#so i had to travel back home last night at 8 to get my tickets :)

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils - Part 4

Summary: Reader makes a decision and goes home only to be met with a new type of monster.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dark! Modern Aemond x Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Manipulation, PTSD elements, talks of abortion, pro-life/pro-choice debate, cursing

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This chapter is HEAVY. I apologize in advance. It’s uncomfortable, however, essential to this fic. Sorry in advance!

Masterlist

The apartment felt cold when you arose from your disturbed slumber. With an aching body, you had pulled yourself from the bed and searched the rooms for a sign of life; There was none. Aemond must have left, which meant this was your chance to slip out of his apartment and go back to your shared apartment with your brother without an immediate objection from Aemond. Or maybe, you’d just catch a flight or train and get out of Drone completely; go back home to your parents. The enticing idea danced around your mind for quite some time. You stared at the hardwood floors in contemplation.

Would he chase me all the way home?

Would he ruin my family?

Would he ruin my brother?

You found, rather unregretfully, each of your prior fears were becoming less prevalent in the wake of understanding that you were in true danger. Dorne wasn’t safe for you; not with your brother and not with Aemond. At least in the Riverlands, your father and mother could protect you. Save you from your brother’s wrath; and Aemond’s. 

Your eyes lit up with a newfound vigor and you set to work bagging up what little belongings you brought, calling an uber to your location and buying plane tickets for Riverrun. You were out of that apartment before Aemond could return and although it was lost on you, there was a vase of 8 red roses with a card that simply read “Stay” on the counter in the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed it…unfortunately.

Your plane landed late into the night and you were grateful your father was still waiting for you at the airport. His arms were spread wide, his smile genuine as he embraced you in a warm hug. You missed this, you missed genuine kindness from men; however, the last few years living with your brother and the last month or so knowing Aemond had left you a bit scarred, marred with trepidation, making you pull from the hug quicker than you’d like. Your father noticed, you could tell by the sideways smile that had appeared on his face.

“Hey dad,” you offered a tired smile while taking a step back and grasping the straps of your bookbag. 

Your father reached around you and took the bookbag from your trembling hands. “Traveling light, my little trout?” He put a hand on your back and the contact made a phantom wave of chills go through you, making you grimace as you began to walk out of the airport and toward the small parking lot of this two terminal airport. 

“Yeah, just wanted to see you guys while we were on break.” You forgot how cold it could get this far North and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Weird time to have a break in University.” He commented but didn’t pursue. “How’s your brother, we never hear from him anymore.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you continued to look at the ground as you walked, “What? I thought he was sending some money each month and-”

“Your mom told him to stop that a few years back, made her feel greedy. No, after he quit sending money, we hadn’t heard from him. I guess he’s real busy down there in Dorne?”

You nodded, trying to understand why your brother would lie about something so small as sending money each month to help your parents pay the bills.

“Don’t mention it to your mom. Makes her upset. I was just wondering-”

You nodded again as you two reached the car. You hopped in the passenger’s side as your father started the vehicle. “So he’s not even talking to you guys anymore?”

Your father shrugged, as he backed out of the parking space. “Nope. Your mother thinks he’s just busy is all.”

Your father had always been a terrible liar and you just caught a hint that he didn’t necessarily believe what your mom did. You wouldn’t push the issue yet.

“How are you guys doing on your bills if I might ask?”

Your father rolled his eyes, “That’s nothing that should concern you.”

“I’m an adult, I can handle it-”

“Hey, I was talking to Mrs. Tully the other day,” he changed the subject, “And she said that there will be an opening for an Early Education Teacher at the start of the next school year if that’s something you’re interested in?”

Your heart dropped, you hadn’t told him your brother forced you to change majors. Your dream of being a teacher for littles crushed. You swallow your self pity and lie to your father, “Thanks dad, I’ll talk to her.”

The drive home is filled with more small talk, mainly your father telling you the gossip of small town life. Who married who, who’s cheating who, and who died. You remind yourself that this is why you took a chance on Sunspear and moved in with your brother but then again, the gnawing feeling of ‘I brought this upon myself’ creeps back up into your throat and you have to remind yourself that you’re a victim and you are not the bad person or persons here.

The victim guilt doesn’t seem to leave you, even when you pull into your childhood driveway. 

Stepping through the threshold of the house, it smells like chocolate oatmeal cookies and home; you feel tension leave your body and finally smile.

Your mom comes around the corner with oven mitts on and you laugh, rushing to embrace her. “Oh my darling,” she says into your hair, “I’ve missed you so much.”

And that’s how the reunion goes, late into the night, catching up at the kitchen table, eating cookies when all three of you should be sleeping. It feels good to be home but you are awaiting the inevitable and it happens an hour in.

“I know you’re not on break,” your mom starts. She could never be fooled, even when you and your brother were kids, lying about who hit who first; it was always you…even when it wasn’t. Okay, maybe it was only you that couldn’t fool her. “Why are you here in the middle of the semester?”

You looked down to your cup of tea, it had gone cold with very little left in the mug. Could you really tell them, did you have a choice?

“Does it have something to do with that gash on your head? Or the wrapping around your wrist?”

You nodded, sighing a shaking breath. “That’s part of it.” Your voice was small, like when you were a kid taking your brother’s punishment.

“What’s the other part?” Her voice was stern and soft, coaxing the truth you could never hide from her, out.

“I-um- I-” How could you tell them? How could you explain to them that you’re pregnant? How would they react? Your body shook with anticipation and anxiety.

Your father put his hand on your back and you felt cold chills again. “It’s okay, it's okay to tell us.”

No it isn’t. You two will not understand. How could you understand? Is it not enough to have lived it but now I have to recount what fucking happened to me? I have to speak out loud the atrocities sinned against me by my own brother and a fucking demon of a human when I myself, havent even come to terms that I’ve been wronged? How can you understand when I don’t even understand?!

And so, the root of your pain fell out of your mouth without your brain deciphering your words, “I’m pregnant.”

Your father sighed deeply, your mother sat back in her chair, you continued staring at the little bit of tea left in the bottom of your mug; hoping the little bit of residue left from the tea bag would tell you something uplifting or helpful like the ancient art of tea leaves reading. Then the irony donned on you and you almost laughed.

Here I am, looking for comfort in my tea instead of my own parents. I had to leave Dorne for tea?

“Well,” your mother spoke up, “who’s the father?”

You nearly laughed again, “Someone you don’t know.”

“Is he willing to help you with-”

“I don’t want to keep it.”

Your mother scoffed, “You don’t have a choice in that now do you?”

Your eyes lifted from the cold cup to your mother’s eyes, warm and inviting; deceitful. “I do, actually.”

“Oh you do?” Maybe in Dorne but not in the Riverlands-”

“Then I’m not staying here, I’m going back to Dorne. I just wanted to let you guys know before I-”

“Before you murdered my grandchild?”

Your father scolds your mother for being so harsh with a hand lifted from the table, her name and shaking his head and there you are again, feeling like you brought this on yourself.

Why did I even come here?

“Does your brother know,” your father asks, breaking you from your trance of self-loathing.

You shook your head; unable to speak. Staring down at the tea again.

“What’s your plan? Drop out of school and move here? You could work at the elementary school as an aide until you finish your degree here?” Your father’s voice is kinder than your mother’s but not any less incessant.

“I don’t- I think I’m done. I can’t afford it.”

Your mother shifts into the table, closer to you and suddenly you feel put off by this proximity. “Well, that’s fine. You can get a job here, we will help pay for medical expenses and the baby’s care. If-” she starts, grabbing one of your hands with both of hers, they’re warm. “If you don’t want this baby after you give birth- that’s fine. I’ll accept full legal guardianship, no questions asked. But please, don’t rob us of a grandchild. Don’t be this person. You always loved kids, that’s why you went into early education.” She pauses, looking across the table to your father with tears in her eyes. “But give yourself the chance to look at your baby and make that decision.”

You chuckle, a tear falling from your eyes. “Yeah mom, but what if the eyes looking back at me are his?”

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[youngpettyqueen]

back hooooooome after an absolute nightmare experience trying to get home kjhdgkfjghkdf

so my flight from Edinburgh took me to Calgary, which is a hop skip and a jump away from where I live. problem is, a massive storm hit Calgary last night. a hail storm. followed by a rain storm. which caused massive damages and outages. on top of that, the staff for my airline were just uh. bad! and strung us along for over an hour promising oh no, our flight would be going, until they dropped on us that it was cancelled. dramatic reveal style. literally quoting "I know youve been so eager for an update..." (extended pause) "its cancelled." they then proceeded to literally shout at us- THROUGH THE MIC- to get out of the gate and go get our bags, which they did not tell us where our bags would be, and wouldnt let us talk to them at all

now, at this point, I was exhausted after having flown 8 hours and then having spent 10 hours in this airport, I was panicking because I had no fucking idea what to do and nobody would talk to me, and I was in a lot of pain because I had to be running around the airport which. friendly reminder I am a cane user. so yeah I was trying to figure this all out while actively crying my eyes out to my mom on the phone because now I was facing having to spend the night in the airport with absolutely no idea when I would get a new flight and no idea what to do

I ended up shelling out for another plane ticket to the earliest flight home I could get- I will be contacting the airline for a refund for the flight they cancelled. they did send out a new itinerary, but they were planning on putting me on a flight to Saskatoon, 6.5 hour layover there, and only then would I fly home which. absolutely fucking not. I took the slightly later, but direct flight, and made it home after only a short delay. meanwhile, since I get text notifications from my airline, I am STILL getting update texts because the flights they would've had me on keep getting delayed! I wouldnt even be home yet if I had taken those flights!

I did not sleep last night. I ended up at a table using my neck pillow as a regular pillow, but it was impossible to get comfortable, and also very bright, so I maybe got 45 minutes of sleep. I got a bit more sleep when I was able to go check in at my gate- they closed all security points so we couldnt even go to where we would've had access to couches and benches- but still. running off no sleep after two full days of travel. I am beyond exhausted

but im also very happy to be home

[ask-healthy-light]

From 8 o'clock in the morning on Friday to 8 o'clock in the evening on Monday, I was away from home for the longest time yet, as this weekend was GalaCon at a new venue in Waiblingen, Germany, a long distance away from home; but almost exactly 2 months to the day since I left the hospital, I headed to my second ever Pony Convention, which was simultaneously the biggest Pony Con I had visited yet!

Though I managed to keep my mind focused and my heart calm, and I did not let the rapidly shrinking frame of time I had to board get me down, it is rather surprising how many little things can add up so quickly, and leave me with only a few minutes to run to the other side of the train station; but I made it onto the train, and found a seat, until shortly before I arrived at the transfer station.

Quick thinking saved me a load of heartache, for although the escalators to the platform were bust, one flight was blocked, and, for some reason, there were no stairs to make it there, I made it down to another part of the platform, and ran into the train with moments to spare; and after reassuring friends and family, I met my friend at the very next station, and from here, we travelled together.

There were a number of connections we had to make, about which I kept informed at all times, though when we arrived in Venlo after finding that our desired train was delayed, we leapt aboard another, which had also been delayed, and made it to Mönchengladbach on time for the right train to Cologne; and since we had time to spare, we chatted, and ate, and stood, and waited until the train arrived.

It took some time to board, but finally, after a close call with supervisors telling screaming kids to alight, we sat down in our cabin, where I could rest my mind, and we waited for the long journey to Stuttgart; and on our journey, Bas and I spoke of books we had read, and beings beyond knowledge in tales of Lovecraftian origin, a genre in which I have actually written short tales, a few times.

Riding over hills decorated with castles and through tunnels past rivers and steep orchards, we had made it to Stuttgart at long last, where it took me some time to figure out German public transport in this part of the country; but I managed to create an account, and purchased day tickets for both of us, before we set out to the centre of the city, as Bas had requested we stop by the Lego Store.

After a terribly long walk to the S-Bahn, a very short trip to the city centre, and but a couple of minutes of walking further, we made it to the Lego Store, where I could see Bas' eyes light up with joy as he carefully dashed around the displays and shelves; but I spent some time to let folks know where we were, and where we were headed after this, as neither of us had yet arrived at our hotels.

Fortunately, Bas had found what he sought, our trip to and in the S-Bahn was but brief, and we were on our way towards Fellbach and Waiblingen, where both of our respective hotels were; and after two short bus trips to and from Bas' hotel, we headed to Waiblingen one stop further, and to my hotel a stone's throw across the road from the station, where we found ourselves in good, familiar company.

Since we had chosen to head to the Biergarten Schwaneninsel to meet up with other, we headed to the bus stop, where the greatest moment of the day took place, as we met my friends, Joel and Ember, by surprise, and we just ran to each other for such deep embraces; but they went towards the venue for pizza, whereas Bas and I went to Swan Island, where we ate, and drank, and met many familiar faces.

It took us some time to leave, as we frequently stopped for or were stopped by friends over a short distance, but the night was growing old, and we had to return to our hotels; and back at the S-bahn station, I wished Bas a good night, told him to stay safe, and returned to my room, where I finally met Michael, Railway Dash, my roommate for the weekend, and gushed about the great journey thither.

And to think, the event had not even started yet…

(Thanks for reading this bonus! I'll be writing more about GalaCon over the next few days, so keep an eye out if you're interested!)

Part 1/8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

[darlenealive]

Back from my Scandi vacation!

Felt like I took it for granted leaving my brain back in SG and letting Ax do the planning and the navigating. I brought my spirits though! Spending my day off today looking back at the trip which was such a great use of my time. Really appreciating this extra day off after my vacation.

Some tips for Norway and Denmark travels first

1. It's cashless even in the small towns. Cash was more of a liability as it forced us to spend it all

2. Hotels cost as much as Airbnb for 2 pax so opt for hotels as there's guaranteed shampoo, soap, hair dryer, heating and laundry. Most of our airbnbs were missing soap or shampoo which we didn't bring any of, in order to travel lighter. The bnbs we stayed in were also commercialised houses so there's absolutely no feelings attached. Checking in and out would also be more convenient with hotels. We had to return one of our keys from a convenience store which wasn't open in the early morning, in time for our flight.

3. Groceries are marked down on Friday if they expire Monday. If you're in Norway, go to Kiwi or Coop for basic groceries as it seemed to be the cheapest. However, each shop will hv their own discounts (not standardised across the same chain). Eg. We went to a place with 40% discounts on Freia choc which was only available at a particular store.

4. Northern lights chase was the coldest we experienced. Basically, the guide said that if its frost on the floor, it's worse than snow as there's no insulation for your feet. Not the coldest real temperature but coldest we felt. Bring extra clothes and heatpack just in case. The bonfire didn't do anything for me because it's too cold. We went with GuideGunnar which updates its aurora sightings on a daily basis. These guys are crazy and would bring you as far as Sweden just to chase the lights so bring your passports along! They also offer a 50% off the next trip if you don't see it on the day.

5. There's no heat packs there so bring them from home.

6. In Copenhagen, we recommend the Copenhagen card. It's only 65USD for 24hrs and you get free transport, museum pass and boat rides. We only decided to get the card after our boat ride which cost about SGD25-30, which was already a quarter the cost of the card. In Copenhagen, checking of bus tickets was a regular thing.

7. Useful apps for riding public transport: Oslo uses Ruter, Tromsø uses Troms billet, Copenhagen uses Dot tickets. Ticket checking was not very often in Norway. We did not cycle as it felt too cold for more wind to hit our faces.

8. Skip Oslo if you dw to visit a city. We spent 3 nights there and it felt too long. We wanted to do our last minute shopping at Oslo but everything was expensive throughout the whole trip that we started to buy souvenirs earlier when we saw marked down prices. With one more day in Tromsø, we could've gone whale watching.

9. Take into account daylight savings from 29/10. You have 1 more extra hour to sleep but your days are much shorter. We slept a lot because of the cold, about 10hrs of sleep each day and it felt just right.

10. Personally I would have brought instant noodles as the food there isn't flavoured with the same umami as I'm used to. I would also bring a thermal flask there to enjoy my hikes even more, taking a comfortable and warm rest at the peak.

11. If driving, please remember to pay for parking. There's usually a machine to start your parking. Otherwise, the fine is 660NOK. Don't let the rental company settle it as it'll still be billed to you with an extra fee. We would also recommend full insurance since we aren't used to left hand driving and Norway is famous for its narrow roads (at least from Stavanger to Odda where we drove).

12. We used waze for driving and it seemed that speed cameras are only in tunnels but nobody was following the speed limit anyway.

That's about all of the suggestions Ax and I thought of!

Hope these suggestions come in useful for someone.

[hello-patricks]

Meltdown and stress

I have been masking for so long that I don’t know how to feel like myself, and I don’t correctly identify those masked meltdowns, but these last few days I have been able to live one, live from my living room, so here it goes.

My brother is extremely ill, and is having an emergency surgery with unknown outcome. No one know what will happen.

So he calls me, and I book a flight to another country to see him: my ex-wife loans me the money for the ticket and travel, and I am ready to book it except:

1 – it took me one 90 minutes in front of the screen to see what flight to book – I couldn’t press the “book now” button.

2 – I forgot that I chose a flight that was leaving in 30 minutes, so of course I got late to the airport.

3 – The airline got me a reservation in another flight, I go back home, re-pack because I had forgotten all essentials, and go back to the airport.

4 – I forgot the passport. The airline changes the reservation for the next day, again, because they can see I am almost crying. I am a boxy looking old man, wizened, serious, and even so they were able to see the distress.

5 - During the whole thing I am sweating like crazy, which I attribute to the heat of summer, but I was with AC the whole time.

6 – I fly the next day. I forgot my very essential medicine, my toothbrush, my exercise gear, my rain jacket: all of those are on the bed, where I was packing.

7 – I have been traveling internationally since I am 6 years old. I have procedures lists methods that I use, and usually can get packed in 30 minutes or less. This took me hours to put my underwear and shirts, I got the wrong pants, the shirts are one size smaller, the toiletries are all forgotten, I took five trips to get the running short ready and there they are, on top of the bed next to my meds, one country away.

8 – Flashbacks: I was having thoughts reminiscing about those times where I have been sweating like crazy, and now I recognize as “about h=to have a meltdown-shutdown” but at the time I thought it was simply stress. The memories of stressful moments came back, flooding, and that is when I am realized the common thread between those moments and now.

9 – When my mother passed away, 20 years ago, I stopped eating and dressed only in black. Not a conscious mourning, but all my mind could do. Food was coffee and something else, and I must have dropped 60 pounds. These days I have been more conscious about what I eat: water, chicken wrap, some carbs on hand for when insulin demands, but even so I am not hungry.

10 - I tossed in bed last night for 49 minutes, my little watch told me, without falling asleep, just realizing how we all abandoned my little brother and seeing it now, first hand, how his heath fell, how his life fell. It looks good on paper until you see him, thin and haggard, his studio pretty much a bleak work environment without a soul, what his books are, the cupboard with only one for, one spoon, two knives. How did I not see this!

11 – The sweating is back, the memories are back – I am going to the hospital today for the surgery.

12 – The intrusive thoughts are back: “How did we fail this guy like that. How were we able to push his pain so far away. We are responsible for those we love!”

[bike42]

Transfer Days: Thursday and Friday

It shouldn't be that difficult to travel from the west coast of Ireland to Northern Scotland, but it is. There is a Ferry from Belfast, but it only runs late at night and gets to a southwestern port of Scotland, so we’d still burn a day traveling to Inverness! So we opted to fly, but flights out of Shannon had only two options: 7 am (would have been 4am departure from the Falls Hotel) or 5 pm. That option meant a lot of waiting on our hands. We arrived at Shannon at 10am with most of our group. We said goodbye and they checked in, cleared security and prepared to fly home. We couldn’t even check in for our flight until until 3pm. We found a nice table and passed the time playing cribbage - I got skunked by JT in back-to-back games, catching up my blog and reading. At 3pm, we checked in, cleared security, I figured out the VAT tax refund kiosk and got €18 back from my scarf purchase. We went to the bar and ordered pints of Guinness for a last, sad round while we tried to watch the cricket game on TV, then it was time to board our AerLingus flight to Heathrow. I’d booked these via British Air, and there was not even a business class - just one large packed plane full of people. We took our places in the 10th row and realized how spoiled we’ve been flying Delta Plus or First Class most of the last couple of years! It was a short one hour flight to London - no service other than the stewards with a cart of “Duty Free Cigarettes” that they were selling!

We arrived at Heathrow and figured out to clear customs and made our way via train from Terminal 1 to Terminal 5. That took about an hour, and we had two hours between fights. We found that our next leg to Edinburgh was a bit delayed, so we grabbed a burger and walked the designer shops in the terminal until they around a departure time and gate for our flight. This time we were sandwiched into the 17th row! We arrived in Edinburgh about 11pm, so late that they had us unload the plane via the stairs and load a bus to drive to the terminal. We claimed our bags and grabbed a cab for the very short ride to Moxy - a new funky Marriott brand that had a hotel a half mile from the airport. It was about midnight when we climbed into bed for a short nights sleep. We were glad we weren’t staying there long - it was a very comfortable bed with awesome pillows, but a tiny room with no closet and a tiny bathroom. Yoga wouldn’t have been possible in that room!

I’m not sure what I was thinking booking a hotel at the airport when we had 8:30am train reservation at the city center train station, but we had a lovely 30 minute cab ride into the city Friday morning and saw some of the sites of Edinburgh. I’m sure our cabbie would have pointed out more sites, but we really struggled to understand him!

We arrived at the train station in plenty of time to figure out how to print out our pre-purchased tickets from the kiosk and get the lay of the land. They didn’t announce our departure platform until 10 minutes before departure so we had a fast hustle to platform 16 but knew how to work the turnstiles and stash our suitcases so we were better off than many! On the first class train car, we shared a table with a nice couple (Jerry and Sherry) now living in Delaware, originally from California. We passed the three hours on the way to Inverness, swapping stories and hearing about what they had planned for their two weeks in Scotland. I remarked to Jeff that it was refreshing to connect so well with a couple after so many frustrating attempts at conversation with some of the others on our M&M trip - that was a tour of odd ducks (probably what they thought about us too no doubt). When we arrived in Inverness, Jerry offered to grab a cab that could take us to our rented cottage, but it was just a half mile and it was a nice sunny day (again!) so we opted to walk. We may see them tonight at one of the pubs they’d researched for music tonight.

We had an easy walk across the River Ness to our VRBO cottage and found the key in the lock box - always a relief. It’s a really cute little place with bed and bath upstairs and a tiny little kitchen and living space downstairs. A welcome change after two weeks of hotels. This is now our SEVENTH accommodation and we’re getting good at packing up and transferring - packing cube system is working well.

We were starving - only had an energy bite and a pack of shortbread cookies so far today and it was after 1pm. We walked around the corner and had a great lunch and then walked across the street to the grocery store to buy some provisions to make our own breakfasts for the next two mornings (no more big Irish Breakfasts for us!). Back to the cottage, Jeff plopped down on the leather sofa and declared it perfect for napping. These two days of travel, even with lots of downtime have worn us out so it’s good to have this time before jumping into phase three of this journey!

I did a yoga session while JT rested and worked on a Spanish lesson. At 7p we headed out again. The couple we’d met on the train said there would be live music tonight at Hootenanny’s or McGregor’s. We had dinner at McGregor’s which was a more modern place. We chatted with a nice couple from the Chicago area - again, I was relieved to be able to connect with another couple after last weeks’ tour - feeling hopeful about next week’s tour! The music there, however, was disappointing. A talented guy on piano, but doing covers of older American songs (particularly bad rendition of Folsom Prison Blues). After dinner and some yummy Scottish stouts, we headed to Hootenanny’s. A Scottish trio was just setting up to play, so we had single malt whisky (no “e” here in Scotland), and snagged to seats in front. The music was all instrumental - a talented guy on an accordion and he tried to chat up the audience but it fell a bit flat. I liked his kilt though - looked like it could have been a Carhart!

The town was hopping as we walked back to our cottage just before 10pm. Glad we’re in a quieter neighborhood!

[you-will-return]

Omw to see the boys :)

[lserver362reviews]

This show means a whole lot to me. In March of 2019 I travelled over 900 miles to see the show twice at the Comedy Attic in Bloomington, Indiana. It was two months after I got myself into therapy for the first time. My workplace had flooded Dec 2018 and I was in a really dark place mentally. Dealing with my workplace really shook me and I basically experienced dark feelings that I hadn't dealt with for 8 years. I had fallen in love with Repertoire in March of 2018 and it was one of the few things that still gave me joy during that dark time (Nov 2018-March 2019). Going on this trip to see Cold Lasagne Hate Myself 1999 was a manifestation that I deserve to take the time to give myself what I need. I owed it to my 15 year old self, and my 24 year old self. I arrived at the venue pretty late, and had to sit against the back wall and I only got to hear Paul William's Euroleague once or twice with James playing it off his ipod. Each of the shows were only one hour long, but the first show James got so distracted by audience members (someone had hiccups) that he only got through, at most, three bits from the actual show. It was a disaster. I found it to be hilarious and I was just in awe of arriving at this place I'd never been before and seeing my fav comedian, regardless of the fact that it was basically an hour long improv set. You could see that James was unhappy about how it went when he got off the stage. Everyone left, except for me because I had a ticket to the second show, and the employees of the venue had been given word that I'd be staying inside the room during the reset for the next show. During this time, I moved up to the front row and James went into the bathroom. I seriously questioned whether or not I should say hello. I had bought peanut butter cups at the airport just in case I did get the chance to meet James and wanted to give him a gift. I knew I'd be mad at myself if I didn't take the opportunity to say hi, I had come a long way and really needed a laugh, although I wasn't sure he'd be happy to say hello to a fan after he bombed a performance. I took a breath and said, "hey James!" when he was headed back to the green room. He looked as me like I was an employee there, and then realized I wasn't. He just looked tired. I gave him the peanut butter cups and said I'd come from a long ways away, which prompted him to say, "well, sorry for that then!" but I assured him it was still great and I had bought tickets to both shows so it wasn't bad at all. I then took a breath and told him that I recently got myself into therapy because of his honesty about seeing a therapist on some podcasts and that his work has had a great impact on me and I thanked him for that. He looked genuinely surprised and more relaxed, said thanks, and went back to the green room. The second show lasted for 45 mins because he sped through almost all the bits of the routine. He left out the Brexit stuff for the American audience, finished with the Great British Bake Off story, and ended the show with a Question and Answer portion. I made two friends at the table I was sat at that night, one of whom I still keep in contact with. Seeing this live streamed in 2020 from my home I am even more happy I went on the trip to see Cold Lasagne Hate Myself 1999 in person, and I am even more grateful for the work of James Acaster. You. Gotta. Heap.

[travelling-is-self-care]

Solo traveling for the first time

Sometimes, the people we usually travel with can't come with us and that's okay. Life gets in the way and we need to know how to manage traveling alone for the first time. It may seem uncomfortable or boring, but I gurantee you it's nothing like that.

Below you can find tips on activities for solo travelers, my own experiece and how to stay safe while traveling alone.

To be honest, my first time was filled with anxiety, but only at first. Anxiety turned to excitement really quick. I was anxious about the flight (I don't know why, as I flew many times before) and about what to do once I get there BUT I knew I was going to love this vacation.

I bought a 10€ two-way ticket from Bucharest to Genova in December 2021 from Wizz Air without even thinking. I didn't buy my seat and I left with just a backpack. I stayed in an apartment for 3 nights. The first day was lost as I arrived pretty late. The second day I traveled through the city, I went on a local's route to see their market and the surroundings as if I lived there my whole life. I visited a few museums, I drank a cappuccino and I admired the beauty that this city holds. On my third day things got interesting as I hopped on the train and went to Camogli (where the photo was taken), Recco and Genova Nervi. (I'll write a guide about Genova). I talked to stragers, relaxed on the beach (even though it was mid-december, I had a light tan), had breakfast and ate anything I wouldn't find back home. On my last day I had a flight back home at 8 AM, so I had to leave my apartment at 5 AM. Even though it was dark and walked around 15 minutes to get the Volabus to the airport, everything turned out to be quite alright. I was scared of being a foreigner in another country, even though I speak a little bit of italian. It's one thing to feel unsafe in your own country, speakig your language, but it is even more dangerous to be in a foreign country and people noticing that you are not from there.

What do I recommend for people to stay safe?

1. ALWAYS plan your route ahead of time, and never stray from the most popular ones.

That small alley that you heard is a shortcut? If people are using it, that's totally fine! But if you would be alone, try to see if it's really worth it. Usually shortcuts that are useful are densely populated.

2. If you are alone late at night or have to leave really early in the morning, I recommend trying to talk on the phone with someone.

It's less likely that someone will try anything if you are busy talking on the phone. Tested and approved.

3. Check reviews about the place you want to stay at before booking.

Even though that price may be tempting you to book, try to do some research. Is it in a nice neighbourhood? Did people have a good time there? Did any incidents occur? etc. People's opinion matters more than the price. Bonus: if there aren't any reviews, it's better not to go there. I know, support small businesses, but not when you are alone.

4. Never let your phone die.

I know that seems like common sense, but a lot of people simply forget to charge their phones. Carry an external battery with you just in case.

5. As a back-up, a paper map is useful.

Old-school style will never be old enough to not use a paper map while traveling. Just in case you can't respect no. 4 or something else happens. Plus, you'll look cool.

6. Never let your personal stuff unattended.

I saw a lot of tourists doing this mistake. Thieves are everywhere, and they developed such a skill that you can't even feel a thing if they are stealing from your pocket.

7. Always know the country's unique emergency number.

I know these tips may seem exaggerated but I learned the hard way that it's better to be safe than sorry, even though that means to be extra careful. That doesn't mean you can't enjoy your trip to the maximum. Just try to not be paranoid and simply admire the beautiful things around you, while paying attention to your surroundings.

Tips on what to do alone:

- treat yourself to a nice cafe or restaurant

- take the train to somewhere you consider a nice place close to the city (or further, you decide).

- attend a live concert. There are so many street artists, you won't even know where to go first!

- visit some museums. Theme? Whatever interests you or is your passion: aquatic, about aviation, trains, space, history, art. And the list goes on.

- if you went to the mountain, go hiking. It's such a nice activity. You can join a group, too!

- go to a social gathering and make friends. It's nothing more nice than to find other solo travelers and share experiences and cultures.

- go clubbing!

- try the country's most popular foods and recipes.

- join a walking tour

Whatever you choose to do, I wish you'll love your time there!

I hope you enjoyed this article and sometime in the future I'll do a follow up on safety tips and activities for solo travelers. Until then, have fun and enjoy the flight! ✈️

[theficplug]

ll 𝒾 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 ll

Yahya x Black Reader

{a little malcolm & marie loosely, not so loosely inspired fic and after seeing a few things from Yahya. I’ve decided to write this.}

Warnings: none, i think ? possible tw: the brief mention of abandonment issues

Yahya was already padding through your shared cozy modern loft. 

His “good shoes'' as he calls them, long forgotten by the welcome mat.

 He headed straight to the kitchen to reheat leftovers from the Valentine's Day dinner you prepared for him last night. 

“Hors d'oeuvres weren't cutting it baby. And it was dry as hell.” he says jokingly as he turns on the Alexa. 

All Night by Beyonce plays softly in the background.

“What’s with you? You’ve barely said two words since we’ve gotten back from the event. You mad?” he asks slinging the blazer over the counter and kicking back against it. 

"I'm not angry Yahya. I want to take this tight ass dress off, have a warm shower , and go to bed. Can I do that in peace? " You say to him as you kick off the heels and make your way to the bedroom.

He was right on your trails as he followed you in and crossed his arms. 

“You looked beautiful tonight. Look at you.” he compliments 

The day of love was supposed to be just that but it felt like it was veering towards the opposite end of the spectrum. You take off your ears placing them in the jewelry holder carefully before sighing and kicking off your heels next. 

Yahya reassured you that he’d be home for Valentines Day but instead chose to take the last minute wrap dinner with his castmates and talk with the producers of his current project to secure the role on the next. 

You were more than happy for your man after busting his ass and finally securing a major role in the reboot of Candy Man and the newest male lead in his upcoming show. You truly were but it seemed as though for a while now he held no space for you in his chaotic world. 

You could feel Yahya eyeing you down as you silently, apart from the occasional huffing and puffy or mumbling little words to yourself. 

Yahya stands in the doorway of your bedroom watching you angrily snatch the clothes from the floor and set them aside before unzipping your dress. 

He frowns for a second before loosening his tie and contemplating walking over to you and helping you. After unzipping your cherry coloured silk gown the rest of the way his hands caresses slowly from your hips to your back, up your arms and finally settle on your shoulders. Yahya moves your hair curls to the side for a second placing soft kisses on to your neck. 

His hands already pulling at the end of your dress to your waist letting his hands wander 

He gazes at you for a moment noticing that the stoic expression is still etched across your face. 

"So you just gon’ be silent with me the whole night? No congratulatory kisses for your man."

“For.” kiss. “Your.” kiss. “Man.” kiss. 

 He whispers again against your neck and you move his hands off of you gently. 

"What’s up with you?" He asks again this time his voice laced with confusion as he tries to figure out why you've been acting this way since you left the event and the restaurant. 

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'm just tired. I ended up working all day yesterday since you didn’t come home and now I just want to relax and sleep." You reply before stripping down to just your stockings and grabbing your shower gels and caddy. 

"How am I supposed to fix whatever is going on here if you're going to act like this? What's wrong with you?" He asks again this time a little more concerned with the way you brushed him off. 

"What's wrong with me? Hmmm, Let's see, I've had to take care of our home and its repairs by myself for the past 8 months. I feel like I’m in a relationship by myself most days. And my fiance drives me to yet another fucking cast dinner . Where he fails to put his castmate in her place when she was clearly flirting with him right in front of his fiancee." You unload and Yahya whips his head around at you to process all  of your words. 

He cocks his head to the side before scoffing at your accusations. 

"So, instead of telling me how you felt you’d rather fucking explode on me on tonight of all nights. When I’ve just landed a record breaking 6 season extension and approval from Netflix. Who basically has the film industry by it’s balls right now. I’m not a mind reader. Baby, I didn’t know that she was going to say all of that. I was trying to be professional and let her make a fool of herself all on her own." He replies and you walk in the bathroom to put all of your things on the counter.

“Oh, I picked you because I knew we would drive the fans absolutely freaking wild. You know we’re just hot and have that chemistry on and off camera to make it you know like, work. Love scenes are easy to portray when you’ve got a man like Yah as your scene partner.” you mock her nasally and obnoxious tone as you pucker your lips mimicking her stiff lip fillers. 

"You never do Yahya. Nothing’s ever your fault! The waitress that asked if you could bench press her. The random woman holding onto your arm at the “celebratory dinner” in Denmark. I saw the pictures. You can have your head tossed back laughing hysterically with her but you can't even pick up the phone and see how your fiancee is holding up in the first winter without you here.`` 

"That’s not fair. It was dinner. The director’s daughter.  A dinner that he attended too. What do you want me to say? "No I'll  sit this one out because my girl doesn't want me to talk to other people because she still hasn't learned to deal with her insecurities and projects them onto everything I do"." he retorts and you stare him in the eye before tears well in yours. 

The silence falls over both of you as you stare him down. He was really standing here bringing out things you've told him during past pillow talks. 

You stare at each other in the mirror and he immediately  wraps his arms around you to apologize and kiss all over your shoulder and face. 

"No, You tell them that I can count on one hand how many months out of the year we spent together last year. You tell them that my girl had to spend Christmas watching everyone else get loved on and share the holiday cheer while I got to watch you skii over facetime. You tell them my girl made a beautiful steak dinner last night and got me tickets to watch my favourite fucking team for VaIentine’s Day, but I’d rather spend it talk about an old white guy’s scripts. I thought about breaking up with you around Thanksgiving before you came home. I blamed it on the distance, you know. I just felt that way because I only ever got to see you over facetime for what seemed like an hour or 2 a day. I said that when you came home everything would be okay again. I think that I may have been wrong. There’s two people in this relationship. But I also feel as though I may be holding onto something that's just not there." you tell him before grabbing your things out of his hands and stepping into the shower. 

Yahya swallowed hard and looked down at you for a moment, his jaw going slack for a second but his pride not letting him admit that he may have been in the wrong. 

"You didn’t tell me none of this. When I call you and I ask you how are you feeling? You always say it’s fine , it’s fine, everything’s fine. I mean we knew the kind of lives we lived when we got on this ride together. You traveled. I traveled. We traveled together. That’s how it was until you decided that acting wasn’t for you. I’m not abandoning you bae. That’s not what’s happening here." Yahya explains as he starts his skincare routine.

You let the warm water wash over you and the coils of your hair as you peel off the lashes and let out a long sigh.

Yahyah knew that one of your things was that you didn’t want to feel like a burden or to feel like you’ve been forgotten but this rough spat felt different.

"I wanted you. I wanted you to hold me and tell me you loved me and that I looked pretty for once." 

"You always look pretty though. You know that." 

“Happy Anniversary, Yahya.” you say quietly and you can hear him let out a drawn out “damn it” as he washes the cleanser off his face and looks up at you through the fogged glass. 

He drops his head slighly as he stands at the door before openingn it. . 

“I’m going to fix all of this. I love you and I want you to know that I’m sorry. You are the last person in my life that I wanna lose or hurt. I need you to know that I’m still the one you can turn to. You’re still the one I wanna experience this life with. Your greatest joys and highs. Your sad days when you just need to be held. The days where we lay together in bed and I can hear your heartbeat. Probably the cheesiest shit you've ever heard but it's my favourite sound I mean you calling out my name is a close second but that one is my favourite.” he reassures. He relaxes against your touch when you turn to face him and wrap your arms around him. 

Yahya embraces you, unphased by the fact that his shirt and pants are getting soaked. 

“Now that I’m thinking about it. I’ve fallen in love with you over and over again. There’s so many layers to you. It’s everyday I’m falling in love with something new about you. Even on days like this.  First time I fell in love with you. We were sitting at this coffee shop tapping your pencil against a notepad. You had Diary by Alicia Keys stuck in your head and you kept singing parts of the song to me throughout the day. You had this pretty floral pattern type of baby blue dress that fell off your shoulders. You wore your grandmother’s ring cause you said it always calms your nerves to have her there with you when you auditioned. Nobody had even heard of me before. I was going for some feature film role. At the time you were going for a recurring role on the Young & The Restless or some show like that. I remember you were reading the script and you let out a laugh. It was your laugh. The loud remedy of it curing the butterflies in my stomach. The little patch of the 4c bangs in the front, the rest of your hair slicked back into a puff. I loved the way that it framed your lil round face. The gold hoops against your deep beautiful brown skin. I liked the way you did your makeup. With the lil highlight at the tip of your nose. It made you look like a lil fairy...I proposed to you that day. After 6 months of knowing you.  Baby it was you, everything about you. You were laughing at having dump iced coffee all over your scene partner’s head but I was smiling because I knew. I was like so this is what made all them oldheads sing like that in the blues songs my daddy used to play. I wanted to be in it for the long haul. And I still do. I know I got a lot of making up to do. But I want you to know that I see you. I see you and I’m going to do what I need to do to make everything more than just alright. I love you.” 

You let his words soak in as he cupped your face and you nodded along to his words. After helping him strip off his drenched clothes he steps into the shower with you where you embraced him in your arms gain. 

“You’ve always told me that you knew early on but you never told me. I love you too, you know. It’s just you know how I am more than anybody. I know that your dreams are finally coming true and you deserve that.  I don’t want to stand in the way of that. But I still find a way to balance my work and our relationship. I just want you to meet me in the middle.” you say  against his lips before capturing his plump lips in a kiss. 

“I’m gonna fix it..” He reassures you in between kisses 

“We’ve still got 3 hours left of our anniversary. Our record is 5. We can still try to break that” you whisper in his ear-

( i don’t know what this is lol. sorry I didn’t get any valentines posts up.  i had a whole migraine and have had more low days than up in the past weeks but we keep going. i hoped you like this little, i dont know what to call it. i dont really know how to write fluff lol so here’s the angst.)

[lsvdw-blog]

Okay (Alternate Ending)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2k

Warnings; Rating: Angst; General

Premise: The aftermath of MC and Ethan's fight about their date night debacle, with an alternate ending.

Author’s Note: This is Part III of the "Already Here" series with an alternate, very angsty, ending. If you want the happy ending... this is not it 😅 The happy ending can be found here. Thank you to @choiceskatie for helping me bounce ideas and pre-reading!! I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

She struggles to unlock her front door, vision blurry from the tears. She hopes to any and every deity that the apartment is empty as she stumbles through the entrance.

“Serena, you’re home! How did it go?”

Sienna is at the dining room table, jumping excitedly in her seat. Her face falls as she takes in her roommate’s running mascara.

"It didn't go."

“What?"

Serena staggers to the couch, falling face first onto the cushions. "He didn't show…"

"Oh sweetie… " Sienna stands and makes her way to the couch. Sitting on the unoccupied end, she strokes her best friend’s hair.

“Then, I went to his apartment and we had this huge fight and he called us a mistake," she says through her sobs as she sits up and puts her head on Sienna’s shoulder.

"Do you want to stuff our faces with takeout and junk food and binge watch Marvel movies?"

Serena just sniffs and nods her head.

Two hours later, the television is playing a soft melody as they share their second pint of Ben & Jerry's.

"Even after everything… Steve is Peggy's Lobster, just like Ethan is yours."

Serena looks to her left with incredulity.

"You know! Lobster! They fall in love and mate for life!"

Serena snorts. "Have you seen the claws on those things? Ever been pinched by one? Shit hurts," she says as she puts another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Serena’s dejected voice rings out. “Why does he keep doing this to me?”

Sienna scrunches her nose. "Lobsters always were finicky."

~~~ One Week Later ~~~

“Here are the test results you requested, Dr. Ramsey.”

She places the manila folder in front of him and takes a step back, keeping her head down.

Ethan stares at her for a long moment, willing her to look at him. It’s been like this for the past few days: she only speaks to him when absolutely necessary and avoids eye contact at all costs. When she continues to evade his gaze, he sighs, and opens the folder.

His brows furrow. “This isn’t the test we decided to order.”

“Oh. I'll go fix that right now.” She finally meets his eyes and says, “I must have made a mistake.”

His chest tightens: Did she make a mistake with the test… or with me?

~~~~~~

She approaches the office and knocks softly.

“Come in.”

She slowly pushes open the door and sees Naveen look up.

“Ah, Serena! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my grand-mentee?”

She gives a small smile as she shuts the door behind her. “I was hoping you would have some time to talk.”

“What did he do?”

She spills the story, only stopping halfway through to take the tissue Naveen hands her. After she finishes, she wipes her eyes, and reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out something folded. “And I was hoping you would approve this.”

Naveen unfolds the paper, skimming over it. “A leave of absence?”

She nods. "I'm not asking for this solely because of what happened. I've been homesick for a while now; it was my first holiday season without my family and I haven't seen them since I moved here… and I don't know, I guess what happened with Eth—” she clears her throat, “Dr. Ramsey, was the last straw. It all feels like it's too much: Edenbrook, Boston.” She shakes her head before continuing. “I just… need a break. Please."

Naveen sits back and takes her in. She’s slightly hunched over, strands of hair falling out of her topknot, the concealer no longer hiding her dark circles, and she’s been wringing her hands since she sat down. The woman in front of him is a shell of the usually confident and exuberant young lady he is used to seeing and his heart breaks for her.

“I will grant you this leave of absence.”

She perks up at his words.

“On one condition.”

She eyes him warily.

“When you feel like you have reset, you must return and talk to him. I am not saying you have to make up with him, or even forgive him. Just talk to him about what happened.”

She is unmoving for a few seconds, then nods soberly. “You’re right, I know.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a grand-mentor if I wasn’t, now would I?” He says with a smile.

~~~~~~

Ethan is walking down the corridor to his office, trying to comprehend the words on the file in his hand, but his mind is elsewhere. The sun has long set, but he refuses to go home. To the place where, everywhere he looks, he's reminded of her. It's not like he'll be able to sleep anyways; he's lost count of how many sleepless nights he's had since their argument, tossing and turning for hours, as her side of the bed remains tucked and cold.

Not only has he been unable to sleep, he's been unable to focus on anything but her: her melodic laugh lilting through the hospital corridors, her sweet perfume lingering in the office, her animated way of chatting with anybody but him.

He opens the office door and a voice in the back of his head reminds him: You miss her, you idiot.

He rubs his bleary eyes and looks at his watch. 8:09pm.

He groans and goes to sit at his desk when a purple sticky note catches his eye. There, scrawled in her loopy half-cursive is a note: Need some space.

He immediately grabs his bag and rushes to the parking garage, hoping he's not too late.

~~~~~~

He knocks urgently, stepping backwards as the door swings open.

"Dr. Trinh, hello. Is Serena here? I really need to speak with her."

Sienna stands there, unblinking.

He awkwardly clears his throat and begins to try and look into and around the apartment.

Sienna follows his movements, trying, and failing, to block his line of sight.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Dr. Ramsey."

Before he can speak, she continues: “Even if she hadn’t left yet, she wouldn’t want to speak with you anyways.”

His blue eyes turn a shade stormier at this information. “What do you mean ‘if she hadn’t left—”

“Nothing!” Sienna goes to close the door, but is stopped by Ethan’s hand.

“Dr. Trinh. Sienna… please.”

His eyes are conveying a plethora of unspoken pleas, and after a few beats, she sighs.

“She’s at the airport.”

“What? Where is she going? For how long?”

“She’s going home and she didn’t say.” She shrugs.

Ethan immediately turns on his heel.

"Flight 936!" Sienna yells after him as he sprints back to his car.

He hurriedly weaves between the leisurely drivers and dodges through the lackadaisical travelers in the airport lobby, stopping in front of an information screen. His eyes scan the monitor furiously until he sees it.

Flight 936: Boarding Now.

He bolts to the nearest desk, buying the next available flight, and rushes through security.

He's running like a madman, frantically looking for her, hoping that she hasn't boarded yet.

He arrives at the designated gate area, but she's nowhere to be found. He's about to approach the help desk when a familiar voice rings out from behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

It’s not lost on him that she utters the same words he so callously said to her in front of his apartment that night.

He heaves a sigh of relief. He turns towards her, taking a step forward, only for her to take a step back, and the small smile on his face fades.

“I need to explain myself.”

“It’s a little too late for that.” She begins to walk around him.

Ethan lightly catches her wrist, stopping her. “Rookie… I know I've hurt you, innumerable times, and I am so sorry. Please hear me out and if you still want to leave afterwards, I will buy you a new ticket home.”

She looks into his imploring orbs and sees nothing but honesty. She continues to stare at him silently.

“I didn’t mean it, I—"

She gives a dry laugh. “Oh, come on. Surely you know that phrase not only disregards your behavior, but also dismisses the pain it has caused.”

He shakes his head in disagreement and opens his mouth to refute when she removes her wrist from his hold.

“Ethan, you have always been brutally honest. With interns when they’ve made a mistake, pharmaceutical reps when they’re trying to schmooze you, and with me, concerning the nature of our relationship. So I believe you. I believe that you know you’ve hurt me. I believe that you’re sorry. I believe that you want to make things right.”

He’s unsure of where she’s going with this and his palms are sweaty from the anticipation.

“But I also believed you the other night. Why wouldn’t I when you’ve never shied away from delivering the truth? No matter how painful.”

Her voice gets smaller at the end of her statement.

“But that’s just the problem, isn’t it? You are honest to a fault and that’s wounded me more times than I can count anymore.”

His breathing is shallow, heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“There is a grain of truth in every joke, Ethan, and although I know you weren't joking that night, the sentiment still stands: we mean what we say."

"I made a grave error that night, but I'm here now.” He takes a step towards her. “I ran through the airport to find you before you left and I'm here, in front of you, and I mean it when I say that I want you to stay." His eyes are pleading with her.

"What would you have done? If I had chased you through the airport when you left for the Amazon? Would you still have abandoned me?* Abandoned us?"

His jaw goes slack at her challenge. He wills himself to speak, say anything, but his mouth is dry. Overflowing with guilt, he looks away.

She was sure her heart couldn’t break any further, but it splinters just a bit more at his silence.

She nods in resignation.

"I thought so," she whispers.

She takes a shuddering breath, steeling herself for what she is about to say next.

“It’s clear now, Ethan. I respect you and your feelings, but it’s obvious the same can’t be said for you about me. I keep waiting and hoping that someday, you’ll give me the same effort I have given to you, to us. But I am so exhausted from getting my hopes up, only to have them crash back down each and every time. I fell for you, slowly at first, then all at once. But each time that I fell a bit further, the cuts got deeper, and you were never there to pick or patch me up until the scars had already formed."

He's panicking now, eyes frantically searching her face.

She sighs. "I just… I am always the one getting my heart ripped out. Down this road? I won't survive." She shakes her head. "I can't do it anymore."

Tears are pooling in his eyes. No. No no no.

"I can't do this," she motions between them, "anymore."

The intercom sputters to life. "This is the final boarding call for flight 936 to Kansas City."

She grabs her suitcase.

"Serena," he places his hand on top of hers, momentarily stopping her. "Please don't leave me. Please don't leave us," his voice breaks and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

She shakes her head slowly. "There is no us. Not anymore." 

She moves her hand and suitcase out from under his, and turns around, showing her plane ticket to be scanned. Ethan watches her disappear down the jetway, with a single tear sliding down his face, as he's left standing there, alone.

~~~~~~

*Disclaimer: Huge thank you to @choiceskatie for this line!!!

[songbirdstyles]

call me.

summary: being quarantined away from harry is absolute torture - until it isn’t.

warnings: smut, some fluff and angst if you squint! phone sex <3

word count: 3.4k

song inspo.: call me - blondie

You haven’t been sleeping too well since the beginning of quarantine - whether it’s the stress of what feels like the world ending or the noticeable absence of your boyfriend, lying beside you, you can’t be sure. All you know for sure is that it takes you nearly three hours of lying in bed, staring up at your ceiling in the dark and being entirely too aware of the empty space beside you in bed, to finally be able to get a few hours of sleep. And you’d even resorted to shifting to Harry’s side of the bed, where his pillow faintly smelled of his cologne, but it did little to put you out of your insomnia-induced misery.

It was a cruel twist of fate to end up quarantined on nearly opposite ends of the world from Harry. He was merely supposed to be in LA for a week or two, and you were supposed to go with him until you’d gotten sick at the last minute - and it hadn’t been a big deal, until the global pandemic locked you in London and him in California. And now, you’re wishing more than anything that you’d ignored the cold niggling the back of your throat and utilized your ticket to the states - it would’ve made the entire situation decidedly less miserable than it is.

The light of your phone screen illuminated from your nightstand tells you, in its glaring bright intensity, that it’s 3:21 in the morning. If you squint out of the window, curtains pulled open, you swear you can already see the sun, poking insistently above the horizon - but, no, surely not yet. You pray you have a little bit of time left to try and get some sleep before your biological clock forces you up.

(It’s not looking too good, though, as another minute ticks past on your phone and your eyelids still aren’t feeling the heaviness you’re craving.)

Perhaps you’ve grown too accustomed to curling up beside Harry’s body, feeling his breath against your neck when you occasionally wake up at this time for an early morning shag. And maybe you’ve been a bit spoiled, traveling with him more as your relationship progresses over the past three years - but you hadn’t suspected it would be so horrible for your sleep schedule to not have him around. Bad for your sanity, perhaps, but do you really need his body wrapped around yours to get even a wink of shut-eye during the night?

The answer was, apparently, yes, as more minutes tick on your phone and you’re still wide awake. LA is 8 hours behind London, approximately, so if it’s 3:27 in the morning here -

You’re grabbing your phone off of your nightstand without bothering to finish the math problem you’ve conjured up. Harry’s the most recent person you’ve texted and you swipe open your conversation, finger hovering briefly above the call button before tapping it gently.

There’s a chance - a small, miniscule one - that he won’t be awake. You’ve been texting him nearly every minute of every day, constantly calling him and FaceTiming and you know his sleep schedule is worsening like yours. He goes to sleep later and wakes earlier and takes naps scattered all throughout the day, so you’re prepared, emotionally, for him to not answer your call. You’ll be disappointed, perhaps, but there’s a bottle of melatonin in your bathroom you’ve been trying not to abuse during the nighttime. It makes you drowsy for working online and continues to afflict you during the day, so you’ve been trying to stay away from them.

Doesn’t mean you won’t use them, though. You simply don’t want to - if Harry doesn’t answer so you can chat until you’ve tired yourself out, then you’ll make the trek into the bathroom and succumb to the stupid pills -

“‘Lo?”

Your heartbeat picks up as you push yourself to sit up further in bed, pressing your phone close to your ear. You should’ve expected that your boyfriend would be awake now, considering it’s only 7:30 in LA, but it still brings a smile to your face to hear his voice.

“Hey, babe,” you murmur, voice quiet in the darkness of your room. There’s no one around for the loudness of your voice to disturb, but it still feels right to keep it low. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

Harry chuckles on the other end, and you try to picture what he’s doing. When he’s home you’re usually eating dinner at this time, or curled up on the TV watching a movie, or fucking in the bedroom - “‘Course not. Jus’ got off the phone wit’ m’mum an’ had t’shower. She misses us.”

“I miss her too,” you tell him, smile widening at the thought of Anne. Yes, you miss her quite a bit - she’s always been kind to you, and more of a second mother than merely the mum of your boyfriend - but you have some sort of ulterior motive for calling him, so you figure you should get right to it. “I miss you a lot, Har. The apartment’s awfully empty without you here.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, for just a second, before Harry’s responding, “I miss you too - ‘course I do. Wish I’d canceled this stupid fuckin’ LA trip - I’d do anything t’be home wit’ you now.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head back against the headboard of a bed that’s feeling entirely too big for you right now. You’d always complained that Harry slept like a starfish and took up entirely too much space, but you’d swim across the ocean to curl up in bed with him for just one single night. “I haven’t been sleeping much, either. Guess I’m too used to having you here with me. You know, waking up with you on top of me and middle-of-the-night sex.”

“Middle-of-the-night sex,” Harry sighs dreamily, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth with the beginnings of a smirk working its way onto your face. “God, I miss that. M’hand just can’t do the things you can. Doesn’t even come close, really.”

“I hope so.” And you give him a moment to bark out a laugh before continuing, clammy palm pressed to your bare thigh beneath your comforter, “My fingers aren’t doing too much, either. They’re not as big as you - can’t get me off an inch.”

His breathing is growing heavier, loud even through the phone, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him - you’re horny and he’s surely getting hard and you’d like nothing more than for him to help you get off. Just his voice, slightly raspy and deepening with every syllable, is enough to make wetness pool in your panties. “Jesus, doll - gonna make m’hard.” And then there’s a pause, where you’re surely meant to respond but all you can do is grin and try to control your breathing, before Harry murmurs, “S’what what you wanted? Wanted t’make my dick hard?”

You nod, and then breathe, “Yeah.”

“Bloody hell, you’re a minx, y’know that?” And you did, in fact, know that, so you confess your affirmations. “Guess that’s why y’woke me, then. Need me t’tire you out, don’t you.”

It isn’t a question - Harry can read you like a book, even 5,000 miles away, and he knows exactly what your intentions are. “I just miss you.” His soft, cocky laugh on the other end has you sliding your hand up your thigh, pushing your digits into your lace panties and feeling the wetness present in the apex. “Really - I miss you, and your dick - just please help me get off, Har. Won’t bother you with it ever again.”

“Don’t have t’take it that far,” but you’re hardly listening to him. The first circle of your fingers on your clit has you moaning quietly into the receiver, and you can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath at the sound. “Startin’ without me, are you? S’awfully rude.”

“You’re taking too long,” you exhale, running your fingers through your soaked folds - but you pause, anyway, listening intently to the shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Got me so wet, just hearing you talk.”

When another second goes by with no response you pull your phone from your ear, pressing the speaker button and resting it on your tummy. You grab your comforter and pull it off the bottom half off your body, letting the cold air hit your bare legs, just as Harry groans, “Okay - m’ready. Had t’go back t’my room - but m’here now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking just a moment to listen to his quiet grunts and imagine exactly what he looks like right now - sitting on the edge of his bed, pumping his cock, slow and steady at first, just to get started. “Wish you were here with me,” and as eager as you’d been to have your first phone sex experience, you hadn’t counted on the slight awkwardness that makes it harder for the words to come out. “Been - been dreaming about it, about you fucking me so good, and I wake up drenched, Har, just thinking about you.”

Just as you’d expected, Harry takes over almost immediately - he’s much better at dirty talk than you are and it’s only proven when he moans, “M’always thinking of it, fucking your pretty little cunt ‘till you’re crying. And you love it, don’t you? Moanin’ so good for me, so loud - the way you cry when I pinch your clit - can y’do that f’me, doll? Pinch your clit, just the way I do it.”

Shaking fingers dip out of your folds and trail the wetness up to where you need it most - the sensitive nub that’s throbbing for your touch. Just as he’d asked, you use two fingers to softly pinch your clit, the small action sending waves of euphoria flowing through your body as you drop your head back with a cry. It reverberates through the room, louder than any of your moans and whines, exactly as Harry had wanted.

“Wish you could do it -” you do it again and give him the same resounding cry, circling your clit one more time before dragging your fingers back down to slide between your folds. “Your fingers, they’re so much bigger than mine - feel so much better.”

“Fingering y’self?” His voice is nearly whiny with excitement and you know exactly how he looks now, his bottom lip between his teeth and sweat beading up on his cupid’s bow. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can’t quite describe it, even if you’re desperate too. Fingers curl in your cunt, brushing against the sweet spot inside of you that has your back arching off the bed, nipples pebbled and hard against the material of your soft tank top. One isn’t enough, and it doesn’t fill you nearly as much as Harry’s so you add another, taking just a second to run it through your dripping folds before pushing it in. “Oh, god - feels so good, thinking of you - two of mine s’hardly one of yours.”

To that, you get a loud groan, mingled with a low cry that sends chills crawling up your spine. For a second he doesn’t respond and you wonder if he’s cumming already - but then he’s grunting, “Miss you, on all fours f’me - s’how I’ll take you first when we see each other. G’na let me pull your hair, know you love when I do that -”

You do love it, and merely remembering the feeling of him, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling your head up when it starts to droop onto the mattress, has your walls clenching around your digits, and you impulsively add a third.

“ - or maybe I’ll jus’ bury my head in tha’ cunt of yours. Miss the taste of it so much,” and Harry’s voice picks up, in speed and pure excitement, and you can hear the faint sound of him, pumping his cock. It’s hard to think of anything you’d love more than to watch him eat you out for bloody hours, fisting his hair and tugging on his curls just to hear his sobs. The way he flicks his tongue against your folds and slaps your clit when you squeeze your eyes shut in pure euphoria. “Taste so sweet f’me, don’t you - taste y’self for me, doll. Know you taste so good.”

Harry’s got such a hold on you, sometimes - perhaps you’d even say all the time but especially during moments like these. So you don’t hesitate to pull your fingers out of your cunt, walls fluttering around the sudden emptiness, and you bring the digits up to your mouth. Slowly your tongue swirls around your fingertips before wrapping your lips around them, and the soft moan as you taste yourself has Harry whining on the other end, the noise long and low.

Normally, when Harry asks you to do something like this you would put on an absolute show for him. Pumping your lips up and down his shaking digits, eyes never leaving his as his lips slowly part in a needy pant. And - of course - you’d always know that, when you pulled your mouth off of his fingers, you’d be absolutely in for it, and that was the thrill of it. He can’t see you (FaceTime sex is something you’ll need to bring up another day) but you still perform, adding more volume and less eye contact with the darkness around you.

His breathing is rattly when you drop your fingers down to your thighs, fingernails curling into the soft skin as you would do his back or his scalp. You give him briefly a second to take everything in, the images he must be producing, before you breathe, “Tell me what you’re doing, Har.”

“M’gonna cum soon - gonna cum on m’fist, imaginin’ s’your pussy -”

“Yeah? Imagining me sitting on your cock, right?”

By Harry’s resounding moan - the exact noise he makes when you ride him and he tosses his head back in ecstasy - you can assume that he hadn’t been imagining that, but he surely is now, and so are you. God, the way you lean back, hands to his thighs, feelings his palms run up your stomach. And they’ll circle your tits, tweaking your nipples with a lazy smirk at how fast they pebble in his fingertips, before dragging down to your clit, on display for him - and he moves them so slow, but he knows you’re aching for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing two fingers to circle your clit and sensually dragging your free hand up to your boobs as Harry moans, “Your pussy s’so tight around me - g’na fuck you so hard when I see you - you’re not gonna walk for weeks.”

It sounds absolutely dreamy as two of your fingers pinch at your nipple, closing your eyes tighter. If Harry were here he’d grab the back of your head, force your body down to his so he could lap at your nipples and relish in your sobs - and you can’t do that, necessarily, but you bring your thumb up to your tongue, licking the shaking digit before lowering it back to your nipple. It doesn’t give nearly the same effect but it’s close enough, and you can feel your cunt fluttering with desperation to cum. 

“Playin’ with my tits, Harry - pinching them just how you do.” You swallow back the urge to sob out, if only because the noise will trigger just the sort of choked up moan from your boyfriend that’ll send you over the edge and you want to last longer, dammit. “Oh, god -”

“Y’cummin’, baby?”

“No,” you exhale, “not yet -”

“Good,” and you can tell merely from the teasing lilt in his voice that you won’t last past the end of his sentence (and his staccato pants are already enough to have your clit throbbing beneath your touch), “‘cause I keep thinkin’ about that time - fuck - that time we shagged in y’mum’s house, remember? An’ I had to put y’knickers in your mouth, ‘cause you were -” and his rant is cut off by the telltale whine that’s almost always accompanied by him cumming near violently - “bein’ too loud, an’ we didn’t want your mum to hear? Be loud f’me, babe, please, need t’hear you -”

You remember that - how he was fucking you so goddamn hard your bed was hitting the wall and he had to drag you to the floor, pressed to your carpet with your drenched lace panties in your mouth. And Harry tossed your legs over his shoulder like it was nothing, pounded you into the carpet while your mum was asleep just a few doors down the hall, hand firm around your throat. He’d never done that before and God, you love it. Love it almost as much as you love him, but you figure you shouldn’t dwell on it now.

His words have the exact impact he’d hoped for and your head slams into your headboard with a choked up cry, loud through your room and into your phone, still resting on your sweaty stomach. Wetness coats your fingers as your assault on your clit continues, arm shaking with the pressure of riding yourself through the orgasm while still trying to listen to Harry - he’s sobbing out, sound of skin against skin growing louder until you hear the euphoric groan that tells you he’s reached the same high you have.

It’s a gorgeous harmony of your moans mixing together - his crackling through the speaker that’s been used and abused during your little session - and you know you’ll never get tired of it. No matter how many times you do this - for as long as you’re apart - you’ll never, ever get tired of it.

Your body is still trembling when the shockwaves of your orgasm start to wither down. There’s a thin sheet of sweat, coating your body and beading in your hairline and your fingers are covered with your cum, the bed sheets beneath you damp, too. You’ve only ever squirted a few times before - in Harry’s mouth, for the most part, with that bloody talented tongue he’s got - and you wipe the slick onto your thighs before sitting further upwards, grabbing your phone.

Harry’s silent on the other end and you squint at the screen to check the time. Your vision is clouded - perhaps your brain is simply clouded - but you reckon it says 4:00.

“Jesus,” he breathes on the other end, hardly audible through the phone. In your mind’s eye you can picture him, passed out on the bed with his legs still dangling off, running a hand through his hair to try and alleviate the sweat sticking to the curls. “Gonna have t’shower again.”

You smile, shifting back down so you’re fully lying in bed. There’s still a wet spot beneath your arse and your back but you’ll worry about it when you wake up (whenever that may be.) The idea of even moving back over to your usual side of the bed sounds like pure torture, because if you bury your nose in Harry’s pillow, it smells like his cologne with just a hint of the strawberry shampoo he sometimes steals from you. “Tired me out there, Mr. Styles.”

There’s the sound of rustling on the other end of the phone before Harry’s murmuring back, “M’glad - y’need to get some sleep, y’know. S’not good for you to be up so late.”

“I know.” Your eyes are already beginning to feel heavy as minutes continue to click down on your phone, and hearing his soft breathing is fucking therapeutic. If you close your eyes (which feels oh so good) you can almost feel him, body tight around you as he pulls your back to his chest, nestling his nose in your locks with a deep inhale that never fails to make you giggle. “I love you, Har.”

God, you can almost hear him smiling on the other end. You miss it so much - his smile - but just him, and feeling his arms around you, heartbeat against your spine lulling you to sleep. Whenever quarantine is over and you’re free to go to him, you won’t wait a second. You’ll hop on the first plane - you’ll fucking tape yourself to the side of it, if you have to.

For now, though, hearing him sleepily mumble, “I love you more, babe,” is enough. And you keep your phone planted on your chest, Harry’s steadying breathing like music to your ears as you settle in for what’s gearing up to be the best goddamn sleep of your life.

[bentforkent]

merry christmas, spencer reid

derek morgan x spencer reid x penelope garcia

a/n: this is a spencer-centric morceid fic. i find spencer the easiest to write, so i enjoy framing these moments through a spencer-lens...hope that's okay with y'all :)

content warnings: none! this is straight FLUFF, love, and banter baby!

word count: 2087

in which derek, penelope, and spencer are at the airport, heading to chicago for christmas

- - - - - 

Arrive at Airport - 6:47 AM

It’s cold. Spencer Reid is certifiably a genius, and all he knows at this moment in time is that it is cold. A fog has settled over the airport drop-off zone, wet and enveloping. Spencer thinks it might be melancholy if not for the sun just barely peeking over the horizon and Penelope’s bright pink coat bouncing around in front of him. She’s wearing enough layers that it’s difficult for her arms to move, leaving Derek and Spencer to pull their luggage from the trunk of the Uber. To compensate for her lack of involvement, she flits around the pair, pressing gentle kisses to their cheeks.

She’s moving a little too much for Spencer’s liking. It’s still early and he’s feeling quite overwhelmed. Late minute packing, bickering, and a sugary coffee before 6 in the morning will do that to you. But he loves Penelope--oh, he loves her so much--and he’s been working through this type of sensory overload response in therapy, so instead of snapping at her to calm down and please stop moving, he reaches for her hand with the one that isn’t white-knuckling a heavy suitcase.

Penelope, ever intuitive, ever loving, laces her fingers with his spindly ones and slows to a still next to him. “Oops. Sorry, lovebug,” she says, and Spencer, relaxing, kisses her flushed cheek.

“Are you excited?” She asks him.

Spencer nods rapidly, curls bouncing. It’s Spencer’s first Christmas spent with Derek and Penelope, his first time going to Chicago with them, and his first time meeting Derek’s family. He’s nervous, but so excited. Spencer watches as Derek lifts the luggage onto the curb, and finds himself wishing it wasn’t so damn cold so he could watch Derek’s muscles flex in the absence of a heavy jacket. Penelope follows Spencer’s gaze and squeezes his hand as if she can hear his thoughts and agrees.

As if on cue, Derek thanks the Uber driver and turns to them.

“You guys are no help,” he remarks, gesturing to the disparity between the amount of luggage each of them were carrying. Penelope pulls her empty, suitcase-free hands from Spencer’s, hiding them behind her back to playfully feign innocence. Spencer’s heart swells as he watches Derek’s smile widen and overtake his whole face.

“Spence, you want me to take that bag?” He asks. He reaches for it, brushing against Spencer’s exposed wrist tenderly.

Spencer beams at him. “No, you’ve got all of them. I can handle this one.”

As they bustle into the airport, the cold air feels a bit warmer.

Check Bags - 7:12 AM

“Babygirl, I hope you checked that bag’s weight twice, because I am not paying extra for you going over the 50 pound limit again,” Derek says, looking down at Penelope where she’s perched on the edge of her suitcase. The line they’re in to check their bags hasn’t moved in a while, and once Penelope had discovered that her suitcase was sturdy enough to hold a human body despite the wonky wheel she’d broken trekking through this very airport last Christmas, she’d been sitting on it ever since. She offered Spencer a spot next to her, of course, but he was enjoying standing with Derek. Every so often, he reaches over and pinches Spencer’s hip playfully, kissing his cheek when Spencer squirms in response. So yeah, Spencer is enjoying it.

Penelope kicks her leg out and hooks it around Derek’s. “Oh, you love me, you’ll pay for it,” she replies, with a toothy smile up at him.

“Did you know that there was once a tiny Samoan airline that actually determined ticket prices based on the weight of their passengers, instead of weighing their luggage? Each kilogram someone weighed was 93 cents onto the price of their ticket,” Spencer says.

“How did that work out for them?” Derek asks intently, enthralled by Spencer’s words. 

“They closed. A lot of people were really upset by the weight thing, but because it made children’s tickets cheaper than the average ticket, a lot of traveling families actually preferred that method.” 

Penelope hums, standing from her seat and wrapping her arms tightly around Derek’s waist. On instinct, he rests his hand on her lower back protectively, holding her close and pressing kisses to her forehead in quick succession.  

“Probably would be cheaper for us to fly that way,” Derek says. “Penelope’s earrings alone are about 49 pounds in there.” He gestures to her floral luggage. 

Penelope turns her head to make mock-serious, unwavering eye-contact with Spencer. “He’s mean to me,” she says matter-of-factly. 

Derek shakes his head with a chuckle. Spencer notes that his smile hasn’t left his face. He hadn’t thought it possible for Derek to be any happier, but apparently Penelope makes it so. Spencer knows the feeling. 

“I love you, Penelope, you know that,” Derek replies, kissing her chastely.  

(Penelope’s suitcase weighs at 27 pounds.) 

Go Through Security - 7:44 AM

“Hey, those are my socks!” Spencer says, looking pointedly at Penelope’s feet.

The socks are yellow, ankle-high, and covered in rainbows. They’re cute, and Spencer knows they’re cute because they’re his, a pair he’d picked up at a random general store in Des Plaines, Illinois, while on a case. He remembers sending Penelope a photo of them that night, just his socked feet next to Derek’s where they laid on the hotel’s puffy white comforter. She answered with a smattering of emojis, saying she was “So jealous!” Spencer had thought she was referring to the quality time with Derek, but it’s apparent now as she puts her shoes into a gray bin, sliding them onto the conveyor belt, that she’d really been jealous of the socks all along.  

“If they’re your socks, why am I wearing them, loverboy?” Penelope counters in jest, back turned to both Spencer and Derek as they follow behind her through the security checkpoint. She flashes a genuine smile to the stoic TSA agent ushering her through as if to say, “Boys, right?”  

Instead of arguing, Spencer turns to Derek. “Those are my socks.”

The TSA agent, still sporting a neutral expression and seemingly unimpressed by Penelope’s charms, calls for Spencer to move forward. He’s trying to keep up, obviously, but this morning he double-knotted his shoelaces as always and has slight trouble getting them off quickly. Once he manages to get all of his belongings--belt, shoes, coat, and hat included--into the tray, he stumbles into the security scanner.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. The TSA agent gives him a half-smile in return, and Spencer takes the emotion and holds it close to his chest.

It’s only when Spencer and Derek finally meet Penelope at the bench she’s at, lacing up her boots, that Spencer looks down at Derek’s feet.

“Der,” he says.

Distracted with putting his belt back on, Derek replies absentmindedly. “Yes, baby?”

“Those are my socks.”

Derek looks down at his feet. Two bright pink kittens smile up at him.

Arrive at Gate - 8:17 AM

Penelope passes the sweet-smelling hand sanitizer towards Spencer as they sink into the grimy, uncomfortable seats at the gate, dropping their carry-on bags.

“‘Frosted Snowball,’” Spencer reads aloud from the glittery blue bottle. He pours a generous amount into his hand, watching earnestly as the glitter spreads across his hands and in between his fingers. Something about disinfected hands and shimmer makes him feel as awake as he’s felt all morning, although he secretly hopes Penelope will propose going to get a coffee to help him maintain the feeling.

“Isn’t it cute? I got a few, there’s one in your stocking at home. I couldn’t leave it, look at the little polar bear!”

Spencer passes the sanitizer to Derek, who inspects it with a raised eyebrow.

“Why couldn’t they just call it ‘Coconut,’ if that’s the scent?” He asks, squirting a bit of the gel into his hand. “Makin’ me squint and read the fine print to find out what it actually smells like.”

Penelope presses her lips into a faux pout. “Because ‘Frosted Snowball’ is a cuter name than--” She lowers her voice to mock Derek’s--”’Coconut.’ And, it’s festive! Winter themed!”

Spencer pipes up. “Looks like someone isn’t getting ‘Frosted Snowball’ in their stocking this year.” He grins at Derek.

With a shrug and a smile, Derek slings his arm around Spencer’s shoulders and pulls him to his chest, pressing his lips to Spencer’s temple and letting them linger there. Locking eyes with Penelope, Derek smiles. “C’mere, pretty girl,” he says, patting the seat next to him.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Penelope says, patting Spencer’s thigh as she leaves his side to sit next to Derek.

The airport bustles around them, but they stop and sit, a peaceful bubble of limbs and public displays of affection and glitter and coconut scent.

Board Flight - 9:07AM

“Are you feeling okay?” Derek whispers into Spencer’s ear, letting his lips brush against it. Spencer leans into his touch. Penelope is tucked into her knitting already, and she’s pulled out an extra set of needles and yarn for Spencer.

Spencer nods.

“You’ve been quiet since we boarded,” Derek observes.

Spencer speaks quietly. “I’m just nervous, I guess. I read an article in Psychology Today about how your partner’s parent’s approval can affect how much love and affection you feel in a relationship, and I just don’t want to mess up.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Derek wants to quell Spencer’s fears and reassure him that everything is okay, but then Spencer is talking again, equally as hushed, but more panicked.

“I’m also nervous because, I know your mom and sisters love Penelope, and I’m...I’m new.”

Derek frowns. His palm finds a spot on Spencer’s chest, right over his heart. Derek knows the weight and warmth of his hand will stabilize Spencer, regulating his breathing, and preventing any anxiety attacks from blooming. Grateful for the touch, Spencer continues.

“They’re gonna think it’s weird that we’re together and that it’s weird that I’m a man and that I’m awkward and gangly and I’m not good with social situations and sometimes I say the wrong things at the wrong time and...yeah.” He stops himself from continuing, noticing how he’s working himself into a frenzy. Derek smiles a tiny half-smile, and Spencer returns it in acknowledgement.  

Penelope, having overheard bits of the conversation, pulls Spencer’s right hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles softly as a reminder of her presence, then turns back to the new scarf she’s making. It’s in a deep mauve, close to Spencer’s favorite shade of purple. (She hasn’t decided if she’s going to give it to him yet. On one hand, it is his color, and he wears scarves more than she does; but on the other hand, because it’s his color, whenever she wears it it would be a reminder of him. She’s torn. They’ll end up sharing it.)

Derek tucks a piece of Spencer’s hair back behind his ear.

“Let me ask you something,” he says. “Do you think it’s weird that we’re together?”

“No,” Spencer replies.

“Do you think it’s weird that you’re a man?”

“No.”

“So,” Derek shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If my family feels some type of way about it, that’s their own issue to get over.”

Spencer nods, letting his eyes search Derek’s.

Derek kisses his forehead. “But, I would never intentionally put you into a situation where I know you would be uncomfortable or unwelcome. You know that, right? Tell me you know that.”

Spencer nods, again. He knows. Derek always protects him. He taps Derek’s hand where it lies on his sternum as an example.

Derek nods, then plants a firm, wet kiss on Spencer’s pouted lips. “So trust me when I tell you it’s all going to be okay, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer says, and he means it.

Derek pats his chest lovingly and moves to put in his headphones. He’ll catch up on his sport podcasts, but in approximately 23 minutes, he’ll feel bad about having headphones in and offer one to Spencer. Spencer eagerly awaits this interaction, although he’ll decline, waiting for Penelope to get bored with her knitting. Then, the two of them will watch some campy 90’s movie together, and share the peanut M&Ms he snuck into his coat pocket to surprise her with.

But for now, Spencer takes Penelope’s extra set of knitting needles, laying them across his lap. 

Content in where he’s at, he smiles and folds up his itinerary.

[mmvalentine]

The Pianist pt 9 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 10 After Cardan left the stage, Jude dried her eyes hurriedly and wondered if this would be a good time to make a discreet exit.

Now that she was back from the whirlwind that was her LA trip, she was surer than ever that she was just as talented as any of these suits and gowns, and she had no desire to be made a wall flower just because she didn’t have deep enough pockets.

Jude turned to the aisle, and almost jumped out of her skin when she found Cardan crouched there in the dark.

“Cardan?!” she hissed.

“Shh!” Cardan said. He grabbed her hand, pulled her out of her chair and behind a shadowed curtain. Jude thudded against his chest, with heavy velvet at her back.

“Hey,” Cardan whispered. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Jude whispered back. “Why are we hiding in the curtains?”

“Because the door will be very loud, and very bright if we open it,” Cardan said, “but if we wait until everyone else is leaving, people will try to talk to us.”

“You mean you,” Jude corrected. “People will try to talk to you.”

“Yes and me will be here with you, which will attract attention and then they will try to talk to you too.”

“Well maybe I’d like to talk to them, then. Use a bit of your stardom for my own gain,” she teased. Cardan rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, the gossip column of the Juilliard Journal isn’t your ticket to fame.”

At that moment, someone coughed in the row of seat closest to them, and Cardan pulled Jude further back into the curtains. They were silent for a moment, but no one approached them. The MC was still speaking. Cardan peeked out at the dark audience, and Jude was very aware of how close they were pressed together.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked him quietly.

“Well,” Cardan said, “we wait here until all the students come back out for the final bows, and then we sneak out the side door. It’s just through the curtains here, and the noise will be covered by the applause.”

“Right you are, Ninety-Nine,” Jude said seriously. Cardan snorted under his breath. The MC was running through a list of thanks.

“So how was LA?” he asked her.

“It was really good,” Jude said. She swallowed. “Thank you. Without you, I would never have… thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cardan said. Jude looked up at him, and his eyes seemed to glow at her in the dark. She looked away.

“You… you wrote my mother’s song,” she said.

“I didn’t know it was your mother’s,” Cardan replied.

“I didn’t even know you’d heard me singing it.”

“Well. I do live in the apartment above yours.”

“You do.”

“It’s been awfully quiet without you.”

“Lucky you.”

“I’ve missed you,” Cardan said, finally. Jude glanced up, surprised. He was staring at her mouth. “Your song has been the only thing in my head for weeks.” He pushed a stray curl out of her face, his fingers lingering around her face, and Jude put her hands on his chest.

“Cardan,” she said.

“Mmm I’ve missed that too,” he said, and his thumb stroked her jaw. Jude’s eyes fluttered, and Cardan moved in then and pressed his lips to hers.

This was something that Jude had made a concerted effort not to think about over the past twenty-two days. She and Cardan had hooked up in the practice room before she left, and then before she had time to think about what it might mean or what exactly she might actually want from Cardan, she was on a plane to LA. On Cardan’s credit card, no less.

And then there was the work to concentrate on- the trip was Jude’s chance to get a foothold in the industry and she didn’t want to be mooning over some boy while she was there to work. So she had shoved all thoughts of Cardan and his long piano fingers to the very back of her mind and very pointedly didn’t think of him while she was away.

And now here he was with his hands in her hair and his tongue skirting the edge of her lower lip. And there was no ignoring him now. The hot thing in her belly that she had repressed all memory of came roaring back under Cardan’s touch, and his lips on hers were softer than the velvet curtains surrounding them.

“Where have you been?” Cardan sighed between kisses.

“You know where,” Jude told him.

“I can’t sleep without you,” Cardan admitted, and Jude didn’t know what he was talking about. They had never slept in the same bed.

Before she could ask, the audience stood suddenly and began applauding and cheering, the noise washing over them like a cold ocean wave.

“Let’s go,” Cardan said in her ear, and then he leaned against the crash bar of the side doors and let them out into the daylight.

//////

Cardan pulled the door shut behind them and then grabbed a hold of Jude’s hand. He knew that now the students would be walking out on stage again, and very soon they would notice he was missing. So he hurried them out of the building and would not slow down until they were off campus. As if on cue, his phone rang. Cardan silenced it.

“So,” Jude panted, “are we running from anyone in particular or just your usual horde of adoring fans?”

“The fans are vicious,” Cardan replied. And then after a minute, “and so are my parents.”

“Your parents are here?”

“Yes,” Cardan said shortly. “Traveled quite some way, too.”

“And you’re not going to stick around for them?”

They had just reached their apartment building.

“No,” he said. “I told you, they’re vicious.”

“But everyone loved you,” Jude said. “You made people cry.”

Cardan shot her a wolfish grin. “Were you crying in there, Jude?”

“No,” Jude replied quickly. “Just some people were.”

“Moving, was I?” Cardan asked. They were now climbing stairs.

“For some people,” Jude repeated. “Anyway even I have to admit you were great. I’m sure your parents will be looking for you.”

“They know where I live,” Cardan said. Then he stopped suddenly. “That’s a point. Let’s go to your place.” He turned around and went back down the last couple of steps to the landing for Jude’s level, and opened the door. Jude followed.

“My place?” she echoed. “My place is a mess, I’ve had unpacked and there are things everywhere.”

“So?” Cardan shot back. “It can’t be worse than my place. Plus,” he said, leaning against the wall when they reached her door, “I can’t help but look forward to the idea of you at home again.”

Jude gave him a long look, then. They had finally stopped moving, and her eyes roved over him. He knew what he looked like. Dark circles under his eyes. A little too thin under his dress shirt.

Jude opened the door, and he nearly fell in after her.

“Alright,” she said, “just give me a minute to pick some of these things up.”

But Cardan didn’t have a minute. He pushed the door closed behind them, and gathered Jude back into his arms. She was a little taken aback and rocked on her feet, but he leaned his forehead against hers and willed her to understand how much he needed her to just be here with him.

Didn’t need the apartment to be tidy, didn’t need to readjust to her being back, didn’t need to talk about his parents or his performance or his past three weeks.

Just needed her in his arms and under his lips.

“Jude,” he murmured, looking at her through his eyelashes. “Jude.”

“What’s wrong, Cardan?” she whispered to him.

“It’s hard when you’re gone,” he said.

“Why?” Jude asked.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

But how could Cardan tell her? How could he admit that he slept on the floorboards most nights just to be close to her voice?

Besides. Sleep wasn’t what he wanted now. So instead of answering, he kissed her again, and was more than a little relieved when she lifted her arms to rest on his shoulders and kissed him back.

“Did you really miss me?” Jude asked.

“Every day you were gone,” Cardan said, and pulled the clip from her hair so that it fell around her shoulders. “And now all I want to do is keep you here and never talk to anyone else again.” He put his lips against the soft part of her throat, and sucked against her skin a little harder than he had meant to. Jude shivered in his arms.

“I don’t know about ever again,” Jude said.

“For a week,” Cardan said, biting down on the join of her shoulder. God he could just eat her alive. Jude chuckled.

“I have to work at some point. Gotta pay my debts.”

“For the day,” Cardan tried. Pleaded.

“Okay,” Jude breathed. “The day.”

“Deal,” said Cardan, and then he tightened his arms around her waist and his mouth on her mouth and walked her backward. It was only three strides to Jude’s bed.

****

One more for smut? One more for smut.

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler @thebonecarver @realbookloverproblems

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Lovebug (9/12)

Summary:  

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Notes: Sorry for taking my sweet time posting this. We had no wifi for a while, transpo issue and I was dead asleep as soon as I got home two nights in a row lmfao. 

Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Levi might have felt a little guilty about letting loose just that evening but his conservative mind was finding all the ways to justify it.

Maybe the justifications held some weight. After all, taking the midnight train out of the city wasn’t the strangest thing to do. Hange and Levi weren’t the only ones at the ticket gate then they weren’t the only ones waiting on the platform. On the train, Levi could count the number of empty seats more easily than the occupied ones.

He started to relax as soon as he settled on one of the seats. He convinced himself that in the end, he had been overreacting. There was nothing at all odd with rushing to her home then to his, packing two overnight bags and buying two last minute tickets to the northernmost station of their country.

To Pemberley. Levi didn’t have the time to load the book into his reader again. He instead downloaded the pdf file to his phone.

He had willed himself to make sense of the black on the bright white screen before deciding, it was too late at night to read. Instead he propped his elbows on the windowsill and leaned his chin on his hand. He snuck a glance at Hange who sat in front of him, leaning on the window in that same way.

A long day behind them, they were both exhausted. On the bright side, if Levi closed his eyes and let the train rock to whatever rhythm it was most comfortable with, he was sure that in a split second, they would have arrived at their destination.

Sleep could have lasted less than a second. Next thing Levi knew, he was fighting to open his eyes. The sun rose without warning, the only thing between them just an empty glass that did nothing to protect him from the first rays of morning.

Levi quickly adjusted his view, making sure he wasn’t directly staring at the sky like a while ago. He craned his head back, instead focusing on the rolling hills and the countryside.

It wasn’t the British countryside in the book. It didn’t seem at all like a Pemberley or a Rosings Park or Longbourn. Still, he delved into the passing green and foraged for whatever similarities his sleep muddled mind could come up with.

One thing Levi dared to note, despite his limited experience traveling, the view from an interregional highway, or an interregional train, the rolling hills that passed by, the clusters of trees that varied in density and the plains that dotted the view were all the same regardless of location. Despite the variety nature could offer, nature still had unifying characteristics. While at the same time, nature was distinct from everything non-nature.

And when it wasn’t unwillingly tamed, paved over, forced to coexist with concrete, buildings and humans, it was a sight to behold.

It was enough to take his breath away, enough to make him almost regretful that the train was moving too fast for him to stare for just a second longer at a changing landscape or canopies that blurred amongst one another.

Eventually, regret at not appreciating nature had him exhausted. He turned in front of him to see Hange’s eyes were fixed at whatever passing objects caught her eye outside the window. Her head bobbed, her eyes darted from left to right and her mouth was half open and she didn’t seem at all in a hurry to close them.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first time seeing this much nature,” Levi said, a humble start to light conversation.

Hange seemed comfortable going along with it. “It isn’t. We had the country club,” she said. There was a nonchalant look on her face as if she saw the ‘country club’ as more of a consolation.

Levi couldn’t help but agree. Golf courses were all green, the mini forests that lined the paths from the golf courses, to the beaches to the summer houses were all nature. Yet they were of a type of nature, trained not to bite any unsuspecting visitors.

When Levi leaned back on his chair, turning his head out of the window, he appreciated the raw green for a second longer. Then he concluded, there was novelty in seeing nature at its most candid form.

Hange spoke up. “You know, I haven’t been able to leave the city since we left the country club. And not traveling in months... This feels new.”

“But you’ve travelled before,” Levi responded.

“Of course I have,” Hange said. “Zeke would always take me out to the best gardens, the best parks, the best hiking trails… He knows I like nature.”

“So he took you to ‘Pemberley?’ Then to ‘Rosing Park then Longborn?” Most were likely fictional places but at that point, Hange may have had her own idea of what fictional was.

“No, not to my Pemberley,” Hange said, like it was the most unimportant thing in the world. “Never.”

“So this was supposed to be your first time going together?” Levi asked. He noted that they never did get to sit down and map the route to Hange’s dream destinations. Hell, he didn’t even know where they were.

He opened his phone, then the map of the northernmost region.

The capital of the northern region had city buses, a small subway system, nothing like what they had back home. Levi traced the blue and the green, pondering for himself which had the most rolling hills, the most ‘gardens.’ Obviously, over a very zoomed out map and a few hundred mile radius, it would be difficult to tell so he consulted Hange. “We could take an unlimited bus ticket… or a two day all you can ride train---”

“No. We rent a car,” Hange said.

“Wait, but if we don’t know the land--.” There were too many excuses he could have brought up. The excuse he was most hesitant to even fathom seemed most pressing then. Levi didn’t know how to drive.

Hange probably saw through it. “I’ll drive.” The cheeky grin on her face was enough of a hint, she was more than ready for adventure.

Levi closed the maps application and pocketed his phone. “So I’m assuming you’ll be doing the navigation.”

Hange only nodded, her smug smile getting wider by the second.

***

Hange surprisingly knew how to navigate the complexities of building an itinerary. What the hell she was doing, how the hell she was doing it and what the hell her plan was, Levi couldn’t be too sure.

Thirty minutes into arriving at the regional train station, they had rented a car and secured a pocket wifi. Thirty five minutes into it, Hange was pulling out of the station in a rented sedan.

The train station was situated in the middle of the city and in the car, Levi had to subdue the panic which came with going out of the city then seeing the scenery slowly shift from five story buildings to two story houses then finally to the peaceful green offered by the city outskirts. He wondered why they had even taken a train station to town if they were going back into countryside landscapes anyway.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Levi asked. Levi knew that Hange had been there once before. Just the idea that someone could actually easily navigate expressways and exits without a phone on the dock and a guide seemed almost unnerving.

“Ish,” Hange said, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“We have wifi, we could use a maps application to navigate?” Levi never drove, he wouldn’t know but, it couldn’t hurt to be just a little more careful.

“Maybe later. I’ve been here more than enough times,” Hange said. They rode in silence for a minute or so more before she turned to him. “We’re gonna be on the road for a while and driving on the freeway gets boring.”

Levi glanced up at her questioningly.

Hange caught his eye “Tell me a story.”

“About what?”

“How was your date with Petra?” The question came out of nowhere and Hange had said it too casually and too abruptly and that had Levi choking on his own saliva.

He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Your date with Petra? Didn’t you tell me you would be going on one?”

“I did,” Levi admitted. “Because you asked me to,” he added, a second later.

“I suggested it.” Hange clarified. “And how did it feel?”

“Good.” His response was automatic.

One hand on the steering wheel, Hange pulled her phone from her lap, unlocked it and turned on her modified emotions alarm. “Turn yours on.”

Levi only saw one reason why she’d do all that. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

“Well, you went through all the trouble of making the gift right? Let’s make use of it.”

Levi could have fought. He only needed five seconds to see reason in her order. Besides, if she turned hers on, it would turn out to be a fair trade. He turned on his phone scrolled through the home screens and opened the application.

“So how did it feel?” Hange asked. She set her phone on the stand and hovered one finger over the activate button.

“It felt good,” Levi willed himself to say it with the same conviction as a second ago, firm and straightforward but just a little shaky underneath.

Still too shaky to deceive his own application. A yellow spot just under the words ‘happy’ would have been nice. After all, ‘good’ was a word that generally implied that something was good, something made me happy. The alarm flashed with green and Levi had half the mind to fling his phone over the backseat of the car.

“Happy sad? Or sad happy?” Hange asked, there was a laugh in her voice.

Was she mocking me? It felt like a much better argument to quote her, mock her maybe. He glared at her. You told me love is a choice right? By some allusion, Levi attempted to put it all together. “I’m making the choice to say it was a good and productive date. We tried to pick out a good present for you.”

“And in the end, you decided to make an application,” Hange said. “Did Petra suggest anything?”

“Tea, a wallet, a pencil case…”

“I would have enjoyed those,” Hange said.

“It didn’t seem like that to me,” Levi admitted. He studied her features as he spoke.

Hange’s face was unchanging, her eyes still looking straight ahead. Levi was almost amazed she managed to keep some of her focus in conversation. Hange turned the car, swerving towards one exit.

Levi winced at the white that flashed in front of him for a split second. “How do you feel?” He asked.

“About what?”

“About the date?” He answered. Levi gave Hange a good once over, ending with her hand on the clutch. Her hand wasn’t shaking, but she held it like she was going to pull it out of its place any second now.

Hange paused. She had hovered her hand over the alarm but she never did activate it.

Levi subtly turned towards the phone then back at her. “Happy?” At that point, maybe a mischievous side of him had taken over. He wanted to provoke her.

Hange poked the active button on her phone, much harder than necessary, hard enough for Levi to wonder if it had reduced the phone’s lifespan by even just a year or so.

Her phone flashed once again with a purple dot.

Levi noticed her eyes widen for a second then a flash of pink flowered on her cheeks before she looked away. “Angry sad or sad angry?” He asked, deliberately mimicking Hange’s old tone of a while ago. It came out more of a growl than whatever naturally sing songy voice Hange managed everyday. Either way it had been a satisfying set of motions.

“Angry sad… Or maybe sad angry?” Hange murmured. Then she hummed for a second longer, the car slowed down with it and she turned back to him. “I feel...purple,” she said.

Purple isn’t a feeling. Levi glanced accusingly at her. Hange though wasn’t looking back at him. If she saw anything through her peripherals, she didn’t make it obvious.

With her own series of gestures, Hange had given one message. She didn’t want to be bothered.

Yet, she had asked him about Petra for a reason.

Levi couldn’t tell how much he saw was a trick of the light or a clear hint. Hange’s jaw had tightened, her eyes narrowed ahead. She didn’t talk much after the word ‘purple’ that softened to a whisper mid word.

For the first time, she wasn’t being completely transparent

Levi then felt less obligated to open up. “If you’re feeling purple, then I’m feeling green,” he said.

They didn’t talk for a while after that.

The car exited the main road to a road half its size. Although the car always rattled, it was particularly more obvious then and as Levi looked out the window and back at her, he realized that maybe it was because she was slowing down.

Slowing down, or maybe vacillating the best course of action.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just trying to remember the way around here,” Hange said. She looked behind her, then forward again.

“What are we doing here?”

“I’m gonna use this birthday weekend of mine to take a trip down memory lane, reflect on stuff.”

“If that’s how you want to celebrate your birthday…” Levi checked his phone once more before pocketing it.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Hange said, her tone more serious. “Going on these types of treks, they really help. More than you probably think they do.”

Levi could at least try to understand it, if he just focused on how far apart the houses were, the notable manicured green of his surroundings and every single tree, flower, root and bush that just seemed to have a place. All acting prim and proper as if they were doing the gardens a favor.

There must be some appeal at least. “It’s quiet,” Levi noted as the car slowed to a stop to the side of the road.

“Most of the houses here aren’t occupied,” Hange answered. “Who actually wants to live in the middle of nowhere all year round.”

Levi turned around once, scanning his surroundings for a second longer. The houses were too far apart, he counted five just by doing a 360 but he knew if he squinted and took in the other shapes far past the downhill slope he could count more. “From the looks of the houses here, rich people,” Levi said.

“During the summer maybe or during the winter vacation. Every other time of the year most people will stay out in the city so they’re nearer to work,” Hange said. “Zeke owns this house.” She didn't have to point far, Hange only had to casually brush her thumb over to her side for Levi to follow her gaze.

Of course Zeke would own one. When Levi looked behind him again, then looked to the far left and the far right, he had to admit Zeke had one of the grandest ones, a wide two story mansion situated at the top of a hill.

“This is my Rosings Park,” Hange said. She walked towards the small pedestrian gate, pulled a key from her pocket and with a quick flick of movements--- as if she had done it so many times before--- she unlocked then pushed the metal gate open with a creak.

The view behind the black bars was only more beautiful. They climbed the hill and slowly but surely, Levi was getting a much better view of the house on top. He noted that the house gleamed with a type of beauty that could take one’s breath away. He had been a little self conscious though and he found himself willing his mouth shut, letting his breaths come out with a more rehearsed rhythm.

“Did you ever continue the book?” Hange asked, her eyes fixed ahead.

It was easy to tell which book she had been talking about. “Since you spoiled me? No,” he admitted.

“Then I don’t think you’ve read far enough into the book if you still think Elizabeth ended up with Mr. Wickham,” Hange said. “You probably won’t appreciate Rosings park then.”

“You still remember…” Levi could have sworn it had been months since he told her about the book.

“The book means a lot to me,” Hange said. Her words were a bit more careful that time, but she was starting to climb the hill, a little faster as if whatever scenes were running through her head then had injected in her, enough energy for adventure.

Levi brushed away a rush of guilt and he followed behind her. “Go spoil,” he said. I’m sorry about being angry. He didn’t say those last two words, awe, exhaustion or maybe a combination of both had him opting to stay quiet. Maybe he chose to reflect and as he followed behind, he started to wonder why he had been angry about her spoiling in the first place.

Hange seemed surprisingly eager to spoil him. The first words out of her mouth came out unimpeded. “Rosings Park is where Mr. Darcy first proposed to Elizabeth.”

First proposed. “So she rejected him?” Levi asked.

Hange turned back to him and nodded, a strange smile on her face. “And why do you think Elizabeth would reject Mr. Darcy?”

“He was an asshole right?”

“According to Elizabeth that is…” Hange looked at him expectantly but Levi for the life of him couldn’t tell what she wanted. She didn’t give him time to answer. She ran straight ahead towards the side of the house.

Levi was left with no choice but to follow. After all, the grounds were much larger than Levi had expected. From his view at the bottom of the hill, the house had seemed small, only composed of the front porch. As Hange went behind the house, disappearing in the corner, Levi started to suspect that the summer house was larger.

Consequently, Levi was occupying himself over the wealth of Zeke.

Again. The view didn’t do anything to help. The corner opened up to manicured gardens, clean cut hedges and flowers that could have been arranged by some invisible hand. Or maybe they were arranged artificially. It probably wasn’t beyond Zeke and his money to find ways to grow flowers so they were evenly spaced, further accentuating the fiery orange and bright red on the simple green.

Hange followed the stone path that lined the large house, slowly balancing on the pebbled line that cut between the cobbled stone path like it was a tightrope. She had the balance, maybe the eagerness to look straight ahead, and Levi couldn't really follow her gaze or be certain of where she was staring.

She didn’t look particularly entranced at anything as if she had seen it so many times before.

“This is one of Jaeger summer houses,” Hange said. She stopped by the fork of the path, one side circled the house, the other went straight into the garden. “He has others all over the country, others abroad. Too many to count and I don’t even think I’ve been to all of them.”

“Okay.” Levi had felt pressured to say something. As the awkward silence dragged on, Levi realized that might have not been the best thing to say.

What else was there to say though?

Wow the garden is so nice. It seemed like an appropriate thing to say but it didn’t feel like something he would have liked to admit to Hange.

Wow your husband is so rich. What else would that do but reiterate what Levi already knew?

Wow, I wish I was your husband. That last one felt like a mind fart. Something that had seemed natural to think but as Levi pondered it for a second longer, he realized just thinking that exact phrase seemed all the more inappropriate.

“Does it seem artificial?” Hange asked.

“Yes, it does.” That answer came out easier definitely, especially when it wasn’t a begrudging compliment. Especially when in the back of his mind, he could remind himself, those weren’t his words, those were Hange’s.

Hange continued to indulge him. “Gaudy?”

“Very tacky, incredibly tacky.” Maybe those words had seemed more for him than for anyone else. A hint of guilt settled at his chest but then he remembered, the Jaeger family had more than enough money. He could spare a few unkind words. He looked at Hange, trying his best, to keep his eyes away from the garden in front of him, before he started to doubt the reliability of his own words.

Despite the ‘gaudiness,’ Hange walked ahead, following the stony path and Levi followed behind. Beyond the shiny manicured hedges were benches, a gazebo and Hange sat one of the ones closest to the top, just before the steep incline fell. It was a good vantage point for a comprehensive view of the garden.

At the highest point, the green expanded in all directions. He could pick out how the sun kissed the lawn, the trees and how they shone with something seemingly unnatural. The more Levi stared, the more easily it became to pick out what gaudiness Hange had been talking about.

With his eyes looking out for the right glimmers, he soon figured for himself, they shone like plastic. It soon became apparent to Levi, there was something artificial and tacky about manicured lawns, well trimmed hedges and carefully positioned flowers. The guilt assuaged and Levi felt all the more confident to look back at Hange. “Why do you like it here then?”

“It’s still Rosings park to me,” Hange said matter-of-factly.

“And what’s so special about Mr. Darcy’s first proposal?”

“Read the book,” Hange said as if that were the easiest thing to do then.

The book was loaded into his phone. It was just a few clicks away, reading was an entirely different process and Levi found it tempting to overlook that order---or that friendly suggestion altogether.

“Just spoil me. You spoiled me already before,” Levi said.

“Mr. Darcy first proposed here.”

You said that already. “And? What’s so special about that?”

Hange didn't reply to him immediately. For a long few seconds, she stared at nothing in particular then turned to him, a defiant look on her face. “You know, you remind me of Mister Darcy.” A backhanded insult maybe, enough to have Levi looking away as blood rushed to his face.

Anger, it was definitely anger. “How do I remind you of Mister Darcy?” Levi challenged.

“Read---”

“Don’t.” Levi looked away.. “Tell me to read the book.”

“And there you are again.” Hange waved one hand at him, as if making a point.

A point Levi could only grip weakly. “You think I’m an asshole?” One realization dawned on him, maybe he had been pressing a little too much at her points.

“Not an asshole. A well intentioned man with a very abrasive manner of speaking.”

“Abrasive?” Levi asked. When he realized he put a little too much lip into the ‘br’ and too much throat into that last last syllable that Hange might have just been right, but only just. “What makes you think I’m abrasive?” He added, a second later, just making his manner of saying the word ‘abrasive,’ softer and tamer.

Hange looked pointedly at him. She stood up, right in front of the gazebo. And she stood there for a second longer, as if she expected him to follow.

It was awkward to sit alone on a bench, in a garden he wasn’t familiar with, especially when the partner of the owner was standing seemingly uncomfortable by the gazebo. He stood up and walked towards her.

“Was I at least tolerable?” Hange asked with a very distinct tone, a hint of a mock accent in her voice.

Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. For some reason, those words had stuck with him. “Why the hell are you citing the book?”

“Oh, so you noticed. I wanna play a bit,” Hange said.

“Play what?”

“Just play a bit with the man who reminds me so much of Mister Darcy,” Hange said. The insult still poked at Levi at his most irritable and he was tempted to walk away.

Hange put one hand out and the most natural movement was to look back. “What do you want?” Levi asked. Two parts of him were grappling for control, one with the intention to walk away and one tempted to take her hand. “Why are you putting your hand out?”

She’s married. She’s married. She’s married.

“May I have this dance?” Hange asked.

No, you cannot dance with a married person. People go to balls because they’re single. His conscience wasn’t screaming but it had grumbled it with utmost authority.

Holding hands was off limits. Holding hands with a married person in one of the summer houses of her billionaire husband was very much off limits. What the hell was Hange thinking? His head started to spin, there was a hitch of breath and Levi didn’t even think confusion could have sent a prickle in his eyes.

The hand quickly disappeared from in front of him. Levi looked up to see Hange had pulled that hand back and it fell to her side. Still, Hange was moving it, as if it was still very much fair game. “See, you’re a softie at heart,” she said.

“What are you trying to prove?” Levi asked.

“That you’re like Mr. Darcy?” Hange was getting more and more smug. “Mr. Darcy didn’t wanna dance either.”

“We’re not in a ball,” Levi said, blood rushing to his cheeks. Suddenly everything seemed like an insult. Darcy was an asshole yet a big softie. Two descriptions on two different ends of the spectrum. Levi started to reflect. Which description was more insulting?

Hange leaned back on the gazebo. ”Let me enjoy this, I met a guy who reminds me of mister Darcy. Then when we first met, I thought you hated me, if not hated me, I thought you just hated the world,” she said.

"How can you assume that from our first meeting?" Levi asked.

Hange sighed. "You sat too far away from me, you acted like my being there was an inconvenience and you weren't too happy to be answering all my questions."

"I was being professional."

"I have met sales people nicer than that."

Levi wasn’t a salesman. That much, he could admit. "And just because I was a little abrasive, you'll assume I hate you?"

"What can I say, that's my prejudice," Hange said. She didn't look like she would have bothered to hear much about his explanation.

"And what are you going to say now? My own abrasiveness is pride?" Levi challenged. Really, he was in no mood for a challenge then, a challenge he didn’t himself understand. He sighed and turned back to the bench. From the mischievous glint in Hange’s eyes, it was obvious there were way more things he still didn’t understand. “Give me time to finish the book,” he said.

He stretched his legs out, unlocked his phone and opened the ebook file.

He didn't remember the last words where he stopped but he did remember one particular passage that seemed a little bolder, the ink darker particularly on the bright white of his phone screen.

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

Then comprehension came quickly after that. Levi scanned through the next page, until reaching a point where he knew there was new information.

Back to that asshole Darcy. At that point, Levi was in less of a mood to reflect. Hange had called him Darcy, he still considered that one character to be a total asshole and he found himself torn between denying and accepting his sad fate.

Hange continued to move, a flicker at his peripherals. He felt it clearly, she sat beside him again. He heard the click as she unlocked her phone. Then the all too familiar sound as the love alarm activated. Love alarm or Emotion alarm?

Levi cursed himself for reusing that damn sound. He glanced quickly, just to search for some flash in the color. He couldn't really tell the contents of her phone from his angle. And when he had gathered up the courage to look, Hange had already pocketed it.

“Peaceful isn’t it?” Hange started.

“How do you feel today?” Levi asked. He kept his voice disconnected, not looking at all at Hange.

“Happy,” she said.

Levi had turned on his own application almost surreptitiously, making the conscious effort to silence it just a second ago.

The alarm flashed before him again. A very familiar yellow, with the words happy on top.

“Good for you then,” Levi finally responded.

He made another conscious effort, a quick sanity check, just to make sure the smile wasn’t apparent in his tone.

The house wasn't empty.

As Levi soon found out as they made their way back out to the gate, there were housekeepers, gardeners. And they seemed fond of Hange, fond enough to even remember her birthday. Some had even been friendly enough to ask who the man with her was.

Friendly. Or suspicious. For a while longer, Levi was self conscious.

But there was nothing to hide. He and Hange after all had just gotten friendly over the months.

“This is Levi, he’s a developer helping me work on my PhD,” Hange explained it like it was just the truth.. “And I thought I’d show him around the estate. If you don’t mind…” And it was the stone cold truth and as she spoke, Levi couldn’t help but be fascinated at how feelings of sadness, guilt and relief mixed so easily together inside him.

The housekeeper shook her head. “No, we don’t mind at all. Do you two need lodging? We could prepare---”

Hange put her hands up in front of her. “No, that would be too much. We’re only here for the night and I think I wanna go further up north.”

“Just like last time?” Worry flashed across the housekeeper’s face for just a second. “You know it gets dangerous nearer to the mountains…”

“We’ll only be there for a while, just long enough to see it again. And we’ll be careful about it.” Hange looked like she was saying too much. But she always talked so it shouldn’t have been such an odd thing to think. Maybe because Hange spoke with a little more tension, her words came out of her much faster, sometimes stilted and Levi found himself staring, then avoided her gaze as he realized he couldn’t even control what he was feeling.

The quick exchange eventually ended and he was following Hange out of the house. Her strides were much harder to keep up with.

“Sorry about that,” Hange said. “I get nervous when I visit the Jaeger estate alone.”

“You’re married to Zeke, you have every right to be there.”

“I married Zeke, not his money. I don’t wanna play the partner that just suddenly enjoys all the richest and powers of my husband. That’s why I didn’t even take his name. I’m not a gold digger. I’m not a Jaeger, we just so happened to get married.” She got into the car and closed the door with a louder slam than usual.” I’d feel much better staying over if Zeke was with me.”

“You didn’t have to take me here either if you were uncomfortable.”

“I wanted to show you my Rosing Park,” Hange said. She placed her hand on the clutch and started the car. “And next, we go to ‘Pemberley.’ It’s a few hours away from here so buckle up.”

The car pulled out from the driveway and soon they were out on the road again.

A few minutes of silence later, Levi started to get a little restless. “This book really means a lot to you huh?” He asked.

Hange nodded then she was quiet for a while longer and Levi thought it proper to just let her navigate her way through. The car continued to whirr and if Levi looked closely, he even noticed his body was shaking with it. If he read for a while longer, he could end up with his head spinning and his eyes crossing. He increased the font size and willed himself to read again.

“You know,” Hange’s voice was ringing in the silence and it pulled him out of his semi concentrated state.

Levi looked up at her, and just behind her, he saw they arrived back in the free way.

Hange continued. “One thing about Pride and Prejudice, the author doesn’t spend too much time talking about how the landscapes look like. The appearance of the houses and gardens are up for interpretation.”

Levi recalled, Hange was a very inquisitive person. Enough to hyperfixate on landscape? He was doubting. “Then why did you imagine Zeke’s manor as Rosings?” He asked.

Hange shrugged. “If you read the book, you’d see, it was the home of Lady Catherine, an incredibly tacky place and if you remember the gardens behind the house, they’re very green but they seem…. Artificial? Rehearsed?” She gave a pained look.

“Then why do you care enough to look at them if you hate the gardens that much?”

Hange shook her head. “I don’t hate them but the novel, it made me reflect on a lot of things and sometimes, when I allow myself to look at the landscapes, I’m able to think about what happened in the book, and about love and---”

“So Mr. Darcy proposed to Elizabeth,” Levi interrupted. “Then what happened?”

“She turned him down,” Hange said.

“Why?”

“To put it simply, because she thought Darcy was an asshole.”

“It’s only natural that people wouldn’t want to marry an asshole right?” Levi asked. “Books should be teaching those types of things.”

Hange spared him a long glare. “Well, here’s the thing. Mr. Darcy isn’t an asshole. He’s misunderstood.”

“And what do romance novels do but romanticize every single ‘misunderstood’ man.”

Hange hummed and stared back again at the front. The car continued to move at a steady pace. A long pause followed. Then she spoke up again. “What if I told you Pride and Prejudice is not really a romance?”

“When it follows a couple and the development of a relationship, I think it counts.”

Hange patted the steering wheel. “Well sure, the novel tackles love and marriage but the approach is… cold, calculating. If you notice, they spend more time discussing money, properties, duty. It takes into account money, status, upbringing… so it seems more like a social commentary to me. ”

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

“Then how did this book shape your idea of love?” Levi asked.

Hange put her finger to her chin. She had a far off look. “I like the idea of approaching love as something to calculate and to think about. Like Elizabeth and Darcy, they explored it, they thought long and hard about it..”

“Oh?” Levi asked, one eyebrow raised. “Is this where your ‘love is a choice’ schtick comes from?”

Hange bit her lip. “Not just that definitely. There’s a lot to learn about being hasty, about having to think long and deep about love and marriage. They didn’t fall in love at first, they were prideful. They had their prejudices but they made it work… And I thought to myself, maybe these are what love and marriage are? Maybe they're calculating like a science, maybe we should consider everything from reputation, money, family and convenience when we deal with something like love and marriage and it’s okay to approach life that way.”

For some reason, that tirade only made Levi heavier and heavier the more he continued. "The main character… she turned down Mr. Collins proposal and that was because she didn't love him right? Emotions play a part too," Levi said.

"I'm not denying it," Hange said. "But ask yourself, how much of a part are emotions supposed to play?"

That question, Levi couldn't answer. Somehow, that should have been something someone a little more experienced like Hange should have answered for him. Instead, she kept quiet, her eyes looking straight ahead, but she blinked a little faster the next few times as if she was struggling with something he couldn't see.

It could have been uncharacteristic. It was an odd set of emotions to play with but Levi was suddenly more and more compelled to break the silence himself. With nothing much else to say, he let his emotions speak for him. "If I were a little cold before, I didn't mean that."

"No offense taken," Hange grinned at him knowingly. "You seem tense." She was studying him for that glimmer of a second before she started to fiddle with her phone with her free hand. "I have the audiobook for Pride and Prejudice. You wanna listen?"

***

"They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound.

"This is supposed to be my Pemberley," Hange said. She had been hyping it up since a while ago that it seemed almost anticlimactic then. With the tone Hange was giving, he was sure she had been a little disappointed too. "Believe me, it looks nicer on good days," she added.

It had been a good day until a while ago. He could have sworn the sky had been blue for at least half the trip. Grey clouds were a strange things, part of the clouds were grey from afar but never looked too menacing until they was looming directly above them. Only when it was nearer did it have the tendency to just blanket everything in a very dull and unbearable grey.

Any color would look grey with the right level of dimness. He wondered for a while longer why Hange was still continuing the trek. The longer they walked, the farther they got from the car.

Levi’s worry, his nervousness only increased threefold, fourfold then he lost count. After all, they had stopped on what could have been the middle of nowhere. He couldn't tell where they were. Any inkling of sense laid out in front of them was in the form of a dirt road, just stretched out from the freeway with no buildings for miles, no pit stops.

And if it actually started to rain? Levi imagined it for a second before shaking his head. He tried to focus on other things like the ease of walking, his manageable energy levels.

The meagre late lunch of a drive-through burger meal was more than enough for a quick hike. Levi found himself pondering whether energy should have even been expended for something so grey.

The color grey just didn't seem worth the hike to see. "Why are we here?" Levi asked.

"Let's just stay long enough to climb the hill." Hange seemed persistent. Her back was on him and he couldn't tell the face she was making then. “It might look better on the other side.”

They were near enough at least that Levi had to crane his neck to see the top and he consoled himself. Maybe it was worth the hike. Maybe Hange was more privy to weather patterns and she at least calculated the quick hike and the awe that it would be worth.

Then Levi reminded himself, it was her birthday. Whether it did leave him as in awe as she was was irrelevant. That was a consolation Hange afforded herself. He was merely a companion. There should be things to get out of the conversation at least. “Tell me about your Pemberley,” Levi said.

“You’re gonna continue reading right? Do you really want to know?” Hange asked, seeming suddenly careful with her words.

After spoiling me the rest of the way? Levi would have wanted to ask.

“You seemed invested,” Hange said. It was a sufficient answer to his silent question. “I’d rather you read it on your own. Especially the part about Pemberley and the scene in Rosing’s.”

“Why? After spoiling me this much?” His abrasiveness, the irritation had made his legs lighten under him and he moved a little faster catching up to Hange.

Hange seemed concentrated, looking ahead, not hesitating even as the incline presented itself right in front of them. It was getting steeper and Levi felt it as an ache in his legs as he climbed but Hange, admirably or begrudgingly, seemed unfazed

Levi was a few inches shorter and maybe he was at a disadvantage. He didn’t have the same investment either but he stepped forward, going at the steeper incline with wider strides while maintaining speed. He looked to Hange who was right next to him. She continued to look ahead, she craned her head back, her hastily tied hair fell behind her and she was whispering something.

If Hange hadn’t seemed hypnotized yet disturbed, if the fat cold droplets didn’t settle on his arms, getting stronger and more numerous by the second, maybe he would have let her climb and climb. He would have obediently followed behind.

It had been everything at once. Maybe confusion at everything had been that one final nail on the coffin. Irritation welled quickly, then anger. Hange hadn’t been speaking in any straightforward manner for a while already so he forced it out of her.

“Why the hell does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi raised his voice. Just in case that hadn’t been enough, hell, that had actually been enough, he pulled her from behind.

The rain accumulated on the dirt road quickly and when Hange turned to answer, she fell backward rapidly. Right on top of him.

It was a quick and terrifying sequence or movements, Levi found himself sandwiched, Hange in front of him, his behind buried in mud and dirt, blades of grass were brushing heavily past him. But he didn't stop.

They didn't stop. Gravity had them moving down, naturally quickly and violently down the steep incline and Levi could only be thankful that the grass had been kind, absent of anything that could have snagged at any part them.

A few long seconds later, by some miracle, they were unharmed, still very much alive.

It didn’t change the fact that at the bottom, they were both fucking dirty. And he was a little--- scratch that--- very rattled. And Hange was on top of him, her hair clung close to her, her glasses had fallen to her mouth and she seemed just a little disconcerted.

Hange pushed herself up. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” She put one hand on his cheek, one filthy hand.

Instinctively, Levi pushed it away. She was disgusting. They were both disgusting. He could taste a hint of dirt at his lips and he closed his nose and shut his mouth before he could taste anymore.

It was disgusting. And in that state, he was recalling how pleasant almost drowning seemed when he was covered in mud, the rain only continued to pour. He would rather have been drinking salt water then.

When he noticed that a minute passed under the rain, he started to observe then search for signs on how Hange might have been feeling. They had left their phones in the car. He was thankful they weren’t casualties but he was a little regretful that he couldn’t read her then.

Purple. He made a guess. That was the only reading she had given then. Sad angry? Or angry sad?

But when he looked for sadness, angriness, he saw it in those wide eyes in the red just under her eyes. Or he could have been projecting. It could have also been a placebo affect.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I got so fucking worked up over this. Let's go back." Hange's voice was stilted, alarmingly cold.

"You've done this before right?"

The rain wasn't stopping anytime soon. In fact, it came down hard and Levi could have felt like he was drowning again.

The storm had proven to be a worse adversary. The wind was almost as menacing as waves.

He struggled to his feet. Hange had held out her hand, wrapped one arm around his shoulder and standing up became a small feat.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hange asked again, her voice a whisper that brushed at his neck. She was close enough to even overwhelm the pouring rain just outside their small bubble.

He hadn't answered her earlier. He didn't even know how she had been able to get the message to him in spite of the wind blowing at their face, the thunder and the patter of the rain on the dirt road.

When they were close enough, shoulders and arms touching, her lips almost brushing against his ear. He thought it close enough that she would probably hear if he whispered. Maybe it was worth just opening his mouth to speak. Two words or maybe four. Just long enough so she won’t have to speak again the whole trek back to the car.

“Let’s just go back.”

***

Adrenaline, exhaustion and the shaken state eventually gave way to irritation once again.

It was a slow process but Hange was silent. She had been driving much slower and with the peace, the slow rhythm of the whirring of the car, Levi had time and space to contemplate.

Levi was contemplating the expenses of cleaning a rented car. When the mud started to dry and harden, when they caked at his skin, they only aggravated the at first, silent irritation. It was silent but it was irritating altogether. He angrily wiped his hands on the dashboard of the car, and reached for his phone next to the clutch.

“Levi, I can pay for cleaning up the car," Hange said.

Levi kept quiet. For one, he didn’t want to entertain the idea of making her pay for all of it. A part of him though, the stingy part, would have rather she did.

“Levi, are you angry at me?” Hange asked a minute later.

And that phrase always had that magic of making most people angrier than they were already. Levi was no exception.

Still, he did try to be just a little nicer. “You’re driving aimlessly on the road. We’re a mess in the car. We’re both covered in mud, my legs and my arms hurt. Hange, think.”

“Think?”

“Who wouldn’t be at least a little angry?” His tone betrayed his words. Hange had been responding in questions since a while ago and it only served to further aggravate it.

“I told you, I’m sorry.” She did say 'sorry' a while ago but he wasn't in the mood to accept it then. So it slipped his mind.

“Well, finally you’re being more direct but you know, it would have been helpful if you’ve been more open since a while ago.”

“More open about what?”

Levi smacked his hand on the dashboard. “There you are again, you ask questions but you never fucking answer. And if you answer you’re fucking vague, or you fucking digress.”

“Any... question you wanna ask?” Hange asked hesitantly.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you? Why does this damn book mean so much to you? You’re a scientist, a researcher. Why are you getting so worked up over a fucking social commentary?”

Hange gave him a wounded look, and she stared for a long time. Levi only noticed then, that that had been the longest stare she had been giving him in a while. The fiasco of a while ago was enough of an evidence that Hange did get worked up over it and Levi held it like a memento, just in case Hange decided to play oblivious.

She didn’t. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I got emotional.” But she still wasn’t answering questions.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi asked again. He kept this voice hard, stone cold and firm. He enunciated every syllable and every word like they were separate from one another.

Hange avoided his gaze. “Well, I really like the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy---”

“Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s because I would have wanted the same for myself---”

“Would have?” And Levi caught it, two words that had hovered in the air for a second.

Hange clamped her mouth shut.

“Would have?” Levi repeated again in the silence. And the irritation, the discomfort and the fury from being caked from head to toe with semi dried mud had somehow been released with two words.

“I have the same for myself,” Hange clarified.

“Would?”

“It’s a slip of the tongue,” Hange said. She didn’t look back and it didn’t look like she would be prodding that topic anymore.

So Levi brought up another question. “What about Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship do you like?”

“It’s... “ Hange was hesitating. “It’s in the small details…” She seemed more concentrated on the road ahead of her.

“Go on.” Levi gripped on the seat cushion underneath him. Somehow, the car was starting to move in time to the patter of the rain.

“You might even think I’m crazy for looking at them…” Hange continued.

“But…” Levi turned to Hange, he looked closely as her lips parted as if she was about to say something.

Then her voice filled the cramped space inside the car for only a split second, before the squeak of tires, the spray of water and the burst of sensations that came with the dizzying experience of his body lurching forward in his seat.

For a second, Levi could have sworn he was dead.

***

They weren’t the only ones who decided to call it a day. It turned out there were numerous people who had been wandering around that side of the country and it looked like that particular motel had been the only one for miles around.

The first warning should have been the fact that it had taken Levi and Hange minutes to navigate a pretty small parking lot, just to find a place to fit the car. The second warning should have been the amount of lit up windows.

At that point, they were both exhausted and Levi had focused too clearly on the ‘open’ sign.

Open 24 hours.

So he didn’t waste any time. Hange didn’t either. It was cold, it was raining and Levi could forget that it was too early in September for him to have been shivering, for white fog to be accompanying his shuddering breath.

It was his first time up north, autumn came much earlier. That didn’t stop him from grumbling silently about why autumn rains had to be so cruel.

It was barely even autumn. Shitting on the weather proved to be an adequate consolation for their very uncomfortable state.

Hange seemed unsure and maybe she had heard his grumbles, maybe she had assumed it was about her. “I’ll check if they have any rooms,” Hange said, an apologetic smile on her face. She looked down towards his elbow. “And I’ll ask for a first aid kit, so we could do something about that.”

His body had been a conglomeration of discomforts since a while ago and the bleeding scrape on his elbow had been a terrible surprise. Not so terrible actually as he looked closer, he barely even felt it.

Before he could stop her, Hange had went ahead to the reception, covered in mud and all. Levi was grateful at least that they both had cleaned their shoes on the way in. The headache would be left to whoever would be cleaning their car.

The man at the counter was apologetic, a little too nice and he spoke to Hange like he was talking to some higher figure. It was a simple back and forth.

They were guests, he worked in hospitality. It was a natural exchange.

Maybe Levi had just been a little perceptive because everyone seemed to approach Hange with some unique form of respect. After a brief back and forth, Hange turned back to Levi, a flash of uncertainty on her face.

Just a flash. Before Levi could perceive more, it disappeared.

Levi still saw that as a cue to follow behind. “What?”

“So there is only one room left, towards the back...” Hange started.

“Apologies about this…” The receptionist bowed his head. “The roads get slippery… And it’s dangerous to go out so many people….” He was babbling at that point and all Levi wanted him to do was get to the point.

Hange let out a sigh then dropped her credit card on the table. “We’ll take it.”

“You managed to get a room, why is he apologizing?” Levi asked, turning to the comparably more coherent Hange Zoe.

“Well, there’s only one room left,” Hange responded.

“And?”

“There’s only one bed.” Hange had said that part with a straight face. She huffed and put one muddy finger up in front of him. “But you know, I really think we can make this work...” 

[vcg73]

FIC: Kurt Birthday Drabbles

Earlier this week @elledelajoie left a comment on something I wrote all the way back in 2014.  I had genuinely forgotten I ever started it, but the original idea was to write 21 Kurt Hummel birthday drabbles. I had written just 7 of them, but after we chatted about it, I decided to go ahead and finish.  

If you’re not familiar, a drabble is a scene of exactly 100 words, not counting title headers. Since Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel’s co-birthday (May 27) is coming up this Thursday, here they are. This goes definite AU at Birthday #19. Because you know I would never sentence my beloved Kurt to a life of being a doormat to people who did not appreciate and value him.

Never underestimate the power of feedback!

~*~*~*~*~

Birthday #1

Kurt’s blue eyes went wide as a frosted cupcake was set upon his high-chair tray, a single candle ablaze on its surface.  

When Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Andy, Grandpa Curtis and Grandma Eileen started singing to him, he smiled and clapped both hands hard around the tempting pile of frosting.

Kurt laughed when the sugary topping went flying and a big splatter of white abruptly decorated Daddy’s surprised face.

Everyone else started laughed too, including the startled father, who retaliated by giving his birthday boy a sticky peck on the cheek and then helped him to blow out a new candle.

Birthday #2

Kurt looked between his presents, confused.

Mommy had given him the pretty dolly he had begged for at the store. Daddy had given him a truck, not big enough to ride but too big to live with the little cars Daddy gave him at Christmas.

His parents seemed to be mad at each other.

Kurt looked at the doll, then at the truck. He smiled and placed Dolly inside the truck and began to drive her around the carpet.

Mommy and Daddy seemed surprised by his actions, but then they laughed, and Kurt knew he had figured out the puzzle.

 Birthday #3

His shoes were black and shiny, buckles on the sides and 1-inch heels on the base. He clomped over the hardwood floors, listening to the click-tap-click-tap in delight. They went perfectly with his dove gray coveralls with “Kurt” sewn on the pocket in black sequins. Mommy had made the outfit for him.

Spotting Daddy watching him, Kurt threw himself into waiting arms. Daddy’s smile looked like he had an owie but was trying to be a big boy and not cry.

Kurt hugged him. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

Burt looked surprised but hugged him back. “Yeah, buddy. I think it is.”

 Birthday #4

Ballet girls were nice. When they heard it was his birthday today, they threw him a party. Kurt puffed up with pleasure when presented with cookies, a sparkly wand and a tiara that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in shiny letters. He was not as fond of the kisses they gave, but four was very grown up, so he screwed up his face and allowed it. The teacher even let him wear the special puffy pink tutu over his little black leotard! 

 He saw Mommy and Daddy up in the gallery taking pictures, so he waved.

Kurt hoped today would last forever.

  Birthday #5

“Can I have cupcakes?”

Kurt’s mother looked up from her book. “I don’t think we have any, sweetheart.”

“Can we have some Thursday?  My birthday is the last day of preschool.”

“It is?” she said, looking surprised. “Is it your birthday already?”

He nodded seriously. “Don’t you remember, Mommy? You were there.”

She laughed. “Well, you have me there.  What kind of cupcakes would you like, sweetie? And don’t say cheesecake. Those are two completely different kinds of dessert.”

Kurt’s hopeful expression fell. “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. Then his face brightened again. “Chocolate?”

She nodded. “That we can do.”

   Birthday #6

“Daddy!”

Burt sat up just in time to catch the little body that launched at him. “What’s wrong, slugger?”

“It’s my birthday!”

Grinning despite the way his heart was hammering at the abrupt awakening, Burt asked, “Yeah? I like birthdays. Do I get a present?”

“No,” the boy scoffed. “I get presents!”

 Burt squinted at the clock. 3:15am. “Not until morning, you don’t.”

Kurt pouted and tried, “It’s almost morning.”

“Not close enough, kid. C’mere,” Burt pulled him into the warm bed between himself and his wife.

Kurt snuggled down and went right back to sleep.  

Burt was less lucky.

 Birthday #7

Kids had started treating him funny this year. He was too fancy, too girly, holding hands was weird.

Nobody was coming.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Am I too late?”

They jumped as a little black girl with pom-pom hair popped out of nowhere.

“I’m Mercedes,” she greeted. “We just moved here. Mom said you would have invited me if you’d known.”

“I’m Kurt.” He smiled. “Do you like tea parties?”

“Is there cake?”

Mrs. Hummel beamed. “Cake, ice cream, and Kool-Aid.”

Kurt shrugged. “Nobody else came.”

She grabbed his hand like she’d known him forever. “More for us!  Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

 Birthday #8

Kurt took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and carefully blew out the candles. All but the extra one that his parents always put on his cake.

“Aren’t you gonna finish, bud?”

He looked from Daddy over to his mother, home again, but so frail he was sometimes afraid to hug her, worried she might pop like a fragile soap bubble. He offered her the candle. “Here, Mommy. Blow it out. Maybe you’ll get another year to grow on.”

The eyes of the two adults met, then Mommy nodded. The three of them blew out the final candle together.

 Birthday #9

Barely daring to hope, Kurt came down the stairs.  Birthday cakes and presents had been Mommy’s specialty.  Daddy had forgotten his own birthday and had nearly forgotten Christmas.

Kurt gasped when he saw it, waiting, shining and spectacular against the front door.

“A bike!”

Bright green, sissy bars with foil streamers, and a banana seat. Perfect!

Burt smiled. He had scoffed a such a “girly” bike when Kurt spotted it at the toy store. But now, looking at the all-too-rare joy in his son’s eyes and feeling the approving smile his wife would have given, he nodded. It was perfect.

 Birthday #10

Buying gifts was tough when your kid always clammed up on you. A dad had to be observant.

Ten years old. A landmark like that needed something special, but the only thing Kurt seemed into was clothes. He had enough of those for ten kids.  

He’d probably like a Barbie he could change in and out of different outfits, but Burt cringed at the thought.

He did doodle pretty good though. Sure, it was mostly pictures of clothes, but that was a start.

A fancy sketchpad with a case and a hundred different colored pencils. Yeah, that was the ticket.

 Birthday #11

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Kurt sighed with exaggerated impatience. He had come home from school to find Dad waiting at the truck, ordering him to get in, then not saying another word. The suspense was killing him.

“Ta-Dahhhh!”

They had pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. “Columbus Culinary Arts?”

“You like to cook right?  Well, we’re gonna fix your birthday dinner this year with the help of a real chef. Lessons are once a week for the next couple months.”

Gourmet cooking lessons!

“Oh wow. Dad, this is amazing!”

Burt grinned. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

 Birthday #12

Last year’s surprise had gone so well that Burt had decided on a repeat. But when he saw the excitement on Kurt’s face at finding a pair of tickets inside his birthday card turn to disappointment and horror, quickly masked with a fake smile, he knew he’d goofed.

“I know baseball isn’t your thing,” he said, almost pleading. “But you’ve never seen a live game before. It’s a whole different experience. It’s a home game. We can yell and scream, and cheer our team on with thousands of other fans.”

The stiff not-smile never wavered. “Sounds . . . fun.”

 Birthday #13

Dad had bought out one of the partners at the garage this spring and now owned a majority share of the renamed “Hummel Tires & Lube”. Kurt wanted to snicker at that name, but he was proud too.

His birthday this year coincided with Friday Night Dinner. Dad had invited all the mechanics over for a potluck. They’d had Mary’s special fried chicken, Cassius’s homemade cornbread, and Davy’s mac’n’cheese. Now Dad brought out the cake.

Kurt laughed. A sheet-cake with a tow-truck and two little plastic mechanics for decoration.

“You and me kid. Partners.”

The mechanics cheered and everybody dug in.

  Birthday #14

Kurt froze when he saw tickets peeping out of his card. Not again. Noise, sunburn, unhealthy food, tacky uniforms, and Dad trying so hard to make a boring sport seem like fun.

He sighed and pasted on a smile, which quickly transformed into shock.

“Wicked?” he squeaked, staring hard at the little papers as if the printing might change if he dared to look away.

“Embassy Theater is giving regional business owners a discount this year,” Burt said apologetically. “It’s just a traveling production, not real Broadway, but I …”

His apology was cut off by a joyful teenaged hug.

 Birthday #15

“Don’t worry, son, you got this.  Just remember everything I taught you.  You got a whole year to get ready for the practical test.”

“I know.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time. Not everybody does.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ll be okay, really.”

At that moment, Kurt’s name was called and he sprang from his hard green plastic chair. His dad’s repeated reassurances were making him jumpy.

Twenty minutes later, a brightly grinning Kurt was waving his freshly minted driver’s permit.

 Birthday #16

Burt patted the giant blue bow the dealership had provided over the hood of the shining black Lincoln Navigator.  

Kurt was gonna flip! He’d passed his DMV test with flying colors and was no doubt showing off his shiny new license to all his friends at school.  

He paused. Did Kurt have any friends to share this accomplishment with? He always seemed so alone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to spoil his son with a huge birthday gift.

It wasn’t right for such a good kid to be all alone. Maybe having his own ride would help change that.

  Birthday #17

A dozen teens gathered in Kurt’s basement to celebrate the end-of-school, non-disbanding of Glee, and Kurt’s birthday, all in one.

“Not like ten years ago,” Mercedes said to Kurt, as they watched Mike and Brittany dance.

“Ten years?”

“Your seventh? It was just you, me, your mom, and lots of chocolate cake.”

Kurt was astounded. “That was you?”

“You forgot?”

“I remember a little girl who showed up and invited herself to my party.”

“And I remember a little boy who needed a friend as much as I did.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed back. “Always.”

 Birthday #18

Kurt stared at his birthday cake, unable to think of anything to wish for.

He was 18-years-old today, a legal adult. He had new family in Carole and Finn, his dad was on the mend, he would be back at McKinley for senior year, he had made his first visit to New York City, and he had a boyfriend! One who had just told Kurt that he loved him for the very first time.

‘I wish for next year to be as good as this,” he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing.

The flames flickered out, all except one.

 Birthday #19

Senior year had been a disaster, and now he had not gotten into NYADA, despite his well-praised audition.

“Blaine wants me to spend another year here,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

Burt’s callused hand squeezed his neck. “Then don’t. You’re 19 now, a man. You got talents galore, work experience from the garage, enough drive for ten kids, and your mom’s life insurance money to give you a start.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Burt said firmly. “You go on to New York and grab life by the balls.”

Kurt felt his optimism rise. “Help me look for apartments?”

“You got it.”

 Birthday #20

What a difference a year made.

He’d dumped Blaine after being cheated on less than a month after leaving Lima.  He was enrolled at FIT and sharing a shoebox apartment with a fellow design student and a Broadway hopeful, but both were young gay men from small towns, and they had a lot in common.

“Happy Birthday!” Elliott shouted, tossing a handful of glittery sequins at him.

Adam came in playing the birthday song on a kazoo he had gotten from who-knows-where. “Ready for Callbacks? $20 on who gets the first hot guy’s number!”

“I already have yours. I win!”

 Birthday #21

“I have the honor of presenting your first official grown-up drink,” Adam said, smiling lovingly at his grinning boyfriend of nearly a year. He set down a martini glass with a cherry floating on top. “A Manhattan seemed appropriate.”

Kurt beamed and gave him a kiss, then took an experimental sip. “I’ve had alcohol before,” he admitted. “Mostly wine, though.  Mm, this is good!”

“I thought you’d like it. Happy Birthday, my love.  May the future bring every good thing you wish for, and never more heartache than you can handle.”

Kurt could not have asked for a better sentiment.

THE END