree of accuracy. As if space can be imagined as some unfathomably large clock, each cog in place, every heavenly body caught in an eternal, rational, predictable waltz to the swing of a baton that, if only we have the numbers, might one day understand the rhythms of. If you turn your attention to the notes we made on how you can work out the speed of rotation of a planet..."

Evan tried very hard to concentrate and make notes. There was always a buffer at the start of the class where this particular lecturer went on a long tangent about random things he thought were interesting, and he usually zoned out through them, but once the actual maths was brought in, there was no possibility of daydreaming and letting it slip by. If you missed anything, you ended up being more confused down the line when the more complicated stuff got brought in.

The poor girl next to him was doomed. She fell asleep almost immediately, and Evan lit a candle in his mind for her. RIP your grades, you snoozy bitch. At the same time, he was envious. Why couldn’t he take a nap instead of doing work?

He tried to concentrate, but all through the lecture, Evan couldn't help but keep looking at the doorway, wondering when Ruth was going to appear. How long did it take to use the bathroom? Did the poor guy have a stomach upset?

By the time the lecture was over, Evan had accepted that Ruth wasn't going to appear. He lit a candle in his heart for the guy's bowel system. Clearly, he had been having some kind of toilet trouble and decided to skip the lecture.

What a shame. He seemed so... interesting.

After the lecture was over, Evan slowly clambered out of his seat. The lecturer had set a bunch of exercises to do at home, and the library was calling for a study session. Time to shuffle into Tesco to get a £3 meal deal and sit down for several hours to pound his brain into submission!

"Hey, Evan," someone called out as they left the lecture. "Evan, wait up!"

There was a girl chasing after Evan. She had warm brown skin and an infectious smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Oh, sorry Aliya," he said, slowing down so she could catch up. "Did you enjoy the lecture?"

Aliya pouted. "No, are you insane? Enjoy it? Why did I do an astrophysics course again? There's so much maths. I genuinely think I would drop out if I didn't think my mum would kill me."

Evan nodded in agreement. "Sometimes I think about switching to an art degree instead. I won't do it. But I just think about it sometimes."

"Wait, wait, I wanted to ask you something," Aliya said, slapping his arm lightly. "House party. I've been invited, but I don't want to go alone. It's a bunch of people I don't know very well, and..."

Evan rolled his eyes. "If you don't know them, why are you going?"

"Because I don't know how to say no!" Aliya moaned. "It's a pretty casual thing, don't worry. You know I don't drink, so I'll probably be dipping early. Please? Please please please? Please just come for a little while, just to keep me company..."

Evan wasn't a prude. He liked a good party. The thing was that he liked a good party with people he knew. "And I don't know anyone there?"

"Probably not, they're all from netball club. But hey – you'll know me!"

"I don't know you. Who are you. Why are you following me."

"Evaaaaan. Please! I'll do anything."

There was a long silence as they exited the lecture building together. Evan watched the students stream out of the building on their way to other classes, or the library, or their rooms to go back to sleep.

He wasn't exactly great at making friends. Aliya was the only person on his course that he talked to regularly. It was why he was pretty excited to get to know Ruth, except he disappeared, so that was a bust. He tried a few clubs and societies, but none of them had really clicked so far.

He hadn't been to a party in ages. He was wasting the best years of his youth in university, and he wasn't even going to parties. What was the point? He was living like a grandpa and he was only twenty one!

He wasn't an old man yet! He didn't have a pension! He still liked electronic music!

Maybe this was the chance Evan needed to make new friends. How hard could it be?

"Sure, why not."

Aliya cheered. "Yay! Thank you, big guy. I owe you one. Oh, wow, watch your feet, it looks like someone spilled their coffee down the stairs... haha, poor them..."

Contents | Next Chapter

#chapter

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whumpster-fire · 4 years ago

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Safety in a World of Daemons

So one really scary thing about a world of corporeal daemons is just how vulnerable it makes you. Everyone basically has two bodies, one of which is often much smaller and more fragile than a human body, and a lethal injury to either of them will kill you, and also you can’t be more than a certain distance apart or you’ll suffer excruciating pain / lose consciousness. Now, while Lyra’s world has a decent amount of modern technology like internal combustion engines, electric lighting, plastic textiles (aka coalsilk), and nuclear power (atom bombs and “atomcraft” get mentioned it seems like it’s socially The Good Old Days when child labor was widespread and OSHA didn’t exist. But what safety measures would a more modern society develop to keep humans and daemons safe?

Seatbelts developed and came into wide use earlier in Lyra’s world compared to ours, compared to the development of motorized vehicles. The myth of being “thrown clear” of a crash could never take hold to nearly the same extent, because people may not understand the forces involved in being flung through a windshield and skidding a hundred feet across pavement and the damage that does to your body, but everyone has an intuitive understanding that if your smaller/lighter daemon sitting in the front passenger seat bounces off the windshield, or ends up in the footwell, or gets “thrown clear” a hundred feet across pavement in a different direction, you’re probably going to be lying unconscious in the middle of the road. Cars typically have modular restraint systems to accomodate different daemon forms. Daemons should NOT stand on the dashboard, on the seat headrest, on their human’s shoulder, or on their human’s lap while their human is driving.

The “Drybox.” This is a device which can be used to keep small daemons with non-cold-tolerant forms safe from hypothermia in water survival situations. It’s basically an airtight container or bag you can put your daemon in and seal off, that’s connected to a pair of one-way valves with the inlet valve connected to a mouthpiece. This is meant for situations like airplane (or zeppelin) water landings. The way it works is you breathe in through your nose and breathe out through your mouth into the tube. This will push air out the outflow valve, and completely replace the air in the container in a few breaths. Yes I’m aware that you breathe out CO2 which is toxic. Exhaled air is about 18% oxygen and 4% CO2, and breathing extra rapidly might result in more oxygen and less CO2 in exhaled air. 18% O2 is roughly equivalent to going up 5,000 ft in altitude, and 4% CO2 is below the levels that cause suffocation, so a daemon shouldn’t die from breathing air that’s been through human lungs once for a few hours. It would definitely feel awful to use one, but it’s safer than a daemon in the form of a small animal being soaked to the skin and half-immersed in cold seawater while bobbing up and down in the waves. Some versions can be connected to an oxygen supply or a manual pump instead.

If you are on an airplane or helicopter and the oxygen masks deploy (not a zeppelin, they don’t go high enough to need them), put your own mask on first, and put your daemon’s mask on second before you mess with anybody else’s. If only one of you has oxygen then you’re going to pass out but the one who has oxygen will be functional for a bit longer; therefore it is in your best interests for the one with opposable thumbs to get the mask first. People with monkey daemons please stop arguing with flight attendants about this. If your daemon has a form that can’t easily wear an oxygen mask, there are quick-connect adapters available, as well as containers that a smaller daemon can climb into, but these may be slower to use. In some cases it is best to form a “Buddy system.” If you have a trusted friend or family member seated next to you whose daemon can easily wear an oxygen mask, it may be safer to put their daemon’s mask on before your own to make sure they remain capable of putting your masks on. Yes, you will have to break the taboo to do this, but that’s better than death or brain damage from hypoxia. Some bird forms can get enough oxygen at high elevations that they don’t need a mask. For your safety, most national aviation regulations require that you declare your daemon’s species when purchasing a ticket and only sit in your assigned seat, so that you can be placed in appropriate seating and be provided with any specialized safety equipment you need prior to the flight. Children with unsettled daemons must demonstrate that they have the ability to memorize and follow an evacuation plan that includes changing to an appropriate form.

Daemons have no need to ever wear collars to identify themselves, but it’s surprisingly common to see larger daemons that can’t be carried by their humans wearing a harness and a brightly colored leash. This isn’t a fashion statement, it’s a safety device. Most humans and daemons are always careful to keep track of where each other are, but it’s not foolproof, and when boarding a train, or an elevator, or a bus or streetcar, in a crowded place where you might be distracted and everyone else is distracted, there is a risk of your daemon being caught on the other side of a door from you. If you are boarding or getting off a bus or train or elevator or anything like that, and you see a leash caught in a door, you slam the nearest emergency stop button IMMEDIATELY.

There are a lot of other environments where people and daemons need to be physically strapped or tethered together - e.g. whitewater rafting, boating. If they can’t be attached to your life jacket, then unless they can fly they need to have their own life jacket and be tethered to you, because otherwise getting swept apart by rapids or current could pull you out of range, and falling off a motorboat going at, like, 30 mph or faster could pull you 50+ feet away from them faster than either of you can even react to jump off after each other, and even with a life jacket being in the water and unconscious or incapacitated from pain is really fucking dangerous.

Same goes for climbing. I don’t care how good a climber your cat or squirrel daemon is, or if they can survive massive falls without injury, because if they free-fall five stories then either you will lose your grip and fall, or end up dangling limply from a rope.

Lockout Tagout systems are designed so that anyone accessing dangerous machinery has two keys, one for themselves and one that their daemon has to wear at all times. If your daemon is too small to wear the key, then they have to be in a locked cage that is physically attached to you, and the key to the cage is attached to the lock that you lock out the machine with. Mechanics’ daemons have a habit of crawling into tight spaces to look at things their humans can’t see or reach, or retrieve dropped tools, and at some point at least one idiot took their lock off while their daemon was still in a hazardous area and got a safety regulation made in their honor when somebody else turned on the machine.

Yes, your daemon needs eye/ear/respiratory protection in the shop/construction site. Unless your daemon’s shape completely prevents you from performing essential job functions (like a crocodile daemon and you need to climb ladders) your employer cannot terminate or refuse to hire you based on your daemon’s form, and they are legally required to provide you both with appropriate safety equipment.

#his dark materials fandom #daemons #Fantasy OSHA

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years ago

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1998

Summary: Once your brother left for college, it became clear to you that Rami was going to make you Scott’s replacement. And as his replacement, you could expect two things.

One: Rami would continue spending more time at your house than his own.

Two: It was only a matter of time before Rami Malek talked you into doing something that could get you grounded for the rest of your life.

A/N: This fic is basically porn for the best decade EVER: the 90s. @the-real-ramimalekpeen I hope this does your request justice 💛

Wordcount: 7106

Warnings: All the characters are underage (17) so I will warn for drinking, smoking cigarettes, and PG-13 making out. Honestly though, by today’s standards, this fic is wholesome as fuck—welcome (back) to the 90s, bebes 💛

Considering it was after 9:00 pm on a school night, Rami Malek had no business being in your bedroom.

Except that Rami Malek, one half of the legendary Malek Twins, was always at your house.

His best friend, who also happened to be your brother, had just gone off to college. At first, you thought Rami still hung around so much because he was scared about doing the same next fall, but then, a part of you began to wonder if he really did miss your brother that much.

Scott was the first real friend Rami made when he and Sami came to your school as freshmen. At first, they didn’t appear to have a thing in common, but after a few months, Rami and Scott were inseparable. By the end of Rami’s first year at Notre Dame, everyone joked that Scott was actually Rami’s twin, not Sami.

One thing all three of the boys had in common, though, was their penchant for mischief. It wasn’t that they were bad. They were energetic, charming, and had decided to dedicate most of their high school experience to testing the limits placed upon them by authority figures.

After Scott had left and the time Rami spent at your house did not diminish, it became clear that to Rami, you were now your brother’s replacement. And as his replacement, you could expect two things.

One: Rami would continue his tradition of eating dinner more times a week at your house than his own.

This didn’t bother you because your parents loved Rami—they loved him so much they didn’t protest when he insisted on doing the dishes on the nights he ate with you. That was a win in your book because it meant you had one less chore.

However, Rami’s new focus on you did prompt a rather uncomfortable conversation with your mother.

One night after he had gone home, she knocked on your bedroom door and fixed you with that look as she took a seat on the edge of your bed. She sharply inhaled then asked if you and Rami were dating. Because if so, she and your father needed to set some boundaries about the times Rami could and could not be at the house.

The mixed look of shock and horror on your face made her laugh, but that initial reaction was quickly replaced with anger. Scott had girls at the house all the time and your parents had never said a word. In that moment, it became clear that your brother was afforded more freedom just because he was a boy. It was total garbage!

So, for the next few weeks, you stewed in quiet rebellion, outraged by the clear gender discrimination being doled upon you by your OWN parents, and when you confessed as much to Rami, he flashed you the famous Malek grin and you knew you were in for expectation number two: It was only a matter of time before Rami talked you into doing something that would get you grounded for the rest of your life.

A few nights later, you were watching TV in the living room and doing homework (you were doing homework while Rami seemed to be practicing his origami skills) when a paper airplane flew directly into your face and bounced off your forehead.

“Hey!” you yelled, glaring at Rami while you rubbed at the spot where the point hit.

He was already leaning forward, an apology tumbling from his lips which seemed pretty insincere considering he was also trying to stifle his laughter.

“What is this?” you asked as you picked up his paper airplane from the spot where it had landed, the bright colors of the paper catching your eye.

After you unfolded it and realized it was a flyer for a local band, your stomach began to flutter.

You looked up at Rami who looked like the cat that ate the canary. He nodded vigorously at the question on your face, then began to talk in a low, rapid voice.

“Got it all worked out. I’ll come over for dinner. Sami will meet us with the car after your parents are in bed. You don’t have to do anything other than follow my lead—and not get caught.”

At 17, music was everything.

You loved listening to live music, and as long as the concert was at an all-ages venue, you were allowed to go unchaperoned. That was great, if you wanted to see mainstream music, but since focusing his attention on you, Rami had turned you on to the joys of underground rock bands.

Instead of listening to another shitty recording, Rami was presenting you with the opportunity to see a live show.

Feeling giddy, you slammed your notebook shut and you and Rami spent the rest of the evening ironing out your plan. By the time he left to go home, you felt like it was foolproof.

* * * * *

The band was playing at a dive bar just outside of West Hollywood. Rami said the crowd would be fun—mostly college kids, partying it up on Thirsty Thursday. The plan was to hang out, watch TV until your dad gave you the look that meant it was time to kick Rami out, but instead of him leaving, you would call out your goodnights and he would sneak upstairs to your room and hide in your closet.

After you had said goodnight to Rami, you went back into the living room and tried to swallow all of your excitement. After fifteen minutes of fidgeting, you told your parents you had a big test in the morning and wanted to go to bed early.

They smiled and said goodnight, your mom following you up the stairs to take a bath and settle in with her book.

You went into the bathroom and followed your nightly routine, making sure not to rouse any suspicion, and when you finally climbed into your bed and turned off your lamp, Rami popped out of the closet.

“Are they asleep yet?”

“Shhh,” you hissed, clambering to the end of your bed and knocking into him as you stood. “Dad just shut off the TV.” “Sami’s waiting,” Rami said glancing at his watch even though it was too dark to see anything more than a blob of black on his wrist.

“I’m aware of the plan,” you whispered as you ignored his fretting and flipped on the closet light to pick up the outfit you had set aside earlier.

You paused in your movement and hurriedly flicked off the light. Straining your ears, you heard your dad walk by your room and you only released the breath you had been holding when you heard his door click shut.

You flicked on the closet light again, and almost pulled your pajama top off in your haste before realizing that Rami was staring at you. When you turned to look at him, he motioned for you to hurry up, his eyes growing larger as if the bigger they got the more hurried your movements would become.

You threw up your hands and harshly whispered, “Turn around!”

Rami blinked stupidly, his mouth popping open as he realized you needed to change. If you could have seen his cheeks, you would have seen that they were the same color of red as the squares of plaid on his shirt.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered as he turned away, his head hanging down as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized jeans.

With a tsk of dismissal, you shimmied into your favorite LEI jeans with the flared bottoms tattered perfectly from dragging on the ground. You had opted for a fitted, light blue, long-sleeved tee that just showed off a bit of your stomach because the v-neck also showed off your cleavage. You thought about grabbing the flannel you had stolen from your brother, but it was still warm enough out not to need it. Besides, there was sure to be something in the boys’ car if you needed it.

Sitting on the floor, you pushed down the top of your thong, knowing it was peeking out as you settled in to do your makeup.

“I’m dressed,” you said as you began to swipe on some frosted blue eye shadow.

As you pumped your mascara, Rami whined, “Can’t you do that in the car.”

“In the pitch-black car?” you bit back as you scraped a bit of the eye shadow into one of your empty make up containers before dribbling clear lip gloss in to mix it up. As you dabbed it on your lips, you smiled at the perfectly muted but still-frosty compliment to your eye makeup.

Smacking your lips together with a pop, you quickly wrapped two small chunks of your hair up in two messy knots and secured them with tight, clear gumbands. You adjusted your chocker, then slipped into a pair of black, chunky shoes.

You grabbed your wide, black belt and looped it through your jeans as Rami paced, the swishing of his jeans starting to drive you a little crazy as you rushed over to fix up your bed so it looked like a lump of a human was still in it.

After situating your colorful hemp purse across your torso, you softly said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

Rami stopped pacing and looked you over before giving you a half smile. “You look good.”

“Until my parents catch us doing this and skin me alive,” you countered as you flicked off the light.

Rami grinned, his teeth flashing in the dark. “They won’t—promise.”

“Your promises have, like, an 83% failure rate,” you argued as you pushed past him and opened the window as quietly as possible.

“Fine—I swear on Sami’s life we won’t get caught,” he whispered before he scrambled out of the window and on to the roof.

He held out his hand and you took it while you climbed out after him. Your eyes looked toward your parents’ room, and your heart hammered as you were sure their light was going to flick on at any second.

“That mayyybe gives us odds in the ballpark of 70 - 30,” you whispered when you turned your eyes back to Rami, quickly pulling away as you realized you were still holding his hand.

He stifled a chuckle as he crept toward the farthest edge of the roof, and when a ladder appeared, you knew Sami was below.

“Go ahead,” Rami rasped, holding on to the top of the ladder as you swung your legs over and began to cautiously climb down.

When you got closer to the ground, you felt Sami’s hand on your calf as he whispered, “Hey, Y/N—you good?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, a wave of ease sweeping through you when you finally touched the ground.

“Cute,” Sami smiled as he gave one of the twists in your hair a little tap.

You smiled back before turning your attention to Rami as he hopped off the second to last rung. With a practiced ease, he pulled the ladder from the roof without making a sound and laid it flat behind your mother’s rose bushes. The ladder was completely hidden, and you quickly realized that the boys had done this many times before.

The three of you jogged to where Sami had parked the car, and since you had followed him to the driver’s side, he opened up the back door so you could climb in. When Rami settled into the passenger seat, he let out a whoop of success. The three of you laughed, and you knew you had to ask, “How many times did you two sneak Scottie out of the house?”

Sami snorted and started the engine, while Rami shrugged his shoulders and turned his hands over, feigning ignorance.

“I see how it is,” you said, narrowing your eyes at Rami’s profile until he quickly turned and shot you a wink that was more like a blink.

You giggled, “One eye is a wink, you dork!”

Sami’s shoulders shook with a silent chuckle as he turned up the radio and you settled back in your seat to bask in the joy of being with your friends; it was well worth the trepidation you had felt about sneaking out on a school night, and as you watched Rami’s smiling profile, lit up by each street lamp you sped past, you felt a sudden flush of pleasure that he had gone through so much trouble to give you this night.

As soon as you were on the 101 heading out of the Valley, the boys both lit up. Rami offered you a cigarette, expecting you to decline, so when you said, “Why not?” he choked as he was inhaling and Sami’s eyes flashed up at you from the rearview.

“Um, this is my night of rebellion, okay? I may as well do it right,” you explained as Rami put your cigarette between his lips, lit it, then passed it back to you.

He watched with interest as you smoothly inhaled, then blew a stream of smoke out in his direction.

“What? You think Scott and I never partied together when mom and dad went outta town? Who do you think got me drunk for the first time?”

“How old?” Sami asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, his cigarette dangling from his lips as he relaxed back into the driver’s seat having just switched lanes.

“14. Got me fucked up on screwdrivers of all things. I couldn’t drink OJ for a month.”

The boys burst into laughter, then Rami explained that Scott had done the same thing to them.

“Sami was so hungover mom thought he had the flu.”

“And you weren’t hungover because you puked your guts out in dad’s hedges. I still don’t think he knows why that one turned brown and died.”

“Shut up,” Rami grinned as he lightly punched his brother’s shoulder.

“I’m driving asshole,” Sami murmured around his cigarette.

“At least I don’t look like one,” Rami countered, making you roll your eyes and take another long drag of your cigarette.

Because you didn’t smoke often, you already felt the sweet lightheadedness that came after a few pulls. You ashed out of the crack in your window and breathed in the cool air that was flowing from the boys’ open windows, contrasting deliciously with the heat of the smoke as it trailed down your throat.

“Fight nice, boys,” you called up to the front, before immediately regretting your interruption because they both teamed up to rag on you.

Twins, you thought as you countered their attacks as best you could.

Maybe it was the effect of the nicotine, or the natural high of sneaking out with the Malek brothers, but watching Rami from the back seat, you began to think of him as more than just your brother’s friend, and now, your friend. There was something about him, something about the way he made you feel that didn’t feel like any of your other friends.

And speaking of other friends, you looked at the back of Sami’s head and watched his eyes in the rearview mirror, but that thing, that chemical pull of attraction wasn’t there. When you glanced over at Rami, you felt it.

You let your gaze ping-pong between them, testing out your fledgling feelings. With a frown, you turned away from both of them and watched the cars in the parallel lanes, wondering if it was even worth figuring out.

“Helloooo,” Rami called, squeezing your knee to pull you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? What did you say?”

“I asked what you thought of Stacy.”

“Stacy Browning?”

“Duh. She’s like the only Stacy in our English class.”

“What about her?”

“She’s supposed to be here tonight.”

“Rami’s got the hots for Staaacyyy,” Sami sing-songed as he signaled and took the exit for West Hollywood.

Rami didn’t refute his brother and something mean bubbled out of you as an image of Stacy, laughing and pushing into Rami’s side as he wrapped his arm around her waist, his fingers just resting above the pocket on the ass of her jeans, flashed through your mind.

“Sami has a better shot than you any day of the week. Isn’t that how it usually works, Ram?”

You watched as the hurt twisted across Rami’s face, but your attention was drawn to Sami’s laughter as he guffawed, “Ooooh—harsh!”

You laughed, looking anywhere but at Rami, who half-heartedly joined in.

What you said made you feel sick, like an aftereffect of a violent action.

What the fuck, Y/N? you scolded yourself.

“Is this the turn?” Sami asked, growing serious as he navigated the crowded streets and started looking for parking.

“Yeah—park anywhere you find a spot. The bar’s like a block, maybe two that way.”

After a few more minutes, Sami found a spot and parallel parked with an easy precision.

“Good thing Rami didn’t drive,” you teased, trying to get him to look at you like he had before you’d hurt him.

Instead, he hopped out of the passenger side and slammed the door shut.

Sami opened your door, and chuckled as he said, “Fuck—there are at least three trashcans that have unclaimed relatives lying in the morgue thanks to him.”

You laughed and looked over at Rami who had a soft smile on his face. He shook his head, “Fuck you guys.”

You skipped over to him and poked at his ribs. “Come ooon—we know you didn’t mean to destroy the entire trashcan-family on Woodbridge Street. It was an honest massacre because you forgot which pedal was the break.”

“Like the first time I drove EVER!” Rami defended, finally turning to smile at you.

“And who doesn’t even have their license?” he shot back, his face coming dangerously close to yours as he picked on you.

“Like, excuuuse me for having an older brother! How keen do you think mom and dad were to let me drive after Scottie nearly got arrested for speeding—twice?”

“Oh, shit,” Sami said. “I remember that second time—”

The twins launched into a retelling of the story, one you’d heard a thousand times, but it made Rami laugh, his face back to its normal, jovial disposition. As you walked, your head turning between the boys as they spoke, you relaxed knowing it wasn’t in Rami’s nature to dwell on something negative. By now, he had probably dismissed your comment as a joke.

The bar came into view and there was no mistaking it for a nice place. The neon signs made it look more sinister than hip, and the trashcans outside were overflowing. However, the crowd queued at the entrance was just as Rami had described—college-aged kids, smoking, talking, and laughing as they paid their cover and ducked inside, the noise spilling into the street each time the bouncer opened the door.

Instead of joining the line at the entrance, Rami led you and Sami down an alley that was a little too dark for your liking.

“Rami?” you questioned, and he reached back for your hand, linking his fingers with yours.

After a few more steps, Rami stopped and released your hand. He reached up and banged loudly on the unmarked, steel door.

An older man, probably in his 50s, pushed open the door and flooded the backstreet with light. You squinted as you were assaulted with the brightness and the smoke that wafted out.

“Malek. My man,” he rasped as he fist-bumped Rami. “And Malek Número Dos. What’s up bros?”

Sami greeted the man in the same fashion as his brother, and then the man noticed you.

“Switchin’ it up tonight, huh? Bringin’ a girl ‘stead of leavin’ with one?”

You raised your brow and crossed your arms, that same feeling from earlier creeping through your chest and into your gut.

“Scott’s little sister,” Rami explained, and the older man chortled and gave you a full, lingering look.

He nodded with what you deemed to be approval and he fished out three paper bracelets from his pocket.

“Keep her outta trouble, yeah?” he said with a slow, lecherous grin.

“You can count on it,” Rami answered, giving him a tight, but still friendly smile as he turned to you, instructing you to hold out your wrist.

You watched as he positioned the neon orange band, then peeled back the tape.

“Too tight?”

“Nah. It’s good.”

Maybe it was nothing, but Rami’s thumb lightly stroked the spot where he had just stuck the band in place and when you looked up, he was watching your face.

You smiled at him, a slow, sincere grin and when he returned your look, it felt like you were swallowing honey—sticky and sweet, the warm feeling slid down your throat and made your cheeks feel hot.

Sami cleared his throat.

“Someone wanna do me?” he asked as he waved his bracelet in front of your faces.

Rami shot him a vicious look, but Sami just stuck out his wrist and waited.

“We meet right out front after the show. Not in the alley.”

You and Rami both just looked at him, and Sami prompted, “Okay?” as if he were dealing with two teenaged idiots instead of also being one himself.

“Yeah—meet out front,” Rami said dismissively, his eyes willing Sami to get lost, but he was already slipping away down the hall and out into the bar.

“You ready for this?”

“Just—just don’t leave me alone, okay?” you said, thinking about the way Rami’s guy had looked at you.

“Of course not,” Rami said with a reassuring smile. He lowered his voice and continued, “Let’s put some distance between us and Crazy Carlos.

“Crazy Carlos?” you hissed.

“No one calls him that to his face,” Rami assured you, then laughed at the way your eyes widened.

Once you were mixing into the crowd, the noise level ratcheted up and you were forced to yell into each other’s ears.

Rami’s eyes scanned the bar, once, twice, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking for Stacy.

“Wanna get a drink?” you asked loudly, leaning into his body to get closer to his ear.

“Yeah! What do you want?”

“Just a beer!”

Rami nodded and led you to the bar. You tried to take up as little space as possible and when you spotted a couple leaving their hightop along the wall, you tugged on Rami’s flannel to get his attention. He turned back to look at you and you pointed to the table. He nodded and watched as you darted over and took a seat.

Instantly, your hand landed in the waste of someone’s spilled drink and you huffed in disgust as you wiped your hand on your jeans. You looked around for Sami, but it was impossible to see through the throng of drinkers and the haze of smoke.

“You okay?” Rami yelled, taking the seat across from you and sliding your bottle toward you.

“Stop treating me like a baby! I’m the same age as you!”

Rami rolled his eyes, but his lips were drawn into a smirk as he took a swig of his beer.

You took a drink, too, and watched him comfortably lean back into the wall so he could face the room and check out the crowd, your mind immediately flashing back to that image of Rami and Stacy, laughing, touching.

“She’s not good enough for you,” you said through gritted teeth.

“What?” Rami asked, leaning forward as much as the table allowed.

“She’s not good enough for you!”

Rami shook his head, still unable to hear you. With a huff, you slid off your chair and rounded the table to stand between his spread legs. You rested one hand on his thigh as you leaned into his ear and yelled, “Stacy! She’s not good enough for you!”

Rami moved back, raising his eyebrows, as he sat up straighter on his stool.

“Not exactly what you said in the car,” he answered, your eyes watching his lips so you could make out what he said.

Scanning his face, you wondered if he could see that you were sorry.

Just as you leaned in to apologize, the lead singer whistled into the mike and made you jump. Rami’s eyes danced with laughter as he took another swig of his beer, and both of you turned your attention to the band.

“Hey, you drunk motherfuckers—you ready to put a little shimmy in your jimmy? A little rock in your cock?”

The crowd cheered, and you felt Rami stand, his front pressing into your back as he lightly pushed you into the crowd. He kept moving until you could see the stage, then he moved to stand beside you, his arm resting against yours.

The first two songs were great, and you knew that sneaking out had been completely worth it. The band was good, really good, and you expected you’d be able to say you’d seen them live before they made it big.

As the songs played, you and Rami both moved along to the music, heads bobbing and bodies shifting as much as the limited space allowed. Every now and then, you’d shoot a grin at each other, and when the third song began, you realized your beer was long gone.

You thought about shoving the empty bottle in your pocket, but Rami read your mild distress and leaned in to tell you to save his spot.

He shuffled through the crowd to get rid of your empties, and you widened your stance to save his spot, then refocused on the band.

Before the third song was over, Rami was back, and you mouthed thanks. He gave your hair twist a tap, just as Sami had done earlier, making you smile and shake your head.

After the next song, the bassist and lead guitar put their instruments down and the drummer disappeared.

“You’re fuckin’ animals and I love it! But those guys need a drink so I’m gonna slow shit down with a song I wrote a few years back.”

When the acoustic number began, you were shocked the lead singer’s gruff voice was so low and smooth. As he crooned, people swayed lightly with their faces trained on the stage. You don’t know whether it was you who moved closer to Rami or Rami who moved closer to you, but somehow, you found yourself standing partially in front of him, just close enough for his hand to creep around your waist. You smiled without looking at him and stepped into his touch, pulling his other arm to wrap around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. He laced his fingers across your stomach and leaned into your hair, both of you swaying in time to the soft music.

As you stood together, like a couple, your mind began to race. Everything became too much and not enough at the same time. Rami’s grip was too loose and too tight. The singer’s words were too soft and his guitar was too loud. The shadows cast on the stage were too dark and the spotlight was too bright.

And when you felt Rami’s chest vibrate into your back as he sang along under his breath, it felt too harsh, but when his pinky lightly stroked the exposed flesh on your stomach, it felt too sensitive. Your body was a tingling mess at his touch, so you took back some control. Your arms were already resting over Rami’s, but your thumb found his and you touched him gently, back and forth, in a mirror of the way his little finger was still sliding over the exposed skin of your midriff.

Rami’s mouth crept closer to your ear and you shivered as his breath rustled your hair. You wanted to crane your neck, turn into his body and give him the angle he needed to kiss you, but you were still at war with feeling too much and not enough at the same time.

When the song ended, the singer thanked everyone, then encouraged you all to grab another beer while he took a piss. You felt a profound loss when Rami relaxed his grip and let his arms slide away from your waist and to your hips.

“Want another beer?” he asked into your ear as he gave your hips a squeeze before he dropped his hands.

“Sure—yeah,” you lied.

You turned to watch him disappear into the crowd and almost immediately, Rami’s warmth against your back was replaced with a new but identical one.

“Having fun?”

You whirled around, your mouth popping open slightly before snapping shut.

“Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, Sam—are you drinking?” you asked, bending slightly to sniff at his cup.

“It’s water, dumbass. They only have two more songs.”

You narrowed your eyes at Rami’s twin as he continued to look at you, clearly waiting for you to confess your secret. You didn’t know if he had seen the two of you during the last song or if he was just acting on a hunch, but you were not about to confess your feelings to Sami before you told Rami.

Even though that was exactly what Sami wanted.

The same blueish eyes as Rami’s bored into yours, but neither of you spoke.

You decided to answer Sami’s original question in a breezy tone, “By the way, yeah, I’m having fun. Are you having fun?”

He narrowed his eyes in response.

“Because I think this is the most fun I’ve ever—"

“Just tell him!” Sami interrupted with a huff.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you insisted, crossing your arms and stepping toward him as someone bumped into you.

“Stop lying.”

“There isn’t,” you insisted, hating the way Sami was smirking at you over the rim of his water cup.

He took a drink, then said, “Guess I’ll let Stacy know she’s free to come ov—”

“She’s here?!?” you panicked, your eyes darting in the direction Sami had been looking.

His laughter rang out over the din and you whipped your eyes back to his.

“Nothing to tell, huh?”

Your nostrils flared as you pinched at his side, knowing he was ticklish. He jumped away from your fingers, chuckling as he made his way back to his friends. You watched him go, making sure he was lying about Stacy.

Right before the band packed back onto the tiny stage, Rami shuffled back into his spot beside you and handed you a beer.

You greedily drank, thirsty from the smoke and eager to unwind your nerves after Sami’s taunts.

Rami watched you drink and smiled at you over the lip of his bottle in an identical grin to his brother’s earlier teasing smirk.

“Easy, killer.”

Swallowing, you reminded him, “This is still my night to let loose, right?”

Rami pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and bobbed his head in a slow nod, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t read.

The band started up again, actually playing three more songs so you got to bask in a silent satisfaction that Sami had been wrong about one thing. As the band bid goodnight, you were wired.

The set had been incredible, and you wanted to say so to Rami, but he was already nodding his head toward the exit. As you navigated through the crowd, you grabbed on to the edge of his flannel. It was last call, and as you passed by the bar, it was almost too crowded to toss your empty bottles on to.

When you were finally outside, you couldn’t stop babbling to Rami about how great the music was, even though your ears were severely ringing. He punctuated your excitement with several toldja sos, his eyes watching the crowd for Sami.

“I just love this feeling, ya know?” you exclaimed, bouncing on your toes and taking a cigarette when Rami offered.

“Imagine how it feels for them—the performers.”

You looked at Rami through the haze of his exhaling smoke and your eyes danced over his familiar, yet altogether new face. How could you have never seen just how attractive he was?

“Rami. I . . .” you dropped your gaze and flicked your cigarette nervously, wondering if you should just confess like Sami told you to do.

“Wanna thank me for draggin’ you out on a school night? Making sure you had a great time? Being the perfect friend? I assure you, all this I know,” Rami finished with a smug look, his round cheeks hollowing as he pulled on his cigarette.

“That’s just it. Are we . . . friends? I mean,” you floundered for a moment, your eyes landing anywhere but on his. “Don’t you just hang with me because you miss Scott?”

Rami laughed.

“Are you for real? In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly look like your fuckin’ brother.”

Your eyes landed on Rami’s just in time to catch the way they dragged over your body, top-knots to toes and back again.

“You like the way I look?” you asked, your voice so low you almost couldn’t hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Flicking your cigarette to the ground, you stepped toward Rami, wetting your suddenly dry lips.

“Yeah. Thought that was obvious,” he said, his eyes half-lidded but still commanding as his blue-grey irises darkened when his pupils grew just a bit wider.

“Not to me,” you answered, shaking your head slightly as Rami’s hands came up to your waist, his ring and pinky fingers settling against your bare skin.

His eyes were almost shut. Your faces moved closer and Rami’s tilted slightly to the right—

“Ready to go?” Sami asked, jangling the car keys obnoxiously next to your ears, startling you and Rami apart.

“Jesus Sam you fucking cocksucker,” Rami cursed, running a hand through his curly hair as he glared at his brother.

“Not interrupting, am I? Because there’s nothing to interrupt, right?” he questioned you with an arrogant lilt.

“Nope! Nothing at all!” you shot over your shoulder as you stalked off in the direction of the car.

The boys quickly followed, and Sami snickered, catching you and slinging his arm around your shoulders.

“Have a good night, Y/N?”

“For the most part,” you grumbled.

Sami released you and you fell into step next to Rami.

His hands were buried in the pockets of his jeans and he kept his eyes to the ground as you walked. You kept checking your peripheral to see if he was looking at you, but he wasn’t.

The drive back was relatively quiet, Sami turning up the radio to drown out the ringing in his own ears. As you leaned back in the seat and watched the blurry skyline, Sex and Candy came on the radio and you tried not to think about Rami as John Wozniak’s deep voice reverberated through the car; you tried not to think about how close you’d come to kissing him and about how badly you didn’t want this night to end before you did.

Mama this surely is a dream Yeah mama this surely is a dream

* * * * *

“Need help with the ladder?” Sami asked as he put the car in park.

“Nah. We’ll manage,” Rami answered as he got out.

“Goodnight, shithead. Thank you for driving,” you snapped before you opened your door.

“Better kiss him goodnight before Stacy does,” Sami said, looking at you in the rearview, puckering his lips so he could make a loud smooching noise.

“Stacy doesn’t live on my roof!”

“You ne-ever knooow,” he sang.

“Oh my god,” you said, smiling in spite of wanting to slap him.

Sami cackled as you opened the door, his lighter hissing as he lit another cigarette.

“I hate your brother,” you muttered on the walk back to your house.

“What did he say?”

“It’s not the what. It’s the way. Like he knows every fucking thing there is to know in the world.”

“Well . . . usually he does.”

“I know,” you sighed in defeat. “So can I hate him for that?”

“Absolutely,” Rami chuckled.

The streetlamps lit your way, but once you reached the edge of your lawn, Rami made sure you stayed on the perimeter of the dusk-to-dawn light. He wedged the ladder out from behind the roses, then set it up, stepping on the bottom rung to make sure it was steady.

“Go ahead. I’ll follow to make sure you can get your window open.”

Climbing steadily, you had to stifle a laugh thinking about how often your brother had done this, and done it stinking drunk. The effect of the two beers you had drank were long gone, but the thrill of what you were about to get away with still hummed beneath the surface of your skin.

That . . . and Rami’s presence.

As he stood up when he stepped off the ladder, your eyes locked and sent a fresh wave of butterflies to assault your stomach. Clearing your throat, you shuffled to your window. Rami followed, slowly and quietly working it open. As you waited, you were overwhelmed by the scent of him—the remnants of the bar, his fading cologne, the shampoo he used in his hair—all of it swirled together into something that was more intoxicating than a hundred beers.

You ducked into your room as soon as the window was open, and the sleeve of Rami’s shirt brushed against your arm as he helped you, his fingers featherlight on your shoulder before trailing down to the exposed skin of your lower back as you moved away.

You kicked your discarded pajamas from earlier toward the gap at the bottom of your bedroom door, made sure it was locked, then flicked on the light in your closet, pulling the door mostly shut so there was just enough brightness to see Rami as he stood in front of your window, hands back in his pockets as he crossed and uncrossed his feet while leaning against the window sill.

“Thanks for tonight,” you whispered, closing the distance and letting the last energy of the band spur you on to make your move.

“Yeah. Of course,” Rami murmured, his eyes finally meeting yours.

You were so close now, all one of you had to do was lean into the other’s lips, and somehow, you just knew it had to be you.

Your hands shaking slightly, you rested them on the top of his chest, the smooth fabric of his black long sleeve shirt warm under your touch.

He shuffled, awkwardly pulling his hands from his pockets so he could rest them on your waist, his fingers nervously ticking over the skin on your lower back.

You glanced from his lips to eyes, and when your eyes flicked back to his lips, he sucked in a breath.

Then, you kissed him.

He was stiff and uncertain at first, but as you leaned into him, your body flush with his, he relaxed, opening to exhale as he kissed you back, his tongue the first to swipe over your lips. You opened for him and when your tongues twined, it was electric—a culmination of everything that had been building between the two of you.

Moaning into his mouth, you grabbed the sides of his flannel and pulled him toward your bed, backing up until your legs hit against the mattress. You broke free from the kiss with a smacking sound before you pulled Rami on top of you.

You both silently giggled as he settled between your legs, his weight heavy, warm, and so fucking welcome on top of you.

Rami’s lips pressed into yours again, and soon you were exploring each other’s mouths with fervor. One of your hands had snaked around his torso while the other was thrust into his thick curls, urging his mouth to keep moving against yours.

He held himself up with one arm, but his other hand was roaming—sliding under your shirt to clutch at the soft skin of your side, then moving up to cup your breast over your bra.

With a sighing moan, you wrapped your legs around his waist and slid your own hands under his shirt to clutch at his hot skin. You rubbed across his abdomen and over his chest before moving around to lightly scratch across his back.

Only when you felt the hardness underneath his jeans grinding into your crotch did you regain some semblance of what the hell you were doing.

With one final buck of your hips that drew an obscene, entirely too loud moan from the back of Rami’s throat, you gently pushed him away.

Both of you were panting, swiping at your mouths to clear away the excess saliva.

Rami sat back and slid off your bed, adjusting himself as he stood.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“I think we better say goodnight,” you said as you scrambled up.

Rami moved back to your open window and turned before he ducked out.

“Goodnight,” he said with a megawatt grin that lit up his entire face.

“Goodnight,” you said, your face split into the same grin.

He leaned in and sweetly kissed the smile from your face.

Your eyes had only just barely opened again, and he was on the roof, ducking down to whisper, “See you at school,” his face lit by that grin again as you watched him shuffle to the edge of the roof and down the ladder.

When the top of the ladder disappeared, you shut your window then dove onto your bed and gurgled with excitement into your pillow.

Senior year was definitely going to be a year to remember.

#rami malek #rami malek x reader #female reader #teenage reader #teenage Rami #guest starring #teenage sami malek #duh #rami malek fluff #rami malek THROWBACK #rami malek fic #high school fic #my writing

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cadence-talle · 4 years ago

Note

like ask prompts?? ..... because if so I would like to ask for a kam prompt where they’re both strangers on an airplane and one of them falls asleep on the other and the other doesn’t want to wake him up because he looks so comfortable (and he’s hot)

lisTEN anon you can’t just SAY stuff like that-

Word count: 1,437

-/-

Tam hates airplanes.

They’re cramped and weird-smelling and the cushioned seats seem to be designed to make you as uncomfortable as possible. Airplanes are high up on his list of Terrible Things, only being beaten out by his parents, his sister’s cat, and people in general.

But unless he wants to drive three days cross-country, he doesn’t have much of a choice. At least the flight is only five hours.

He sinks down into his seat and leans his head against the cool glass of the tiny airplane window, watching little people in orange vests move back and forth. Someone sits in the seat next to him. Tam doesn’t look up.

“Hi,” a male voice says. “Are you heading to Oregon?”

“Yep,” Tam responds shortly, because obviously he is, he’s on a plane to Oregon. The guy shifts in his seat, presumably buckling his seatbelt.

“Cool. I like your hair, by the way. How’d you get it so silver?”

“I melted my father’s heirloom ring and dipped my bangs in it,” Tam says. If this guy is going to keep asking stupid questions, he’s going to give short answers.

The guy hums, murmuring something like okay, that’s a little edgy, and lapses into silence. Tam breathes a sigh of relief- he does not want to be talking to strangers right now- and pops in his earbuds. He might as well finish this audiobook.

Fifteen minutes and two chapters later, Tam turns away from the window. They’re still on the ground, not even close to the runway yet. He exhales and picks up his phone, tapping absentmindedly through the few texts he’s gotten before switching it to airplane mode. He turns towards the aisle and freezes.

The guy in the seat next to him, the guy who was just talking his ear off, is really freaking hot. Carefully tousled blond hair that looks like it contains even more product than Tam's, icy blue eyes. He's sketching something in a notebook right now, tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth. Tam is ashamed at how adorable he finds it.

Mentally, he slaps himself, shaking his head slightly. Stop looking at him, focus on your book, he thinks. With much effort, he looks out the window again.

-/-

Half an hour later, they’re finally in the air, Tam’s finished his audiobook, and he hasn’t been able to get Annoying(ly Hot) Plane Guy out of his head. He taps his fingers against the armrest impatiently, wishing they were just in Oregon already. Suddenly, a warm weight settles on his shoulder.

Annoying(ly Hot) Plane Guy is leaning on him. Annoying(ly Hot) Plane Guy is sleeping. On Tam’s shoulder.

Tam is about to combust. From anger or awkwardness, he’s not sure.

Gently, he tries to push the guy off of him. Annoying(ly Hot) Plane Guy doesn’t wake up, instead snuggling his head closer to Tam’s neck. The movement causes the notebook in his lap to fall to the ground.

Accepting that this is, in fact, his life, Tam sighs and picks it up. It’s a simple sketchbook, wirebound, with the name Keefe Sencen written on the top in messy script. Absentmindedly, Tam flips it open. It’s probably snooping, but he doesn’t really care; the owner- Keefe, apparently- is literally sleeping on his shoulder.

The drawings are beautiful. Most of them are just sketches, black-and-white with the occasional watercolor. Some of them look so real they could leap off the page and Tam would barely be surprised.

Tam turns to the most recent page, stunned to see it filled with a simple pencil sketch of him. He’s staring out the window, bangs hanging over one eye, and he looks so incredibly calm Tam almost wants to laugh. He’s never that collected in real life.

Still, it feels a little weird to be looking at something so obviously private, so Tam closes the sketchbook and tucks it into the seatback pocket in front of Keefe.

After that, it’s kind of peaceful. Keefe snores away on his shoulder, Tam listens to music, and it’s fine.

Of course, then the universe decides to ruin everything again.

They hit a patch of turbulence just over Missouri, bouncing to and fro so wildly Tam can hear multiple people scream. The pilot comes over the speaker and announces that they will set down in the St Louis airport until things quiet down.

Keefe wakes up during their descent, startling awake with wide eyes. “What happened?” He asks. Tam raises an eyebrow.

“You fell asleep on my shoulder. Then we hit a storm. We’re stopping in St Louis.”

“Oh.” Keefe’s quiet for a second, cheeks flushing a light pink. “Uh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tam says. “My name’s Tam, by the way.”

“Keefe,” Keefe says, and Tam has to remind himself not to sound like a total stalker by saying ‘I know.’

They end up walking side by side as they make their way out of the plane, silently looking around. Every airport looks the same to Tam, but the St Louis one seems to be… older than the one they left from back in New York.

The plane’s passengers are directed towards a terminal, informed that they’ll be there for at least three hours, and then left alone. Tam groans and sends his sister a quick text informing her of the delay. She sends back a frowny face emoji, and that’s that.

“Hey,” Keefe says, moving over to where Tam’s sitting. “Do you want to go get food or something? Looks like we’re gonna be here a while, and restaurants are probably crowded. Better to stick together.”

“Sure,” Tam responds, not commenting on the fact that that logic makes absolutely no sense. They consult a highly confusing map, finally decide to just go to McDonald’s, and head down the airport hallway. Halfway there, Keefe skids to a stop with a delighted gasp.

“What is that?”

The thing in question is a large, obnoxiously yellow vending machine. It’s emblazoned with the words Ted Drewes Frozen Custard and features a picture of an old man smiling and holding a cup of frozen custard practically upside down. It’s the most horrific thing Tam has ever seen.

“I need it,” Keefe says. “I need the frozen custard.”

“Why?” Tam asks. “It’s probably expired and gross, anyway.”

“But Ted Drewes, Tam! He’s so happy with his frozen custard!”

“That man looks like he’s already dead and just being used as a prop,” Tam observes. “You do not need the frozen custard. Let’s go.”

Keefe pouts, and Tam’s heart does something that would probably qualify it for the olympic gymnastics team. He rolls his eyes. “C’mon. I’ll buy you an ice cream at McDonald’s.”

-/-

Three hours, two McFlurries, and one race around the airport later, they’re boarding the plane again. This time, as soon as they both sit down, Keefe turns to Tam and says,

“Hi. Are you heading to Oregon?”

Tam snorts. “Idiot.”

Keefe gives him a thumbs-up and makes grabby hands at his earbuds. “Can I listen to your audiobook with you?”

Tam blinks. Normally, he’d say no to anyone besides Linh- he’d most definitely say no to a random stranger. Of course, these aren’t exactly normal circumstances.

“Sure,” he decides, handing Keefe the right earbud. The guy lights up like a goddamn christmas tree as Tam starts the chapter.

(Thirty seconds later, he pulls out the headphone to look at Tam incredulously. “What the heck are you reading?”

Tam’s too busy laughing to answer.)

-/-

“So, uh,” Keefe says when they’re standing next to the luggage pickup. Tam knows his sister is waiting somewhere outside the airport, but he figures she can wait a little longer. Keefe’s cheeks flush. “It was… nice? To meet you?”

“You too,” Tam offers a small smile. “I’ll- see you around, maybe.” He won’t, probably, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Keefe nods.

“Yeah. I should go, but- here.”

He shoves a piece of paper at Tam’s chest and turns away. Tam barely manages a ‘bye’ before he’s gone. He stands there for a moment until he remembers to look at the paper.

It’s another drawing of him- Tam honestly doesn’t know when Keefe had the time. He’s sitting on one of those seats at the airport gate, typing at his phone. There’s a tiny grin on his face, soft in the way he never lets himself be. Tam wonders how Keefe manages to capture it.

Under the drawing, there are words, and a phone number-

Call me. -K

It’s funny, Tam thinks. He doesn’t hate airplanes so much anymore.

#lynn rambles #my writing #kam #keefe sencen #tam song #kotlc

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heyyyharry · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 7: Raining in London

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Harry is away, his sister is dealing with something, and a new love sparks.

Warning: SMUT (because why not?)

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link

A/N: comments are MUCH appreciated. Please give me some reviews folks.

Harry woke up to the sound of running water and his girlfriend’s singing in the shower. Hearing the song he had sung to her yesterday on the rooftop put a big smile on his face, but his head started pounding as soon as he sat up. That was a reminder for him to never drink like that again. Though he could remember most of the events last night, it had been quite long since he last partied like that. And God, was twenty-five really that old?

Amused by the thought, he ran his palms over his face and got up, dragging his feet to the bathroom. Y/N didn’t hear him come in so she didn’t stop singing while he stripped off his clothes and hung them up. He could see her naked silhouette through the frosted glass shower door, and seeing it first thing in the morning made him incredibly horny. That had answered his previous question. He wasn’t that old.

He pulled the door open and she snapped her head to look over her shoulder, eyes bugging out when she saw his face. “You scared me, dickhead,” she grumbled.

“Sorry, baby,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She moaned with her eyes closed, feeling his hard cock standing at attention between her ass cheeks. “You didn’t fuck me last night,” he fussed, and she shook with laughter.

“You were so fucking drunk.”

“I’m sober now...and so fucking hard,” Harry growled in her ear, grinding his shaft against her soft flesh which made her she gasp loudly. He moved one hand to her breast, squeezing it and pinching her hard nipple, his other hand cupping her chin and turning her face around so he could slide his tongue against hers. Lowering his other hand from her stomach, he squeezed his cock and gave it a few strokes before guiding it inside her dripping pussy.

She was so slick that he could just slip right in, but he knew he was big so he thrust slowly to get her used to the fullness. She tossed her head back on his shoulder, her mouth fell open as she begged him to just fuck her. And who was he to disobey? He wrapped his arm back around her waist and began to fuck her hard and fast, telling her how much he loved her over and over again. It didn’t take too long for her to shout out his name as he shot his cum into her, fucking her through it.

They fucked one more time in the bedroom and decided to take some rest before they went downstairs for breakfast. They lay naked in the tangled sheets, their legs intertwined. He was lying on his back, one arm above his head, the other draped around her back, while she was lying on her side, her head on his arm. During these moments, he loved to pretend that they had all the time in the world to do whatever they wanted, and they chose to spend it on each other alone.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when she propped up on her elbow.

“I almost forgot, Gemma was here last night.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You two made up, right?”

“I think so." He sat up with her, rubbing his hand up and down her naked back. "I’m gonna have to call her again later just to be sure."

“I agree.” She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back to reveal his forehead. “Also, Jeffrey told me to let you know that there's this event in LA for the Oscar nominees, and you have to attend."

“When?”

“In two days.”

“Noooooo!” He pinned her down on the bed. Her cry of surprise turned into laughter as he buried his face between her breasts, lying fully on top of her. “I don’t want to be away from you again!”

“I know, baby, I know." She smiled, patting his hair.

“Come with me.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Please?” He pouted and nudged her cheek with his nose like a cat. “Wanna show you off, baby.”

“You know I don't like those fancy dinner parties.”

“But you’ll have me. We’ll have the best time, I promise. Leo will also be there.”

She let out a faint giggle and cupped his cheeks, turning his face back up. “You could name all of my celeb crushes and the answer is still no. I still have to attend lectures and work on my book.”

“Right, you’re officially a writer now.”

“Not yet, but almost,” she snorted amusedly, pushing him back so she could sit up.

He stayed between her legs, resting his head on her chest while she had her arms around him. With his eyes closed, he mumbled, “I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

“So am I,” she said, her lips curved. “But hey, I’m only gonna baby you for two more minutes because I have classes to attend and you have a radio interview before lunch.”

He groaned, bringing his hand up to cup one of her breasts. He loved being handsy, and it never bothered her. “I think you’re even better than my assistant, Bambi.”

“That’s because your assistant sucks, no offence.”

“None taken. To be honest, I didn’t really want an assistant but Jeff insisted,” he complained while circling his fingertip around her nipple, smirking when she shuddered.

“Well, if I fail to publish my book, please fire her and hire me.”

“Then I guess I’m stuck with her because you’re gonna become the best writer in the world!”

Before she could come up with a response, he ducked under the covers, holding her legs apart and put his mouth to her clit. She cried out in surprise, yanking his head up by his hair. Seeing his moist lips curved into a cheeky grin, she couldn’t hold back a moan. “I said two minutes.”

“I only need thirty seconds,” he answered before slipping back under the covers. Y/N dropped her head on the pillow and arched her back off the bed as his skilful tongue lapped at her juices, making her toes curl and her jaw tight. Another wave of pleasure soon washed over her as his fingers glided in and out of her sensitive pussy, and she screamed his name, riding out another intense orgasm.

With a smug look on his face, he hovered above her and pressed his lips to her cheek, so she pulled him down and kissed him like she wanted to devour him.

“You’re gonna be late,” he reminded her in an arrogant tone, and she could feel his smirk against her neck. He was hard and poking her thigh again.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” she mewled with her eyes shut, hastily wrapping her legs around his waist.

Gemma was agitated; she kept tapping her fingers on the table while her coffee was getting cold. Another employee rushed into the shop and apologised for being late, but it wasn’t the one she’d been waiting for. It seemed like she wasn’t in luck as Emilia didn’t go to work today. She rolled her eyes, resting her chin on her knuckles as she picked up her cup and finally took a sip. At least the drink was good so she wasn’t at all annoyed.

The sound of her ringtone turned the heads of two other customers at the table beside her, so she apologised to them and quickly answered the call.

“Good to know you’re alive,” she joked as soon as Harry said hello.

“I wasn’t that drunk.” He let out a low laugh, his voice was raspy. “I called to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m very okay. Thanks for asking.”

“Come on, Gem.”

Gemma leaned back against the chair, folding one arm on her stomach. “Well, I’m still pretty pissed off. You did a shitty thing, Harry.”

“I know.”

“But I guess I can’t stay angry at my brother forever.”

“Thank you,” he said, relief was etched in his voice. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I’m very sorry, Gem.”

“Are you?”

“I am, deeply.”

“All right.” She shrugged, drawing circles around the rim of her cup. “Then you have to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to tell Mum about Winton and his daughter.”

“Wait...what?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Gem, I don’t think Mum would--”

“She would be devastated if you let her find out on her own. I was going to tell her myself but you brought this upon us so now it’s your chance to fix it.”

Harry stayed silent for a moment. She assumed that he was taking his time to weigh the pros and cons as he always did when he had to make a tough decision. Eventually, he said, “fine, I’ll tell Mum. I’ll go back home this weekend and tell her in person.”

“Good,” she murmured, a small smile tugged at her lips.

“You know I love you, right?” he said after a moment.

“Of course,” she replied, eyes fixed on the coffee cup. “I love you, too.”

They said goodbye and ended the call. Gemma exhaled sharply, quite happy to get rid of the weight on her mind, but her comfort didn’t last for long as a text popped up on her screen. She zeroed in on it when she saw her boyfriend’s name.

⌲ Asher: Where are you?

Her eyes rolled back as she let out a low groan and picked up the phone again.

⌲ London, she typed, and sent.

He didn’t take too long to respond.

⌲ Asher: Still?

Her eyes stretched wide in disbelief. She chewed on her lip, trying to keep her composure while typing down her reply.

⌲ What does that even mean? I already told u why I had to go back

⌲ Asher: Yeah, your fucked up dad and famous brother, I’m fucking tired of hearing about your family drama

⌲ Asher: My family was kind enough to invite you on this trip and you just fucking left like that

Gemma clenched her teeth, her hand on the table tightened into a fist as she reread his messages over and over again. Eventually, she put her phone on airplane mode, leaving him on read and hoping that she could finish her coffee without being disturbed.

Two days later, Harry flew to LA and Y/N had her first appointment with her literary agent. She arrived at Laura’s office ten minutes earlier and the assistant told her to wait outside while Laura was on the phone. Although she knew she was Laura Hilfgard’s client and the woman had repeatedly praised her book, sitting in that corridor on her own filled her up with anxiety as if she was about to go in for a job interview. She tapped her foot impatiently, scratching her nails on her leather bag and chewing on her lip. Ten minutes felt like twenty, and as soon as she heard the door unlocked, she stood right up, holding her breath.

“Y/N!” Laura appeared with a smile and nodded her head for Y/N to enter. “Come in, darling. Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Y/N followed the older woman into her office. It was the most British-looking office she had ever seen, like one of the rooms in Hogwarts, with velvety-brown wallpapers, wooden furniture, and vintage decorations on the window panes. On her desk sat a laptop, a notebook lying open, and a stack of papers sitting under a cat-shaped paperweight. Laura sat down behind her desk and told Y/N to take a seat in the swivel chair.

Laura Hilfgard had the look of a Hollywood actress from the 60s, with a defined face, chestnut-colour short hair, and bold red lips. Though her appearance screamed ‘boss-lady’, there was something childlike in the way that she smiled. For someone who was turning forty-two, she didn’t look a day over thirty. She could be the cool aunt Y/N never had. And she was smart, probably in the top five of the smartest people Y/N had ever met. They started off the meeting with small talks to break the ice before they went on to discuss the manuscript. The conversation flowed so easily, like two friends chatting about a fictional couple that they adored.

Y/N didn’t pay attention to how much time had passed since she arrived, until Laura glanced at the clock and cried out, “oh dear, it’s almost lunch!”

“I’m sorry for taking too much of your time,” Y/N said, but Laura waved her off.

“No, don’t be sorry. It was my pleasure, darling.”

They exchanged a hug before saying goodbye, and Y/N left her office, dizzy with excitement. The girl almost jumped for joy when she headed out of the building, and she decided to walk home despite the darkened cloudy sky.

The air was cool and moist. She breathed in deeply with her open mouth, her hands jammed in the pockets of her coat as she dodged hurrying pedestrians who were in a rush to get home before it rained. Y/N was so confident that she would make it back to her block without getting wet, but it was never a good idea to underestimate Mother Nature. Little droplets alighted on her face as a friendly warning, and then huge bullets of rain began to beat down on her like an ambush from the sky. She managed to find shelter under the roof of a grocer’s, laughing at herself for being so stupid.

The rain poured and poured, a sight she should have gotten used to after all the years living in London but somehow she still got amazed every time she witnessed it. She wasn’t in a hurry anyway so it wasn’t a bad idea to stay and watch the rain instead of wading out in this downpour. Shifting from one foot to the other to find some comfort in her damp shoes, she pulled out her phone, snapped a photo of the opaque scene and sent it to Harry with the message: It’s raining in London.

As she put her phone away, someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around, almost bumping into Blake. The corners of her mouth slid upward as Blake faltered, raising a smile. He had just left the grocer’s, still very clean and dry.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, raising his arm to shield her face from the rain.

“I was walking home when it started pouring,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I met Laura today. I was going to tell you when I got home.”

He laughed, flashing his teeth. “How did it go?”

“Pretty well. I feel like I can’t thank you enough.”

Blake watched the rain as he wetted his lips and let out a breath. She was wondering what he was thinking about when he turned back to her and said, “you said you’d buy me dinner, right?”

“Right.” She almost forgot. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“No, but I’m free tonight.”

“But...it’s raining.”

“I live right next to you. We can just order in.”

“Oh.”

“But we’d better hurry back. It looks like it’s going to rain much harder,” said Blake as he opened his black umbrella, giving her a gentle look. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Hold on.” She put up a finger when her phone buzzed inside her bag. She hastily reached for it and checked Harry’s reply. It was a photo of the sunny cloudless sky attached to the message: Missing you in LA. She giggled out loud and put her phone back into her bag, receiving Blake’s questioning stare.

“Harry,” she told him. He said nothing as she pulled herself close to his side to fit under the umbrella, and together they stepped out in the downpour.

Gemma sat by the large window of the coffee shop, watching the raindrops dance on the pavement. London streets were less busy on rainy days, not that she complained though. It was hypnotic and rather enjoyable watching it pour, but only when she was dry and warm indoors, otherwise she would hate it so much. A waitress finally brought her the strawberry cake she had ordered ten minutes ago. She wasn’t craving sweet food, but if she was going to be stuck here for a few hours at most, she couldn’t take their table with only a cup of coffee.

As a few more people walked into the shop, a familiar face caught Gemma’s attention. Isaac shook the rain from his umbrella, hung it by the entrance and headed to the counter to order a black coffee to go. It was only when he took his drink and turned around that he spotted her and his face lit up. He crossed the room to her table as she got up and they shared a friendly hug. She didn’t expect to run into him, but it made sense because he was close to Emilia. He's probably here for the same reason, she thought.

“Are you here to see her?” he asked when they pulled apart.

“Yes, but she’s not here today.” Gemma lifted her shoulders, sitting back and nodding at the chair in front of her. “Wanna join me? I’ve been lonely all morning.”

“Sure.” His eyes crinkled as he grabbed a seat. “I saw you at the party the other night but you left before I got a chance to say hello.”

“Yeah well, those parties aren’t really my thing,” she replied. “I was only there for Harry.”

“You must be very proud.”

“I would’ve been prouder if he hadn’t messed up, but he’s the only sibling I’ve got. I can’t be mad at him forever.”

Isaac shifted in his chair, his shoulders tensed as he peered at the cup between his palms. Gemma was quick to notice the subtle change in his expression and let out a snort. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?” he asked, lifting his face.

“Well, I was a bit upset when Y/N told me, but I guess you just meant well.”

Isaac didn’t respond right away so she asked him what was wrong, and he said, “I have to tell you something,” a frown marking his lips. She leaned forward, her heart racing.

“I didn’t give Emilia your number,” he finally confessed. “She got it from Harry’s assistant.”

“How the hell does she know his assistant?”

“She met her at a photoshoot.”

“And the assistant just...gave out my number to someone she barely knows?” Gemma scoffed, raising both eyebrows.

“Emilia is very good at convincing people to do things for her.”

“So she’s manipulative?”

Isaac rubbed his forearms, somewhat agreeing but didn’t feel like he should say it out loud. Gemma, however, wasn’t as gracious.

“That girl is hiding something, I knew it!” she hissed, leaning back against the chair. “Do you know why she doesn’t go to work anymore? I’ve come here for three days in a row but I haven’t met her.”

“Did she know you were coming?”

“I doubt that.” Gemma shook her head. “Have you told Harry by the way?”

“No.”

“Good. He’s happy with his Oscar nomination. Let’s keep it that way.” As Gemma tilted her head to rest it upon her hand, she noticed the way his blue eyes bored into her and her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

“You’re the best sister I’ve ever met,” he said before she could ask. So she rolled her eyes, a smile lingering at her lips.

“You have a little brother right? I assume you would do the same if you were me.”

“You’re right, but I still admire you for all that you’ve been through.” He grinned. “I admire you both.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” Gemma laughed, and she wasn’t kidding at all. The pink colour of her cheeks was prominent on her pale face which gave Isaac the sign that he should change the subject.

“How’s Anne?” he asked.

“Oh, she’s doing much better. We talked on the phone last night and she was over the moon about Harry’s nomination,” Gemma said and took a sip of coffee, not making eye contact with Isaac anymore. She didn’t want to mention that Harry was going to tell their mum about Winton, but then she began to question if it was the right thing to make him do.

“Good for her,” Isaac interrupted her thought. She kept the coffee spoon in her mouth as he asked, “how’s your boyfriend?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” She scoffed. “But let’s not talk about him.”

“Okay,” Isaac agreed, no questions asked.

When Y/N and Blake arrived at their block, the rain was letting up and the traffic was busy again. She saw a familiar car pass by and parked right in front of the building. As Blake closed his umbrella, she rushed forward without telling him why. He was baffled until he saw Niall got out of the Range Rover and caught her with both arms, hugging her tightly despite her wet clothes.

“Y/N! I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you!” She moved back, holding his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you of course.” Then he saw Blake, and his smile faded. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Blake. Blake, this is--”

“Niall Horan.” Blake stepped forward and shook his hand. “Big fan. Your music is awesome.”

Niall had no hard time accepting the compliment. He snickered and puffed out his chest, arm around Y/N. “I like this kid already,” he said, smiling at her, and that was when she knew.

“Did Harry tell you to come?” She folded her arms, leering at him.

“Harry said you might be lonely.” He gave a shrug, not even denying it.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and rolled her eyes as she murmured, “I knew it” loud enough for both men to hear.

Blake stayed silent, so Niall had to speak, “well, I’m here now so would you like to invite me in?”

“Sure, let’s go. I live on the fifth floor,” she said to Niall, giving Blake a subtle shrug and leading the way.

Niall was born into wealth so it was very unlikely that he had been in a place like this if not to film a depressing music video. While his eyes darted everywhere in disbelief, Y/N had to hold back her laughter.

“Now I know why Harry wants you to move out of here,” Niall said, breathing hard as they stopped at her door. Y/N didn’t take offence at the remark as she knew how Niall was. Blake, on the other hand, was unable to hide his irritation with a straight face. She just knew him too well. She raised both eyebrows at him when she unlocked the door, and he raised his shoulders to reassure her that he was perfectly fine.

Their secret conversation went right over Niall’s head. He turned to Blake as Y/N pushed the door open. “Are you joining us for dinner, Blake?”

“Us?” Y/N snorted.

“Yes, Y/N. We’ll order in and call H. It’s gonna be fun.”

Y/N didn’t not like the idea, but since she still owed Blake dinner, she had to let him decide if he wanted Niall (and possibly Harry) to eat with them tonight. She looked over at him, and he gave a lopsided grin. “Maybe next time,” he said.

“Guess it’s just you and me, Y/N!” Niall brightened, completely unbothered by how disappointed Blake appeared to be. As soon as he had entered his own flat, Niall asked her, “were you about to have dinner with him?”

She stepped aside for him to come in and closed the door, pointing to the sofa. He sat down before she actually told him to.

“Harry sent you because he doesn’t trust me," she murmured while aggressively kicking off her wet shoes.

“No, no, no!” Niall raised both hands when she shot him a glare. “I only said that to piss off your ex. Harry has no idea I’m here. I promise.”

“Really?”

“I swear on my life.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, Niall.”

“That’s because you don’t believe me.”

Y/N pursed her lips as she held his stare for almost five seconds, knowing he couldn’t keep eye contact with the person he was lying to. Once he had succeeded, she shrugged off her damp coat, hung it up by the door, and joined him on the couch. “So what are you doing here then?”

“Harry told me you’d found an agent so I came to congratulate you.”

“Harry is like an embarrassing mum,” she snorted, resting her head upon her knuckles. “Last night, he called my dad and they talked for hours about how proud they were of me as if I’d won the Oscar for Best Screenplay or something.”

“That’s terrible. They’re terrible people. It sucks to be you!” he grumbled and she smacked his arm, both of them laughing.

Niall ordered pizza while Y/N took a shower, then they sat on the sofa and got updates on Harry via the Instagram stories of the celebrities at the event in LA. Y/N knew her boyfriend was already too drunk to answer his phone, but from what she’d seen, he was having the best time of his life. He was dancing in one of the stories, chugging a beer in another, which made her regret that she had refused to come with him. But then she also wondered, would he still be having fun had she agreed to go with him? She stopped herself right there. She’d had a good day so far, there was no time for unhappy thoughts.

“I guess we can’t call him tonight,” Niall said while scrolling down the photos of the celebrities at the event. “God, Ruby should just fire her stylist. What is she wearing?”

“Ruby Ellis?” Y/N flinched. “Is she also nominated?”

“No, but I heard that she was gonna present an award this year.” Niall chuckled. “What? Are you worried?”

“No. It’s just...weird to think about her now.” She shook her head. “I mean, if I were there, we would probably run into her and it’d be so...awkward.”

She was quick to catch his smirk, so she asked him “what?” in a mirthful manner.

“You two are a couple,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Harry had that same look on his face when he told me about Blake,” Niall said with a beam. “It’s not the ‘I don’t trust him or her with his or her ex’ kind of look, but more like ‘I love him or her too much and it makes me paranoid for the stupidest reasons’. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and vice versa, so you’re just afraid to lose each other.”

“I guess you’re right.” She tittered, rubbing her forehead.

“Anyway, just to be clear, I came to see you. It had nothing to do with your ex-boyfriend slash neighbour, although the way he looked at you made me feel quite uncomfortable,” Niall said in between laughs.

“Yeah, you weren’t being subtle.” She nodded mirthfully.

He turned and rested his head on his hand. “I really like you, Y/N. I don’t have lots of friends besides Harry and Isaac, close friends I mean. And I really like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” she told him and offered her hand. He shook it firmly with a delightful smirk. Both of them broke into laughter again. Funny how she had always believed that the best friendships were the most unexpected.

“...and then guess what? He told me, with a straight face, ‘there’s another bathroom on the other side of the house’,” Gemma exaggerated her version of her brother’s accent and gestures, which sent Isaac into a fit of laughter. He was laughing so hard that he almost fell off the chair, holding his aching sides.

“I’m sorry, Gem,” he said in between gasps for air, finally regaining control of himself. “I didn’t mean to laugh so hard.”

“I don’t mind,” she said delightedly. “It’s flattering, really. Not many people would think I’m funny.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. In fact, my boyfriend said he would pay me to stop telling jokes.”

The beam on Isaac’s face fell as soon as he heard. “That’s so mean.”

“Yeah…” Her lips formed a straight thin line as she stared blankly at the empty cups between their hands. “But well, I always make fun of Harry’s sense of humour, so I guess that’s karma.”

This time, he didn’t laugh at her attempt to lighten up the mood. He raised a sympathetic smile, looking over at the window to see that the rain was letting up. “Wanna get out of here? I’ll give you a ride back to your hotel.”

“Yes, please, I’ve been sitting here for too long my butt is getting numb,” she said, and they broke into laughter again.

Isaac followed her to the door and opened his umbrella as she threw on her coat. They stepped out into the humid air of September’s ending, taking a deep breath at the same time and exchanging awkward smiles before turning away. It was strange, this feeling inside her chest, but she decided to ignore it and glanced back at him. He patted his pockets to search for his phone and pulled it out, asking her to wait while he replied to a text from his manager.

“Every single time I see you, you’re working,” she said, her lips arched.

“Well, Lee is super pissed at me right now,” he chuckled while typing. “I was supposed to be at this meeting with him but I moved it back a day.”

“Because of me?” Her smile faltered then faded.

He sent the text, put the phone away, and their eyes met again. “Because of me, actually. I was distracted by our conversation and forgot. But it’s also your fault for being so funny.”

She didn’t know what was happening in her mind at that moment. She tiptoed and lifted her chin, pressing her lips to his. He sucked in a breath. He hadn’t expected that, but surely didn’t deny her as he deepened the kiss until she gasped and pushed away. The action stirred him, and he reached for her hand but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Goodbye,” was all she said before slipping into the crowd of pedestrians. While trying to decide if he should follow, the sound of his name made him jump. He turned around and saw Emilia in her work uniform.

“What are you doing here, Isaac?”

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ad1thi · 6 years ago

Text

lovebug

commission for @waluigis-penis, who asked for winteriron fluff w peter as their kid

commissions can be made here and the details can be found here

finally found the missing part of me

He never really thought he’d get this, James thinks as he watches Tony spin Peter around making airplane sounds

He never really thought he’d get the privilege of loving someone, of having a family, of being loved the way Tony loves him

He crosses his hands over his chest and leans against the doorframe, content to just watch his husband play with their toddler, who’s now doing his best impression of Tony’s pout in a bid to get some chocolate out of him

(from where James is standing, it looks like its working)

He knows the exact second that Tony notices he’s there, because his back goes rigid, and his eyes grow impossibly wide

He’ll never tire of the wonder on Tony’s face when he sees James, and he opens up his arms for his husband who slots himself in the space effortlessly, balancing Peter on his hip

“Look who’s here PeterPan,” Tony nudges at Peter with his hip, and Peter launches himself at James- who stumbles back a few steps to catch him as Peter wraps his tiny arms around his neck, before moving forward and capturing Tony’s lips

“Welcome home love,” Tony whispers against his lips, before nuzzling his neck and squeezing his waist

“Good to be home doll”

now i’m speechless over the edge i’m just breathless i never thought that i’d catch this lovebug again

Tony leans against his husband, tilting his head up to press soft, tantalising kisses to his neck. James groans when Tony moves away from his lips, wrinkling his nose in delight

“You’re such a tease doll,” he says, using his metal hand to rub against Tony’s upper thigh

“You’re one to-” Tony breaks off with a gasp when James’ fingers slip under the waistband of his sweatpants,” -you’re one to talk”

He shifts himself so he’s straddling James, rotating his hips and smiling with James stutters

He bends down to kiss James, filthy and lewd, and is in the process of unbuttoning his fly when JARVIS says, “I apologise for the interruption but Young Sir appears to be awake and looking for you”

James furiously bites down on his lip to stop the whimper that threatens to escape when Tony pulls on his lace panty and shimmies back into his sweats

“I’ll make it up to you I promise,” he says after he kisses James goodbye, and James just watches his husband go

you’re beautiful but you don’t even try

“We are married you know that right doll?” James says as Tony fixes his tie

“Yes,” Tony replies in a long-suffering tone, “This is a vows renewal ceremony not a wedding”

“But I already said my vows to you, it hasn’t changed”

“I haven’t fallen out of love with you doll I swear, I’ll take lesser hours at work, I’ll be around more I swe-”

Tony places a finger on his lips to shush him, but there’s no anger in his eyes, only amusement

“I never doubted that you love me sweetheart, but we’ve been married 15 years. I just wanted to celebrate that. Celebrate us”

Tony moves his finger away and leans up on his toes so he can whisper in James’ ear, “Plus I thought it’d be nice to recreate our wedding night don’t you think?”

hopeless, breathless, baby can’t you see?

He wakes up to the smell of something burning and it really is a testament to how far he’s come that his first instinct isn’t to look for danger anymore, but to look for Tony

when he can’t find his husband next to him, he puts the missing pieces together, and shrugs on the first pair of briefs he can find before making his way over to the kitchen -

called it, he thinks privately

- where Tony is furtively trying to mitigate the damage that he’s caused by lighting a minor fire and also keep Peter away from the smoke all at once

Tony hasn’t seen him yet (otherwise he probably would’ve shrugged Peter off his hip and onto James) and he’s clearly trying to not wake James up; which is amusing to a now fully awake James

He gives it a few more seconds before he grabs a newspaper off the coffee table and walks over to the stove and starts airing out the last of the fumes

Tony’s eyes fly up, “What are you -?”

“You’re supposed to be -”

“I tried making pancakes,” he finishes mulishly, but he lets James nuzzle against his neck so he mustn’t be too put out

“Peter and I were going to wake you up with breakfast in bed for Father’s Day, weren’t we PeterPan?” James leans over to brush his lips against the toddler’s forehead before going back to nosing at Tony’s neck

“I would’ve preferred to wake up with you in my bed,” he punctuates the end of his sentence with a nip at Tony’s ears but before Tony can retaliate, Peter flies out of his arms and into James’; seemingly trying to defend Tony’s honour

“No! Biting! Papa” he says, swatting at James from where James is holding him out like a rabid cat, incredibly amused but entirely too scared that the wrong move with trigger his conditioning

Tony is no help, with his camera out recording the whole scene and it’s so terribly domestic that it takes James by surprise

it does that from time to time

he’s confronted with the full force of how terribly mundane his life is, like now, where Tony has managed to acquiesce Peter by allowing him to inspect his ear with a doctor’s kit they bought him a few months back

and he sort of

steps back and wonders what he did to deserve all this

to deserve his husband

Now I'm hopeless, head over heels in the moment I never thought that I'd get hit by this love bug again love bug again

Fin

also on my kofi here, where you can commission a piece yourself!! (details are linked at the top of the post

#winteriron #buckytony #tonybucky #starkbucks #tonyxbucky #buckyxtony #buck x tony #tony x bucky #tony stark x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x tony stark #peter parker #irondad and spiderson #commission #modern!au #no powers #tony stark is still tony stark #but thats it #my writing #adi answers asks

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echoes-of-realities · 6 years ago

Note

90 for brittana please?

Notes: Okay look I know it’s been Literally Forever since I got this prompt lmao but I finally did it. I’m spending the next little bit finishing up on prompts and requests I got from before I started working on be my fire in the cold (and I’ll be waiting by the mistletoe) before I work on anything new!

90. “You’ve been replaced.” // “Alright, we’ll see how you feel when you need me to kill a spider in the shower.”

Brittany stares at the board of flight times and pouts as she waits for Santana to answer her phone. She’s already been away for a week and she’s more than ready to see her wife again, but with mechanical delays and bad weather on its way and technical issues it looks like it’s still going to be another couple days until she gets home.

“Hello?” Santana finally answers, her voice raspy and slurred with sleep.

Brittany mentally counts the time between their timezones and smiles when she realizes that it’s not late enough for Santana to be in bed for the night, but it is right around the time Santana usually has an impromptu nap when she works a late shift. Usually Brittany is there to wake her when her wife hasn’t emerged from their bedroom after going to change out of her work clothes, knowing Santana never sleeps well after having a nap in the evening, but unfortunately she’s kind of on the other side of the country right now. “Sorry, honey,” Brittany says softly, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t,” Santana mumbles.

“Sure I didn’t,” Brittany teases gently.

“Okay, I might have dozed off,” Santana concedes, and Brittany can hear the wide smile in her voice. “What time is it? Have you landed already?”

Brittany sighs deeply and continues to stare at the flight times. “No, I haven’t even boarded yet.”

“What?” Santana says, sounding a little more awake, “Your flight was supposed to leave hours ago.”

Brittany sighs again, finally turning away from the flight board and adjusting her carryon so it sits better on her shoulder as she wanders the gate of her original flight. “We did board the plane hours ago but there was some sort of serious mechanical issues so we had to all get off, and then there were technical issues with the airport’s computers? I dunno I didn’t really follow what they were saying, but long story short there was a butt-ton of problems going on and it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting out of here for a couple days and this is the first time I actually had a chance to breathe let alone call you.”

“Really?” Santana says quietly, and though Brittany knows she’s trying to mask her disappointment, Brittany’s known her for far too long for that to work.

“Unfortunately,” Brittany sighs. “There’s bad weather coming in tomorrow too so unless I manage to somehow catch a flight tonight I probably won’t be home until Wednesday.”

“Well that really fucking sucks,” Santana finally says.

Brittany chokes on a laugh and shakes her head because, yeah, it really fucking does. “I’ll hang out here for a couple hours and see. They said if there’s any cancellations they’ll try to get people from my flight out of here but they can’t promise anything so.”

“How’s your auntie?” Santana says after a moment.

“She’s good,” Brittany says, “My mom said they discharged her about an hour ago actually.”

“I wish I could have gone with you,” Santana murmurs.

“I know,” Brittany promises, “I know you’d be here in a heartbeat if your boss wasn’t such an asshole.”

Santana laughs, and there’s a rustling and a loud meow that can only be the sound of Lord Tubbington being disturbed by Santana being too loud. Brittany listens as Santana shifts around, presumably helping Tubbs up onto their bed since it’s too high for him to jump with his arthritis and general laziness. “C’mon you dumb cat,” Santana mumbles, “At least help me out if you wanna cuddle.”

Brittany giggles as she imagines her wife struggling to balance her phone against her ear and shoulder and lift Tubbs up into bed at the same time. “I can’t believe you would betray me like this and cuddle when I can’t take embarrassing pictures of the two of you,” Brittany teases.

There’s a shuffling and Santana’s voice is distant when she says, “You’ve been replaced,” in that haughty, teasing tone of hers. Brittany’s phone vibrates against her ear and when she quickly checks it she finds a message from Santana, a selfie of her wife and their cat curled up together against Brittany’s pillow, and an ache of fond homesickness flares up in her chest.

“Alright,” Brittany concedes, “we’ll see how you feel when you need me to kill a spider in the shower.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Santana gasps, “There was one in there on yesterday and Tubbs and I both just screamed at it. I have literally no clue where it is now.” There’s a beat of silence and they just listen to each other smile before Santana sighs a little. “I miss you,” she whispers.

Brittany’s chest clenches and she stares at her feet for a long moment, breathing deeply until the lump in her throat eases enough for her to manage an “I miss you too.” It’s been a long week and she hasn’t really slept, instead just dozing off in uncomfortable hospital chairs while her family crowded around her auntie’s bed and waited for her to wake up after her stroke, desperately missing her wife’s comforting embrace. “Listen, I’m going to go check and see if there’s any cancellations,” she says. “I’ll let you know if I can get a flight.”

“Okay,” Santana whispers, “I really hope you make it home soon. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Brittany murmurs, “And so do I.”

After hanging up she heads straight to the desk and finds apologetic airport staff telling her that there’s still nothing they can do. She nods and sighs, allowing herself to sulk and pout because it’s been a tiring and emotional week and all she wants is to get home and hug her wife; she finds an empty chair to collapse into, close to the desk so she’s nearby in case there’s any changes.

She somehow actually manages to catch a red-eye flight when another passenger cancels it last minute, and after a frantic rush with the airport staff to get organized she ends up flopping down into a middle seat only minutes before the plane taxis out onto the runway, and by the time she gets settled the flight attendants are telling everyone to shut their phones off and she can’t even let Santana know she’s finally on her way home; she spends the entire flight fitfully dozing, anxious to get back to her wife.

She gets in around six in the morning and instead of calling Santana she just finds the first taxi outside the airport and directs the driver back to her apartment, paying him quickly before she collects her stuff and stumbles up to her home.

Lord Tubbington greets her at the door, haughty and annoyed at being abandoned by Brittany for over a week until she scoops him into her arms and cuddles him close; only then does he start purring and decides he’ll forgive her. She releases him once he starts wiggling around, and he scampers off into the living room to curl up on his bed in there.

Brittany kicks off her sneakers and leaves all her stuff by the door, needing to find and cuddle her wife more than she needs to do anything else. She heads straight to their bedroom and finds Santana sprawled on her stomach with the sheets tangled around her bare legs, wearing one of Brittany’s old sweatshirts and underwear and nothing else, her head buried in Brittany’s pillow and a nest of blankets by her stomach where Tubbs probably spent most of the night.

Brittany leans against the doorframe and watches her wife sleep and takes a long moment to just marvel at the fact that she’s finally back home, until the urge to feel Santana’s body curled into her own gets to be too much. She’s exhausted and desperately needs a shower after spending a week in a hospital and most of the day in the airport and the night on an airplane between a man who smelled like ground beef and an old woman who wouldn’t stop coughing, but she needs the comfort of Santana’s embrace more than she needs to feel clean, so she quickly strips until she’s in her camisole and panties and tosses her clothes in the vague direction of the hamper before eagerly crawling into bed with her wife.

Santana stirs as she feels the bed dip beside her, her hand landing on Brittany’s hip and instinctively tugging her closer. Brittany rearranges them so she’s not squished against the edge of the bed and in danger of falling off, and Santana just sighs at her wife’s manhandling of her until they’re curled together in the middle of the bed. “Hi,” Brittany whispers, kissing the tip of Santana’s nose.

It scrunches adorably as Santana cracks an eye open. “You’re home,” she rasps, struggling to wake up, “You managed to get a flight? When’d you get in? What time is it?”

“Time for sleep,” Brittany says quietly, finding Santana’s lips with her own until Santana sighs and softens. “We can talk later, it’s cuddle time now.”

Santana hums and nuzzles into Brittany’s chest, wrapping an arm that’s heavy with sleep tightly around Brittany’s lower back and tugging them together and Brittany feels like she can breathe for the first time since Santana drove her to the airport last week. “Glad you’re home,” Santana mumbles, “Love you.”

“Me too,” Brittany whispers, kissing Santana’s head and burying her face into dark hair that smells of comfort and home. “Love you too,” she manages, and then they’re both lost to sleep.

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #my writing #prompts #anon #slowly catching up on these Old Prompts lmao

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let-it-raines · 6 years ago

Note

Love your stories! They're so extraordinary and you're one of my favorite authors! Here's a prompt for you "You fell asleep on the plane and I started making funny faces at your kid to keep him amused and the steward mistook us for a couple." Thanks!

The gif totally applies if you use your imagination, I swear. Also, thank you for your kind words, Anon! For you to say that is so sweet, and it caused a smile to bloom on my face when I got this prompt a few weeks ago as well as right now :D

After being home in London for three months, a part of him wants to stay with his family, his mum, Liam, and Liam’s wife and children, but a much larger part of him aches for the familiarity of his flat in Boston that he’s lived in for the past decade. That is home to him now, and he knows that the ache of missing his family will fade until it is bearable the longer he is away from them and the more miles he puts between them. He’s thought about packing up and moving back across the pond more times than he could count over the years, but something has kept him living in America. He has just never been quite sure what that mysterious call to stay has been. Maybe it is the novelty of living somewhere new, though Boston is as familiar to him as London now. Maybe it is the fact that as much as he loves his family, England holds some of his worst memories. Or maybe it is simply because he’s built a life for himself in America. He has a job he actually enjoys, mates to spend time with, and a place to rest his head that is all his.

However, none of that keeps the sting of saying goodbye to his family from affecting him as he boards the plane that will take him home. Some of that is likely due to the fact that it is five in the morning, and his head pounds behind his eyes so ferociously that his eyes may as well come out of their sockets. As he settles down into his seat, a blessed window seat for the long journey ahead of him, he thinks that maybe the flight won’t be so bad. Maybe he’ll get some sleep. And then a woman and a small babe that can’t be older the half of a year slide into the seat next to him, and while they are quiet now, he knows that they won’t stay that way for the next eight hours. He doesn’t blame them for it. That is simply the nature of children and is to be expected when you spend any amount of time with an infant.

He is just so damn tired.

The woman and her lad are mostly silent for the first hour of the trip as her boy sleeps and she watches a movie on the screen attached to the seat ahead of her. He finds that despite his tiredness and the pounding of his head, he becomes distracted by his neighbors. He can’t outright stare at her without making her uncomfortable (and frankly being creepy), but he does manage to pick up on a few things. She’s got long blonde hair that is twisted into intricate braids that remind him of the way Liam’s wife wears her hair. He’s never quite understood how women do anything but a simple braid down their back, and he’s curious about it as stray pieces of her hair fly away from their constraints and land near his shoulders in the cramped seats. He believes that she has green eyes hidden under the blonde of her eyelashes, and he wonders if her son has matching emerald orbs as well. The lad’s got a small hat on, but his brown hair pokes out underneath it from where it’s gotten mused during his slumber. He must get that from his father.

Where is his father?

It’s none of Killian’s business, but when you’re trapped in a flying vessel for hours on end you become fascinated with your seatmates. He once rode next to a woman who was allowed to bring her cat with her, and she spoke to the cat for the entire three-hour plane ride.

He’s mildly allergic to cats.

It was hell.

Just as he gets lost in his musings, the lad begins to stir, his small eyes fluttering open to reveal the darkest brown eyes he’s ever seen in a child so young. He looks nothing like his mum, and that shocks him a bit as the only children he knows are the perfect combination of their parents. But he also doesn’t know much about kids, so he wouldn’t use himself as an example of infant expertise.

The lad starts to fuss a bit, small cries emanating from his mouth, and the woman’s eyes shoot away from the movie screen to look down at her boy.

“Oh crap,” she mutters, taking her headphones out and adjusting him while she reaches down to look for her bag that’s stuffed under her seat, shuffling through the contents trying to find whatever the item is that seems to be alluding her. She’s obviously flustered and trying to balance everything in her lap while the plane hits a bit of turbulence doesn’t help he cause.

“Love?” he questions, tapping on her shoulder so that she’ll look at him, her green eyes (he was right) blown wide like she’s been shocked until they squint and her brows furrow almost like she’s angry at him.

“I know, I know. I’m annoying for bringing a baby on a plane, but I’m trying to keep him as quiet as possible, I swear.”

She’s obviously not had good experiences traveling with her son before, and he doesn’t want her to think he’s cross with her. He simply wants to help out for everyone’s sanity.

“It’s not that. I was just going to suggest that I hold the lad for you while you search through your bag. Or maybe I could search through the bag to help you find whatever it is you’re looking for if you’re not comfortable with me holding him.”

“Would you,” she begins, her lips parted in surprise, “you’d do that? You’re not pissed that you’re sitting next to the woman with the crying baby? You actually want to help.”

He was at first, but that’s just because he was bloody exhausted. He still is, but he’s pushing that aside. “I’m not pissed, no. He’s nothing but a wee one. He can’t help that he’s crying. You can’t either.”

“I mean, he’ll stop crying if I feed him, but I can’t find my nursing stuff to take to the bathroom. Plus, the entire plane is shaking, and I’m pretty sure I’ll get yelled at for moving around. Or I’ll bust my ass.”

He reaches up to scratch at his ear, suddenly nervous for a reason he can’t quite pick out. It’s like he’s scared of what this woman who he doesn’t know will think of him, and he’s never been one to worry about others he’ll never see again. “If you’d like to switch seats with me for more privacy, you can feed him here. It’s not a bother to me, but I know others can be prickly about that.”

She rolls her eyes before she smiles, and something in his stomach stirs. “You have no idea.”

He and the woman manage to switch seats with only a little fuss and one pointed stare from their flight attendant before she’s feeding her boy, the cries stopping and the woman sighing in relief.

“My name is Emma, by the way. I feel like if you’ve seen part of my boob you should probably know that. Though, I can say that hasn’t always been a true fact.”

He chuckles, mostly because he doesn’t know what to do as he did, in fact, accidentally see part of her breast, but also because the lass manages to have a sense of humor when at least fifteen people on this plane likely want to yell at her.

“I’m Killian, and I fear if I show you something equal I’ll both be a horrible human being and get arrested.”

“So your chest is that scary then?”

Oh, she’s feisty then. He can appreciate that.

“Like Wolverine’s.”

Emma snorts, and as awkward as it is, he finds himself smiling at her. “I don’t know if I’d constitute that as scary, just hairy.”

“That’s scary to some women.”

“A human being exited my body, so I don’t think something as simple as chest hair is going to scare me. To be honest, I kind of like it.”

He kind of likes her.

He and Emma talk for the next couple hours of their flight. He learns that she was in London visiting her brother who had yet to meet his nephew due to the distance between London and Boston. He’d offered to pay for her flights so that she could come, and she accidentally let it slip that it was the first time she’d had any help with Henry (that’s the lad’s name) since he was born. That’s what allows him to piece together his question about Henry’s father and where he is. Okay, so only some of the questions. He’s got many more about how a man could leave a woman as captivating as Emma and a child as precious as Henry, but it’s none of his business so he presses no further.

He does check to see if she’s wearing a ring, though. He can’t help himself.

She doesn’t share much about herself, but she doesn’t have to for him to know that she’s brilliant with a quick wit and very obviously gorgeous. He finds that he may be a bit infatuated with the woman he’s just met, and even if she is the dreaded “woman with a baby on a plane”, she’s the best seatmate he’s ever had.

Take that cat woman who was most definitely not Halle Berry.

Emma would probably be better than Halle Berry anyways. The altitude may be causing him to lose his marbles.

About halfway through their flight, Emma leaves with Henry to change his diaper, and when she comes back, he finally notices the bags under her eyes that most likely match his.

“Emma, love, I can hold him if you want to take a nap.”

She hesitates and brings her bottom lip between her teeth while she studies him. She’s obviously not used to help, and he can understand her not trusting him fully. He’s a stranger, and she can’t just be handing her baby off to anyone, even if they are on a plane where he can’t run off with the lad.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, just, um, if he starts fussing and I don’t wake up, wake me okay?”

“You’ve got it, love.”

Emma hands Henry over to him, and after she checks to see that he won’t fuss being in Killian’s arms, she settles herself down against the window, propping her head on the sweater she’s bunched up and falling asleep more quickly than anyone he’s ever seen fall asleep while on an airplane. It’s almost like magic.

“Alright, lad,” he bounces Henry up and down on his leg until he’s adjusted enough in his lap, “let’s see if we can find something colorful for you and me to watch while mummy sleeps.”

If you’d asked him five hours ago if he’d spend part of his flight watching cartoons and quietly singing nursery rhymes while he tickles a baby’s stomach and makes funny faces, he’d have said no. He’d have said bloody hell no, actually. But he’s somewhere over the Atlantic with a woman’s head resting on his shoulder as she sleeps (his heart rate is most definitely not beating at a normal pace anymore) while her child clings to his neck and is softly puttering against his skin, the both of them drooling onto his shirt. He doesn’t…mind it, actually. He kind of likes it, likes the fact that he’s helping out a kind soul simply because he can.

Plus, it keeps him busy, and the time seems to pass by much more quickly, and for the first time in his life while flying, he doesn’t actually want that.

Emma’s been out for about an hour and a half when the flight attendants start making their rounds for drinks, and he’s not sure if he should wake her or not to see if she wants a cup of coffee. He doesn’t get the chance, though, because the attendant is speaking to him before he even realizes it.

“Would you or your wife like a cup of coffee? Water? A soft drink?”

“Oh, um, she’s…I…she’s not – ”

“Coffee,” Emma mumbles beside him, picking her head up off of his shoulder before rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her fists. He misses her warmth almost immediately. “I’ll take a cup of coffee.”

“How do you take it?”

“With as much cream and sugar as you have, please.”

“And you sir?”

“I’ll take it black.”

The attendant hands them their coffees in disposable travel mugs, something he appreciates it because it’s already easy to spill a cup of liquid on a plane when it’s just himself, but he cannot imagine what it would be like to drink one with an infant. When the attendant finally leaves, he looks over to Emma to see her practically inhaling her caffeine, the scalding heat of it seemingly not affecting her while he places his down on his tray to cool.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t correct her on you being my wife. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just…I was startled, and it seems I forgot the English language. A bloody waste of thirty years of learning it if you ask me.”

Emma simply chuckles into her cup before placing her hand on his forearm and squeezing. Heat courses through his entire body, and he’s not sure if it’s from Emma’s touch or the fact that she was just holding the hot coffee and her hand is physically hot.

Both. It’s both.

“Don’t think anything of it. It’s easier not to correct than to try to explain. I had about fifteen people compliment my brother on his ‘adorable son.’ Henry looks nothing like David, but you put a man and a woman together with a kid and bam, they’re married.”

“Seems much less complicated than going to the courthouse for a license.”

“Yeah, but the nine month waiting period is a bitch.”

He barks out a laugh that not only causes everyone around them to look at him but for Henry to wake up as well, his eyes widening and frantically searching for something familiar until he finds Emma, his chubby little arms immediately reaching for her when he spots his mum.

“Hey, baby,” she coos, putting her coffee down on her tray before taking the lad out of his arms. “Were you good for our new friend? Yeah? I didn’t hear you cry once.” She turns to address him, worry suddenly in her eyes that causes them to widen. “He was good, right? Like, you’re not going to hate me for the rest of this flight for having a fussy kid and drooling on your shirt. Sorry about that by the way.”

“Think nothing of it, love. Your boy drooled on my other shoulder, so I’ve got two reminders of you to wash when I get home.”

“I never asked earlier. Are you…do you live in America or are you just visiting?”

“I live in Boston. Charlestown more specifically.”

“Dorchester,” Emma replies, a smile blooming on her face, and he can’t help but return it. “Maybe we’ll see you around if you’re up for people drooling on you some more…not that I drool often, just to clarify.”

“So it was a one time thing then?”

“Let’s go with that.”

Talking with Emma causes the flight to be over at an even quicker pace, and before he knows it, he, Emma, and Henry are heading toward baggage claim, Henry’s diaper bag over his shoulder and Henry on Emma’s hip.

“You don’t have to carry it, Killian.”

“It’s not a problem, love. It’s what a gentleman would do.”

“And you’re a gentleman?”

“Aye, I’m always a gentleman.”

His luggage comes first, and he goes to grab it while Emma points out her red suitcase for him as well, and he returns to she and Henry with two suitcases, a car seat, and what he hopes is a normal smile on his face because this woman and her son have him all flustered in a way that he hasn’t been in years.

“Would you, uh, would you like to share a ride home, love?”

Blush rises in her cheeks before she shakes her head no, and he tries not to be too disappointed in that. “My friend is picking us up, but thank you.”

He simply nods his acknowledgment, not knowing what else to say until Emma pulls her phone out of her pocket and types something out before thrusting the device in his face.

“You can put your number in there if you want. I figure if you can have a good time with me and Henry on a plane, imagine how well we’d get along when not so constrained.”

“Swimmingly. We’d get along swimmingly.”

He waits with her until her friend arrives in a bright yellow bug, and before she leaves, she presses up onto her toes and leaves a kiss against his cheek, her lips warm and soft against his skin. A shiver runs through his entire body, and he prays that Emma doesn’t notice the gooseflesh rising on his arms and the hair standing at attention on his neck.

“It was nice to meet you, Killian Jones. I’ll text you.”

And then she heads over to the car, setting up the car seat and buckling Henry inside before he hears her friend say “who’s the hottie and why isn’t he getting in the car with us?”. Heat rises in his cheeks while Emma throws her head back to laugh, her neck extending and her braided hair falling against her shoulder before she winks at him and they drive away, like a bright yellow dot in a sea of gray.

Unknown number: You want to get some coffee that’s not stale sometime? My driver has agreed to babysit.

Killian: Tell your driver that the “hottie” says he appreciates her for doing that. It’s a date, love.

The next time he flies to London, Emma’s sitting beside him with Henry in his own seat next to her. They booked their tickets together, and when the flight attendant asks him if his wife would like some coffee, he says yes without hesitation.

#cs prompt #cs fic #captain swan #captain cobra #captain cobra swan

101 notes · View notes

milky-writes · 6 years ago

Text

cold//warmth

Summary: Outside, the cold does its best, but it never quite manages to leech away the inner warmth.

Characters: neo, monsta x brot7 (wonho-centric), jongin x unnamed female oc

Written For: @merlionmen

Written By: TBA

A/N: for diksha~ happy holidays and happy new year~ ♥

It’s cold tonight.

The wind swirls around him, somehow managing to keep the lightly falling snow away from his face, which he’s pleased about.

But it’s still cold.

He pulls his coat tighter around his body and curses as a sharp, frigid gust hits him straight in the face and neck. The wind curls around his ear, warming slightly as it brings him the sound of giggles, and then vanishes. He rolls his eyes.

The rest of his cohort had already gone their separate ways for the night, with words of farewell and good wishes for the upcoming holidays, but there are still a few stops he needs to make before he heads home.

He glances around one last time to make sure that he is, in fact, utterly alone in the street, and then he dives into the core of his power and disappears in a puff of black smoke.

The street lined with houses, all decorated with glowing lights and cute little animal shapes and candles in the windows, blinks into existence. There’s snow on the ground here, too, so he dusts off his boots before he lets himself blend into the background, completely unnoticeable to any passersby. He heads toward his destination, smiling at all the windows he passes that are warm with light, before he reaches the light grey house. He slides into the walls, letting out a little sigh as he slips into the heated air, and spots his first target, bent over by the fireplace, allowing him to relax and blend completely, leaving only his consciousness present as to watch the scene unfold.

“Uncle! Uncle!” the toddler screams, running straight towards him. Taekwoon doesn’t even flinch as his nephew crashes into his legs, hugging them as tightly as his little body can.

“Careful, Minyoolie,” he says, slowly guiding him away from the fireplace as he straightens. “Uncle was just putting another log in, and you don’t want to get burned.”

Minyool pouts as he clings onto his leg. “Uncle, up, up,” he says. “Want up.”

Taekwoon sighs, a fond smile crossing his face. “Did Eomma say you could go up?” he asks softly.

Minyool pouts harder. “Don’t know.”

“Did you ask her?”

His nephew looks thoughtful for a moment before he shakes his head firmly, which makes Taekwoon let out a chuckle. “Let’s go ask Eomma then.”

“Okay!” Minyool smiles, full of baby teeth and round cheeks and adoration, and Taekwoon’s heart melts even more. He takes his nephew’s small hand and carefully leads him into the kitchen, where his sister and his boyfriend are chatting as they slice vegetables.

“Eomma!” Minyool shrieks, letting go of Taekwoon and very effectively interrupting their conversation. “I want Uncle up!”

Taekwoon smiles at the wording. His nephew is getting better at talking, but his vocabulary is still limited.

His sister smiles down at her son. “Minyool-ah, what did we talk about yesterday?”

Minyool hangs his head. “No yell.”

“No yelling, right.” She pushes her onions into the pot that Hakyeon is holding. “Can you go and ask Uncle Woonie nicely? Without yelling.”

“Woonie?” Hakyeon mouths at him when their eyes meet, a smile stretching across his tan face.

Taekwoon mock-glares at him before looking down at Minyool, who’s tugging on his pant leg. “Yes, Minyoolie?” he asks.

“Want up, Uncle,” he says, looking at the floor.

“What’s the special word, Minyoolie?”

His sister giggles. “You beat me to it, Taek.”

Minyool looks confused, glancing between the two of them, so Taekwoon bends down to his level, ignoring the slight creak in his knees. “There’s something you should say when you ask for something, Yool-ah,” he says quietly. “Do you remember what it is?”

He holds out his hand and Minyool’s eyes light up. “Bwease!” he shouts, which makes Taekwoon laugh.

“Close, Yool-ah,” he says, grinning. “Please.”

“Pwease.”

“Good enough,” Taekwoon says, and scoops up his nephew, making him shriek with laughter. He swoops him up and down, making airplane noises, and then carries him back into the living room, bouncing him in his arms until Minyool is giggling uncontrollably.

“More, Uncle, more, more!” he yells, and Taekwoon laughs, setting him down on the floor before reaching his long fingers out and wiggling them.

“I’m going to tickle you,” he warns, and Minyool starts giggling again, squirming and laughing as Taekwoon attacks him with tickles.

He escapes after a few minutes, toddling over to his pile of toys in the corner, and grabbing a squeaky toy hammer, very similar to the one that Taekwoon remembers seeing at Wonshik’s radio station for use as a punishment when idols come to guest on a show. “Uncle, I want play,” Minyool says, holding out the hammer.

Taekwoon smiles at him. “What game should we play, Minyoolie?”

“Rock paper scissor!”

Taekwoon feels his smile grow as he stretches out his hand. “Okay, ready?”

Minyool sticks out a little fist.

“One, two, three!”

Taekwoon covers Minyool’s fist with his palm. “I win,” he says, reaching for the hammer to give Minyool a little tap.

“No,” Minyool pouts, moving the hammer behind his back.

“Okay, okay,” Taekwoon says, ruffling his hair. “Again?”

Minyool nods and sticks out his fist again.

“One, two three!”

Taekwoon lets out a little gasp at both their fists. “We tied, Minyoolie,” he says, winking. “We have to play again.”

“Again!” Minyool repeats.

Taekwoon holds his hand out and counts. “One, two, three!”

He gasps again when he sees Minyool’s outstretched palm next to his fist. “Minyoolie, you won!” he says, grinning. Minyool raises the hammer and Taekwoon closes his eyes, preparing to pretend to be hurt.

Bonk! goes the hammer against the top of his head, and he inhales sharply, eyes flying open as he looks at his nephew in pretend shock. Minyool is smiling, the biggest smile Taekwoon’s seen on his face in a while, so he decides to play it up.

He gasps and opens his eyes wide, staring right at his nephew, the beginnings of a pout happening. “Minyoolie!” he says, scandalized, and Minyool bursts into happy laughter.

As he giggles away, Taekwoon looks up, pout still present, and meets Hakyeon’s gaze from where he’s standing against the doorframe. His fake hurt from Minyool whacking him with the toy starts to turn into real hurt as Hakyeon continues to just look at him, expression completely shuttered.

“Hakyeonie?” he asks softly, ignoring the still-laughing toddler. “Is everything ok-”

“I want to have children with you,” Hakyeon blurts, his eyes wide.

Taekwoon’s world freezes for a moment before he breathes, “What?”

Hakyeon blinks. “I… I want to get married and have kids with you.”

Taekwoon pushes himself to standing and steps in front of his boyfriend. “Are you serious?” he asks, catching one of Hakyeon’s warm hands in his.

Hakyeon nods, his eyes getting watery. “I’ve been thinking about it, not for too long, and then I saw you with Minyoolie and how good you are with him and I just kept imagining that it was our child you were playing with and-” He sniffles, tears starting to drip down his face. “All I could think about was us, that future, and I wanted to tell you.”

Taekwoon uses his thumb to wipe a tear off Hakyeon’s cheek. “The only person I would want that future with is you, Yeonie,” he says. “Let’s do it then, if you’re completely sure.”

“R-Really?” Hakyeon chokes, gazing at him.

Taekwoon nods and gathers his boyfriend in his arms, feeling Hakyeon smile as he cries into his shoulder, feeling his own eyes dampen with happy tears as he holds the love of his life.

They’re so wrapped up in each other that neither of them notice an odd puff of black smoke outside the window.

He checks on a few other people.

The blond guy is sobbing, hands covering his face, and he suspects he finally reached his breaking point, but there are two others with him, holding him and supporting him and caring for him, and seeing that bond of friendship withstand such adversity makes him hopeful for their future.

The black-haired girl is giggling with her girlfriend as they bake what looks like a very large batch of cookies, a tabby cat winding between their legs, which brings a smile to his face.

The girl who dyed her hair purple is sitting in her window, wrapped in a blanket, reading a thick book and blasting music from a speaker somewhere else in the room, and the blast of contentedness he feels from her is enough to make him long for home.

He does have one more stop to make first, so he steps back from her window and pulls himself into oblivion.

The empty street blinks into existence and he shudders as the icy wind hits him. There’s no snow here, thank all the powers that be, but it feels like it’s about twenty degrees below zero the way the bitter cold is nipping at him in tiny little gusts that do more to chill him to the core than an ice bath would. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the high neck of his jacket before he starts walking toward his next destination, a tall apartment building on the corner. He sees his next target, a muscular figure exit the convenience store across the street, two bulging plastic bags hanging from his arms, and he immediately blends into the night as to not be noticed. He trails the man into the building, exhaling slightly when the warm air of the interior lobby hits him, and then slipping into the walls to watch the scene in his target’s apartment unfold.

Hoseok slams the buzzer again, the bags starting to dig into his arms. “Minhyuk, I know you can hear me, come open the door,” he shouts. “My arms are getting tired.”

“What’s the point of all that muscle if you don’t use it, hyung?” comes Minhyuk’s tinny voice through the speaker.

Hoseok groans and is on the verge of swearing - he’d pushed himself during his workout today, his muscles were already twinging with soreness, and then he’d decided to be a good hyung to Changkyun and go get snacks before movie night, because that kid was always so busy in his studio that he would forget to do things like that before he came back to the dorm, and all he wants to do is lie down - when he hears Kihyun sigh. (He knows it’s Kihyun because, well, after five years living with the same people, he knows them all practically better than he knows himself.)

“Cut the man some slack,” Kihyun says, and Hoseok lets out a whoop when he hears the door to their apartment complex click open.

“You’re the best,” he manages to say before the intercom shuts off, leaving him to elbow the door open. He makes it to the elevators without dropping anything, and as the doors hiss closed he leans back against the wall, letting out a tiny sigh of relief.

The elevator dings a minute later, signaling his arrival on the seventh floor, and he pushes himself off the elevator wall to trudge down the short hallway to his door. “Can someone open this too?” he calls. “My hands are kind of full.”

“Coming,” he hears Minhyuk shriek, maybe three seconds before the door is flung open.

“Oh thank god,” Hoseok says, practically falling inside the apartment. “It’s fucking COLD out.”

“I told you to wear a jacket,” Kihyun says from his spot on the couch, Changkyun curled into a ball next to him, looking at something on his phone.

Hoseok opens his mouth to respond as he stuffs his feet into his house slippers, but he’s interrupted by Hyunwoo saying “If you try and say you never get cold, please remember the time you were sick for two weeks because you refused to wear a jacket for three days straight last year.”

“Dammit.” He pouts. “I’ve only been inside for like thirty seconds and I’ve already been attacked like this?”

“Get used to it,” comes a sleepy voice from the hall. Hyungwon pokes his head into the room after rolling his eyes at Hoseok, who rolls his eyes right back. “Do we have any food in the fridge?” he asks.

Kihyun huffs. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask the never ending pits if they left anything for the rest of us.” He shoots a look at Hoseok and then at Hyunwoo.

“Hey, I did groceries yesterday,” Hyunwoo protests. “There should have been enough.”

Hoseok looks up from where he’s setting out snacks on the table to see five people staring at him. “Why are you all looking at me?” he whines. “I haven’t been back here since before lunch!”

“So there is food,” Hyungwon says, and heads in the direction of the kitchen.

“Fuck you, of course there is!” Hoseok pulls out the ice cream that he knows Jooheon likes and puts it on top of the plastic bag before rubbing his still-frozen fingers together. “Ugh, I’m so cold,” he mumbles.

Changkyun, surprisingly, hears him, and lifts his head from where it’s resting on Kihyun’s leg. “Come sit, hyung,” he rumbles, his voice even deeper than normal with exhaustion. “Ki-hyung, scooch.”

“What? Why?” Kihyun says, dragging his attention back to Hoseok and Changkyun from where he had been focused on Hyungwon rattling around in the kitchen.

“Share your body heat with Hoseok-hyung,” Changkyun murmurs. “He’s cold.”

“Serves him right.”

Hoseok pouts again when he sees the look on Kihyun’s face, and he knows he’s won when Kihyun breaks eye contact by

rolling his eyes.

“Fine.” He shifts closer to the end of the couch. “Changkyunnie, you have to sit up.”

Changkyun inches upright just enough for Hoseok to slide between them before flopping back down, plastering himself to Hoseok’s side. “Your skin is so icy, hyung,” he says.

“Yeah, Kyunnie, I was just outside for a bit because someone-” Hoseok glares at Minhyuk, who’s tapping away on his phone and not paying them any attention “-wouldn’t open the door for me.”

“And because you didn’t take a jacket when you went to get snacks,” Kihyun adds, and Hoseok elbows him.

“You brought snacks?” Changkyun shoots upright, making both Hoseok and Kihyun snort with laughter.

“What did you think I was carrying, Kyunnie?” Hoseok giggles.

Changkyun shrugs, already shifting forward to dig through the pile of food. “You’re the best, hyung,” he says fervently, pulling out two bags of his favorite kind of chips and a package of crackers.

“Hey, what about me, brat?” Kihyun protests, reaching behind Hoseok to whack Changkyun’s shoulder.

“You didn’t bring me food,” he responds, tearing one of the bags open.

Hoseok hears Hyunwoo chuckle from his armchair, which makes him smile. “The snacks are for everyone, Kyunnie,” he says, grabbing a package of chocolate cookies. “Don’t hog them.”

“More food?” Hyungwon says, appearing suddenly behind them like a ghost, causing Hoseok to jump and drop his cookie.

Which makes Hyungwon burst into laughter.

“Chae Hyungwon!” Hoseok makes to get up and strangle him but is stopped by Hyunwoo stepping in front of him to get himself the package of red licorice that Hoseok bought specifically for him. Hoseok settles for shooting a death glare at Hyungwon, who’s still giggling as he settles into the other chair, but he forgets to be angry when Hyunwoo drops a blanket on his shoulders before turning to go back to his seat.

“You were still shivering” is the only explanation he offers, and Hoseok looks down, his face warm, his heart swelling at the display of care.

Changkyun snuggles closer to him, adjusting so his head is lying on top of the blanket, and Hoseok untucks his arm from his side and lays it across the back of the couch in a much more comfortable position.

Kihyun is idly flipping through the TV channels when Minhyuk shrieks. “Jooheonie,” he yells, “why didn’t you answer me?”

“You literally tried to FaceTime me six times in a row, hyung,” comes Jooheon’s tired voice from his phone speaker. “I was busy. But I’m walking up to the building now.”

“Great!” Minhyuk chirps. “I’ll let you in.” He hits something on the screen and shoves his phone back into his pocket before rushing over to the door.

The buzz comes maybe thirty seconds later, and when Minhyuk accepts it Hoseok can’t help the laughter that escapes him when he hears Jooheon growl, “You hung up on me, hyung? After calling me that much?”

“Just get up here,” Minhyuk says, hitting the switch that unlocks the lobby door and then bouncing over to the couch. “Ooh, cookies!” He grabs a package and promptly sits on the floor, leaning back against Hoseok’s legs while he starts to eat.

Kihyun lands on a channel that’s playing a recent superhero movie right as Jooheon unlocks their door. “You guys started movie night without me?” he complains, tossing his backpack down and shoving his feet into his slippers. “And you’re all cuddling without me too?”

“There’s room here,” Changkyun says, patting the sliver of couch next to him. “Come snuggle.”

“I’m only coming because I haven’t seen Hoseok-hyung all day,” Jooheon grumbles, walking over and flinging himself onto the couch (and half on Hoseok, but he can’t find it in himself to complain, not when he’s finally starting to warm up and he’s feeling comforted and safe and loved.)

“Hi, Jooheonie,” he says, rubbing Jooheon’s back as he and Changkyun get settled in their limited couch space.

“Hi,” Jooheon responds, cuddling closer to him. “I heard from Changkyunnie that you were outside without a jacket?”

“Are you going to shame me too?” Hoseok whines, fake neck-chopping him with his free hand.

“Shhhhh!” Minhyuk exclaims from the floor. “I can’t hear the movie.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” snarks Kihyun, and Jooheon huffs a laugh.

Minhyuk doesn’t verbally respond, just gives Kihyun the finger and turns back to the movie, which makes Hoseok shake with silent giggles. He catches Hyungwon’s eye when he manages to control himself, and the quirk of his friend’s eyebrows sets him off again.

Kihyun and Jooheon both elbow him to get him to stop.

Hoseok finally calms down and refocuses on the movie, a smile still lingering on his face. He feels happy, he thinks, he feels warm and safe and loved; and, surrounded both physically and emotionally by his friends, his brothers, his family, he eventually dozes off, his eyes drifting shut right as a puff of rising black smoke passes by their window.

The scent of home envelops him - lilies and rain and a fresh sea breeze - and he lets out a sigh. Traveling like he does, especially on busy days like today, always takes a lot out of him.

He hangs his coat on the door of the closet so it can dry, as the snow from earlier had managed to infiltrate the wind cocoon, and pads through the house, the pull towards his bedroom increasing with every step he takes.

He opens the door to the bedroom and the pull vanishes.

“You’re home late.”

“I know,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “We ran over, and then I had a couple other things to do.”

She murmurs her assent at his words, sitting up a little more. “Hurry up, then. I want to go back to sleep.”

“You weren’t too tired to summon me straight here,” he jokes, pulling off his sweater.

“That used all my energy,” she answers, punctuating her words with a yawn. “Now I just want sleep.”

“And not me?” He smirks as he yanks on his pajama bottoms. “Should I feel insulted?”

She shakes her head, dark hair fanning on the pillow. “You, tomorrow,” she murmurs. “Sleep now.”

He chuckles. “So insistent.” He steps into the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth, and once he’s done he climbs into bed, wrapping an arm around her.

“Mmph.” She turns to face him. “You’re cold.”

He grimaces.

“Were you dimension hopping again?”

He offers her a smile. “Yes?”

“You know you have to do it in moderation, Nini,” she says, tracing the line of his jaw with her hand. “You don’t want to come close to burnout again.”

“I know, love,” he responds, catching her hand between his. “I’m being extra careful. But it was important today.”

“Right.” She smiles. “The holiday check.”

He brushes a hand over her hair. “You know me too well.”

“And?”

“They’re all doing well. Well, as well as they can be. All surrounded by love and

support.” He smiles as he reflects on his night, especially the couple who decided to start a family and the seven men who created their own family. “They’ve all found their families.”

“Good.” She gives him a soft smile. “That’s all you’ve wanted for them.”

He presses his lips to her forehead. “Everyone deserves the chance to find them,” he says. “I got my chance, you got your chance, and now this group have as well.”

“And tomorrow you’ll start again,” she murmurs, resting her head on his chest.

“That I will.” He exhales, feeling the fog of sleep start to creep over him as he relaxes into the warmth of his bed and the warmth of her body next to him. “Sleep well, love.”

“You too, Jongin,” is the last thing he hears before it claims him.

——–

#milky writes secret santa 2018 #kpop fanfiction #exo fanfiction #monsta x fanfiction #vixx fanfiction #exo kai #kim jongin

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starfaring-princelotor · 6 years ago

Text

Lotor Gets a New Home - Lotor's Day With Science and Stars

Good evening, most gracious Emperor! I’m so pleased to see you’re still here! I was inspired to write another chapter to the little Lotor story you inspired. I do hope you enjoy it! (Side note, I kept trying to insert a “read below” line but nothing was coming up.)

Lotor was fitting in nicely here. My cats, Binx and Mr. Davidson’s Nightmare (Mister for short), were starting to get used to Kova. She kept trying to break into the boys’ club, but they were cautious.

We started working in Lotor’s bedroom. It was going to be redecorated and painted just for him, and I had a special surprise in store. We needed to leave the house for a day, so it could be prepared for him without him finding out. He was so inquisitive I wouldn’t be able to keep him away otherwise!

“Lotor! It’s time to get ready!” I called from the porch. He was playing in the orchard again, climbing trees. He was so content just sitting in the branches and listening to the birds, I knew I could find him there most of the time. Just the other day I walked out to find him fast asleep in the fork of one of the trees, a smile on his sweet face, a look of peace and bliss.

“Coming Miss Annie!” he shouted, and I saw him sprint towards me. When he was about ten feet away, he launched himself at me and I caught him, spinning him around while he laughed with his eyes closed in delight.

I kissed him all over his face, and he became a typical boy.

“Aww, come on!” he said, shaking his head. “One is enough!”

“Never, my butter bean. You deserve all of the best kisses in the world,” I said, touching my forehead to his.

He looked up at me and grinned happily, wrapping his little arms around my neck for a hug.

I picked him up and settled him on my hip. We walked up the stairs to the porch where I had lemonade waiting for us. His eyes lit up when he spied it.

“Oh, I love that drink! It’s yummy, but it makes my cheeks hurt sometimes,” he said.

“I know, me, too!” I said. “When you make me laugh it does the same thing to me.”

“Why does it do that?” he asked?

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I answered honestly, while I poured him some and handed him a shortbread cookie.

He sat down on the porch swing and munched away happily, enjoying the light snack. I took my glass and sat down next to him and began to slowly rock the swing. We sat in the sunshine, listening to the sounds of the country, and drinking our lemonade. I wondered if he ever had times like this wherever he had come from.

“Miss Annie?” he asked, looking up at me with those expressive blue eyes. “Could I please have some more to drink?” He held his little cup out to me, looking hopeful.

“Of course, my dear! Why, that’s the exact reason I brought out an entire pitcher, just in case,” I said, getting up and filling the cup again.

His smile lit up his entire face when I handed the cup back to him and he took a loud slurping sip. I ruffled his hair, and he shook his head, making a disapproving sound.

“Silly little bean,” I said, affectionately. I took his face in my hand and brought my eyes to his. “I want to tell you something serious, Lotor, and I don’t want you to ever forget it.”

He focused all of his attention on me, looking a little frightened.

“You are special, my darling, and I am here for you,” I said, nodding. “If you ever want to talk about anything you can come to me. You will not be in trouble, and I will always come for you, no matter what.”

He looked so serious, not breaking his gaze, he nodded. I smiled warmly at him which made him break into a grin, knowing that the serious talk was over.

“It’s time to go,” I said. “We’re going on a special trip today.”

“Could you please tell me where?” he asked, turning towards you, using his innocent eyes like a weapon.

“No way, sir. You cannot use those beautiful eyes on me to make me tell!” He giggled. “I know your little tricks too well!” I said, getting up from the swing. I took our glasses back into the house while Lotor followed, trying to carry the pitcher as carefully as he could. I noticed his struggling and took it from him and placed it in the refrigerator.

“Thanks for your help! I’m so glad you carried that all the way inside for me. That would have been a long walk if I had to go back out for it,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. He stood taller, trying to look impressive.

“I knew you needed me to help,” he said, knowingly.

“Come on,” I said, fishing my car keys out of the basket by the door. “We have a very important appointment.”

*********************************************************

Lotor was very excited to see where we were going. He loved riding in the car, putting the windows down and letting the wind blow around the interior. When I would hit a bump, he would laugh and demand I do it again. I knew today was going to be a special day for him.

We pulled into the parking lot and Lotor was trying to figure out where we were. He didn’t know the language yet, although we were practicing at home every day, so I know he couldn’t read the sign. He was retaining knowledge at an astonishing rate, so I knew today would be something he wouldn’t forget for a long time.

“Miss Annie? Where are we?” he asked, cautiously.

“This is called a museum. There are all different kinds of museums but this one is a type they call Natural History,” I explained. “You will be able to learn all about life here that goes back thousands of years.”

Lotor couldn’t quite grasp what I was talking about, so I decided to show him. I got out of the car while he climbed over the seat to jump out after me. He slipped his hand in mine as we walked to the front doors. Lotor was never too comfortable being away from the farm. He would constantly be on high alert and never would wander away. He always wanted to be close to me, and I would let him. Even though he was such a young boy I knew a day would come when he would walk out the door and into a new life.

“Hey, Annie!” a male voice called out as we walked inside. Lotor froze with a terrified look on his face. I leaned down to reassure him.

“It’s ok, honey,” I said. “That’s my friend, Mr. Jason. He works here. He is a Docent. That is a person who knows all about the museum and can tell you anything you want to know.”

“He, he is a friend?” he said, hesitating.

“Yes, and I trust him completely,” I said, nodding my head. Lotor didn’t look very reassured but walked forward with me.

“Hi Mr. Jason! This is Lotor and he is staying with me. He is the smartest boy I ever met, and I know he will have a lot of questions for you today.” Mr. Jason beamed down at him.

“Hello, Lotor! I’m very glad to be your personal guide today,” he said, extending his hand. Lotor looked up at me and I smiled. He slowly put his hand out and let Mr. Jason shake it warmly.

“I arranged for him to be with us all afternoon, so you have a special tour,” I said.

“That’s true. I’m at your command,” he said, releasing Lotor’s hand and giving him a salute. Lotor put his fist across his chest and gave a slight bow in response. I quirked my eyebrow at that. He had never done that before.

“Come on, let’s go look at the dinosaurs,” Mr. Jason prompted.

“What’s a dino, dinor…” Lotor tried to say the foreign word.

“Dinosaur. It’s Latin for ‘Terrible Lizard’ but they weren’t really lizards at all…” Mr. Jason said and pointed Lotor towards the Hall of Giants. Lotor walked beside him, hands clasped behind his back, listening intently and asking questions. I walked behind the two, knowing Lotor would be profoundly uncomfortable if I wasn’t in sight.

They wandered all over the museum for hours talking about airplanes and electricity, extinct animals like dinosaurs and mastodons, but he was most excited about the planetarium. We got our own private show, which made Lotor’s eyes shine with excitement. He was overwhelmed by everything but wanted to keep asking more and more questions. Eventually we had to call it a day. Lotor was dragging his feet with exhaustion, and Mr. Jason was losing his voice.

“Lotor, I have to tell you, son, it was my pleasure to spend today with you,” Mr. Jason said, clasping his hand. “You are one very bright young man and I’m just astonished at the questions you had for me.”

Lotor smiled an embarrassed smile, looking down at his shoes. He was truly humbled by Mr. Jason’s words.

“Thanks again, so much for today,�� I said, giving Mr. Jason a hug. “It was so nice to see you.”

“Likewise, Annie. You’ve got yourself an amazing little companion here,” he said, nodding.

“Come, Lotor, it’s time to go home,” I said, taking his hand. He looked up at me with very tired eyes.

“When can we come back again?” he asked.

******************************************************************

We walked in the door and he stopped at the threshold, wrinkling his nose.

“What is it, sweetheart?” I asked.

“It smells different in here,” he said. “I don’t know what that smell is.”

“I don’t smell anything, dear,” I said with a secretive grin. “It’s time to get washed up for supper.”

We washed our hands and I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, sliced apples, and cups of milk to drink. We sat at the table with the radio on in the background.

“So, what was your favorite part about today?” I asked.

“Oh, Miss Annie, I don’t think I could pick a favorite part!” he said, excitedly. “I loved the dinosaurs, and the paintings and sculptures, and the mummies, and…”

“Slow down!” I said, laughing. “I can’t follow you when you go that quickly!”

“It was all so fun, I can’t pick a favorite part,” he said, matter of factly.

“I’m so glad. Did you know there are a lot of different museums all around the planet?” His eyes got wide and his smile got bigger and bigger.

“Can we go to them? Please? I want to see them all!” he jumped up in his chair.

“Lotor, please sit down,” I said gently. “You don’t want to fall and get hurt.”

He looked abashed at that and plunked himself back into his seat. His little ears flopped down at the tips and he ducked his head down.

“Honey, please, you’re ok,” I said, rubbing his arm to reassure him. “It would just break my heart if you hurt yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in a very small voice.

I pushed my chair back and got up. He needed some reassurance and love right now. I moved his chair and picked him up in a hug.

“Lotor, love,” I said, “You are beyond a doubt the smartest and funnest boy I have ever known.” He looked up at me with unshed tears in his eyes. “You just have to be a little more careful. You mean the world to me, little butter bean.” He reached out and threw his arms around my neck.

“I promise I’ll listen better, Miss Annie,” he said, burying his head in my shoulder.

“Good. Now, dry those tears,” I said. “I have a surprise for you.”

He lifted his head and looked at me curiously. His eyes were shining but he wasn’t crying. I carried him up the stairs to the bedrooms.

“Now, I need you to close your eyes for me. Would you do that?” I said playfully. He nodded and immediately shut his eyes tight. “I’m going to put you down now, and I’ll take your hand to guide you.”

He reached out for me the second his feet touched the floor. I placed his hand in mine and slowly pulled him towards his bedroom. Once we reached the center of it, I let go.

“OK! Open your eyes!” I said.

He did and looked around, searching the sky-blue walls.

“I don’t see anything. Is something different?” he asked, feeling like he was missing something big. I walked back to the light switch and turned the lights off.

Immediately his room illuminated with painted stars and constellations. I had hired a special painter to come in and add the effects with glow in the dark paint. That’s why Lotor thought the house smelled funny because it smelled like the special paint.

“Oh, Miss Annie! Look at all the stars!” he whispered. “It’s beautiful!”

I walked over to him and kneeled down.

“I’m so very glad you like it, Lotor,” I said.

He kept gazing all around the room. “There’s even stars up on top!” he said, pointing to the ceiling.

“Yes, there are. All for you,” I said.

He turned and threw himself at me, giving me a big hug.

“I love you, Miss Annie,” he said, making my heart soar.

“I love you, too, my baby,” I answered.

#lotor x happiness #submission

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ao3bronte · 6 years ago

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Ml Fluff Month

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Read it on A03

Sommeil - Chapter 2 Bubble Bath

tu crois qu'tu m'endors / mais même derrière ton masque / tes cernes en parlent encore

“You're what?”

Chat hangs his head and begins to fidget with his fingers, “I'm going away for ten days and...it's for work, you know? I don't really have a choice.”

Marinette narrows her eyes. She's heard all about this boss of his repeatedly over the last month that he'd been crashing at her place to sleep and she really wants to step up and backhand the guy, “I'll make you a care package. Is it hot or cold where you're going?”

Chat peeks up at her from beneath his lashes, “Uh...cold.”

“When do you leave?”

“Sunday.”

“That's three days, plenty of time,” Marinette laces her fingers together and inverts them straight out, cracking her knuckles, “It'll be the best care package ever, you'll see.”

“A care package?” Chat’s eyes grow impossibly wide and Marinette just can't get over how adorably pathetic he looks, “Are you sure it's not too much trouble?”

If it's one thing she's learned about Chat Noir as Marinette, it's that Chat is a hell of a lot more sensitive than she’d ever realised, “Of course. You've been looking and feeling so much better lately and I wouldn't want you to fall back into your old ways during your business trip. Just don't forget to stop by before you leave.”

“Trust me, I won’t forget. I practically live here,” Chat responds eagerly and he's not wrong; he passes out at least twice a week on her chaise and Marinette is just relieved that he's finally beginning to perk up on the battlefield. He's certainly not back to normal, not by any means, but he's a little bit happier and a little bit healthier and Marinette counts that as a win.

“Sometimes I wish you did live here so I could keep an eye on you,” Marinette jokes and she doesn't quite realise what she's said until she sees the gobsmacked expression on Chat’s face, “I mean, you know what I mean. Ladybug needs you at the top of your game and I'm happy to help. Besides, I like having someone to talk to when I'm beading embroidery or sewing my designs.”

Chat’s hesitant curl of the lips turns into the dopeyest of smile, “You just like to have me around so you can use me to tailor your men's line.”

“Well, not only,” Marinette drawls, pouring a spoonful of honey into his tea. She'd quickly found out how deep his sweet tooth actually ran and she’d added it to her Maman’s recipe to help with the medicinal aftertaste, “You do make a great mannequin, but I like the company too.”

Chat actually snickers and it's become a bit of a rarity these last several months; if anything, Ladybug only gets the kind of overcompensating laughter out of him that she knows he only does to reassure her that he's okay, “Thanks Marinette. I can't even begin to explain how awesome you've been to me lately."

“I pride myself on being the best friend I can be,” Marinette explains, pulling the metal infuser out of the mug and giving the tea a stir, “Did I ever tell you that I was the school council president for two years straight when I was a lycéenne? I like to help others when they need someone to talk to.”

“You didn't,” Chat averts his eyes as he takes the proffered mug in his hands, “That's pretty impressive. Two years in a row?”

“It had never happened before until I came along,” she says, plopping down beside him. Marinette has never been one to brag but she's especially proud of this particular milestone, “I worked hard and it paid off enough to land me a €2000 scholarship at any school that accepted me, which was all four of the ones I applied to. I ended up choosing the Paris Fashion Institute because their design classes are super avantgarde and many of the courses can be taken online.”

“Do you like online courses better?” Chat asks between sips. “I have a really weird schedule,” Marinette responds honestly, thinking back to all of the missed classes and stupid excuses she'd made throughout her school years, “So online is best for me. Also, I'm a night owl, not a morning person which is why I never wake up when you leave in the mornings.”

“I always try and be quiet,” he says and the tea is already working its magic, “I'm always afraid I'm going to step on your face.”

“I'd probably sleep through that too,” she giggles with a shrug, sitting down beside him, “Jagged Stone could probably play a concert on my roof and I wouldn't wake up.”

“’m jealous,” Chat slurs and Marinette prepares herself for her favourite part of their late night rendezvous when he loses all sense of personal barriers and babbles honest to goodness things about himself, “I wish I could stay asleep like you.”

“Yeah?” she urges him to take another swig and he does, gulping it down, “Why can't you sleep these days?”

“Work, busy, too much to do,” he yawns and his whole body seems to loosen with the movement, “Nightmares sometimes.”

Now this is the answer she'd been waiting all month to hear, “Nightmares? What about?”

“Magic stuff I guess,” Chat’s eyes are fully closed and Marinette knows she only has a few moments left to pry the truth out of him, “Losing Ladybug. My father.”

She'd honestly expected him to say Le Papillon, but losing Ladybug and his father? That was unexpected, “What makes you think you're going to lose them?”

“She could get hurt, or she could get fed up with me. I’m...I’m not doing my best as her partner right now,” Chat’s voice wavers and Marinette wants to punch a pillow everytime he brings up his near constant fear of Ladybug’s apparent imminent rejection, “And my father doesn't...he's…”

Chat yawns again and Marinette knows she's lost him, slipping the tea from his fingers and easing him down into the chaise. Harrumphing, she covers him with a blanket and screams into the nearest soft item, tossing it across the room in a fit of frustration. She does everything she possibly can to assure him that she'll always be by his side as Ladybug besides beating him over the head with a chalkboard that says “I'M NOT LEAVING JUST BECAUSE YOUR BOSS IS A DICK WHO OVERWORKS YOU” in gigantic rainbow letters. What else does she have to do? Announce it on live television? Have a plane write it in the sky?

“My god you are a needy cat,” she whispers, burying her fingers in his hair as she's apt to do just to hear him purr. It's her favourite sound these days and it never fails to calm her nerves, especially whenever he says something particularly irritating like he did tonight. She's reminded of the care package she’d promised him and spends the next half hour brainstorming items to send with him before ultimately calling it a night and crawling into her bed.

And if she'd pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead just before turning off the lights, well, no one’s the wiser.

A few days later, Marinette takes a deep breath and pushes her chair back from her desk, having just spent the last two hours mulling over an essay for her class in haute couture sewing techniques. She already has a good understanding of all of the things being covered and she pours them out onto her laptop in earnest, waxing poetic about hand stitching and hem finishes and pocket construction. She’s just finished another paragraph on cutting and pressing when her mobile lights up beside her, the telltale chime of a Snapchat notification ringing in her ears. “I suppose I could take a break,” she says to no one in particular, snatching the phone from the surface and flopping onto her chaise with a sigh. She rubs her thumb against the scanner and clicks on the app immediately, delighting in the words she sees.

Chat Noir hey i opened up the care package

Me You did? What do you think?

He sends her a snap of the package, which is essentially just a small hat box she’d draped in leftover velvet. The bow she’d wrapped around it is untied and the lid opened, revealing some of the small items she’d packed within.

Chat Noir the gloves are awesome where did you get them?

Marinette grins and peeks over at her very own Chat Noir gloves, still sitting in their packaging on one of the tables to her left. She’d found them in the Institute’s quad during the university's weekly marché du mardi where the students gather to sell their homemade goodies, whatever they be. In this case, Marinette had found a vendor who knitted winter gear and she had jumped on the pair of Chat Noir gloves she’d found, practically throwing her euros at the student with enthusiasm.

Me A student at the Institute. She makes Ladybug ones too.

Chat Noir i want to buy ladybug a pair she’d love them

Marinette feels her face flush and she covers her eyes with her palms for a moment to try and gain back her composure. He wants to buy her Ladybug gloves? Oh Chat.

Chat Noir she gets really cold in the winter so i’m always trying to find ways to keep her warm

Me That’s really kind of you Chat, I know she’ll love them. I left the girl’s business card attached to the gloves if you want to contact her.

Chat Noir awesome these look good did you make them?

Chat sends another snap of his bare (bare!) hand holding the lavender shortbreads she’d wrapped in colourful cellophane from the bakery, drawn together with a green bow.

Me I did! They have lavender in them to help you sleep.

He doesn’t respond for a few minutes and Marinette busies herself with her Instagram account, peering through the stories of all the people she follows. Alya’s still at work, judging by the snarky comments she’s making about her boss, and Mylène is showing off another one of her amazing ceramic vases. Nino is in the studio working on something that he’s describing as ‘deep funk house’ and Adrien is jet setting yet again, the video of his view from the airplane window gorgeous as he heads out to Oslo for a photoshoot in the Norwegian fjords.

Chat Noir oops they’re all gone

Chat sends another snap, this time of the cellophane in the rubbish bin.

Me ROFL Did you like them?

Chat Noir i loved them so much they were delicious you spoil me so what’s in this bag?

Marinette grins as Chat holds up another bundle wrapped in cellophane, the light from the lamp in his hotel room gleaming off the silver band on his finger.

Me It’s a bath bomb If you’re cold and you want to warm up in the bath, it fizzes up and makes everything smell good

Chat Noir it smells really nice the ladies are going to find me even more irresistible ;)

Marinette rolls her eyes and takes a snap of her unimpressed face, sending it with a few unamused face emojis for good measure.

Me Good luck with that Chat Time for you to get to bed. It looks really dark out.

Chat Noir i’m not that tired i slept on the plane

Me Liar

Chat Noir and i want to keep talking to you i’m bored

Me Get into your bed right now Or else

Chat Noir or else what?

Me I’ll tell on you

Chat Noir :0 you wouldn’t

Me I’m gonna call Ladybug right now and tell her you’re not listening to reason and she’s going to be mad

She’s just about to send another message when he sends a snap, this time of his toes poking up from underneath the duvet of the hotel room he’s staying in. Victorious, she smirks and screencaps the snap.

Me Good Kitty! Now turn off the lamp and go to sleep

Chat but i’m not tired!

Me I’ll call Ladybug!

Chat Noir fine

Me Sleep well Chat!

Chat Noir i’ll try my best purrincess good night

Marinette only has a few classes that she has to attend in person throughout the week and most of them are seminars where she gets to work in the design studios and show off her skills and knowledge in front of her instructors and peers. The supervisor at the Institute has already asked her to try out for the fast track program next semester and Marinette is both floored and humbled by the request, especially since the Institute’s hardest instructor is the one in charge of overseeing the internship. Mme. Sotnikova has always been notorious for flunking half of the first years in her classes just to weed out the weak ones and having always been hard working and tenacious under pressure, Marinette has never bore the brunt of Mme. Sotnikova’s rapier tongue. That being said, she’s had quite a few friends and acquaintances switch majors or drop out altogether just to get away from the imposing woman, as commanding in height as she is outstandingly Russian.

Marinette is packing up her bags to run home to the bakery when Mme. Sotnikova pulls her aside, her blonde hair slicked back into an austere coif that makes her look even more severe, “Have you looked over my request?”

She’s been mulling over it all week actually, the paid €14/hr shifts as an intern three times a week having been a major factor considering she has little to no money beyond what she sells on Etsy, “I have. I think it’s an opportunity I would be interested in.”

Mme. Sotnikova claps her hands together, her eyes betraying her pleasure as her stern expression remains ultimately impassive, “I knew you would. I only want very best to compete for fast track program.”

“I’m honoured, thank you.”

“As you should be,” Mme. Sotnikova has never been one for social graces, “I will send you package with all informations you need. What fashions will you be preparing?”

Marinette smiles, “A men’s line. I should have all four pieces ready for submission by the end of the month.”

“Is that so?” Mme. Sotnikova raises a razor sharp eyebrow, “And it is pre-summer yes?”

“It is,” Marinette confirms, digging a piece of floral fabric from her bag, “I’ve been really inspired by some of the fall gardens around the city and I wanted to reflect that in my pieces. The palette is mostly pastels with the occasional burst of vibrant color.”

“How very Chanel of you.”

“If it is, it certainly isn’t intentional,” Marinette tucks the fabrics back into her bag, “I wanted my collection to be all about the construction, not the flashiness. It’s understated without being minimalist, with different silhouettes and shapes for each blazer and jacket.”

“I am interested to see final result,” Mme. Sotnikova says with a quick nod, turning away. Marinette releases a sigh of relief as the woman leaves the seminar room and she swings the strap of her bag over her shoulder quickly, vying to get home as fast as she can to get to work.

There’s pins in her mouth and scissors tucked into her bra when she hears her mobile chime behind her, the Snapchat app the only exception to her Do Not Disturb settings as she shoves the final pin into the pastel green A shaped jacket. She steps back and gazes at it with satisfaction before grabbing her mobile and sitting down, her socked feet aching from walking back and forth around her mannequin for the past six hours.

Chat Noir i’m a chatsicle brrrrrrrr

Me Go warm up! Want to see what I’m working on?

Chat Noir is it for your men’s couture line?

Me Yup

Marinette gets up and snaps a photo of the jacket before sitting back down again, pulling the scissors out of her shirt.

Chat Noir that looks AMAZING the multiseam construction at the shoulders really helps give it shape without the extra body

Marinette blinks several times.

Me Since when did you become a fashion expert?

Chat Noir uhhh since a while? i know things

Me Why didn’t you say something? You know how much I love fashion!

Chat Noir i didn’t want to overstep you have amazing designs

Me We’re soooo going to have a talk about this next time you’re over here I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me!

Chat Noir i swear it wasn’t intentional! i just like to talk to you about other things

She lets that soak in for a few moments before changing the subject.

Me So how was your day? Have you warmed up yet?

Chat Noir it was cold and awful and i was outside the whole time

Me I’m sorry! Why were you stuck in the cold?

Chat Noir my job i didn’t have a choice

Me That doesn’t seem fair Chat! Isn’t there something you can do?

Chat Noir nope it’s just the way it is i just got back to my room

Me Well that’s good at least! Do you have anywhere else you need to be?

Chat Noir i ate dinner in the car so no

Me Go focus on warming up then!

Chat Noir i’m gonna use your bathbomb and try and defrost my toes

Me Let me know how you like it! :)

She sets her mobile down with a smile and runs off to the washroom, stopping in the kitchen along the way to grab a brioche and a nub of butter. Shoving the bun into her mouth, Marinette runs back upstairs with every intention of finishing off her jacket when her mobile chimes again. It’s the last thing she expects, all things considered; is he really going to message her while he’s having a bath? While he’s naked?

Chat Noir this thing smells awesome i wish you had packed more of these i want to buy a hundred off of you name your price and i’ll pay up my paycheque can take it

Marinette just shakes her head fondly.

Me I’ll see if I can make you a few more.

Chat Noir awesome so how’s the jacket going?

Pursing her lips, Marinette takes another bite of her brioche and settles in for the long haul.

Me Abandoned for the meantime. Are you feeling better yet?

Chat Noir yup i feel like i’m swimming in a cup of that tea you always make me

Me That’s because it is I put the same herbs from the tea in the bathbomb to help you get to sleep!

Chat Noir i don’t know what i’ve done to deserve you

Marinette swallows the lump in her throat and feels her chest constrict a little at his words. He’s said it a million times to Ladybug and she can practically envision his bright green kitten eyes blinking down at her, his smile as earnest as it is brimming with honesty.

Me It’s no big deal Chat I just like being a good friend

Chat Noir you’re the best, you know that?

Honesty hour, here we come.

Chat Noir if you had a boyfriend he would be the luckiest guy ever i mean i know you don’t have a boyfriend but if you did he’d be set for life

...what?!

Of all the conversations she’d expected to have tonight, this wasn’t even remotely close to the list.

Me Thanks?

Chat Noir i’m kinda jealous

Me Jealous of a boyfriend that I don’t even have?

Chat Noir ya because he’d be awesome

Me He certainly would have to be to put up with the stray kitten that comes to me for tea from time to time

Chat Noir nonono i’d never want to interfere and i don’t even know how you don’t have someone yet you’re a c a t c h

Me First off, I’m not kicking you out anytime soon Second, why are we having this conversation about a boyfriend I don’t even have?

Chat Noir cause you deserve it you’re so kind and nice to everyone

Me And so are you!

Chat Noir ya but i’m chat noir i can’t date anyone

Me Why not?

Chat Noir i don’t think ladybug would approve and i’m kind of in love with her but she just wants to be friends

Me Maybe she likes someone else?

Chat Noir probably i’m kind of pathetic aren’t i

Marinette sets her phone down for a moment and rubs her eyes, smudging her mascara. She’s tired and worried about saying the wrong thing but part of her just wants to get it out and tell him what he needs to hear.

Me I don’t want to overstep my bounds here but I think you should consider dating someone else

Chat Noir what?

Me Look I know how much you love Ladybug and she knows it too But she’s probably waaaay too busy being Ladybug to date right now so you’re only setting yourself up for failure And when she’s ready, maybe she’ll return your affections and you two can live happily ever after?

Marinette shares a glance with her reflection and snorts at the possibility.

Me But right now she’s probably got other things to worry about and you could really use someone who will take care of you and show you how much you mean to them You’re smart and funny so I know it won’t be hard to find a girl that would be interested in dating you but you need to let go of Ladybug and live a little.

Chat Noir i guess you’re a really good friend marinette thank you

She’s heard that line before and for once, it doesn’t bother her in the slightest.

Me You’re welcome Chat One of my good friends shared that advice with me a little while ago

Chat Noir you’re in love with someone too?

Me I was And in a way I still am but he’s super busy. I only ever keep track of him now over Instagram

Chat Noir i’m sorry

Me What a pair we make eh?

Chat Noir we’re furtunate to have each other

Me :|

Chat Noir purrhaps we should go on a date together?

Me ?

Chat Noir i’ll take that as a maybe ;) i’m going to got to bed now purrincess

Me Goodnight Chat. Sleep well!

When she sits up and chances a glance at herself in the mirror, she has to make a double take at the flush of red spreading across her face and décolletage. Did Chat, of all people, just ask her out on a date? And did he mean it? It seems ridiculous when she says it out loud and she tries to diffuse the tightness in her stomach with a nervous laugh but…

The heat in her cheeks persists as she climbs down to the bathroom to brush her teeth and it follows her back up to her bedroom, the space seemingly empty without Chat in its midst. Crawling beneath her duvet, she looks over at the copy of Le Petit Prince she keeps at her bedside and opens it to page thirteen, revealing the dried rose she’s had pressed between the pages ever since it began to wilt in the vase on her desk some three years ago. She still remembers the scent of it when he gave it to her on that fateful rooftop, the Chat Noir of former days, young and naive and yet still as enamoured with Ladybug as he is now. Things had evolved between them, personally and professionally, but at least one thing seemed to always remain the same.

But…

Maybe it was time for change.

#mlfluffmonth #brontewrites #marichat #mlfic

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wheresmynaya · 7 years ago

Text

Meeting in the Middle | Brittana

Attempting to keep the streak going from last year’s offering for Brittana’s Anniversary! Here we have the first chapter of a new short story I’ve been working on. Trying to get back in the swing of things so sorry for the cliches (but not really). Enjoy!

When her plane lands early on a Wednesday morning, Brittany can’t help but feel disappointed in herself. She had no one to blame but herself, it was her fault and she had to live with it. Usually trips home came with feelings of excitement, but all she feels as she stares out of the window as the plane slows to a stop is anything but excitement. She couldn’t believe she was back in the same small town she hoped she’d never have to come back to. Sure, short visits during the holidays were okay but this was different.

This wasn’t just a short visit.

Brittany rested her hand on the brace wrapped around her knee and breathed in deeply. It was sore, but that was probably due to such a cramped cabin and barely any leg space. She had an appointment already organized to get it properly checked out but that wans’t until Monday and the pain pills she had taken before she left Los Angeles were probably wearing off now. Plus the guy in front of her just had to have his seat all the way back too so that didn’t really help either. Brittany did a little stretch before pulling out her phone to switch off Airplane Mode.

Two texts from her mom came through first telling Brittany that she and her dad couldn’t wait to see her and that they’d be waiting at the gate. Brittany quickly typed back a response saying she had just landed then slipped her phone in her back pocket in time to grab her carryon bag from the overhead compartment.

As Brittany walks to Luggage Claim A, her attention is grabbed by the unmistakable squeal of happiness that could only come from one person in the whole world. She looks up in time to see her mom with the biggest smile on her face on her way over with arms wide, ready for a hug.

“Welcome home, hun!” Whitney exclaimed then wrapped Brittany in a tight hug.

“Thanks, mom.” Brittany sighed as she felt herself start to crumble in the embrace. She swallowed the lump in her throat that had been camping out since she began her journey home late last night, “Where’s dad?”

Whitney pulled away and squinted as she looked back at the way she came, “He was right behind me, I swear. Pierce!” Just then the luggage belt began to move and suitcases started to tumble down. Whitney patted Brittany’s shoulder and gestured to move closer to the luggage claim, “He probably got distracted by the souvenir shop, you know how much he loves those things.”

Brittany just chuckled as she kept an eye out for her suitcase, “They have the coolest stuff.”

“Brittany gets it.” Pierce stated as he poked at his wife’s side, sending her a wink, before giving Brittany a big hug, “Long time no see! You’ve gotten so tall!”

“Dad..I stopped growing a long time ago.” Brittany shook her head at her dad’s humor and smiled at her parents, “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Of course, dear.” Whitney replied with a softened smile, “We’re happy to help and we’re glad you’re back home.”

“Yeah, me too.” Brittany lied, that same feeling of disappointment creeping back again.

After retrieving Brittany’s luggage, Whitney and Pierce drove Brittany to the apartment they had scoped out upon Brittany’s arrival. Brittany had been hard at work before she left LA organizing a place to live when she got back to Ohio, not really wanting to go back to her parents’ house as it was already a low blow for her having to return to her hometown under the certain circumstances.

The recently remodeled apartment building was situated in the more built up part of town which somewhat reminded Brittany of where she lived in LA. Nothing in Lima could really compare to the fast pace lifestyle she had become so accustomed to, but it was still a nice try. She was close to a couple diners, a corner store, and Quinn’s café was just a couple blocks back.

“You’re #303.” Pierce said as he led the way. He dug in his pocket for the key and said to Brittany over his shoulder, “I think you’ve already got a visitor.”

As he pushed open the door, Brittany was greeted by a familiar meow.

“Tubbs!” Brittany squealed as she reached down to lift up the fluffiest cat in the Lima, “You’re so skinny, have you been dieting?”

Lord Tubbington just purred and nuzzled happily in Brittany’s arms.

“So your first appointment is on Monday,” Whitney reminded Brittany as they brought up the last of Brittany’s belongings, “I’ve put the business card on the fridge just there and you’ll have your car by then but if you’re more comfortable with your dad taking you then-“

“I should be okay.” Brittany interrupted, not wanting to be a burden on anyone or seem incapable because of the dumb brace.

Pierce just frowned and set a hand on Brittany’s shoulder, “We’re happy to help you, Britt.”

“Thanks.” Brittany answered shortly then cleared her throat as she looked around at the boxes and suitcases, “Well, I should probably get to work unpacking.”

Whitney and Pierce looked to each other then back at Brittany and nodded, offering small smiles. They each hugged and kissed their daughter before saying their goodbyes. Once they had gone, Brittany took a seat on the second-hand couch and took a deep breath, soaking in the silence. LT soon joined her and nestled into her side.

Brittany looked around her new place; cute kitchenette right when you walked in that opened into the living room, to the right led to a small balcony that looked out on to the city park, and to the left was the bathroom then Brittany’s room. It was a lovely place, tiny, but enough for Brittany and Tubbs. Plus, less space meant less to clean!

Brittany scratched behind his ear and stared out the window of her small living room, “Home sweet home, huh Tubbs?”

LT just blinked blankly at her.

Brittany just smirked and gave him a gentle pat, “Let’s unpack.”

It’s not until the next day after two trips to the corner store for a much needed grocery shop and basic necessities that Brittany finally gets the time to give Quinn a call. They had grown up together and remained close friends even after Brittany had moved to LA. Quinn always looked out for Brittany in high school and was a great tutor when Brittany began to struggle. Brittany was also there for Quinn, even when Beth came along during Quinn’s second year of college and the Fabrays didn’t want anything to do with her. The Pierce’s treated Quinn and Beth like family and Brittany got the sister and niece she’d always wanted.

“Brittany!” A high pitched squeak answered down the line after two rings.

Brittany couldn’t help but smile at the little blonde’s excitement, “Hey Beth, how are you?”

“I’m good, when are you comin’ to visit? I miss you, it’s been forever since I saw you.” Beth asked sounding a little breathless, no doubt running around.

“It has been a long time, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll be by soon,” Brittany answered, as she began to put away the last few bags of stuff she bought earlier, “Is your mom around?”

“Yup, I’ll go get her!”

Several muttered voices and lots of stomping later, Brittany faintly heard the voice of her best friend, “Thank you, baby. Now go get cleaned up, we’re leaving soon. Britt?”

“Hey Q,” Brittany answered, “You busy?”

“Of course not, I’ve only been waiting for your call since you’ve landed!” Quinn teased, “How are you? Settling in?”

“Yeah, you know.” Brittany sighed as she looked around the small apartment, most of the boxes had been broken down already but the place was still a mess, “I’m getting there.”

“That’s good. We’ve got to catch up soon; Beth has been so excited since I told her you were moving back.”

“Me too.” Brittany lied.

“You don’t have to lie.” Quinn laughed, always able to see right through her, “I know how much it sucks that you’ve had to come back. You loved LA.”

“Yeah, I did..”

“Well, you love us more. Anyway, how’s the knee?”

“Hurts.” Brittany frowned, looking down at the brace. She took a deep breath, felt the tears begin to well in her eyes, “I really messed up, Q.”

“Brittany..don’t-“ Suddenly Quinn’s cut off by the sound of Beth crying, “Shit. I’m coming, honey! This kid, I swear. Can I call you back?”

Brittany wipes the tears and takes a deep breath in attempt to make her voice sound even, “Yeah, of course.”

When Quinn does manage to call back it’s only for a couple minutes; they’re on the way to Beth’s ballet rehearsal but she does manage to set up a day for her and Brittany to catch up and that makes Brittany feel a little better.

When Monday rolls around, Brittany feels anxious. It’s her first appointment and she knows she’ll have to attend physical therapy, but she’s never liked going to the doctor’s. Maybe it’s the fear that she might never get to dance again or maybe she just hates the smell; either way, she feels antsy as she says her goodbyes to LT and heads for the lift.

As she’s locking the door, she hears a couple voices down the hall. She’s surprised because for the past few days she thought she was the only one who lived on her floor it had been that quiet. Brittany was just about to peek around the corner when she realized the conversation she had been overhearing was actually an argument.

“You’re never around, Dani!” The first woman snapped, “You don’t make an effort, like at all!”

“Seriously? That’s your excuse?” The second woman replies, Dani.

She’s angry, Brittany can tell by the sound of her voice, but not as angry as the other person. They sound like they’re getting closer and for some reason Brittany is frozen at her front door. She knows she’ll have to walk past them, but she doesn’t want to feel like she’s intruding on this private conversation yet she already has and now she feels awkward.

“It’s not an excuse. It’s true! Tonight was really important to me and yet again you’ve made me feel stupid for waiting around for you.” The first woman says and Brittany cringes at the mention of a word she hates, “What’s the point anymore?”

“You know my schedule is tight, I can’t just stop what I’m doing for small gigs like that.”

The woman laughs but it’s not because she finds the other funny, it’s pure sarcasm, “Wow. Sorry I’m not big and important like you.”

“Come on, that’s not what I meant.”

“So what am I supposed to do then? Just wait around until it’s convenient for you? How is that fair? This relationship is so fucking one sided and I’m sick of it!”

Brittany straightens at the word relationship and realizes that they must be dating then catches how invested she is in their conversation and shakes her head at how wrong she is for listening. She finally builds up the courage to head for the lifts, but just as she turns, she drops her keys and they noisily fall to the floor. She grits her teeth and quickly scoops them up hoping she could turn invisible, but sadly she doesn’t go unnoticed.

When Brittany stands, she finds stormy, dark brown eyes narrowed in her direction.

Granted, they’re stormy, dark brown eyes that belong to a beautiful Latina with long, dark, wavy hair swept over her shoulder. The woman’s lips are full and look super soft but she purses them at Brittany and her furrows her brows.

Brittany blinks out of staring, suddenly feeling flushed, and offers a nervous smile, “Uh..hi.”

The Latina just rolls her eyes and looks back at the blue-haired woman in front of her, “I think you should probably go home.”

Brittany takes that as her cue as well and hurries to the lift, the argument continuing behind her but at a much lower tone. Once safe behind the doors, she scolds herself for being so nosey. She couldn’t believe how long she let herself listen to some strangers’ conversation like that, but she was thankful that the Latina didn’t go off on her too.

Easily making it the highlight of the day, Brittany headed to her appointment with the image of the very angry yet very attractive woman in her mind.

“Well Miss Pierce, your x-rays are in and I have good news and bad news.” Dr. Andrews commented as he secured them to the board, “Good news is nothing’s broken.”

Brittany let out a sigh of relief and nodded, “That’s good.”

“It is.” Dr. Andrews replied and swiveled in his chair to look at Brittany, “Bad news is you’ve torn your meniscus pretty good.”

Brittany felt her shoulders slump, but she wasn’t really surprised. She’s been injured before, so much so that she had gotten pretty good at self diagnosing, but it’s not the first time she’s had trouble with her knee.

“You can’t see the tear on here, these were just used to rule out any breaks,” Dr. Andrews continued then looked to Brittany, “Have you had problems with this knee in the past?”

Brittany nodded, a feeling a little guilty, “A few years back I had a similar injury. It’s usually fine but sometimes it acts up if I don’t warm up really well first.”

Dr. Andrews noted that on his clipboard, “Did you get it checked out?”

“Kind of?” Brittany mumbled then shook her head, “I didn’t really have the money at the time to go to an actual doctor.”

“I see,” He said and pushed his wire-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose before offering a kind smile, “I can understand that. Well, with this being your second tear to the same knee you’re going to have to be extremely careful. We don’t want this to get worse. At this stage you won’t need surgery, but that can change depending on you and how you take care of yourself. That means no strenuous activities, no jogging, and definitely no dancing.”

“Right.” Brittany answered as she stared down at her twiddling fingers feeling like her whole world just ended, “That’ll be hard.”

“Small price to pay.” Dr. Andrews shrugged, “It could be a lot worse, but you’re very lucky it isn’t.”

“Dancing is just all I have going for me,” Brittany sighed as she shook her head, “I wasn’t good in school, Doc, dancing is it for me and if I can’t do that then what am I supposed to do? It’s all I’ve got; I don’t have a backup plan.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Pierce.” Dr. Andrews said, not really knowing what to say, then added, “Hey, this is only temporary. You’ll get to dance again and that’s something you should be happy about. It may not be as soon as you’d like, but it will happen.” Brittany looked to him and gave a thankful smile, “Maybe take this time to see what else you’re good at, huh? I’ll write up a prescription for the pain and the swelling. I’ll give you the business card of the physical therapist I recommend as well. She really is amazing and I’m not just saying that because she’s my wife.”

Brittany chuckled at that and waited as he tore off the papers she needed to take to reception, “Thanks a lot, Doc.”

“No problem.” He smiled and handed her the papers, “I’ll see you in a few weeks. Good luck, Miss Pierce!”

It was a low blow for Brittany, not being able to dance, but she knew Dr. Andrews was right when he called her lucky. She really was and deep down, underneath the guilt and disappointment of being so clumsy and complacent, Brittany knew there wasn’t anything that was going to keep her from dancing. Other than a torn meniscus, but like the doc said, that’s only temporary.

She went straight to the chemist to file her prescription since she was beginning to run low on her other pain medication. Thankfully it wasn’t too busy and she was able to be in and out in no time. With the poking and prodding done at her appointment, her knee had been pretty sore and she couldn’t wait to get home and rest.

When Brittany gets back to her apartment building, she had almost forgotten the embarrassing moment when she got caught listening in on her neighbor’s conversation. Lucky for her, she’s instantly reminded as the lift doors open and a familiar blue-haired woman looks up at her. The woman looks like she has been crying and Brittany offers a small smile as they pass each other. She wonders what happened and if the Latina with the sultry yet very intimidating voice is okay. Then she remembers she probably wouldn’t be so interested if she was minding her own business in the first place.

Brittany returns to her home and instantly turns on the kettle before changing out of her brace and jeans.

“Ready for some dinner, Tubbs?” Brittany calls out as she returns to the kitchen in comfy, baggy sweats and her hair up in a messy bun, “Why am I asking? Of course you are.”

She reaches in the pantry for the can and the bag of treats, but quickly notices LT is nowhere in sight. Weird considering he moves the fastest at the sound of the bag of treats, Brittany calls out for him again. Thinking he’s possibly in a deep kitty nap, she goes on to fill his food bowl anyway then makes herself a cup of tea.

She spends the night filling out career tests and scrolling through endless job ads that don’t grab her attention. She hadn’t been too great at school, if anything writing was her second favorite thing to do besides dancing but what job revolved around that?

She doesn’t notice she’s fallen asleep until she feels a familiar warmth scoot in next to her. LT pats and prods at Brittany’s thigh until he’s comfortable and Brittany laughs at how content he looks, “And where have you been?” It’s not until a few minutes later that she realizes her reeks of smoke. “I can’t believe you.” Brittany squints at him, “I thought you quit.”

LT just purrs and nuzzles into her hand.

The next time she awakes it’s because it has started to storm and she’s left the balcony door open. She’s sleepy and a bit groggy as she limps over to the door. It’s dark aside from the street lights illuminating the sidewalks below and the slight chill in the air makes Brittany shiver a little as she edges up the screen, but something makes her pause at the handle: a voice.

I can make you mine,

taste your lips of wine,

With the steady rainfall and the gentle sound of their voice, Brittany felt so relaxed and at ease like being sung a lullaby. The words were sung with a mix of such longing and serenity, each note filled with so much emotion. Brittany leaned against the glass, afraid to make a sound and the singing to stop. She was mesmerized, as if trapped by some siren and she couldn’t turn away.

any time, night or day

Only trouble is, gee wiz,

I’m dreamin’ my life away

A loud crack of thunder broke Brittany’s trance as lightning rippled across the sky. Brittany waited for the singing to continue, but it never did. With that, she slid the door shut and went to get ready for bed, humming the lyrics at the same slow melodious pace as the mysterious voice from the balcony.

Brittany plans to see Quinn and Beth early one afternoon for an ice cream date, an old tradition Quinn and Brittany carried with them through their many years of friendship. Brittany heads out and makes her way to the lift. Surprisingly she doesn’t have to wait and enters the lift then presses the ground floor but someone yells out at her.

“Hold the lift!”

Brittany quickly reaches her hand out to stop the doors from closing just in time for a familiar neighbor to squeeze through the doors.

“Thanks.” The Latina says, a little breathlessly. She’s clad in a tight, knee-length, black skirt and a white button up tucked into the hem, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows; very professional looking. Dark sunglasses sit atop her head, and a she’s trying to readjust the strap of her bag and straighten papers against her side.

“Fuck off.” The woman curses as her phone chimes multiple times and Brittany can guess that she’s off to a rough morning. A couple pens clatter to the floor but Brittany can see she doesn’t have another hand to pick them up, so she bends down instead. She offers them back to the Latina with a small smile as the woman finally gets the papers organized, “Thanks.”

“That’s okay.” Brittany replies, noting the softness of the woman’s voice. Surprisingly she has a different setting other than pissed off, who knew?

After the rustling of papers subsides, Brittany becomes hyper aware of the silence and attempts to fill it somehow, “Nice pens.” She instantly feels like kicking herself because what the hell? She can feel her cheeks pink and the tips of her ears go red. She looks for a hole to crawl into but no luck.

To her surprise, the woman makes this noise that’s a cross between a giggle and a snort and it’s the cutest thing Brittany’s ever heard.

“Thanks.” The woman says, “I design them for a living.”

Astonished, Brittany looks to her wide-eyed, “Really?”

“No.” The Latina smirks, “Not really.”

“Right.” Brittany says, hoping the woman didn’t catch on to how gullible she is.

Once again the lift goes quiet and for the first time Brittany takes note of just how slow the thing moves when she’s trapped in a confined space with an attractive woman.

Thankfully the doors open 5 seconds later and the woman quickly hurries out, but not before tossing her long waves over her shoulder, “See you later.”

Brittany just nods, too star struck to say anything in return.

Beth was her usual rambunctious self as she dragged Brittany to the display window and pointed out her favorite flavors. It was a perfect afternoon for ice cream and the three find an empty table outside in the sun.

Quinn tucks a napkin in Beth’s collar and looks to Brittany, “How’s the new place? I’m still waiting on my invite by the way.”

Brittany just smiled, “It’s coming together. Still working on making it feel like home, but LT has adjusted perfectly although I still haven’t figured out where he sneaks off to. Oh, and have I told you about my embarrassing encounter with one of my neighbors who happens to be absolutely gorgeous?”

Quinn raised her brows in interest.

Brittany nodded as if to confirm it, “I know, so scandalous.”

“Do tell.” Quinn urged then motioned to Beth, “Leave out the special details please, she’s still young.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Brittany laughed and went on to tell her about the run in with the Latina and her blue-haired lady friend. The story had Quinn feeling embarrassed for Brittany and she wasn’t even there, “Well hopefully it’s the last time I’ll ever see her so it’s fine.”

Quinn just shook her head, “So how’s the job hunt going?”

“Not good. I’m not really qualified in anything.” Brittany confessed, taking a swipe at her rainbow sorbet, “According to this career test I’ve taken, I should be a taxi driver.”

“What?” Quinn was shocked, “Those things aren’t accurate. Remember the one I took in high school? Apparently I’m supposed to be a guidance counselor.”

“That would be a good fit.” Brittany replied, “You love drama and people would tell you all the gossip.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Quinn laughed and looked to Beth with ice cream all over her face, “Tasty?”

Beth just nodded happily.

“You could work at Lucy Q’s with me if you wanted?” Quinn suggested, “I could always use some help and with Beth starting school soon it’ll be hard to pull off the opening shift.”

“I don’t know, Q, I’m not great at making coffee..or drinking it.”

“That’s alright, I can teach you or maybe I’ll just have you waitress?” Quinn offered, “It’s not too hard and it’ll be fun for you. Short shifts so you’re not on your feet too much.”

Brittany thought about the possibilities, “I do like meeting new people.”

“So is that a yes?”

“We’ll talk about pay.” Brittany joked and reached over to shake Quinn’s hand, “You’ve got yourself a new employee.”

Early mornings become part of Brittany’s routine as she starts working at Lucy Q’s. She doesn’t mind too much because it’s short days and she still gets to have a life after. Why that’s important considering all she does after work is go home to her cat and watch reruns of Dancing with the Stars, she’ll never know.

Coincidentally, running into the Latina in the lift becomes a part of Brittany’s routine as well. Some days she’s a frazzled mess like the first time, others she looks as if she hadn’t slept in days, but Brittany admires that somehow the woman still manages to dress stylishly every time. Always form fitting skirts or dresses, or tight jeans and crop tops with a combination of jackets and sweaters. Brittany notices she’s almost always wearing some sort of heeled shoe, whether it be high heels or boots, there’s always that tell-tale sound of clicking anywhere she steps like she commands attention. The Latina doesn’t usually say much other than the usual pleasantries which Brittany always initiates then glues her eyes to her phone.

It’s not until one Saturday morning that Brittany’s on her way to work that she runs into the woman in the lift and gets a different response. Brittany offers her usual smile and greets her, “Good morning!”

Today the woman cringes and lowers the sunglasses over her weary eyes, “Why are you always so damn chipper?”

Brittany just shrugs, noting the woman must’ve had a late night judging by the frizzy hair and lack of makeup which she usually has applied flawlessly, and lowers her voice, “I’ve always been an early riser I guess.”

The woman scrunches her nose in disgust and leans heavily against the wall of the lift as the doors open, “Sounds exhausting.”

Once again, Brittany doesn’t get to say much as the woman saunters off without another word. She’s just a few steps in front of her, but even from this distance Brittany could see that the woman was gifted. With that ass, it was honestly perfect. Brittany found herself staring and quickly focused on checking her mailbox before she could get caught. Inside were the usual, junk mail, bills, weird subscriptions for the last tenant, and a letter that was clearly in the wrong box.

Brittany stared at the unit number and frowned, “Who confuses #303 and #305?” She just shrugged, closed her mailbox door, and slipped the letter into the right box.

The first time Brittany sees the Latina outside of the apartment building, she’s so surprised she snaps a crayon in half.

Brittany’s at Lucy Q’s and Beth’s by for a visit. Quinn’s cleaning up to take her home and Brittany’s kneeled next to Beth, helping her color in a butterfly when the bells near the entrance chime. To her disbelief, it’s the woman and her blue-haired lady friend.

Brittany snaps a crayon in half and Beth looks at her in shock, “Hey!”

“Sorry, Princess, I’ll tape it back!” Brittany quickly apologizes and kisses the top of her head before heading over to Quinn.

“It’s not the same!” Brittany hears Beth pout but she’s already rounding the counter.

“Sorry Britt, I’ll be out of here in a sec. I’m just looking for my keys.” Quinn begins and she shuffles through the menus on the counter, but Brittany continues to eye the couple as the pick a seat near the windows in the corner.

“She’s here.” Brittany says as if Quinn would automatically know who she was referring to.

Quinn looks up in a frantic, “That bitch from Ecolab? I swear she’s doing the most to shut me down.” Then she scans the floor; Beth, older couple near the entrance, a group of younger ladies by the window, and the Latina. Quinn smiles and continues to look for her keys, “Oh, hottie in the corner?”

“She’s my neighbor.” Brittany comments and begins to help Quinn look for her keys, kind of, “Not the blue one, the other.”

“I didn’t even notice the blue one.” Quinn teased, “You should probably see if they want any coffee. They down it like it’s water here.”

“Right.” Brittany just about built up the courage to walk over when one of the other waitresses beats her to the table, “Damnit, Tina. She ruins everything.”

Quinn finally finds her keys, “Here we go! I’m just going to check one more thing and we’ll go. Can you keep an eye on Beth?”

Brittany just nodded and walked around the counter to continue to help Beth color, somewhat crushed that Tina took her girl. Her table, she meant her table.

“If you’re going to break more crayons, you can’t color with me.” Beth informed her as Brittany kneeled.

“I won’t break anymore.” Brittany promised, ruffling the little girl’s short hair, “Looks very pretty, you’re doing a great job.”

“Thanks, Brittany!” Beth grinned and happily scribbled across the page.

Brittany sat there for a few more minutes, switching from helping Beth color to sneaking a peek at the couple in the corner. She noted that the Latina looked a little happier than their first encounter and it didn’t seem like they were arguing which was nice. She didn’t know much about either of them, but Brittany genuinely felt content seeing them enjoying the afternoon. Well, she felt content seeing the Latina enjoy the afternoon.

“Alright Britt,” Quinn called as she rounded the corner, “We’re heading off. Ready to go, baby?”

Beth nodded and began to clean up her crayons.

“Don’t worry about locking up or anything,” Quinn reminded Brittany as she helped Beth into her jacket, “Tina and Jessie will do that, just focus on the floor.”

“No problem.” Brittany nodded and said her goodbyes to the two.

With them gone, Brittany focused on her work. Restocking behind the bar and clearing any dirty tables was easy work, but the bending down began to irritate her knee so she moved to organize the magazine and newspaper table. She was so busy straightening up that she didn’t realize someone had come up beside her.

“Nice organization skills.” The Latina commented, Brittany didn’t realize she was being funny until she looked up and saw the woman smirking.

“One of many perks.” Brittany replied casually then pointed to the magazines, “Did you need one?”

“Yeah.” The woman said and leaned across for the Entertainment magazine before looking back at Brittany, “Does this screw up your symmetry?”

“Symmetry isn’t really my thing,” Brittany answered with a shrug, “Doing things straight was never a strongpoint of mine.”

The Latina snorted as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth, hiding her smile.

Brittany just tilted her head in confusion, “What?”

“Nothing.” The woman assured her then said, “Symmetry is a bit overrated, isn’t it?”

With that, the Latina returned to her table in the corner of the room leaving Brittany to return to her work but she couldn’t help but feel a particular set of stormy, dark brown eyes belonging to a very attractive woman with long, dark, wavy hair on her moments later.

A subtle look over her shoulder only confirms it.

Song used was: All I Have to Do is Dream (Cover) by Lauren O’Connell

#brittanas3rdyear #brittana #fics #santana lopez #brittany s pierce #Meeting in the middle #fanfic

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builder051 · 7 years ago

Text

Travel Sickness (OC sickfic)

@hold-my-hair-back The saga continues with Mel and Todd. @xxx-cat-xxx I finally got to your prompt!

The title says it all, so heed the obvious warnings for airplane-related nausea and vomiting.

Todd leans over to kiss his wife as she pulls the car up to the curb. “Thanks, Babe,” he says, shouldering his backpack and hopping out to grab his luggage from the back seat.

“Have fun,” Mel says sarcastically.

“You know I won’t. It’s all work, but I won’t be able to concentrate,” Todd says. “I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”

“Yeah, right,” Mel laughs, rolling her eyes.

“I know you’re still mad I’m going.” Todd shoulders his duffle bag.

“It’s ok. It’s your job,” Mel says, though the logic in her voice still doesn’t completely mask the disappointment.

“I’ll make it up to you. Date night on Thursday, when I get back? You pick the place.”

“Anywhere but the brewhouse,” Mel answers.

“Done deal. Love you, babe. See ya.”

“Bye,” Mel returns.

Todd shuts the car door and waves as Mel starts to navigate out of the parking garage. She waves back through the SUV’s window. Todd turns and steps through the automatic doors and into the airport.

He checks his bag easily, then heads for security. As he glances down at his ticket, Todd’s briefly overcome with awe. He’s crunched the numbers in his head a couple of times since he’d received e-mail confirmation of his reservation. TSA Pre-approved. A non-stop flight from Florida to California. His seat’s in economy, but in the front row. Beside a window. He’s grateful to have gotten such a good job with Passage Software, and just out of college to boot. Todd feels almost unbearably adult as he fumbles his wallet and a handful of junk out of his pockets before walking purposefully through the metal detector.

As soon as he’s in the terminal, Todd beelines for Starbucks. It’s 8:00 in the morning, and with the last-second packing and the drive from the beach, he’s been up since 6, which is quite early for his laid-back preferences. With the busy morning, hunger hasn’t kicked in yet. But the urge to caffeinate definitely has.

Once his flat white is in hand, Todd starts the hike to his gate. Boarding is scheduled to begin at 8:30, so he has plenty of time to amble past sleepy shops and closed restaurants. Upon locating gate A 28, Todd sinks into a cold plastic-upholstered seat. He sends Mel a text, more because he’s bored than because there’s anything to say.

At the gate. With fancy coffee.

As he expects, she doesn’t answer. She’s certainly still on the road back to Jacksonville Beach, preparing to start her own slightly late day at the office.

Todd finishes his beverage as he’s called to board. He tosses his empty cup into the trash with the dexterity of a basketball player, then sucks in a deep breath before stepping into the seemingly airless tunnel that will lead him onto the plane.

He’s flown before. A few months shy of a year ago, he and Mel flew the long haul to Hawaii for their honeymoon of tropical winter hiking and surfing. Todd’s never had a bad flight to date, but he can’t help but feel the smallest twinge of anxiety and a fleeting wish to travel on open water rather than in an encapsulated aircraft. Something to get his hair whipping around his face. That’s where he’s comfortable.

It would be nice if the window opened to let in a cool breeze rather than just a wide streak of warm and stubbornly still summerish sunlight, Todd thinks as he shoves his backpack into the overhead bin and sits down. He switches his phone to airplane mode and plugs in his headphones. Todd searches for a suitable playlist over the din of other passengers boarding.

After nodding blandly at his seatmates, Todd lets his mind wander. He ignores the safety demonstration in favor of going over a few mental notes about the EXODUS Software training he’s scheduled to attend. The thought dissolves into whether or not Mel still has spare sex wax for their surfboards, and then to how nice it would be to spend a morning out of the office just to lay in bed with his wife. He’s called in sick for a couple of hangovers before, no issue there. Maybe he’ll have to try taking a fuck day.

The plane starts to taxi backwards, and Todd’s stomach clenches as he’s caught off guard with both the motion and the direction. He takes a deep breath of stale plane air and leans his head back against the seat. The aircraft turns and starts going forward until it pauses at the start of the runway. Over the music in his ears, Todd hears the pilot explain over the intercom that they’ll be taking off momentarily, and the flight should be a smooth ride of about 5 hours.

Barely a second after the plane’s wheels leave the runway, Todd’s ears pop. He swallows to clear them and draws a hand to massage his forehead as the aircraft climbs nose-up and his sinuses seem to crash into the back of his head. The plane banks to the right, then left, then shifts slightly nose-down to equalize. Todd practically feels his brain shift within his skull, and he heavily regrets the coffee in his stomach. A thin sheen of sweat breaks out under his moustache and nausea washes from the top of his head down to his feet.

Todd unlocks his tray table and hunches over it, cradling his head in the crook of his arm and wrapping the other around his stomach.

“Sir? You can’t have that down yet. We’re not at cruising altitude.” A flight attendant is leaning over the other two travelers in Todd’s row, pointing at the scratched plastic table.

Todd ignores her and presses his mouth firmly against his wrist. He can feel his watch beneath the terry fabric of his jacket. His jaw is prickling, and the bottom of his face feels numb. Warmth is already seeping up his throat. Todd does his best to swallow it down. His knees feel weak even though he’s seated.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

No, he’s not. They’ve barely taken off and Todd’s already dying. There’s too much saliva in his mouth, and it tastes awful. Another thick swallow. Todd shakes his head into the crook of his elbow. This can’t be happening. He knows he doesn’t have the strongest stomach, but he’s never felt this awful in a moving vehicle before.

“Can you answer? I need you to put up your tray table.”

Todd’s stomach contracts into his chest cavity, and his breath hitches with the force of pushing down the gag it brings. He turns so he can look sideways at the flight attendant, then lifts his chin a couple inches. “I—”

He shouldn’t have opened his mouth. A stream of thin vomit splashes onto the tray table. “Fuck,” Todd mumbles, then clenches his teeth to kill the next retch in his throat. It erupts from him anyway, and his hand over his mouth does little to prevent the warm liquid from spraying down his front and dripping between his fingers.

“Ok, alright,” the flight attendant says in a clipped voice. She quickly pulls an emesis bag from the pocket in front of the aisle seat, shakes it open, and hands it to Todd.

He drops it into the mess on the tray table, but manages to find a shaky hold by the time the next heave tumbles out.

“You gentlemen are welcome to find another seat,” the flight attendant is telling Todd’s seatmates. “There’re a couple empty rows toward the middle of the aircraft.” The two young businessmen gratefully take their leave, shooting Todd worried and disgusted glances as they exit the row.

Todd coughs into the plasticky paper bag and drags the edge of his sleeve across his lips. “I am so sorry,” Todd croaks. “I don’t know what…” he stops to stifle a burp.

“It’s ok,” the flight attendant says, voice devoid of emotion. “If you want to go in the lavatory, I’ll see to your seat.”

“Yeah,” Todd breathes. He unbuckles his seatbelt and precariously lifts the sticky tray table before climbing out of his row. He’s beyond relieved that he’s in the first row and doesn’t have to see the entire plane watching as he sidles into the tiny bathroom.

He loses control of his body the second he sees the toilet. Todd bends double and dry heaves three or four times before he can finally breathe. He wipes his mouth on a square of toilet paper and clambers to his feet, the plane’s motion and his own shakiness almost bouncing him off the wall. In the small mirror, Todd sees his white face and glassy eyes and decides he looks something like a ghost. Not a bad look for Halloween, but downright awful for a work trip. He looks about as dead as he feels.

Then there’s the matter of his clothes. There’s only a small stain on his jeans, but Todd’s hoodie is trashed. Brown liquid streaks down the front and over one sleeve, and it smells strongly of coffee and bile. He strips it off and wads it up, leaving him in just his t-shirt. It’s clean, but he’s sweating through it under the arms.

After mopping up with a couple paper towels, Todd feels confident enough to leave the bathroom. He’s shaking all over and still distinctly sick-feeling, but desperate to leave the stuffy room and sit down. There’s a trash bag hanging on the knob of the cockpit door, and Todd drops his jacket into it before returning to his seat. The flight attendant finishes passing a Lysol wipe across the tray table, then invites Todd to sit back down. A moment later, she delivers a bottle each of water and ginger ale, plus a stack of emesis bags.

The next four and a half hours are torture. Todd takes a sip of each of his beverages, but he feels dangerously ill as soon as they hit his stomach. He brings his feet up onto the seat and buries his face in his knees as he slowly dehydrates, battling nausea all the way.

When they finally land at LAX, Todd uncurls slightly, gauging whether or not he’s feeling up to moving. His stomach stays in place when he puts his feet on the floor, which seems to be a good sign. The flight attendant grabs his backpack for him and ushers Todd to his feet, pressing him to take drinks and bags with him as he deplanes.

It’s beyond embarrassing to exit into the terminal with the laminated emesis bag clutched in his sweaty hand, but Todd’s just unsettled enough to feel like it’s still a good idea. He follows a horde of travelers in the direction of baggage claim, and he immediately sees a secret service-looking man in a suit and sunglasses holding a sign that bears the EXODUS Software logo and the name T. Rhinehart.

“Hey,” Todd says as he approaches, aware of how hoarse his voice has become.

“Hey, Florida man. I’m Dave, nice to meet you.” He sticks out his hand, and Todd switches the white bag into his other hand behind his back before shaking. “Good flight?”

“Oh, dude,” Todd groans, not especially keen on sharing the story. “It was kinda the worst.”

“After you get your bag, we could stop and get lunch, maybe a beer, on the way to the hotel. I know a great place, it’ll make up for the crappy flight.”

Todd has to swallow a gag at the mention of food. “No, I…Thanks, but… I do not feel very good,” he admits.

“That kind of bad flight?” Dave asks, raising his eyebrows behind his sunglasses.

“Oh, yeah.”

Todd settles on a bench to wait for his flight’s cargo to be loaded onto the baggage claim carousel. He pulls out his phone and gets it out of airplane mode. There’s a text from Mel, responding to his hours-ago note telling her he was at the gate and drinking coffee.

Hope you enjoy it.

Todd types back, Oh, I sure did. And he selects the green-faced nauseated emoji to accompany the message.

#mel and todd #mel rhinehart #todd rhinehart #sickfic #ocs #my ocs #original fiction #original characters #emeto #emetophilia #travel sickness

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