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thatslikely · 3 years

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Fred Weasley’s Day Off (Part 1) - F.W.

Fred Weasley’s Day Off- Fred Weasley x Gender Neutral!Reader [Ferris Bueller’s Day Off AU]

Warnings: only occasional mild language

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this is Part 1 of my new 5 part series, Fred Weasley’s Day Off! You can find the series masterlist here. This part is going pretty similar to the movie, but as the story unfolds, I promise it isn’t a carbon copy of John Hughe’s masterpiece. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name, Y/L/N is Your Last Name, and thoughts are in italics.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @probably-peeves @horrorxweasley @weasleywh0r3s

if you want to be added to be added to my general (or this series!)’s taglist, send me a dm or ask!

If you haven’t seen Ferris Bueller’s Day off or just need a refresher, HERE all all the scenes included in this part in chronilogical order! I HIGHLY reccomend giving these a watch, for they make the situations a lot easier to understand (and they’re hilarious).

----

It’s a beautiful day today, temperatures in the upper 70’s. You can expect plenty of sun and not a cloud in sight. Right now, it’s 75 at lakefront, 74 at Midway, 73 at the O’hare.

“Arthur!” Molly Weasley screeched, beckoning her husband to Fred and George’s messy bedroom. The walls were plastered with large posters of their favorite bands and sports teams (mainly Fred’s), and an expensive computer sat on the desk in the corner. The door to the room was ajar, a frantic mother feeling a haggard Fred Weasley’s forehead.

“What's the matter?” Arthur asked, briefcase in hand.

“It’s Fred, for Merlin’s sake look at him!”

Fred laid slumped under the hand-knitted quilt like a corpse, his hair tousled and his chin unshaved. She continued, “he doesn’t have a fever, but his stomach hurts and he’s seeing spots!” Fred peeled his pained, umber eyes open, his weak gaze pointed to his suit-clad father.

A sympathetic Arthur reached for Fred’s cold and clammy hands, feeling them with a shudder. He’s got a bad cold, he thought, poor boy needs to stay home and rest.

“I’m fine, I’ll get up. I have a test today.” Fred leaned up slightly, his stuffy nose attempting to breathe. His baggy eyes drifted around the room, glazing the empty bed parallel to his’. “No!” Molly and Arthur Weasley stated firmly in unison, pressing his aching chest into the soft bed.

“I have to take it. I-I wanna go to a good college, so I can have a fruitful life.” Fred kept attempting to get out of bed, only for Molly’s gentle hands to guide him back down.

“Oh fine, what’s this? What’s his problem?” Ron leaned against the untidy bedroom’s door frame, his arms crossed, his face donning an unamused expression tinged with jealousy. He was looking daggers into Fred, who reciprocated nothing but a wink.

“He doesn’t feel well,” Molly stated, not pleased in the slightest with Ron’s distasteful demeanor.

“Yeah, right,” Ron rebutted with a scowl. The tips of Ron’s ears seared with resentment for his brother and anger at his naive and biased parents.

“Ronnie? Is that you?” Fred asked, his blurry vision making the outline of his brother near indistinguishable from the rest of his room. “Ronnie? I can’t see that far.” Fred leaned up in an attempt to see his brother, before falling backward with a dramatic moan.

“Dry that one out, you could fertilize the garden,” the younger ginger spat, tapping his toe furiously.

“Ronald, you get to school!” Molly demanded, vehemently gesturing for him to leave.

“You’re letting him stay home? If I was bleeding out my eyes you’d still make me go to school! This is so unfair.” Jealousy oozed from Ron’s clenched jaw like venom.

“Ron, please don’t be upset with me. You have your health, be thankful,” Fred said coolly. His eyes remained glinted with mischief, causing a furious Ron to storm off in a huff.

The concerned mother and father turned back to a wheezing Fred. Molly tucked him in tighter, cooing, “Now listen, I’ll be showing that new family some houses today, so I’ll be in the area. The office will know just where to find me if you need anything, okay?” A wave of gratefulness swept over Fred’s face.

“It’s nice to know I have such loving, caring parents. You’re both very special people.” Molly caressed Fred’s ashen cheek before planting a compassionate kiss on his warm forehead.

“G’bye champ,” Arthur said to his son before carefully shutting his door and walking to the garage.

They bought it.

Incredible. One of the worst performances of my career, and they never doubted it for a second. Fred peeled back the curtains blocking the beautiful view from his large windows with a smirk. He looked out the panes, admiring the gorgeous weather. How could I be expected to go to school on a day like this?

This is my ninth sick day this semester; it’s getting pretty tough coming up with new illnesses. If I go for ten, I’ll have to barf up a lung, so I’d better make this one count. Fred carefully adjusted his extortionate stereo, his fail-proof plan slowly piecing together.

Fred then stepped over to his desk, reaching for an old, hefty soccer trophy of his and some rope. The key to faking out the parents is the clammy hands. He started knotting the rope around the shiny golden award methodically. A lot of people’ll tell you to go for the old ‘phony fever’, but if you’ve got a nervous mother, you could wind up in the doctor's office. That’s worse than school.

“It’s a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school.”

He scrupulously placed the trophy contraption behind his door with a satisfied nod, proceeding to the bathroom dressed in his grey and maroon striped bathrobe. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Fred undressed and stepped into the steamy shower, quickly shampoo-ing his ginger mop into a spiky mohawk. He gave some thought about his plans for the leisurely day before removing the showerhead, gripping it like a microphone, serenading an imaginary audience, “I recall Central Park in fall. How you tore your dress, what a mess, I must confess…”

----

“Spinnet?” A greasy Mr. Snape drawled, spectacled eyes darting around the dingy classroom, illuminated with corporate fluorescent lights. “Spinnet?”

“Here!”

“Smith?” Silence. “Smith?”

“Present.”

“Weasley?” Snape asked, scanning the room for any signs of the irresponsible redhead.

“Weasley?” he repeated, uninterested and monotone. “Weasley?”

“Um, he’s sick,” a perky Cho Chang cut through the tense silence with a smile, “my best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend heard from this guy, who knows this kid who saw Fred pass out at Florean’s last night! I guess it’s pretty serious.”

“Thank you, Cho,” Snape said impassively.

“No problem, whatsoever!”

----

A robotic ring emitted from the phone next to Lee Jordan’s bed, disturbing the perturbed ambiance of the inert bedroom. The hypochondriac occupying the sheets clicked the silver ‘answer’ button with a shallow sigh.

“Hello?” George Weasley asked, his voice deep and groggy.

“Georgie, babe, what’s happening?” Fred’s exuberant voice questioned from the other end of the line, starkly contrasting his twin’s nonbelligerent energy.

“Very little,” he responded in a trance-like state, eyes spacing out at the blank ceiling, his mind nearly detached from his aching body.

“How do you feel?”

“Shredded.” Half-empty pill bottles and antihypertensive drugs lined the bleak nightstand to his left.

“Get dressed and come on back home. I’m taking the day off,” Fred imposed. He sat in a lounge chair, next to the turquoise pool, soaking in the bright morning sun, which starkly contrasted George’s dark atmosphere. He held a Brick to his ear, sipping an iced Hawaiian drink from a swirly straw. The only thing covering his body was a pair of floral swim trunks; plastic sunglasses rested in the ginger nest atop his head.

“I can’t stupid, I’m sick. I think I got food poisoning from Lee’s awful cooking.”

“It’s all in your head, George, come back home,” Fred said more firmly, taking another sip of the fruity drink in the souvenir cup.

“I feel like complete shit, Fred. I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Now come on over here so I can have a fun day off!” Fred demanded, hanging up the phone promptly. “Sheesh.”

George remained stiffly on the sheets, still as a statue, muttering, “I’m dying.” The phone chimed again with another call. Click.

“You’re not dying, you just can’t think of anything good to do!” Fred’s voice echoed through the dimly-lit room before the tone of an ended call took its place.

“Pardon my French,” said Fred to no one in particular, “but George is so tight, that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks, you’d have a diamond.”

Fred quickly abandoned the pool deck, instead continuing random antics around the vacant house, whether it was (horribly) playing his centuries-old clarinet, or prank calling gullible freshmen claiming he had an impending kidney transplant. This was the life.

“I’m so disappointed in George. Twenty bucks says he’s sitting in his car debating whether or not he should go out.”

Fred had hit the nail on the head. George sat in his four-wheeled hunk of junk for minutes, muttering to himself, “He’ll keep calling me. He’ll keep calling me until I go home. He’ll make me feel guilty. This is ridiculous! Okay, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.” He turned the key of the run-down car, only for the engine to cough and heave. “Goddamn it!”

----

“Molly Weasley,” Molly introduced herself to the caller from her desk at the local real estate office. She held the landline phone in one hand, the other scratching numerals and figures onto some spreadsheets.

“This is Dolores J. Umbridge, Dean of Students. Are you aware that Fred is not at school today, Miss Weasley?” she asked punctually, her voice laced with irritation.

“Yes, I am. Poor Fred is home sick.”

“Are you also aware that Fred does not have what we consider an exemplary attendance record? He has missed an unacceptable number of school days.” Umbridge looked icy and collected on the outside, but deep down she was fuming with anger. “I have no reservation whatsoever about holding him back another year.”

“This is all news to me,” Molly replied, taken aback by Umbridge’s blunt threats.

“It usually is.” Dolores turned her attention to the hunky computer opposite her, ready with Fred’s academic profile, scanning the pixels signifying his number of absent days. When she finally opened her jaw to announce the number to Mrs. Weasley with a devious grin, she was horrified to see the number of days slowly ticking down to two.

“I asked for a car, I got a computer,” Fred said with an unamused but smug smirk as he typed lines of code into his computer back at the Weasley household, “how’s that for being born under a bad sign?”

“I can appreciate how this time of year, children are prone to taking the day off. However, in Fred’s case, I can assure you, he’s a very sick boy.” And with that, Dolores hung up on a sympathetic Molly, her tight brunette curls gradually frizzing from aggravation.

“I don’t trust this… Fred Weasley,” Umbridge confided to her secretary, Augustus Filch. “What’s so dangerous about a character like Fred is that he gives good students bad ideas. The last thing I need is fifteen-hundred Fred Weasley disciples running around these halls. He jeopardizes my ability to effectively govern this student body.”

“Well, he makes you look like a bitch is what he does, Dolores,” Filch said with a smirk.

“You’re wrong,” Dolores asserted, fiery gaze piercing through Filch’s soul.

“Well, he is very popular. The sportos and motorheads, geeks, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads, they all adore him. They think he’s some righteous dude,” Filch said astutely.

“That is why I’ve got to catch him this time. Show these kids that you can’t just skip school nine times a semester like he has and get away with it!”

----

Mr. Binns, a prehistoric-looking man with novel-thick glasses, stood at the head of the classroom, giving his usual dull lecture. While he etched utter nonsense onto the chalkboard, you couldn’t help but release a bone-cracking yawn.

After years of sitting in your uncomfortable plastic chair, drowning out Mr. Binn’s boring babble, your saving grace arrived in the form of a grave Nurse Pomfrey.

You quickly slipped on your pale, leather jacket and stuffed your blank notebook into your backpack at the sight of the frail woman donning white scrubs like a dove, eager to escape class. Nurse Pomfrey had on a solemn face as she quickly whispered something into Mr. Binns’ ear before announcing to the uninterested class, “Y/N, Y/L/N, may I have a word with you?” You painted a look of surprise on your face before stepping into the hallway with the disturbed grey-haired woman.

“My dear, I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad tidings,” she said sorrowfully once out of the earshot of the small lecture hall, “your father called. Your grandmother has just passed.”

Your eyes welled with artificial tears, face drenched with heartbreak.

----

The landline echoed through Umbridge’s dreary, pale pink office.

“Dolores Umbridge,” she said pseudo-cheerfully into the handset held by her thulian claws.

“This is Phil Y/L/N,” a middle-aged man said, his voice slathered with a thick Chicago accent.

“How are you today, sir?” Dolores asked suspiciously.

“Well, today we’ve had a bit of bad luck. It’s been a tough morning,” he croaked, “now if you wouldn’t mind excusing Y/N, we have a lot of family business to attend to.”

“I’d be happy to, just produce a corpse and I’ll release Y/N. I want to see this ‘dead grandmother’ firsthand.” She peeled the phone away from her face, smiling valiantly at a mortified Filch, saying slyly, “It’s okay, it’s Fred Weasley. I’m setting a trap for him.”

“Dolores, I’m sorry, did you say you wanted to see a body?” an ill-tempered Mr. Y/L/N questioned in disbelief through the speaker.

“Yes. Just roll her old bones up here and I’ll gladly retrieve Y/N for you. That’s school policy.” Dolores looked so pleased with herself, a devilish smirk resting on her lips. The telephone in Filch’s office chimed, and he quickly dashed to answer it.

“Hello, Dolores Umbridge, Dean of Students’ office,” his gravelly voice answered.

“Hi. This is Fred Weasley. Can I speak to Miss Umbridge, please?” Filch’s mouth went desert-dry in horror, his aged, grey eyes bulging out of his skull. He dashed to a taunting Umbridge, jumping and waving for her to shut up.

“I’ll tell you what, if you don’t like my policies, you can come down here and kiss my-”

“Fred Weasley’s on line two, Dolores!” Umbridge’s eyes went as wide as saucers; her whole face, even her bright fuchsia lipstick, turned as white as a sheet.

She was quick to switch to line two, listening to Fred Weasley’s voice which filled the otherwise silent room.

“Miss Umbridge, I’m not feeling too well today,” Fred started, a smug and valiant grin on his face. He adjusted his clean and gelled hair, which perfectly complemented the perfectly-tailored suit he donned. “Would it be possible for Ron to bring home any assignments from my classes? Have a nice day.”

The only sound left in the office was the droning disconnect tone.

The ‘line one’ buttoned flashed bright red like a siren. With a shaky, wrinkled pointer finger painted with a coat of magenta nail polish, she hesitantly pressed the button, sucking in a breath.

“Mr. Y/L/N, I-I think I owe you an apology,” she said, mortified.

“I should say you do!” the deep voice on the other line boomed. Umbridge peeled open her lips for an apology, only to be cut off with, “Well I think you should be sorry for Merlin’s sake! A family member dies, and you insult me! What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“W-well I really don’t know. I didn’t think I was talking to you, I thought you were someone else,” Umbridge barely managed to spit out. “You know I would never deliberately insult you like that!”

“Find out where she is!” Umbridge hissed to an idle but nervous Filch, her palm covering the phone’s mouthpiece. He promptly scrambled around the surrounding metal filing cabinets, reaching for various binders and manilla folders.

“This isn’t over yet, do you read me?” The infuriated voice’s threat yelled into the frantic principal’s ear.

“Loud and clear, Mr. Y/L/N!” she responded while scouring the various sets of drawers for Y/N’s schedule.

“Call me sir, goddammit!”

“Yes sir!”

----

“That’s better. Mind your P’s and Q’s buster, and remember who you’re dealing with!” an exasperated George Weasley shouted into the kitchen’s phone, his voice at least an octave lower than usual. His look of fury was soon replaced with a smile from ear to ear, quite proud of the convincing-ness of his impression.

A dashing, suit-clad Fred Weasley soon strutted into the lemon-yellow kitchen, charismatically introducing himself, “Weasley, Fred Weasley.”

George held his palm over the mouthpiece of the phone, asking, “I’m scared. What if she recognizes my voice?”

“Impossible. You’re doing great.”

The self-conscious redhead brought the phone back to his ear, shouting “Umbridge!” furiously. Groaning echoed from the other end of the line. “Umbridge, calm down!”

“I don’t have all day to bark at you, so I’ll make this short, and sweet. I want my child outside of the school in ten minutes by themself!”

Fred gave George a harsh tap on his shoulder, hissing, “That’s too suspicious! She’ll think something’s up!”

“You do it then!” the other twin whispered back.

“Talk.”

“You!”

“Talk.”

“Fine!” he fizzled. “Umbridge! Pay Attention!” The magenta-suited principal was scuttering around her office, frantically searching for your schedule and something to repair the escalating situation.

“Umbridge! Changed my mind. I want you out there with them, I’d like to have a few words with you!” Fred swiftly slapped the phone from George’s clutches, causing it to fall on the tile carelessly. The identical gingers both scrambled for the phone, ending up in George’s grasp once again.

He yelled to the mouthpiece rapidly, “On second thought, we don’t have time to talk right now! We’ll get together soon and have lunch!”

Fred kicked George’s rear hard, causing a small yelp to escape George’s lips. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he spat at Fred, who quickly slammed the phone back to the base.

“Where’s your brain?” he harshly asked his irritated brother.

“Why’d you kick me?” George retorted, hurt.

“Where’s your brain?”

“Why’d you kick me?”

“Where’s your brain?”

“I asked you first!”

“How are we gonna pick up Y/N if Umbitch is out there with them?” Fred rhetorically asked, seething.

“I- I said for them to be alone and you freaked,” George stated, reverting back to his timid tendencies.

“Now, I didn’t… I didn’t hit you. I lightly slapped you.”

“You hit me.” Tension sliceable with a butterknife filled the kitchen.

“Look, don’t ask me to participate in your stupid antics if you don’t like the way I do it. You make me get out of bed. You make me come over here. You made me make a phony phone call to Dolores Umbridge? That woman could expel me, expel us, and then, you deliberately hurt my feelings!”

“No… I didn’t deliberately hurt your feelings,” Fred said, his words tinged with guilt. “What’re you doing?” George grabbed his red hockey jersey and keys that previously laid on the island.

“I’m going back to Lee’s, Fred. I need some rest. Have a nice life.”

“No, no, c’mon. Don’t do that, George,” Fred pleaded ruefully, “George, come back. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I’m sorry.”

“You serious?”

Fred gave a slow and sincere nod. George swiveled back around, setting his belongings back on the counter, his face lightened slightly.

“Now, to fix the situation, we’re gonna have to do something you’re not going to like.”

----

Fred and George peeled the sliding glass doors of the luxurious garage apart, revealing the interior, which was mainly lined with thousands of dollars worth of vintage car memorabilia, save for the treasured vehicle in the center.

“The 1961 Ford Anglia 105E Deluxe,” George said, his eyes pointed down at the prized pompadour blue car resting idly in front of the duo. Fred's eyes were also fixed on the vehicle, though his’ were illuminated with awe and mischief.

“Dad spent 3 years restoring this car,” he continued, hands behind his back, not daring to leave fingerprints on its shiny surface, “it is his love, it is his passion…”

“It is his fault he didn’t lock the garage,” Fred smirked, sauntering around the exterior of the automobile, slobbering all over the surface like a dog with fresh meat.

“Fred, what are you talking about?” George asked nervously, already knowing what Fred was plotting, “Dad loves this car even more than he loves you!”

“Fred, no.” Fred swiped his fingers over the perfect coat of paint, occasionally posing with the car as if he was a model on the front cover of a magazine.

“Que Bella!” he said with a chef’s kiss, still drooling over the car’s magnificence.

“Remember how insane he went when I snapped my retainer? And that was a tiny piece of plastic!” Fred paid an anxious George no mind, instead continuing his admiration for Arthur’s most valuable possession.

“George, I’m sorry, but we can’t pick up Y/N in that piece of scrap. He’d never believe Mr. Y/L/N would drive something like that!”

“It’s not a piece of scrap.”

Fred opened the driver’s side door, slowly sitting down in the comfortable cushioned seat, his umber eyes never breaking contact with George’s identical ones.

“He knows the mileage, Fred.”

“Look, this is real simple. Whatever miles we put on, we’ll take off.” Fred said, barely giving George the time of day.

“How?”

“We’ll drive home backwards.”

“No,” George said firmly, almost like a mother. Fred turned the key of the Anglia, its restored engine roaring ten times better than George’s hunk of junk’s.

“How about we rent a nice Cadillac, my treat!” He yelled as Fred slowly drove away, the revving of the vintage engine drowning out his voice. George stood frozen in disbelief, before Fred slowly backed up, beckoning George to join him.

With a heavy heart, George warily climbed into the back seat of the vehicle. And with that, Fred floored the gas, speeding off towards the Shermer High.

----

“I had a grandmother once,” Umbridge awkwardly stated, in an attempt to soothe your heart overcome with (fake) grief. “Two, actually.”

The suburbs outside of the Windy City lived up to their name today; Umbridge’s frizzy brown curls swayed in the strong breeze. The temperature today was the best it had been since last Autumn; it was a given that Fred would skip.

You patiently waited on the concrete steps outside the school, Umbridge continuing her “comforting” words, attempting to stitch the wounds caused by your grandmother’s staged death. You weren’t focused on the thulian tyrant, however, instead, your eyes waited on the road for the sight of a ruby-red-haired boy.

“Between grief and nothing, I’d take grief,” Umbridge said flatly.

“Great,” you replied softly, eager to shut the toadish old lady up. She opened her magenta-tinted lips to add something else, but she decided against it, promptly shutting her mouth without a sound escaping.

The stentorian roaring of the engine residing in cerulean Ford Anglia filled the silent air and idle parking lot, lightening your spirits instantly. While you didn’t doubt that Fred would’ve shown up eventually, his timing was impeccable. It didn’t hurt that he showed up in a killer ride, either.

A tall, lanky man drenched in a long beige trench coat, horn-rimmed sunglasses, and a businessman-looking fedora, which masked his fiery orange hair, emerged from the car, leaning against its body.

“Oh Y/N honey, hurry along now,” the stranger in disguise bellowed, his voice slightly higher pitched than ‘Mr. Y/L/N’s’ from the phone, a thickly-slathered Chicago accent present nonetheless.

“I guess that’s my dad.”

You grabbed the annoying principal’s wrinkly, cold hand, reciting, “Miss Umbridge, Dolores. You’re a beautiful woman, I wanna thank you for your warmth and compassion.”

A furious Ron watched from the scene play out from the large front windows of the school, immediately recognizing Fred and his infuriating antics with a scowl. Why should he get to skip while the rest of us have to stay? I’ve gotta catch him.

Umbridge looked near disturbed at your counterfeit words on thankfulness, before you eagerly stepped down to the car, giving ‘Mister Y/L/N’ a quick hug.

“Do you have a kiss for Daddy?” Fred jokingly asked with a smirk.

“Are you kidding?” you replied, leaning into his soft lips for a passionate kiss, which maybe would have escalated a little further if he didn’t drag you in the passenger seat of the Anglia.

“So that's how it is in their family,” Umbridge uttered as she watched the nearly-French kiss perched from her spot at the top of the stairway. She swiftly pivoted around walking to the front entrance to the school, when Fred floored the Ford again, its loud engine roaring off into the distance.

“Hi Georgie, you comfortable?” you asked, eyes towards the crampted back seat.

Once the three of you were out of Umbridge’s eyeline, a compact George sprung up from the lonely backseat, saying, “Hi, Y/N. No.”

“So, what're we gonna do?” you asked the dashingly handsome driver next to you with a smile.

“The question isn’t: What are we going to do? The question is: What aren’t we going to do?”

“Don’t say we’re not going to take the car home. Please don’t say that we’re not going to take the car home,” George mumbled, hopeful that Fred would comply, though he already knew that Fred would be doing the exact opposite.

If you had access to a car like this, Fred mentally narrated, gesturing to the amenities-rich Anglia, would you take it back right away? Me neither.

And with that, Fred recklessly rounded the bendy road, speeding off towards downtown Chicago.

103 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for the meet ugly asks, 18 with the ot4? nsfw, if possible? thanks

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW.

18: we were just introduced at a party by our mutual friend and when my partner comes to join us, you freak out because you were just outside making out with them and you pull me aside to tell me

“Duck! Over here!” Aubrey waves him through the crowd, pointing to the lumberjack lookalike next to her, “this is the guy I was telling you about. Barclay’s an old friend of Dani's and, get this, he and Indrid know each other too. Wait, where is mr. mothman?” Aubrey cranes her neck.

“He had to work a late shift, but he says hi. Literally” He fumbles his phone, “fuck, sorry, first thing to go when I’ve been drinkin is my coordination.” He eventually triumphs, showing them the photo of Indrid, silver hair tied back and Void the Rat perched on the sleeve of his ‘Waffle House’ shirt. The sticker on the photo says “Hi!”

“Aww” Barclay’s voice is the epitome of gentle giant, “he always wanted a rat. I’m glad he got one.”

“Whelp, now that I got you two talking, I’m gonna go spend some ‘quality time’ with my girlfriend.”

“Just don't get caught makin’ out in a closet again.” Duck calls. Aubrey flips him off with a smile.

“So how did you and Indrid--oh, there you are babe. Thought you mighta snuck out to take a work call.”

“No, just had to de-escalate a shoving match on the back porch. I know you love Jake, but maybe next time we should just have him over rather than coming to the kind of party we outgrew in undergrad. I’m discovering I don’t enjoy being under the influence in this kind of cramped party anymore."

“Yeah, not really loving the noise. I lose my voice enough in the kitchen. Duck, this is my boyfriend, Joseph. Joseph, this is Duck, he’s a friend of Dani and Aubrey’s.”

Duck crunches his cup as his mind takes a violent spin an hour into the past.

He’d been out on the side deck getting some air and sipping his beer when a guy who looks like he walked in from the set of some splashy T.V show where everyone is hot joined him. His lips looked damn good whenever he sipped his beer and Duck did his best to turn on the southern charm. It was sort of working, until he complimented the guys button up; it was covered in drawings of cryptids--including mothman, Indrid’s favorite--and fit him in the way that made Duck want to rip the buttons off with his teeth. As soon as he demonstrated his enjoyment of listening to a hot guy talk about monsters, the taller man moved gradually closer, bumping shoulders and locking eyes with growing boldness. When Duck said the song booming out of the house was his go-to for putting the moves on someone, the other man asked to see his technique.

They spent the next three songs in the darkest corner of the porch, Duck’s back pressing into metal slats as his new friend wove his fingers into his hair and teased their tongues together with an experts touch.

When Duck breathlessly asked if he wanted to go somewhere more private, he murmured, “Only after we’ve had a chance to talk about some things.”

Then his phone buzzed and he was gone, leaving Duck horny and tipsy under the stars.

Back in the present, he does everything possible to keep from meeting Joseph’s eyes as he mumbles, “I, uh, I, I need some help with somethin in the kitchen? Fuck, yeah, kitchen, Barclay can you come help?”

“Sure. Be right back, babe.”

The kitchen is packed with people doing ill-advised things with drinks, so Duck keeps Barclay in the hall as he whispers, “Man, I, I’m so fuckin sorry but I gotta say somethin’. Joe and I, we, uh, we already met.”

“Makes sense, he’s been in town a year. I just got here.”

“That ain’t the kind of meetin I mean. We got a little, uh, friendly on the porch tonight.”

Barclay gives an “ah” of understanding. Then he chuckles, “thought he looked a little ruffled when he passed me earlier.”

“I’m real fuckin sorry, I didn’t know. ‘Drid and I got an, an agreement, but I shoulda checked to see if he was datin someone.”

“That would have been smart.” Joe appears at Barclay’s shoulder, “but that’s why I said we needed to talk before we did anything else.” He strokes Barclay’s beard, “you and Indrid aren’t the only ones with an open relationship of sorts.”

“Ohthankfuck.” Duck slumps against the wall.

“While I was making sure no one made a punch that could give them alcohol poisoning, you were getting hot and heavy? That’s not fair, babe.” Barclay teases.

“I’ll make it up to you, big guy. Are you safe to drive?”

“Gonna give it another half-hour, just to be safe. You need a ride home, Duck?”

“Uh, sure, that’d be great.”

Soon, he’s bundled in the back of a Subaru, Joe sitting beside him while Barclay navigates through Saturday night traffic. They luck out; the game ran long, so they’re not fighting the throng coming out of the football stadium. When they reach his apartment, Joe stops him and hands Duck his phone. Duck didn’t even feel him take it in the first place. As he waves goodnight, he spots a new number sitting in his contacts and smiles.

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

“...the point is, it amuses me that Joseph shares my taste in me.” Indrid sips his white chocolate mocha, then yawns wide enough for Barclay to spot his tongue piercing, “apologies, I didn’t get to bed until three.”

“Jesus, man, gonna tell Duck to start knocking you out.”

“I was working on commissions.”

Barclay gives him a disbelieving look.

“....I was working on commissions until midnight. Then I spent three hours watching videos on the finer points of home entomology.”

“There it is. You can’t fool me, I remember what you were like at sleepovers.”

“It was very important to read every single Eyewitness book your parents generously bought you.” Indrid takes another sip with an imperious tilt of his head.

Barclay bumps his unoccupied hand, “It’s so fucking nice to see you again.”

Indrid looks at him over his glasses, brown eyes as beautiful as they were when he was sixteen, “Likewise. Oh!” He perks up, “do you know what this means? We can have a double-date! I’ve always wanted to try that.”

“Sure Joseph will be into it; he has a spreadsheet of optimal date locations. Bet he’ll have fun making one for double-dates.”

“That is...exceptionally geeky.”

Barclay sends a love-struck smile into his coffee cup, “Yeah, he is.”

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

Joe is more diabolical than Duck gave him credit for. And he thought he was pretty fucking cunning after he suggest seeing the local hockey team; the chilly arena gave Indrid and excuse to cuddle up to anyone who held still for too long and gave Joe plenty of opportunities to make double entendres about sticks in Duck’s ear.

But a night out at “Woofs” AKA the kind of gay bar where Duck and Barclay get hit on constantly is a whole new level of torment. Especially because Indrid hangs off Duck proudly (when he’s not teasing Barclay for the number of free drinks he’s getting) and Joseph even asks him to dance. When he peeks over the taller man’s shoulder, he sees Barclay resting his hand on Indrid’s arm while whispering something that makes him grin.

Dancing really is the most fitting thing he could be doing, because it’s what all four of them have chosen to do about this; dance around the fact that Indrid and Barclay dated, dance around the fact Joe and Duck kissed, danced around the fact that they’re more or less acting like a polycule already.

“Oh no.” Joe mutters, eyes on the door, “things are about to get loud.”

Duck’s about to point out that the club is already loud when he’s pulled out of the path of not one, but two bachelorette parties. They opt to stay, although Barclay gets hit on by someone who doesn’t believe he’s gay. Joe takes him onto the floor for a slow dance while Duck steps into the bathroom. When he comes out, his boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

“You guys seen ‘Drid?”

Joe shakes his head, all three of them already moving for the door. They find Indrid across the street on a bench, hunched over and tapping on his knees.

“‘Drid?” Duck sits gently beside him, “you get overwhelmed?”

Indrid nods.

“You wanna head home?”

Another nod. Duck suspects the overstimulation spiked without warning, which usually means…

“You need to be nonverbal for a bit?”

This time Indrid looks at him when he nods, then cringes when he sees Joe and Barclay are watching.

“Our place is closer.” Joe offers, copying Duck’s tone, “we can all bus back there so you can be somewhere quiet. Or, um, if you need it to just be you two, that’s fine too.”

Indrid holds up a finger, indicating option one. Duck helps him up and let’s him stay hidden against his shoulder while they wait for the bus.

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

This used to terrify Barclay. He and Indrid would be hanging out, would be stealthily holding hands in the top row of the football stadium, and his boyfriend would shut down. Barclay, sensing distress, would try to figure out what was wrong, would start to panic when Indrid couldn’t communicate the things happening in his mind and body. They had more than one fight where his attempts to help only made Indrid more overstimulated to the point he snapped at him to fuck off (and, on one occasion, hissed at him).

They worked it out eventually, Barclay keeping a mental list of things that soothed his friend. Watching Duck do some of them, how calm and loving he was, makes something complex bloom in his chest, as vibrant and beautiful as the Dahlias Duck brought them from the garden (“weather’s been so fuckin weird things are bloomin when they shouldn’t”).

When they make it home, Duck stops in the living room and looks between Indrid and Barclay for a moment. Then he murmurs, “‘Drid, you want Barclay to keep you company for a bit?”

Indrid smiles and nods, takes Barclay’s hand and follows him to the bedroom. He lets his memories drive, keeps the light off, arranges his body so Indrid can relax against him, and pets his hair with slow, light motions. His friend hums, meaning he’s on the right track. As he strokes his head he notices the black roots peeking through the silver; it was jarring to see Indrid with pale hair when all his memories were of dark locks of it falling over his face or catching on Barclays hands.

He looks good with the silver. More like himself.

Metal pokes his chest. He takes the glasses Indrid hands him, sets them on Joseph’s stack of library books, then gives a startled, “nnfph” as his friend pulls Barclay on top of him.

“Like the weight” Indrid mumbles, wrapping his arms around him. The longer they lay there, the easier it is to overhear the conversation in the other room.

“I feel awful, if I’d known I’d have never recommended we go somewhere like a loud bar.”

“S’okay, Joe. ‘Drid is still a little wary of tellin people that’s something he has to consider when goin’ out; Dani and them get it, but other folks think he’s bein’ a buzzkill.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re tellin me. Besides, sometimes it comes up so fast, or happens in places he ain’t anticipatin it. He’ll be okay, especially with Barclay takin’ care of him.”

A pause, then, “Do you need someone to, um, take care of you?”

“Joe-”

“It’s alright if the answer is no. But part of my plan was to get everyone in a, um, bit of a frisky mood.”

A snicker, “Frisky?”

“I was trying not to be too crude.”

“Joe, you know how I feel about you. But we gotta check with the others to be sure everythin is on the level.”

“Tell them to come in.” Indrid whispers, a smile plain in his voice.

“Uh, babe? Could you and Duck come in here a sec?”

“Everythin oka--ffft” Duck snorts a laugh, “guess he improvised not havin a weighted blanket.”

“That I did.”

Duck bursts into a grin, hurrying to settle on the bed near Indrid’s head, “Hey, sugar. How you feelin’?”

“Much better. It helps that this one is very soothing.” He toys with Barclay’s hair, sending goosebumps up his arms, “though it seems he had a slighty different reaction to our contact.”

Barclay was so distracted by the conversation that he hadn’t realized his cock was hardening along the familiar warmth of Indrid’s thigh whenever one of them shifted.

“Fuck, Indrid, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright. In fact, it is rather relevant to what you two were discussing in the hall. Am I correct that we all wish to be in some form of polyamorous relationship with each other?”

“Yes” say two voices along with his own.

“Wonderful. I suggest we hash out details later. Right now, it seems you two have, ah, unfinished business.”

“Fuckin finallyAH” Duck cackles as Joseph knocks him backwards, kissing him frantically while yanking up his shirt. As soon as his belly is exposed Joseph begins pawing and groping from there up his sides. Indrid nudges Barclay so they can sit up, allowing the other two more room to disrobe. Or, more accurately, for Joseph to disrobe both himself and Duck, since the shorter man is having trouble moving his limbs between bursts of laughter and moaning.

Joseph crawls backwards, shoving Duck’s legs apart and groping his thighs, “I’ve wanted to get my hands on these since the party. Lord almighty did you look good in those jeans.” He kisses his way up the left thigh, moaning and mouthing at the skin. His posture puts his perfect ass in the air, which happens to be one of Barclay’s favorite views in the whole world. He unzips his pants, fights to get his cock out as Indrid begins offering commentary from beside him.

“Mmmm, were I not still rather exhausted, I’d make him do that to us both.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t move his mouth from where it’s teasing Duck’s inner thigh.

“Know you would.” He reaches down to play with Joseph’s hair, “‘Drid’s got a whole fantasy where you blow him while I sit on his face.”

“Funny” Barclay’s voice is turning rough with desire,“he’s got one where he takes all three of us at once.”

Joseph’s face lacks any trace of self-consciousness, a rare thing for him, which means this whole arrangement is fucking brilliant. He simply nods, then takes Duck’s dick into his mouth.

“JEsus, fuck, Joe, ohfuckyeah.” Duck holds Joseph’s head encouragingly, “shoulda known you’d be good at this, you’re so fuckin good at everythin, fuck, fuck.”

Barclay grips his cock, trying to stroke in time with movements of Joseph’s head. Slender fingers carefully push his aside as Indrid purrs, “allow me.”

“You, you don’t have to, you said you were tired-”

“Not too tired for this” he strokes up more firmly, then brushes their lips together, “or this.”

It’s like tasting Hershey Chocolate or Marionberry Pie, transporting him back to their shitty hometown in Eastern Oregon, to summer heat on his skin and basement air in his nose as Indrid proved that yes, kissing boys was what he wanted to do.

Indrid’s certainly gotten better at it since then. Barclay likes to think he has, hopes the other man is feeling even half the things currently piling up in Barclay’s chest.

“Oh.” Indrid sighs as he pulls back, “that’s even better than I remember.”

A particularly loud moan from Joseph, underscored by Duck cursing happily, brings them back to the present.

Barclay moans as Indrid’s hand moves more deliberately.

“Do you remember the first time we did this?”

“Uh huh, c-couch, in that, fuck, that basement rec room at my house.”

“You came so fast.”

“Can’t really blame me.”

“Given the sounds he’s making, he might do the same thing now.” Joseph smiles at them from over Duck’s knee, “that’s one of the best things about you. You’re so sensitive, big guy.”

Barclay whines his name. His boyfriend winks, then dives back down to render Duck speechless.

“You really are” Indrid nips his ear, “remember when we, ah, lost it to each other?”

“Mmmhmm” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut as if that might make all this last longer. Joseph echoes the noise, making Duck groan.

“Just picture it, Joseph” Indrid is getting into it now, panting and pink-cheeked, “Barclay, eighteen and even shyer than he is now, in my lap, begging me to fuck him.”

‘I, I wasn’t the only one begging.” He grins.

“Of course not. I was desperate to get to it because just seeing you naked had me certain I was going to--one moment” he releases Barclay’s cock, ignoring his whimper to clamber into a position that allows him to kiss Duck as the shorter man grinds into Joseph’s mouth. He doesn’t pull back until Duck’s hips slow and Joseph is busy wiping his lips.

“I can never resist kissing you while you cum.”

“Fuck I love you.” Duck cups Indrid’s cheek. The silver haired man rubs against his palm a moment, then retreats. Duck growls at Joseph, “as for you, you got ten seconds to open your legs so I can show you a good time.”

“So thoughtful” Indrid pecks his cheek, returns to Barclay, “now, where was I…”

“Shy, AHshit, fuckingchristthat’s good.” Joseph’s legs sprawl open as Duck finger-fucks him, sitting on his side to kiss him without obstructing Barclay’s view.

“Ah yes.” He kisses Barclays neck, hand teasing the head of his cock, “you insisted on bottoming because you were so scared you might hurt me. I can still see it, you on your hands and knees, asking me to take you--those were your exact words--then whimpering when I finally got my cock in.”

“Fuck” Joseph is clearly enjoying the story; if Barclay had known he was into this, he would have made all his exes record voicemails describing their exploits.

“If memory serves I came very fast, because you were so much tighter than I expected and you, you felt so good. I used my hands to get you off-”

“Uh huh, fuck, you hadn’t pulled out yet and it was so fucking good, fuck, Indrid-”

“You made such cute noises when you came” a slow, deep kiss as heat floods him, “I wonder if you’ll do the same now.”

“Probably” is all he grunts out before he’s cumming hard enough that most of it hits Joseph’s stomach rather than Indrid’s fingers. His head lolls as his cock pulses, and beneath his own heartbeat he picks up Duck ordering Joseph to be good and cum for him. After a moment, there’s the distinct moan his boyfriend makes during his climax. It’s followed, confusingly, by weak laughter. His eyes flutter open to see Indrid licking his cum off Joseph’s chest, which happens to be ticklish.

He scoots over to join them, Joseph kissing him sleepily the instant he’s close enough.

“You sure you don’t need to cum, sugar?”

“I’m only half-hard, and I know I’m too tired to make it the rest of the way. Not that this wasn’t supremely satisfying. But you each owe me an orgasm sometime in the future.”

“All in favor of blowin ‘Drids mind tomorrow mornin’”

He and the other two raise their hands in sync. Then the four of them collapse, laughing, in each others arms.

#meet ugly #OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #indruck #sternclay #inclay #autistic Indrid #trans duck newton #trans agent stern #reader request #duck newton/agent stern

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tbtssstuff · 4 years

Text

You look so pretty || pjm

Summary: After a long day at work, your boyfriend has a surprise for you.

Pairing: Sub!Jimin x Dom!Reader

Genre: Light Smut (yes I say light because no one be fuckin’)

Warning: Jimin in black lacy panties and knee high socks, fondling, nipple play, mention of masturbation

Masterlist

AN: Took a little break to write smut. I also wanna thank @honey-subs for the advice AND for writing Trap, which got me motivated to finish this. Also congrats on 1K followers! You deserve it!

-TJ/ TacoAdmin 🌮

Someone could like... stab you in the eyes and it would STILL be better then the day you had at work. Piles on piles of spreadsheets, bitchy boss, like okay Karen I get it, calm down, no lunch break, and your coworkers were talking shit about your boyfriend, which you were not about to stand for, and you told them off, which got you in a shit ton of trouble.

In conclusion: TODAY SUCKED MAJOR MONKEY BALLS.

And all you wanted to do was be home and cuddle your boyfriend, Jimin, but when you opened the front door you were surprised to see Jimin standing in the foyer in a long thin white shirt and black knee high socks.

Jimin tugged on the end of his shirt, seeming to be half embarrassed and half excited. “W welcome home, Y/n.”

“Well well well. What do we have here? My sweet puppy greeting me at the door? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You watched Jimin continue to fidget, looking anywhere but you, as you shut the front door. He knew if he wanted to get anywhere tonight, which wasn’t your intention when you got home, but you really weren’t complaining, Jimin needed to speak up. After all, how were you supposed to know what he wanted unless he told you?

“Jimin?”

You closed the distance between you two, taking in the sweet smell of his strawberry shampoo. Your favorite and only used on nights such as this - when he’s horny and needy.

Jimin was already panting, almost as if he had started the fun before you got there and you confirmed your suspicion when you cupped his already hard length, Jimin moaning the moment you made contact.

“Someone was having fun before I got here,” you cooed, rubbing your hand against him, “What were you doing?”

You continued to rub him through the shirt, licking your lips as you watched your boyfriend start to fall apart. While to most of the world Jimin seems like sex on wheels and he really was, but they all through he was the dominate on in your relationship. They were oh so wrong.

Jimin never did answer you, he was too lost in the feel of your hand on his dick to form a coherent sentence, so you pulled your hand away from him, smirking at the whine Jimin let out.

“What were you doing?” You repeated.

Jimin nibbled on his plump lip before finally looking at you. “I I was doing laundry a and I found...”

“And you found?”

Instead of telling you, Jimin lifted his white shirt to show that he was wearing your black lacy panties, the head of his cock visible at the waistband.

Oh good lord. This boy was going to be the death of you.

He looked so pretty.

“Oh.” Was all you could say because at that moment your brain wasn’t really functioning.

Jimin squirmed under your stare and went to pull his shirt back down, but you quickly stopped him, finally recovering from the surprise attack. Looking him straight in the eye and lifted his shirt up. Jimin knew exactly what you wanted.

He lifted up his arms, allowing you to take his shirt off, before attempting to hide himself.

“Ah ah ah, puppy, don’t hide.” You moved his hand from his chest. His nipples were already hard, just begging for attention, which you were happy to give. You ran your nail down his neck to his chest, lightly tracing his nipple, enjoying the sounds Jimin was making.

Jimin moaned. This was always his favorite part of being intimate with you. Just the feel of your hand on his body was enough to make him weak. You moved your head down to his chest. Latching your lips onto his right nipple, sucking and licking, while bringing your hand to the other to roll it in between your fingers.

“Ah~ Y/n!” Jimin cried.

You let go of his nipple with a pop before moving to the other to give it the same treatment. Jimin could feel his knees becoming jelly, he knew he couldn’t last long, especially not after edging his own orgasm for so long.

What Jimin didn’t tell you was an hour before you got home he was playing with his toys, panties clutched tightly in his hand, so close to cumming, but only to move the vibrator away from his sensitive head. He knew if he came before you got home he was going to be in a lot of trouble and while normally he didn’t mind being a brat, disobeying almost every rule you gave him, but you were texting him about your bad day all day, so Jimin thought he would thought he would surprise you with a special gift.

Him all dressed up and waiting for you to come home.

“C close.” Jimin whined, almost embarrassed that he was about to cum from you playing with his nipples, but was too turned on to care.

You gave his nipple one last nibble before pulling back to look at him and couldn’t help but think how gorgeous he was. Lips swollen from biting them, his eyes moist, holding back tears of pleasure, and his flushed cheeks.

Just so pretty.

“Bedroom. Now.”

#sub!idol #sub!jimin #park jimin x reader #sub!bts #bts smut #sub!bts x reader #jimin x reader #tacoadmin

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footballfanfictions · 4 years

Text

Used to be the one I love - Julian Draxler (smut)

Spending all your time with your new friends And you take 'em all the places now that we been But you used to be the one I love Yeah, you used to be the one I love Say you wanna talk, how-have-you-beens I'm the only one you know that'll listen And you used to be the one I love.

It had been a few years since she had dated June; she wasn’t sure how many it had been now, she usually couldn’t bear to think about anything to do with him, or their time together. They hadn’t spoken to each other since that rainy July evening, the evening she had told him that he needed to follow his dreams all the way to Paris, and that she couldn’t go with him. It had broken her heart to do it, but loving someone is selfless; and there is nothing more selfless than letting the one that you love go so that they can pursue their dreams. How can you hold back someone like Jule? How could anyone bear to make him miserable? To drain all of that sunshine from him. He radiated it. He hadn’t taken it well. He’d cried, pleaded with her, promised that he would ask his agent to speak to London clubs so that he could be with her while she was at University. She told him that he wouldn’t get another opportunity like PSG, the giants of Ligue 1. He would have been a fool to turn them down for the Premier League at that time. But now…well… he was on the outskirts of the PSG squad and his talent wasn’t being utilised to its full potential. It was April, and the global coronavirus pandemic was in full swing. She was working from home, her eyes moving over the excel spreadsheet open on her laptop, when her phone buzzed.

Julian: How have you been? I know we haven’t spoken in so long x

She furrowed her brow, lifting her iPhone to read the message. Her mouth gaped open in disbelief that after all the time that had passed that he was actually texting her.

Not taking the pandemic that well. Working from home is hard.

She wondered what he wanted. Surely he wasn’t just texting for a catch up? She knew that he had a girlfriend now and wondered what she would think if she knew Julian was texting an ex. Julian: I don’t want to disturb you while you’re at work but can I call? xx

He had gone from one kiss at the end of the message, which she had not reciprocated in her response, to now sending two kisses like he used to when they were together.

I’m just doing some boring accounts stuff but I’m due a break, give me five minutes? x

She might have been overthinking it but she thought that one kiss was sufficiently friendly without crossing a line. She was going to use the next five minutes wisely, even if he couldn’t see her though the phone she wanted to look good to feel good and fill in the space where her confidence used to be. Julian turned her to jelly, always had done and probably always would. Her legs felt like jelly as she stood from her desk and brushed the remnants of the rich tea biscuit she had been nibbling on off of her pencil skirt. She tightened her ponytail and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, hoping that it would help her to catch her breath when she heard his voice. She quickly downed the dregs of her cup of tea and darted to the bathroom to brush her teeth and reapply her mascara. She had done one eye when her phone rang. ‘Damnit Jule’ she cursed. Here goes she thought, tapping the screen to accept the call. She took in a deep breath, swiping the mascara wand to coat the lashes that she hadn’t managed to finish before his call. ‘Hi’ he said, sounding nervous. ‘What do I owe this pleasure to?’ she joked, feeling nervous and unsure of how she should be speaking to him. Was she flirting? Did he want her to? ‘It’s so hard not to call you my b-‘ ‘Don’t’ she cut him off. ‘I’m sorry’ he gulped and there was a long pause before he continued the conversation. ‘So I’m in London. I’ve had an offer from Tottenham and I’m seriously considering it. I wanted to get your opinion.’ She was too in shock to answer him for a moment, thoughts tumbling around her head, all in a muddle. Jule here, Jule in London, possibly even only a few miles away. Had this happened all those years ago they could have… ‘Will your girlfriend want to leave Paris?’ she asked. She knew that she was prying and she knew that she sounded every inch the jealous ex but she was desperate to know the answer. Had he told her? A part of her hoped that his girlfriend had gotten upset about it, that they’d had a fight and broken up, but that was probably too much to hope for. History doesn’t often repeat itself like that. She had been in that position the last time he had moved clubs and she had been the idiot that had let him go. She could have applied to study in Paris even though it had been her dream to travel to and study in London for as long as she could remember. ‘She doesn’t want me to leave Paris. She has a great apartment here in a really good part of the city, she has her dancing career…’ He trailed off and she just knew he was doing that lip biting thing that he does. ‘I’ll advise you the same way that I did the last time you were going to move teams. You have to follow your dreams. What is your head telling you to do?’ She could tell that he was anxiously and she wanted to speak soothingly to him to try to calm him down. ‘When I think about London I just think about the life that I could have had’ he mumbled. ‘What do you mean?’ she was pacing the room now while they talked, unable to stay still as anxiety fuelled her. ‘I can’t stop thinking about what we could have had. I could have signed for a London club back then, you could have studied and we could have come home to each other every night. I’d probably have proposed to you by now’ his voice was so quiet that she barely caught the last part of his sentence. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt tears prickling in the corner of her eyes. ‘Jule…’ ‘You used to be the one I loved.’ He said, his voicing rising back to it’s usual level. He sounded really upset now, and very conflicted about more than just his transfer situation. ‘and now?’ she asked, trying to hold back the tears. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to hear that he didn’t feel that way any more even though she knew that was only logical, it had been years and even though she had never been able to move on, he clearly had. ‘Now I have a girlfriend who only wants to move in with me if its in her part of the city, if its on her terms. Who doesn’t tell me that she loves me, who doesn’t kiss me unless I kiss her first, who only like sex with the lights on in the missionary position. Do I need to go on?’ he sighed. ‘Some of those details were unnecessary for an ex girlfriend’s ears’ she bit her lip, walking out of the bathroom into her bedroom and laying down on her bed. ‘I guess what I’m looking to find out is if we could have a chance?’ he asked, sounding hopeful. ‘Unless there’s someone new in your life? I guess I should have asked before I laid my heart out on the line’. ‘Maybe we are better off talking about this in person.’ She suggested, thinking that meeting up in a public place would make her less tempted to do something with him that either of them might later regret. ‘If that’s what you need.’ he agreed. ‘We could go out for a meal and talk, but you might need to make a suggestion. I’ve only been here for a few hours.’ ‘How long are you here for?’ she asked. ‘Initially just the weekend to meet with Daniel Levy and my agent.’ ‘I’ll text you.’ she said, cutting the call off abruptly so that she could let out a short cry, filled with all the emotions she had been bottling throughout the phone call. If there was anything still there between them, she was certainly going to find out later that evening.

* ‘Hey heartbreaker’ Julian joked, greeting the girl he had left behind in that very city a few years ago. ‘Shit’ she said, looking through the window of the restaurant she had suggested that was definitely not open. ‘Did you forget the global pandemic?’ ‘You’re the one who suggested dinner’ she responded, rolling her eyes at him. It drove Julian crazy when she did that. ‘So we can just go back to yours and we can cook something.’ he suggested, playfully nudging her arm. ‘Unless you do actually have a secret boyfriend that you live with.’ ‘Don’t joke about things like that when you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home.’ she said, visibly upset. Julian realised that he had hit a nerve that he shouldn’t have and had crossed the line. When they were together she had been very candid about an ex boyfriend that had cheated on her and how that had made her feel. It was only natural that she didn’t want to make another woman feel the way that she had. ‘Sorry I shouldn’t have -‘ ‘It doesn’t matter’ she interrupted, side stepping so that there was about a metre between them. ‘Are you social distancing from me? I’ve had a covid test you know and I’m all clear’ he laughed. ‘I just don’t really trust myself around you’ she shrugged, shoving her hands into the deep pockets of her cardigan. ‘Well that makes two of us.’

A few dark alleyways later and they arrived at an apartment complex. The outside was painted blue and each of the apartments had a little balcony attached. Julian smiled saying ‘I can imagine you living here’. ‘Cut the small talk Draxler - you’re only here for one weekend.’ she muttered, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him up to her doorstep. At some point without his notice she had pulled out her keys which she was now furiously jamming into the lock and twisting as if every second it denied her was frustrating beyond measure. Then the door was open and she was pulling him through it, her hands were all over him, tugging his arms out of his jacket, thrust up the back of his white t-shirt and into the back of his hair. He crashed his lips against hers, pressing her back against the cool plastic of her door as he closed it behind them. He knew then that they weren’t going to make it to her bedroom. They were going to do it right there against her front door, and he hoped she didn’t have a room mate. He tongue brushed against her lips asking from permission that she granted, giving his bottom lip a gentle nip. ‘You’re always biting your lip when you’re nervous’ she whispered against his lips. ‘You make me nervous’ he whispered back, tangling his hands into her hair, lowering his mouth to her neck, pressing a serious of light kisses from below her jaw to her collarbone as he pushed the straps of her dress down her arms, following the movement of the fabric as it fell to her hips. He held her there against him, holding her hips tightly, pushing her against him, against his hardness before he pushed her dress down further, watching as it pooled at her feet. ‘Keep those on’ he mumbled, gesturing to her heels. She gave him a devilish smile before she pulled him back in for another open-mouthed kiss, broken only by her pulling his t-shirt up over his head. Her hands ghosted over his abs and he shivered involuntarily at her touch. ‘I love you’ he said, holding her head in place an inch from his so that they could look into each other’s eyes. ‘and I always will’. ‘Show me.’ she commanded. At that he lifted her off her feet, pushing her further up the door. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pressed against her. ‘I want to feel how much you love me.’ she continued. Her hands were on his shoulders now, holding him tight. He kissed her again while he dropped a hand back to her hip, grazing the lace at the top of her panties before he slip the hand inside of them, his thumb brushing lightly against her clit. He didn’t want to give her much yet. He used to really enjoy teasing her and he hadn’t had anything but vanilla for a long time. ‘Jule-‘ she moaned, gripping his upper arm. ‘What did you say?’ he teased, brushing one of his fingers against her wet slit, using the moisture to lubricate his thumb’s motions against her clit. ‘I haven’t had you for years, why are you making me wait longer?’ He disguised his smile by pressing his face into her neck, gently kissing her there. ‘Oh alright then… if you insist’ he said, about to reach down to unfasten his jeans, but her hands were there before his, popping the button open and pushing the denim down his muscular thighs followed in quick succession by his boxers, leaving him bare to her. ‘No more foreplay’ she groaned, bucking her hips against his hand, pushing the finger that had been at her entrance ever so slightly into her. He didn’t hesitate any longer. She gasped as his finger left her but he swiftly removed her underwear and gripped her ass, giving it a gentle smack, their lips crashing against each other’s once more as their desire took over and Julian pushed himself into her, letting out a low moan against her mouth at the contact. His thrusts were fast paced and hard as he tried to physically show her how much he had missed this, missed fucking her. ‘There’s no way I’m going to last long’ he groaned. ‘Good because neither am I’ she whispered back, and he watched a blush creep across her cheeks mixed with the glow of perspiration and excitement. He landed another gentle smack against her ass which had her grinding down onto him in a rhythm that mismatched his but caused a perfect amount of friction that had them both coming undone in seconds. He clung onto her as they came down from the high, trying to control his breathing and refill his lungs after holding his breath to climax. ‘Fuck’ was all she could manage to say. ‘Fuck, I love Tottenham Hotspur.’ He agreed.

#julian draxler #julian draxler imagine #julian draxler one shot #julian draxler smut #julian draxler fanfiction #football fanfiction

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kirishwima · 4 years

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Can I please have some headcanons for the RFA meeting MC's older brother, who is EXTREMELY over-protective? The "hurt her and I'll kill you, my sister deserves the best" type. (If you can add Jihyun and Saeran that'd be great, if only to see Big Brother facing both the sweetest man alive; and another man who is both a care bear and 300% more edgy than he could ever hope to be)

ok but like....my mystic messenger OC has TWO brothers, an eldest one who’s a sweet fluff bean and a twin who is EXACTLY what you’re describing lmao, so this is a scenario ive had stuck in my head for ages, bless you for sending it in lmao :DD

i’ll also be using she/her pronouns since you’ve specified them!

YOOSUNG:

* When he’ll first meet MC’s brother, he’s...actually not that worried? He’s met his sisters boyfriends before and sure, he’d tell her his opinion on them but he never like, tried to intimidate them or anything so...how bad could this go?

* Very, as it turns out.

* When Yoosung joins MC with her brother at the specified coffee shop after class, he’s met with two polar opossite looks; the one of fondness as MC waves him over, and a glare strong enough to freeze up the sun, from a man standing next to MC with his arms folded.

* Yoosung took slow shaky steps towards the table, feeling the dark aura surrounding him until it nearly suffocated him as he stood across the glaring man, MC oblivious and nonchalantly beaming up a wide grin as she leaned up to kiss Yoosung’s kiss.

* Throughout their...talk? At the coffee shop, Yoosung felt scrutinised, MC’s brother barely joining the conversation unless she prompted him to, preferring to stare Yoosung up and down instead.

* At some point MC excused herself from the table, leaving Yoosung to face the wrath of her older brother alone, with only his cup of milkshake and purple-pink straw to fend for himself.

* As MC’s brother watched her walk away, he turned back to Yoosung when she was out of earshot, his brows furrowed as if permanently in that position.

* “Listen, I’ll lay it out simple for you. That is my little sister you’re dating, the one I’d kill a man for without second thouhgt or remorse. Hurt her and I hurt you back thrice as bad, got it?”

* Yoosung blinked slow, like a squirell looking into the eyes of a shark. He made to nod before shaking himself out of his trance.

* “Wait, h-hurt her? I’d never-no! If I ever dared hurt her-which I’d never! I love her! But if I ever accidentantly did anything to make her cry, I-I’d come find you myself and ask you to beat me up!”

* MC’s brother stared at the blond dumbfounded, his lips a frown before he snorted out a laugh, loud as he shook his head and brought a hand to Yoosung’s shoulder.

* “Good” he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “I like that response. Don’t forget what you just said kid” he said, tightening his grip on Yoosung’s shoulder as a warning.

* And so, Yoosung never forgot.

* N E V E R.

ZEN:

* Well...Zen was warned about how over-protective MC’s brother was, and how the moment he heard about their relationship he demanded he meet Zen for himself.

* And listen, Zen gets it-if he had a sister he knows he’d be just as protective, but the odds were NOT in his favor when it came to leaving a good impression on MC’s brother.

* For one, a quick search of Zen’s name online would not only bring up his many shirtless photos and fans’ screeching about him, which he wasn’t embarassed of, not really; but it would bring up that whole mess with Echo Girl, and second of all

* The day MC asked Zen to come to a resturaunt to meet her brother, of COURSE a flock of fans had to find him at the entrance, surrounding him and giggling at everything he said, one evern asking for a picture only to reach their arm around Zen’s and lean in as if to kiss him for the photo.

* That in itself wasn’t too bad-sure MC never liked it and honestly Zen didn’t either, but it’s something they both had gotten used to. No, instead, it was bad because all the fiasco happened RIGHT in front of MC’s now furious brother.

* As Zen excused himself from his fans and walked towards the table MC and her brother were sat at, he brought his hands in front of him as if to protect himself, apologizing for what just took place as he took a seat besides MC.

* When Zen leaned in to kiss MC hello....he politely turned it into a quick peck on her cheek as MC’s brother threw ice cold daggers to Zen with his glare.

* Zen tried explaining himself, professing his love for MC at every opprotunity, making her have to hide her face in her hands more than once in embarassement, he even explained the whole Echo Girl fiasco to her brother with MC backing him up on the facts.

* Still, her brother wasn’t pleased.

* At some point as Zen kept monologuing, MC’s brother put the glass he was drinking from down on the table with a little too much force, surprising Zen into silence.

* “Look, to be frank I don’t care how much you say you love MC. You’re an actor, hell, you could say ‘I love you’ to a rock and make it look romantic, it’s your freaking job. What I wanna know is, will you always be loyal to her? Will you be there for her when she needs you, or will you be chasing tail around some popular Kardashian or something?”

* MC tried to speak up but Zen halted her, giving her hand a quick squeeze under the table where he’d interlocked his fingers with hers.

* “Thank you for your honesty. If you allow me, I’ll be just as frank in my answer?” he asked, waiting for a nod from MC’s brother to continue. When he received it he nodded back, breathing in before collecting his thoughts.

* “I plan to marry your sister.” He ignored MC’s surprised gasp, simply squeezed her palm in his with a soft smile. “First of course I’d like us to move in together, find a place we can both call home. I’ve had some significant memories in my current place, but I’d leave it in a heartbeat if it’s to find a home with MC. Then I’d propose in the grandest gesture I can, but well, the when and how’s not something I can reveal right here” he grinned, stealing a quick glance at MC’s flustered face, “we’ll get married and I know she’ll be the most beautiful bride the world has seen. If she’ll have me and would be happy to, then the next step would be children. I...I haven’t told you yet” he turned to MC, his smile sheepish, “But I’d love a boy first, then a girl. So he’d be a big brother and protect her at school, because we’d raise him right, he’d be a little knight in shining armor. And she, she’d be our little princess, and we’d love them both just as much. Maybe get a dog for them too, two if you want-”

* He ignored the lodge in his throat as he continued, biting it down along with his embarassement. “And even if she wanted nothing from all that-so long as she wants me, I’ll be there, through thick and thin. So no, I’d never turn to look at another woman, ever-how could I? I have all I need right here” he said, and tugged his and MC’s interlocked fingers to rest atop the table isntead of under it.

* And well-MC’s brother had little to say after that, looking down sheepishly as he thought.

* “Ok just-damn, I had a whole speech ready and you beat me to it” he huffed. “Just-I want to be involved in the wedding planning!” he grinned.

* Turns out he’d soon become best bros with Zen lmao, who would’ve thought

JAEHEE:

* Honestly...it’d be impossible for MC’s brother to be harsh with her.

* He’s always been MC’s number one supporter, and knowing she’s found herself such a caring and smart girlfriend he’d be happy for his little sis.

* If there’s anything he’d be harsh about, it’d probably be their plan to open up a coffee shop so quickly. He wouldn’t be mean about it, but he’d sit down with MC and Jaehee and talk it through with them, telling them to consider the risks and how they’d be losing their previous jobs for this.

* Well, Jaehee had it all covered-she’s made a spreadsheet covering the coffee house’s estimated expenses and how they’d be handled going forth for at least one year, and ways to combat every little possible drawback.

* Even MC’s brother was awed, staring at Jaehee like she grew a second head.

* “You..” he started, “good luck dating my sister” was all he said, earning an elbow to the ribs by his little sister.

* Yeah, Jaehee is definitely the best girlfriend for his little sister, no doubt to that-he can’t even give her the whole ‘If you hurt her I hurt you’ spiel because...honestly the odds of her ever hurting MC are slim to none lmao

JUMIN:

* Honestly, in levels of intimidation, they’d both be the same lmao-MC’s brother would try and intimidate Jumin and he’d be completely unable to catch the hidden threat in his words-or rather, he would, but Jumin being Jumin would simply choose to ignore it.

* He’d even rertort back to every little comment her brother made with valid points as to why he’s the best husband for MC.

* “Don’t you think you’re too obsessed with cats?” MC’s brother asks. “That simply shows how devoted I am with my love and interests, which means I’ll always care and love MC with my whole being.”

* “Aren’t you just some pompous rich dude?” MC’s brother asks, rather rudely. “I don’t know about pompous, but I am rich, yes, which means I’ll always be able to provide for your sister whatever she desires.” Jumin replies.

* Honestly...he’d make MC’s brother give up on his indirect threats, and simply come out and say ‘look, I don’t like you getting married to my little sister so fast-she barely knows you!”

* And that’s the comment Jumin had been waiting for. It’s why he met up with MC’s brother in the first place; Jumin values family, and he wanted all of MC’s loved ones to be on board with her marrying him before going through with it, so that their marriage would be a happy event for everyone involved.

* So Jumin spoke honestly. “I know it’s rather fast, but we both know our feelings for each other are true and strong, and we’ve been through more in the short period of time we’ve known each other than others have been in a lifetime. Your sister is a remarkable person and she’s the first to ever draw such feelings from me, and I never want to let her go. If she’ll have me, I want to be besides her, ‘till death do us apart.”

* Well, by that point...well, MC’s brother knew how MC spoke of Jumin, how much she loved him. He was never going to fully oppose this wedding, he simply wanted to be sure both parties were completely on board with this.

* Besides...one glance at Jumin’s bodyguards let him know for certain that him threatening this millionaire with physical harm wouldn’t roll well here lol

SEVEN/SAEYOUNG/LUCIEL:

* It’d take a LOT for MC to convince Seven to meet her brother.

* Saeyoung...he’d never feel ready to meet him. What kind of face will he show to MC’s family? What will he tell them? ‘Hi, I’m the hacker that put your sister in an apartment with a bomb then took her with me to a cult’s den to find my missing twin brother? Also my dad’s a super dangerous person and we went through hell and back because of him?’

* Yeah...no.

* So for the longest time, he avoids meeting MC’s brother. Even when MC moves in with Saeran and Saeyoung, even then Saeyoung still finds excuses to postpone their meeting.

* Until one day, Saeran comes back into the house with a bag of groceries and a frown.

* “Some dude’s out there and threatened that he wants to talk with me about MC. I told him I’m not the one that’s dating her but he seems way more mad than before, you should probably go check what that’s all about” Saeran shrugs and disappears to the kitchen, leaving Saeyoung to manically check the security cameras to see who this man is-and of course, it’s MC’s brother, leaning on his car that’s parked right outside their house.

* So...there’s no more avoiding it, not when it’s come to this. MC wasn’t even home, so of course her brother had come here to...what? Beat Saeyoung up? Threaten him? And if he did, what right did Saeyoung have to fight back? There was nothing he could offer MC, and anything her brother would say to him would be correct.

* “If you want some advice or anything-” Saeran’s head popped out of the kitchen, a tub of ice cream in hand, “I say just go out there and tell him all the sappy things you tell MC when you think I ain’t listening. He hears someone talk to his sister like that he’s bound to think ‘ah fine he loves her’ and leave you alone’ he shrugged, disappearing back into the kitchen.

* With a sigh Saeyoung dragged himself outside, walking like a sheep to the slaughter as he came to stand across MC’s brother.

* Absent-mindedly, he noticed the car behind him, nodding as he took in the model. “A Fiat Abarth 500. Which year’s? They’re some tiny but mighty sports cars” he mumbled, more to himself than MC’s brother, who stared wide-eyed at the hacker.

* “Uh...it’s a 2012 one” he replied dumbfounded. “The best ones were manufactured that year” Seven nodded along.

* Were they...accidentantly bonding?

* What was meant to be a long intimidating speech turned into a 30 minute conversation about sports cars, that only ended when MC walked to the entrance of the house to find her boyfriend and her brother talking animatedly about....cars?!

* When she asked her brother why he was here he seemed to snap back to reality, pointing a finger to Saeyoung’s chest.

* “You...I was here to warn you! Ask why you were hiding yourself from me and tell you to meet me face-to-face like a man if you want to be with my sister..! But uh-you’re actually a pretty decent guy? I mean I’ll still kill you if you hurt my sis-”

* “If I ever dared to hurt her I’d have her kill me herself then have my twin brother hide my body” Seven retorted with a straight face that made a shiver run down MC’s brothers spine.

* And that’s the story of how MC’s brother and Saeyoung ended up not only becoming best friends, but MC’s bro being the only person Saeyoung ever allowed to drive one of his babies, E V E R.

SAERAN/UNKNOWN/RAY:

* He’d never admit it, but meeting MC’s brother sent chills up his spine. He had never been in a relationship before, and now here he was-he was meeting her family, living together with her-a completely changed man, and as happy as he was for the change, he was equal parts terrified.

* And as it turns out, his fear wasn’t unwarranted-her brother was a menace, sending glares Saeran’s way from the moment he came into their home for dinner like MC had invited him to.

* Yet the thing about Saeran is this-when he’s scared, he hides it like an ace up his sleeve, becoming more agressive instead, like a cat that fluffs its tail to turn its fear into a threat.

* Each jab from MC’s brother was taken and thrown back to him tenfold by Saeran, who whilst sweet to MC, was more and more cold throughout the night to her brother, much to MC’s dismay.

* It came to a point where the two were prety much fully argung, standing and threatening each other with forks and spoons over the dinner table as MC sighed, sinking into her seat waiting to see if either of them will cave and stop.

* “You’re such an asshole how can you even fucking say you care for my sister?!” “Fuck you that’s how!” Saeran screamed back.

* It escalated and escalated until MC had had enough. With a loud thud she got up from her chair, ramming both her palms onto the table, demanding the boys’ attention.

* “Shut up! Both of you just-stop it! You-” she pointed to her brother “You’re my brother, I love you and respect you, but you’re at my house and you’re yelling at my boyfriend!” she accused, making her brother look away with a scowl, “and you!” she pointed to Saeran next, “You were so sweet, worrying about what kind of foods my brother would like and even going out of your way to cook all this, only to be so rude when he did arrive?! What gives??”

* The two seemed embarassed at their actions at least-MC’s brother had his hand on his neck whilest Saeran folded his arms around himself, looking down to the floor.

* “You uh-you cooked all this?” her brother asked, nodding to the table. Saeran nodded, willing his blush to leave his face, the traitorous blood supply.

* “It’s pretty good man. I thought it was my sister, but she can’t boil pasta to save her life so uh-I was wondering who cooked.”

* “...She almost burnt the kitchen down. Twice.” Saeran supplied, smiling as MC’s brother chuckled.

* By the end of the night the two had sided in teasing MC, but she merely rolled her eyes at them-seeing them bond even over them making fun of her was worth it.

* When she excused herself to go bring the dessert, there was an awkward silence between the two boys before Saeran spoke up, making sure that MC was already in the kitchen and out of earshot.

* “I know I can-I’m an asshole sometimes. I’ve done shitty things, I’ve been mean, and without being aware of my actions, I’ve been mean to her to-” he nodded to the kitchen, “but never again. Even if I’m an ass with everyone else I’ll always cherish her. I love her, she...she’s my sunflower.”

* Her brother didn’t reply, but Saeran knew; they both knew the severity of his words.

V/JIHYUN:

friendly reminder i havent played the after ending yet orz

* After all the mess MC had been put through-getting abducted by a cult, only to end up spending a full month besides some dude who got stabbed in a hospital-her brother finding out about it all through the PHONE as he’d called his sister a million times for days whilst her phone was out of service and she wasn’t at her apartment-and then this dude up and DISAPPEARED FOR TWO YEARS? Only to then come back and start dating his sister?

* Nuh-uh. MC’s brother was gonna have some choice words with this asshat, this-cult-loving playboy who toyed with his sister this way!

* When MC’s brother walked up to MC’s place where she’d invited both this Jihyun guy and him for coffee...he expected some big player kind of guy with a snapbcack hat or something.

* He did NOT expect this lanky tall mint-coloured man with this disarming sweet smile, awkwardly extending his hand for a handshake to MC’s brother.

* All the threats MC’s brother had prepared were lodged in his throat as he took a seat across of Jihyun on the living room couch, answering his small talk questions as if they were fast new friends.

* Once MC sat down besides Jihyun and together they explained everything that had happened...Jihyun’s ex and her psychotic delusions, how he did everything he could to help but failed, how his brave little sister MC hepled Jihyun out of that situation-

* “Dude...that’s so messed up” MC’s brother ended up saying, his coffee grown cold as he got so engrossed in the story he didn’t even take a single sip.

* Jihyun nodded sheepishly, biting his lip. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in this story, ones I’ll never repeat, and once I’ve only been able to acknowledge thanks to MC” he admitted.

* Wtih a more confident look, Jihyun held MC’s free hand in his, looking her brother in the eye as he spoke.

* “I know I’ve hurt her a lot in this story, and if I could re-do it all again I’d do everything in my power to keep MC out of harm’s way-but the past is the past and I can’t change that. I can however promise that so long as she’ll have me, I’ll always be besides her to protect her and love her, no matter what. I cherish your sister more than words can convey, and I’d only wish to have your acknowledmgent in this relationship-I’m sure it’s something that would make MC happy too.”

* Honestly...where did his sister find this marshmallow of a man?? Her brother simply nodded, biting back tears-why was this dude so damn sweet, jeez.

* “D-don’t-if you hurt her I hurt you, got it?” MC’s brother sputtered half-heartedly.

* The fact that V nodded along sincerly and said ‘of course’ didn’t help.

* MC’s brother actually gave Jihyun a pat on the back before leaving, mumbling ‘you’re a good man dude’ quiet enough for his sister not to hear.

* Everyone loves Jihyun and that’s. them. facts.

-send me mysme headcanons for character reactions!-

#i went v overboard w these lmao i love the overprotective brother trope #probs bc my older brothers never cared much about me ;u;#asks #mysme #mysme prompts #mystic messenger prompts #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger headcanons #Anonymous

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echoes-of-realities · 5 years

Text

be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 5/25

* * *

[From the Start] // [Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Previous Chapter] // [Next Chapter]

Chapter Summary: Tina and Santana have a long talk; Santana wishes she was better at comforting people.

Chapter 5: but some are sick of this grey

///

“If that’s anyone besides Santana don’t you dare come in!”

Santana rolls her eyes and eases the door open, finding Tina standing in front of the mirror of her vanity wearing only her tights and sports bra. “You know it’s a little suspicious that I’m allowed in here when you’re half-naked but your boyfriend’s not,” she comments idly.

Santana can see Tina roll her eyes in the mirror as she touches the mascara brush to her eyes one more time before capping the tube and dropping it on top of the pile of her makeup. “Mike doesn’t knock.”

“Still,” Santana repeats teasingly, “suspicious.”

Tina huffs out a laugh as she shakes her head. “Sure it is, you’re like the only other person who ever comes down here that’s not another principal or a dresser,” she says easily.

Santana hums in agreement. “And I’ve seen you in less, so,” she teases.

Tina just rolls her eyes as she tugs a loose shirt, turning and leaning her hip against the vanity, her arms crossed with a grin. “So is this an official visit?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“I wanna know if I can make fun of you or not.”

Santana snorts out a laugh. “As if it matters, we both know you’ll make fun of me either way,” she complains. Tina concedes with a wide, knowing grin. “But I have a couple notes to go over,” Santana continues, smacking the palm of her right hand with her notebook as she makes herself at home on Tina’s couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “So come sit.”

Tina laughs and crosses the room to collapse on the couch beside her best friend. Santana quickly flips through her notebook until she finds the pages she’s looking for, going over some blocking issues and a music cue that Schue missed last show that threw Tina off a little bit. Once she’s done she groans and lets her head loll onto the back of the couch, trying to roll out the tension in her neck. “I need a coffee,” she decides.

Tina smiles. “Lucky for you, Brittany went on a coffee run not too long ago, and she dropped an extra one off with me on the off chance that you dropped by.”

Santana’s smile is involuntary, and she tries not to let it be known how warm her cheeks are, but Tina’s not her best friend for nothing and she smirks at Santana knowingly as she crosses to the vanity to grab the two coffees sitting there.

“You got time to sit and drink it?” Tina asks.

Santana checks her watch as Tina hands over her coffee. “I mean, probably not, but no one should be unlucky enough to see me until I’m properly caffeinated, so sure.”

Tina laughs and resettles on the couch. “Good, I feel like I’ve barely seen you despite the fact that we’re in the same building like nine hours a day.” Santana grunts in acknowledgement as she gulps down a long sip of coffee, pleasantly surprised to find that it tastes exactly how she likes it; it’s far more lukewarm than hot, but just the fact that Brittany thought of her when getting coffee makes warmth settle in her stomach anyways. “I know we haven’t had time to talk about it since Thanksgiving,” Tina continues, “but did you think about Christmas?”

Santana sighs and drops her coffee to rest in her lap, shaking her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll just stay home.” She doesn’t add the again, but they can both hear it, too loud in the following silence.

“You sure?” Tina murmurs, “My parents would love to have you. They haven’t stopped talking about the flan de queso you brought to Thanksgiving, and they keep asking if you’ve accepted the invitation yet.”

Santana shrugs uncomfortably. “You know I’m not great company this time of year,” she says.

Tina sighs but she knows Santana well enough to know when to drop it. They sip their coffee silently for a long moment, before Tina turns expectantly towards Santana. “Wanna know the latest gossip?” she whispers dramatically.

Santana laughs and sits up a little more, more than grateful for the change in subject, turning towards Tina and feeling like they’re back in their college dorm, sitting cross-legged on their beds and talking about everything and nothing. “Always. I gotta keep track of whatever dumbass decisions this company makes. Remember how awkward Sister Act was our second year of college?”

“God!” Tina laughs, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn so red than when Kate and Christian started going at it!”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that they broke up the night before?” Santana protests, her voice bright with amusement. “They weren’t even in the scene together and somehow they managed to mortify me, the company, our professor, and the entire audience.”

“I’ve never seen you so lost for words before, but the look on your face when you had to chase after Christian and actually get on stage in the middle of the scene to physically restrain them? Priceless!”

Santana rolls her eyes at herself. “I was so scared Hagberg was going to fail me, but she just bought me a box of chocolates instead.” She takes a sip of her coffee before looking expectantly at Tina. “Now, what do I need to know about here to avoid being forced to jump on stage in the middle of The Nutcracker?”

Tina grins and sets her coffee down on the coffee table, and that’s how Santana knows she’s about to get a list of gossip a mile long. She feels like she needs to write down a list of all the connections, but she also has a feeling that it would get so tangled and convoluted it would be near impossible to understand. Rachel and Finn have a messy on-again-off-again relationship that somehow Quinn, that St. James guy from sound, and Brody from maintenance have all gotten mixed up in at some point; Puck and Quinn refuse to talk to each other unless absolutely necessary; Kurt and Blaine had a messy breakup and Karofsky somehow ended up caught up in it; Schue’s ex-wife showed up near the start of rehearsals claiming to be pregnant with his baby, and it made things super awkward when Emma, his new girlfriend, showed up at the same time; Shelby from the pit band was caught making out with Puck the second month of rehearsals; Sue, the theatrical producer, and Schue have a nasty rivalry still ongoing despite the fact that no one, not even them, know how or when it started; Kitty, The Snow Queen, dated Artie before he was hired, and then it got weird and they broke up and now don’t speak; Jane, Brittany’s understudy, and Mason, Mike’s understudy, have adorable but obvious crushes on each other, but both of them are too shy to do anything about it; Zizes once dated Puck, which makes Santana’s head spin because Zizes is pretty cool and Puck is so slimy.

Santana shakes her head slowly as she taps her empty coffee cup against her thigh. “This is insane,” she mutters. “I need a spreadsheet and seven hours just to figure half of this out.”

Tina laughs. “It’s pretty messy,” she agrees, “And it’s all only happened since we started rehearsals.”

Santana chews on her lip, wondering if she should even ask the question she so desperately wants to know, but before she can debate it she’s already asking it. She wishes she could blame her lack of filter on her exhaustion, but she finished her coffee ages ago. “What about Brittany?” she blurts, aiming for nonchalant but landing somewhere far past too-invested.

“Apparently she dated Artie for a little bit when they were in college, but she always conveniently ‘forgets’ that.” Tina laughs, her eyes sparkling knowingly as she regards her best friend. “But I haven’t heard of her dating anyone since we started rehearsals months ago, inside the company or out.”

Santana tries desperately to remain calm and collected with that information, but she can’t hide the way her stomach flips or the smile she’s fighting. “Cool,” she manages, leaning forward to put her empty coffee cup on the table and avoiding Tina’s eyes.

“What about you? Meet any nice girls lately?” Tina teases, grinning widely at how obvious Santana is about her little crush. “Besides Brittany,” she whispers, deftly dodging Santana’s flailing arm as she reaches out to smack her.

Santana draws back and rolls her eyes so hard that she shakes her head a little. “As if. You know I’m too busy with work.”

Tina just stares blankly at Santana, a thoroughly unimpressed look in her eyes. “Santana, I mean this from the bottom of my heart, but that’s bullshit. Work isn’t your entire life.” Santana scoffs but Tina doesn’t let her shut down. “Listen, I totally understand if you just don’t feel like dating anyone right now, but you can’t use work as an excuse.”

“Hey, I went on a date when I was covering for the stage manager on Anastasia back in August!” Santana protests, but as soon as the words leave her mouth she knows it’s a weak argument.

“What? The girl from that startup band? You went on one date and never mentioned her again,” Tina says, and Santana knows that, no matter how much she wants to protest, she can’t argue that point. “What was even her name?”

Santana opens her mouth but finds her mind has gone completely blank. “Uh, Dina?”

“Dana?”

“No wait, wasn’t it like a unisex name or something? Daniel?”

“Daniella?”

“Dani!” Santana shouts, snapping her fingers and pointing at Tina with a proud grin for finally remembering the name. “It was Dani!”

“Right!” Tina’s satisfied expression turns sly. “You know, this just proves my point. You need to find a nice girl whose name you can actually remember. Like maybe Brittany.”

“Oh, shut up,” Santana says with an eye roll, flustered and bashful.

There’s movement from the hallway, the sound of someone dropping something bouncy and heavy footsteps as they chase after it. Tina quickly stands up and crosses the dressing room, sticking her head out into the hallway and looking both ways; if someone just broke a prop she feels the need to warn them before Santana finds out and goes on the war path. When she doesn’t see anyone she just shrugs and closes the door. “You’re not getting out of this conversation,” Tina threatens as she turns around.

Santana plays with the notebook in her hands. “I’m too busy with still learning this show, you know that.”

Tina studies her for a long moment and Santana fidgets under her scrutiny. “I’m not going to push it,” Tina says slowly, “But I think you deserve to let yourself be happy.” Santana sucks in a quick breath and resolutely doesn’t look at Tina. Her first instinct is to argue and get defensive, but she can’t quite get the words to form in her mouth. Tina sighs and crosses back to the couch, sitting down beside Santana a little closer than she normally would, ducking her head down under Santana’s until Santana is forced to meet her eyes. “It’s been four years,” she whispers, “She would want you to be happy. Whether that’s with some nice girl or with some new hobby or whatever, it doesn’t really matter. But this,” Tina pauses and Santana’s eyes cut away from hers, “this relentless, constant pace you’ve set for yourself isn’t healthy. When was the last time you actually took time off that wasn’t a no show day?”

Santana can feel the tremble in her chin and she chokes down the thickness she can feel in her throat, choking her. Tina shifts on the couch until she can wrap an arm around Santana and draw her into her embrace. She wants to struggle against her best friend’s arm, but Tina’s always given the best hugs. “I just don’t want to see you burnout,” Tina continues.

Santana lets herself be held for a moment before she shakes Tina off and stands abruptly. “I’ve gotta finish giving notes,” she rasps.

Tina sighs but nods. “Half hour is coming up soon anyways,” she agrees, “And I’ve gotta get Kurt to fix some things on my skirt.”

Santana ducks her head as she crosses the room, barely giving Tina a second glance. Tina just shakes her head and lets her friend go, staring at the empty coffee cups on the coffee table and hoping that she didn’t just cause Santana to close herself off again.

“Tina,” Santana suddenly calls from the doorway, waiting until Tina glances up at her before continuing, “I know you worry. I’m just— Work keeps my mind off of her, you know? When I’m busy I don’t think about her as much, especially this month.” Tina’s face crumples a little and she nods in understanding. “But you’re right, I could probably use a break,” she admits, “The next no show day is Monday. We should actually do something, all three of us, instead of me spending the my only day off working anyways. Maybe we can go to the mall and do some Christmas shopping?”

Tina brightens and smiles. “That sounds really good,” she says.

Santana shifts awkwardly before giving her friend a small smile. “Thanks for— For looking out for me, or whatever.”

Tina laughs, knowing that sometimes it’s best to just let Santana stumble through her emotions without too much teasing. “It’s practically my second job by this point,” she says easily, “Now you better go and finish yours.”

Santana rolls her eyes but sends Tina a fond, grateful smile before slipping out the door and heading down the principal hallway towards the stage.

As the evening wears on, Santana decides to just give notes before the show tomorrow because she’s so tired from running around the entire show trying to deal with the technical issues they’ve been having with the flies. Karofsky still has no idea what is happening with them, even after him and Santana messed with them for about forty minutes after the show. He offered to stay even later to try and fix them, and while Santana appreciated the offer, she just sent him and the rest of the automaton crew home, telling them meet her a couple hours earlier than usual tomorrow so they can figure it out.

She’s not sure why she ends up in the principal hallway; she knows Mike and Tina have already left, and she doesn’t have anything she needs to check on since she’s giving notes tomorrow, but her feet lead her down the stairs before she realizes where she’s going. She figures she’ll just check in on whoever is still lingering down there, but because she’s alone she can’t quite hide the fact that she’s only really hoping to check in with one person.

Most of the doors are closed and locked as she wanders down the hallway. She runs into Mason, who is just heading out after looking around for Mike to ask him a couple questions. Santana chats with him for a little bit and promises to let Mike know he was looking for him before waving goodbye and heading further down the hallway. The lights are a little dimmed, and as she heads for the end of the hallway she can hear a muffled conversation. She slows as she approaches the only door that’s cracked open; the lights to Brittany’s dressing room cast the hallway around her door a little brighter, and Santana stops just before she reaches the door.

She’s about to turn around and leave, figuring she can just talk to Brittany talk tomorrow when she’s giving notes, it’s not like she ever has many to give her anyways so she’ll definitely be able to spend a couple extra minutes with her just talking, when she hears a sniffle. She freezes and waits for a long moment, Brittany’s voice distorted and muffled by her door. When she hears that sniffle again, followed by a choked sob, something in Santana’s chest shifts and shatters a little at the sound.

She’s pushing the door open and entering the dressing room before she realizes it, and Brittany glances up at her in shock. They stand there staring, wide-eyed and worried, at each other for long drawn out moments. Brittany still has her phone pressed to her ear, tears streaming down her face and making her skin shine wetly against the redness blotching her face. “Uh, I’ll call you back, mom,” she mumbles, and now that her voice isn’t muffled by the door Santana can hear exactly how tight and wet it is. “No, no, it’s fine. Just the stage manager. I’ll call you when I get home.” She pauses, sniffling, while her mom says something over the phone. “Yeah, I will. Love you too.” She hangs up and suddenly Santana becomes aware of how rude it was for her to barge into Brittany’s dressing room like that, but she looks so heartsick that Santana can’t find it in herself to regret it; no one should be alone when they look so miserable.

“Sorry,” Brittany chokes, scrubbing furiously at her face, “I was just—”

“No, Britt,” Santana interrupts, taking a couple quick steps forward, “I’m sorry for eavesdropping and barging in here but are— Are you okay?”

Brittany looks about ready say yes, even though they both know how obvious of a lie it would be, before her face falls and she slowly shakes her head. Something deep in Santana’s chest aches at the look on Brittany’s face.

“Was this— Was this the thing you were sad about yesterday?” Santana whispers. Brittany nods hopelessly and Santana sucks in a breath. “Oh, Britt, I’m really sorry.” Brittany gives her a small wavering smile, but it drops as her eyes fall to the floor. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Brittany takes a deep, steadying breath. “I— Um— That was my mom,” she manages to whisper, “They just had to put our cat down.” Santana sucks in a breath; she’s never had a pet before, they were too expensive and high maintenance for her mom, who was a full time shift worker, when they lived in Ohio, and their apartment didn’t allow pets once they moved to New York, but she remembers how devastating it was when Tina’s family had to put down their dog in their second year of college. “He’s just— We’ve had him since I was eight,” Brittany explains in a croak, “He’s been in our family longer than my sister has. And I— Sometimes I had a hard time at school with— Schoolwork and making friends and whatever. But he was just a cat, you know? He didn’t care if I was failing math or if Katie stopped talking to me, he just wanted treats and snuggles.”

“Britt, I’m so sorry,” Santana whispers, feeling completely and utterly inadequate. “I don’t— I’m just sorry.”

Brittany sniffles and blinks rapidly. When her eyes meet Santana’s they’re too bright and shiny and Santana wants so desperately to take away the grief cracking the beautiful blue there. “He’s been really sick for a couple weeks,” she explains, “But I haven’t been able to go home and see him because of the show and I’m just— I wish I could have seen him one more time before— Before—” she chokes herself off.

“Do you want a hug?” Santana blurts without thinking.

“What?” Brittany croaks.

Santana suddenly remembers that she’s technically only known this woman for five days, despite the fact that they spend most of their waking hours in the same building and seem to have an uncanny ability to run into each other outside of the theatre and that it feels a little bit like she’s known Brittany for years. “I— Never mind. I just— You looked so sad and— I mean hugs usually help so,” Santana trails off lamely.

Brittany chokes on a sob and nods. “A hug would be nice.”

Santana breathes out a sigh of relief that she didn’t just creep Brittany out and takes the last few steps to Brittany, hoping that a hug will make her feel better, even if it’s just for a moment. She hesitantly opens her arms and Brittany immediately falls into her; she fits against Santana easily, their ribs locking together as Brittany clings to her, muffling her sobs against Santana’s shoulder and neck. Santana sighs and soothingly runs her hands over Brittany’s back, just letting Brittany cry without saying anything, knowing how cathartic it can be to just let someone else take your weight for a while.

She’s not sure how, but they eventually end up huddled together on the couch, and Santana keeps her arms around Brittany until she sighs and swallows thickly, wiping at her eyes with trembling fingers. “This is just another reason December and Christmastime sucks,” she mutters.

Santana hesitates for a moment before tightening her arm around Brittany; Brittany melts further into Santana’s embrace, boneless and heavy, and any awkwardness Santana feels nudging at her consciousness eases. “You’ve got that right,” she sighs.

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #tina cohen chang #santina #my writing #story: be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe)#we're already one fifth of the way through lol

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purplesurveys · 5 years

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409

A little F•R•I•E•N•D•S survey just because.

Characters Favourite character? I relate to Monica the most but my favorite has got to be Chandler. Favourite male character? Chandler by a long shot. Favourite female character? Monica. Man, three questions in and I’ve already got my biases established ha. Favourite non-main character? Probably Jack Geller. Least favourite character (main)? Joey. I was always too impatient for his dumb ass. He’s adorable though.

Least favourite character (not main)? EMILY for days. They wasted so many episodes and storylines dragging her ass through them. I also kinda hated Amy. Funniest? Chandler, and this is going to be unpopular: Ross. He’s funny when he’s not being a jackass. Sweetest? ...Chandler. That episode where Monica ‘freaked’ him out by pretending to book a wedding venue when it turned out Chandler loved the place and ended up proposing to her was the sweetest. Best looking? Rachel. Girl’s style was always on point. Most mature? Phoebe trumps them all so hard. She lived through the Civil War, World War I, lost her mom, lived on the streets, and did so many shady things before landing in that apartment of theirs – she’s a kook but she’s a hella smart kook. Most immature? Has to be a mix of Joey and Rachel. And Ross.

Most annoying? Joey had his annoying moments especially the episode where he tries to speak French!!!!!!!!! but I love all of them just the same. Relationships Favourite couple? CHANDLER AND MONICA Least favourite couple? Joey and Rachel when they got together. I liked the slow burn that preceded the whole thing, but when the writers mashed them together, the execution was just ughhhh. I hated Ross/Julie, Monica/Pete, and Ross/Emily too. Favourite couple that wasn’t a main couple? Oh oof, I guess I’ve listed them all there. ^ Couple you wish would’ve happened? Chandler and Rachel. Their cheesecake episode was awesome.

Best friendship? Monica/Chandler and Joey/Chandler. The two that had the worst friendship? Phoebe and Ross were the two that just clicked the least lmao. Ross was too serious and too nerdy and Phoebe was more liberal and very eccentric. They had that debate on evolution once which I found hard to watch lmao, and not to mention that Ross is the biggest baby in the group whereas Phoebe had to grow up earlier than all of them because of her awful childhood. Couple you’re surprised happened? Rachel and Joey, obviously. Overrated couple? Ross and Rachel. They’re so hyped up when in reality, they were on and off for ten deadass seasons??? It was stretched for so long that it’s very easy to lose interest in it. Most underrated friendship? Phoebe and Ross, I guess. They weren’t very close, but I remember how Ross got Phoebe a bike when he found out she never had her own. That gets overshadowed a lot but I found that episode very sweet. Phoebe/Joey is also pretty underrated. You and them Which character would you be? I’m already Monica. Which character would you wanna be bffs with? Rachel hahaha. Monica’s too high-strung, Phoebe’s crazy, I’d get annoyed with Ross’ bitchfests, Joey is a little immature for my liking, and I feel like I’ll eventually get offended by Chandler’s sarcasm, so I’d go with Rachel. Who would you date? Chandler. Who would get on your nerves? Joey or Ross. Who can you relate to the most? Monica AF. Organized, obsessed with weddings, obsessed with kids, loves spreadsheets, makes everything a competition, loves food, the mom of the group...all of this is me. Which character pulls on your heartstrings the most (gives you feels)? Chandler aaaahhhhhhhhh. Who would you makeout with? Monica. Show Funniest moment or episode? There’s a lot of em, so let me keep a list:

The episode with the quiz

Joey putting the pieces together about Chandler and Monica

“Ross hasn’t worked in the museum for a year” “Monica and Chandler aRE LIVING TOGETHER” “Ross married Rachel in Vegas anD GOT DIVORCED, /AGAIN/” “I love Jacques Costeau” “I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle” “I wanna GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

Ross spelling out F-I-N-E

They don’t know that we know they know they now

Saddest moment or episode? Monica finding out they can’t have kids, Phoebe having to part with the triplets, Erica almost giving up on Chandler and Monica because they lied, and the final goshdarn episode. Moment or episode that melted your heart? When Monica made Thanksgiving dinner, only for Joey to ruin it because Monica had to answer the phone, then when Chandler told on Joey, she was like “I don’t care, the adoption agency called and we’re having a baby” :’( Best episode/moment? I can think of so many depending on what kind of episode you’re asking for, but the first ones I can think of off the top of my head are the quiz, Thanksgiving, and New Year’s resolutions episodes, and the one where Chandler and Phoebe pretend to be into each other to see who breaks first. Cringiest moment? A lot of Season 10 stuff was cringey just cos everything felt forced by that point. I also didn’t like the scene where Chandler was checking out their home-sitter’s bra because Monica was convinced she was stealing from her wardrobe lmao. Oh and the one with Ross’ list about Rachel. OH and Joey failing so bad at French. They def had their cringey moments lmao. Worst moment/episode? The one where Pete decides to be a UFC star(????) was so fucking random. There’s also an episode that shows their alternative lives - Monica was still chubby, Phoebe was a bitchy executive...I forget the rest because I’ve only seen it once cos the whole thing was pretty pointless. Best season? The ones in the middle. Best quote? “It’s an electric drill. You get me, YOU KILL ME” or “Gum would be perfection.” Joey Best trait? He’s adorably clumsy and he’s also pretty confident. Worst trait? He has his creepy tendencies, he doesn’t share food, and he’s too stupid for my humor to appreciate him. Who should he have ended up with? Definitely Phoebe. Was he just a player or a sweetheart? Meh. He was a player. If Matt LeBlanc couldn’t play him, who should’ve? Chandler His best season? I’m not familiar which season it is but it has to be the one where he decided he was going to marry Monica. Chandler was always the most insecure out of the six who had a lot of childhood issues and as a result, was perpetually afraid of committing and being serious and actually being an adult. Deciding that he knew he wanted to marry Monica is such an underrated pivotal moment for him. Funny or annoying? FUNNY. Why did he have trouble with girls? Because he’s so awkward. If Matthew Perry couldn’t play him who should’ve? Best trait? He really cares.

Worst trait? He hates himself and uses humor to mask everything lol. Ross Best trait? He’s a sweetheart and looks after the girls the most. Worst trait? Immature and cocky as fuck and loves to kiss his own ass. Which of his gfs/wives do you like best? Rachel. Funny or annoying? I’m split. Everyone hates Ross but he’s actually pretty funny to me lmao, but only when he’s not being sexist or trash. If David couldn’t play him who should’ve? Smart or dumb? Academically smart, pretty dumb in life. Phoebe Best trait? She’s highkey the most mature of all of the friends. Worst trait? She can be a liar. Weird or awesome? She can be both!!! Best song? Either the Santa song (”Rachel and Chandler, hshsshhshsh handler!”) or the shower song (”And tegrin spelled backwards is nirget”). Both slap. Best relationship? That guy from Minsk, David. That highkey should’ve happened. Did she have a better friendship with Monica or Rachel? Tbh Rachel. Monica’s very...analytic and Phoebe doesn’t care. Total opposites. Did she really wanna get with Joey or was it all a joke? It’s all a joke, but I wouldn’t be surprised or offended if they ended up together in some alternative universe. Did she really hate Ross? Probably aspects of Ross, but not fully. Rachel Was she secretly a bitch? She was openly a bitch lmao. Best relationship besides Ross? I hated all of her boyfriends. Probably Joey. YEA I SAID IT Best trait? She grew up so much in the show and I’m so proud of her <3 She went from fully dependent on her dad’s credit cards to getting her dream jobs and being a really good mother and ugh, I just feel for her. Worst trait? She was still the biggest baby in the show. Monica Best trait? She’s the mom of the group. Nothing better than that. Worst trait? She was overly competitive sometimes. Put together & organized or a stressed mess? Definitely put together and organized. She was also stressed, but she was never a mess. Would you find it hard to live with her cause of her cleaning issues? No, we’d be the same more or less. Was Richard too old for her? Yes. Richard knew her since she was little, which makes it worse. Short or long hair? Long. Do you think the fat jokes are funny or mean? Mean, but then again they were jokes of their time so idk why people today are being SO LOUD crying foul over it. More questions Were they on a break? Yes they were. I will defend this to my death. They were on a break after that very bad phone call and Rachel immediately invited his dude-friend over without thinking of Ross. Ross had every reason to be with a girl. Was Gunther weird or kinda cool? He was cool. I loved that they kept him as a recurring character.

Should it have ended sooner, later or when it did? They ended it perfectly. Some elements of season 10 already felt inorganic and unnecessary, but if we didn’t get the last season then we never would’ve seen Chandler and Monica’s twins and Rachel getting off the plane. I’m fine with the way they ultimately paced the show. Based off looks, who of the six would’ve looked best together? Chandler and Monica.

#survey #surveys

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geniusorinsanity · 7 years

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just your heart beating close to mine

for nurseydex week, day 2 - bed sharing

Nursey’s a clingy drunk.

Freshman year, Dex hated it. He and Nursey spend all their sober time bickering; fighting nonstop about everything from politics to slapshot form to whether ketchup belongs on scrambled eggs (Dex will never fucking admit it, but he’s actually started to find it delicious; Nursey can never know). But the second Nursey slips over the line from tipsy to drunk, he’s Dex’s best friend–hanging off Dex’s shoulders, draping his feet into Dex’s lap, hell, draping himself into Dex’s lap, two hundred pounds and then some of languid muscle. He’s sweet when he’s drunk, his chirps soft and fond instead of scathing, and his fingertips are gentle when they wander over Dex’s skin, dipping under the collar of his t-shirt, brushing against the short hair at the nape of his neck.

And Dex hated it, because morning would come, and hungover Nursey is clingy too but not in the same way, and they were always back to sharpness, and Dex would have to pretend he didn’t get home from those kegsters and throw himself into very, very cold showers.

Sophomore year, it’s a little better. They’re friends more often than they’re not, but on the flip side, that means the rest of the team actually trusts Dex to be on Nursey Patrol (“If you don’t want to kill him all the time, we can probably trust you to make sure he doesn’t drink himself into a coma,” Bitty said cheerfully the first time, shoved Nursey, already tipsy, towards him, and disappeared onto the dance floor with a solo cup in his hand).

Except Nursey Patrol, he learns, doesn’t end with the kegster. No, Nursey Patrol ends with Nursey safe in his bed, at least out of his shoes but ideally in something comfortable enough to sleep in, after a cup or two of water and two tabs of Aspirin, his phone plugged in and the door to his room locked.

(Dex does not want to know the series of events that led to this level of Patrol being in place. If he thinks about it too hard, his chest starts to hurt, and he doesn’t wanna deal with that.)

But–

“Dexy,” Nursey says, as Dex manhandles him down to his bed and then flops down next to him, hauling Nursey’s foot into his lap to start on his shoelaces, because Three Cups of Tub Juice Derek Nurse is not a Derek Nurse who has the coordination for tasks involving dexterity. Dex had said that, once, and Nursey had said “ha, Dexterity,” and giggled for ten minutes. “Dex, will you stay with me?”

(read the rest on AO3, or read more below)

“That is not my job,” Dex says, partly because it’s true, and partly because he has a shred of self-preservation, and knows himself well enough to be aware that a night pressed against Nursey’s side. Especially when Nursey’s like this, loose-limbed and reaching for him, running his fingertips over the sleeve of Dex’s hoodie where he can reach it, like he’s fascinated by the texture.

“Please?” Nursey gives him a pleading look that shouldn’t be nearly as attractive as it is. “I get lonely.”

Dex rolls his eyes. “Should’ve hooked up, then,” he says, and tries not to sound petulant. Nursey actually doesn’t pull at kegsters that often, for all that his flirting tends to be reciprocated, and he never seems to have any shortage of dance partners.

Nursey huffs. “You guys never let me,” he says.

“Yeah,” Dex drawls. “We, the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team, with our captains and their literal spreadsheet-based wingman assignments, are totally trying to cockblock you, Nurse.” He gets one of Nursey’s shoes off, and starts on the other.

“You didn’t let me tonight,” Nursey says.

Dex pauses, his fingers stilling where he’s been struggling with the knot of Nursey’s tennis shoes. He looks over at Nursey, who has his eyes closed, his lips tugged down in a pout. “Wait,” Dex says. “Are you talking about that guy I pulled you away from on the dance floor? The one you wanted to go home with?” Nursey shrugs one shoulder, not opening his eyes. “Nursey. Dude. You were fucking wasted, you were like…way past the point of making that choice.”

“He was chill,” Nursey says, and Dex just…

“It doesn’t matter that he was chill, Jesus.” He pokes him, hard, in the middle of the chest, and Nursey makes a face and finally looks at him. “I need you to tell me you understand that you can’t have sex with strangers when you’re this fucking drunk, Nurse. Like, please tell me that all the shit you preach about consent isn’t just lip-service.”

Nursey presses his mouth into a line for a moment, and then he drops his head back onto his pillow. “I don’t like sleeping alone,” he mumbles. “They usually let me stay the night. Or they stay. Whatever.”

Dex stares at him, trying to feel something other than horrified. Pity, his brain tells him, is the appropriate feeling here, that Nursey would hook up with someone just to have company for a night, but instead all he’s coming up with something like fury. He takes a deep breath, finally gets the knot of Nursey’s shoe undone, and wraps his hand around Nursey’s ankle. “Get a fucking teddy bear,” he says, keeping his voice carefully measured.

Nursey closes his eyes. “Sure, Poindexter,” he says, and he sounds suddenly tired.

He’s not touching anymore, Dex realizes suddenly. His hands have fallen away from Dex’s sleeve, his fingertips not brushing over the fabric of Dex’s jeans. “Hey,” Dex says. “You okay? Not gonna throw up, are you?”

A huffed laugh. “Nah.”

“Good.” Dex gets to his feet and goes to Nursey’s dresser. By now, he knows where Nursey keeps his sweatpants. He grabs a pair, and then pauses, thinking, looking over his shoulder–

Whatever, fuck it. He unzips his hoodie and adds it to the bundle, then turns. “Heads up,” he says, and throws the clothes at Nursey, then pulls Nursey’s SMH sweatshirt out of his drawer to pull over his own head for his walk back to his room.

He absolutely does not duck his head into the collar to see if it smells like Nursey’s cologne in addition to his laundry detergent.

(It does. Fuck.)

When he turns, Nursey is sitting up in bed, blinking at the clothes in his hands in vague confusion. “This is yours,” he says, poking at Dex’s hoodie.

“Brilliant, Sherlock,” Dex says.

“Why is it yours?”

Any other time, the confusion on Nursey’s face would be gratifying. Right now, there are too many emotions in Dex’s chest in head for him to try and feel smug. “Because I don’t see a damn security blanket around here, Nurse,” he says. “So just–I don’t know. Snuggle that.”

Nursey looks at him, and there’s something in his expression that Dex can’t place. Vulnerability, maybe, or hesitation. “Dex,” he says, but Dex can’t look at him, not when he looks like that.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Dex says. “Your water bottle’s on your desk. Drink the whole thing before you crash.” He’s cutting out early, but whatever. He goes for the door.

“Dex,” Nursey says again.

Dex pauses, his hand on the doorknob.

“Will you stay with me?”

Dex takes a breath. He doesn’t turn around. “Go to sleep, Nursey,” he says. “I’ll see you in the morning. Drink your water.”

He leaves.

(The next time he’s on Nursey Patrol, he catches sight of his hoodie, bunched into a corner of Nursey’s bed, half-tucked under his pillow. Dex doesn’t comment, and Nursey doesn’t ask him to stay.)

Junior year–

Well.

The cup of tub juice in his hand sloshes as Nursey crashes into him, long arms winding around Dex’s shoulders. “Jesus,” Dex says, switching hands so he can wipe what he’s pretty sure is some combination of Everclear, pineapple vodka, coconut rum, and lemon-lime soda off his fingers from where his drink had spilled. “Walk much, Nurse?”

“No,” Nursey says, looking delighted at the idea of it. He nuzzles his face into Dex’s shoulder and Dex sighs, taking it. At the very least, two years and change of this have immunized him–he can deal with this without blushing. “I don’t walk, Dexy, I float.”

Dex snorts. “Maybe try keeping your feet on the ground,” he says, giving an apologetic look at Raf from his data structures class, who’s watching them with confused amusement.

Nursey shakes his head and leans harder against him. “’s what I got you for,” he says. “All solid. Strong steady feet, from wanderin’ round lobster boats.” He gives a sudden laugh. “Pero no amo tus pies sino porque anduvieron sobre la tierra y sobre el viento yo sobre el agua, hasta que me encontraron.”

He punctuates that with another laugh, this one more of a sigh than a snort, and presses his face back into Dex’s shoulder. Dex makes a face. A sudden switch to another language usually means Nursey’s chirping him, and all Dex got from that was agua, which he knows means water, so probably Nursey’s making some kind of lobster joke. He huffs a sigh and looks at Raf. “Sorry about him,” he says. “Usually someone keeps a better eye on him.”

It’s not him, for once, and he’d actually thought for ten seconds he might get lucky–he’s not really into Raf, but he figures getting laid might get this Nursey thing out of his system. Fat chance, probably, if he hasn’t gotten over it in the past two years it’s probably gonna stick, but he might as well try, especially if someone else was going to keep Nursey out of their shared room for him to get off with someone.

(He’s got enough awareness of his own body and how long it’s been since he’s hooked up that he can admit he probably won’t need all that long. But, y’know. He’ll be a gentleman and shit.)

Raf’s looking at them, though, and he doesn’t look mad. He mostly just looks…amused. And a little embarrassed, which makes…no sense. “It’s cool,” he says. “Um, sorry, dude. I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend.”

Dex is really, really glad he didn’t decide to take another drink, because he’s pretty sure he would have just done a spit-take all over himself. “What?” he sputters. “I don't—we’re not—”

“Oh.” Raf’s brown skin flushes pink along his cheekbones. “I just thought, uh…” He looks at Nursey. “¿No ustedes están saliendo?”

Nursey lifts his head a fraction. He glances once at Dex, expression flushed and unreadable despite how open his face usually is when he’s drunk. “Él no lo quiere.”

Raf cocks an eyebrow. “Right,” he says, like he doesn’t believe whatever Nursey just said, and okay, Dex knows when he’s being talked about.

“Hey,” he says. “Not to be that white guy, but like…I only took half a semester of Spanish in high school before I switched to Latin?”

Raf snorts. “We weren’t talking about you,” he says, which Dex doesn’t believe for even a second. He gives Nursey another lingering, thoughtful glance, then says, “I’m gonna split. Past my bedtime. Will, I’ll see you in class?”

The fuck, Dex thinks, but he says, “Yeah, dude, see you.”

He waits until Raf has disappeared into the crowd, and then steps away from Nursey just enough to make sure he staggers. “What the fuck, man?” He complains, as Nursey wobbles on his feet and gropes for the wall to steady himself. “I was trying to actually get some for once!”

Nursey has the decency to look guilty, because as much as Dex complains, Nursey is not, at his core, an asshole. “Sorry,” he says. “I just, uh. I lost Wicks? Or Wicks lost me? And there was this dude from the Bentley soccer team who came with a bunch of Ollie’s friends and he’s been trying to wheel me all night, and I was into it earlier but I’m just not really feeling it now but he wouldn’t get the hint, so I thought…”

Fuck. The timing’s shit, but he basically did exactly the shit Dex has been trying to get him to do for literal months. He sighs. “It’s fine,” he says. He reaches out to haul Nursey off the wall, and Nursey sways into him with a tired, contented sound, tucking his face into Dex’s neck.

That hasn’t gotten any easier to deal with. Nursey turns his face, his stubble scraping Dex’s skin and his breath warm, and Dex has to suppress a shudder.

“Okay,” he says. “I think the party’s over, yeah? Let’s get you to bed.”

Nursey huffs and doesn’t lift his head. “You never wanna go to bed with me,” he says.

Dex doesn’t even know what to do with that. “I sleep three feet above you,” he says, because that seems like a safe response. “Come on. Upstairs.”

It takes them the better part of five minutes to get up the staircase and into their bedroom—Nursey keeps wobbling into Dex’s side, and refuses to let go of Dex long enough for Dex to get him properly on his feet again. Dex is out of breath by the time they get there and he can kick the door shut; he’s built and he works out, but Nursey is fucking heavy, and not particularly cooperative. He dumps Nursey down on the bottom bunk and flops down on the floor beside the bed with a grunt.

“You’re on your own for your shoes,” he says. “I’m not moving.”

“Okay.” Nursey doesn’t move, though, and after a few seconds of no rustling or thrashing, Dex opens his eyes. Nursey’s staring at the underside of the bottom bunk, the lopsided grin he gets when he’s drunk gone from his face. He looks blank, now, like there’s nothing in his eyes, and that twists at Dex’s chest.

Before he can ask, though, Nursey rolls onto his side to look at him. “I’m sorry I fucked you over tonight,” he says. “I didn’t realize you were trying to hook up.”

Dex shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says, and is surprised to find that he means it. He’d wanted to get off, yeah, but it was more about scratching an itch than any real urge. “You’re more important.”

Nursey sucks in a breath, but doesn’t say anything else. Dex allows him the silence, busies himself with kicking his sneakers off, shoving his jeans down and yanking them off his ankles. He leaves his t-shirt on, and looks woefully up at the ladder to his bed.

And that’s not even counting the trek to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He grimaces, then works his tongue around his mouth. Fuck it. It’s close enough to morning anyway. With a groan, he hauls himself to his feet.

A hand catches his wrist as he reaches for the ladder and he stops, looking down at Nursey. “You okay, bro? You’ve got water, it’s on the nightstand.”

“I know. I know, I just—” Nursey bites his bottom lip (Dex wishes he wouldn’t; it’s fucking distracting, and Nursey’s way too drunk for Dex to think about kissing him without being a huge skeeze) and then looks up at him, all bright, tired green eyes. “Will you stay with me tonight? In my bed?”

Dex almost says no, just out of habit. But Nursey hasn’t asked him for months, and there’s something small in his voice that Dex doesn’t like. He sighs. “Okay,” he says.

Nursey looks startled. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dex drops his hand from the ladder and ducks down to the bottom bunk. “Move if you don’t want me to step on you, I know you like the outside.”

It takes some wrangling in the dark, the two of them really too big for a bed this small. Dex ends up wrapped around Nursey’s back, one arm slung over his waist. Nursey feels good in the curve of his arms, and he wishes he didn’t. He pokes Nursey’s ankle with his foot. “Your shoes are still on,” he says. “You’re gonna get Haus floor grime in your sheets.”

“They gotta be washed anyway,” Nursey mumbles, but he squirms around, and Dex hears the thumps of his sneakers falling over the side of the bed.

“You’re still in your jeans, too.”

Nursey’s shoulders tense, almost imperceptibly. “I wanna keep them on.”

Dex doesn’t like whatever just slipped into his voice. He takes a careful breath and then shrugs. “Whatever you want,” he says.

A moment of quiet. “Thank you.”

Dex snorts. “You’re not gonna thank me in the morning when your button’s permanently embedded in your skin, but whatever.”

“Not for that.” Nursey’s hand curls over Dex’s wrist where it lies low on his stomach. “For not asking.”

“Oh.” Dex thinks about that. It’s not a lack of wanting to know—to know why Nursey hates being alone when from everything he’s told Dex about his moms he grew up desperately loved, to know why he drinks like he wants to wipe his memory when he talks about his life with a voice curved soft with sweetness. It’s just that… “I figure if you wanna tell me, you’ll tell me,” he says.

“I’d tell you,” Nursey says. “If you asked.”

“I know.” It surprises him a little that he believes it.

They lie there together in the dark, quiet. Dex can feel Nursey’s heartbeat through his shirt. His skin smells like sweat and the spicy-sweet scent of his cologne and that strange mix of alcohol and sex that permeates the Haus during parties. He tries not to breathe too deeply.

“Hey Dex?”

Dex opens his eyes. He hadn’t realized they’d drifted closer. This, at least, is familiar—Nursey is always chatty when he should be sleeping. “What,” he says. As gentle as he can.

“You look at me sometimes like you wanna kiss me,” Nursey says. Simply, quietly, like he hasn’t just frozen all of Dex’s blood in his veins.

“I,” Dex says, and falters. He’s desperately glad that Nursey’s facing away from him, and he has no idea whatsoever what to say next.

Nursey tightens his fingers around Dex’s wrist. “Do you? Want to, I mean?”

“I,” Dex says again, because he’s clearly the eloquent one in this relationship. He takes the easy way out. “Not right now,” he says. “Not while you’re drunk.”

“Oh.” Nursey’s quiet for a moment. His thumb is tracing quiet lines over Dex’s pulse point. “If you wanted to, when I’m not drunk,” he says slowly, “I’d be okay with that.”

Dex swallows. “Yeah?” He asks. Cautious.

Nursey nods. The motion makes his hair tickle Dex’s nose, and Dex has to duck his head to scratch his nose against the back of Nursey’s shirt. “Yeah. I think. Yes.”

“Okay.” Dex’s head is spinning, even though he only had one cup of tub juice tonight. He takes a careful breath, and then pulls Nursey closer to him. “Go to sleep, Nursey.”

“And you’ll kiss me in the morning?”

“Maybe,” Dex says, like he isn’t counting the hours like a fucking idiot.

“And you’ll be here when I wake up?”

The question comes out soft, but Dex hears the weight in it. He tightens his arms. “Yes,” he says. “Now sleep.”

Nursey’s breathing evens out and deepens. Dex closes his eyes, and rests his head against Nursey’s back.

A kiss in the morning, and staying through the night.

He smiles.

He can do that.

#nurseydex #nurseydex week #otp: you'd totally sing to me #this was literally written on my phone i'm a disaster #tw alcohol use #consent discussions #make good choices in college kids #derek nurse is a nice boy but a bad role model

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imagineproduce101 · 7 years

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Masterlist

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Ha Sungwoon

Harry Potter AU

Mafia AU

Rookie Monster

Your group and Wanna One are both featured on the Weekly Idol ‘Rookie Monster’ special episode. Sungwoon, your boyfriend, isn’t always great at variety.

A Textbook Romance

Open Heart

Valentine’s day mini special

Hwang Minhyun

Harry Potter AU

Mafia AU

bullet-style scenario

Smol and Angered

You’re having trouble reaching something while cooking due to your height, and your boyfriend Minhyun is absolutely no help.

Let’s Get to Work

When you start working at Mnet Corporations, you make a lot of new friends. However, Hwang Minhyun, Mr. Cold Guy™, doesn’t seem all that interested in melting his ice for some new employee.

kind of lengthy but whatever

office au

Cuddles Reaction

Of Spreadsheets and Small Children

Your boss (and longtime crush) Hwang Minhyun has always seemed very collected and stern. However, your impression of him changes when he begins bringing his niece to work, tasked by his sister with watching the toddler while she’s away. The two of you bond over her.

Colors Showing

Upon meeting Hwang Minhyun, the CEO of vampire-run company Empire, you’re intimidated by his cold nature and enormous levels of success. As the only human working at Empire, you’re bound to get yourself in a few sticky situations, but you’d never guessed that you’d be falling for your boss.

same universe as 'moonstone' (longguo vampire au)

Sick Of Him

Minhyun is sick, and feeling a little grumpy that your next-door neighbor has been flirting with you lately.

The Bookstore on Hazel and 4th

college au

kind of childhood friends au?

Hues

valentine’s day special

Warning

kehlani mini series: do u dirty

Together We Can

kehlani mini series: honey

Ong Seongwoo

Reaction to you being close friends with another male idol

From The Moon To The Stars

You and your boyfriend Ong Seongwoo celebrate your one-year anniversary under the night sky.

fluff af

insp. by daybreak by nu’est (jr and minhyun)

Harry Potter AU

bullet-style scenario

Mafia AU

bullet-style scenario

Reaction to significant other hating ghosts and you two watching a horror film

I'm Coming Home

Normally you don’t show affection for your boyfriend, but you hadn’t seen Seongwoo in a month, and you were willing to make an exception.

Strip That Down

You first meet Ong Seongwoo at a strip club, not amused by his silk shirt and easy smiles. However, you’re soon exposed to the other sides of his personality, and find yourself genuinely enjoying his company.

Your Heart is Quiet

drabble

Pick Me Up

Seongwoo is the flirty guy who works with you in the office, but you’re just there to secure the bag and go.

See You Soon

Valentine’s day mini special

Try Me

kehlani mini series: crzy

De-stress

kehlani mini series: crzy

Yoon Jisung

Harry Potter AU

Harry Potter AU (Hogwarts vers.)

Mafia AU

bullet-style scenario

Recognize

Kim Jaehwan

Sugar, Yes Please

Your boyfriend Kim Jaehwan wants to bake cookies. He’s not a great baker.

Harry Potter AU

bullet-style scenario

Mafia AU

bullet-style scenario

Vocal Gods

Your company has you do a special stage with Kim Donghyun of BNM, and Jaehwan isn’t too happy about it.

pre-established relationship

idol!reader

Perfect

Kim Jaehwan is your best friend, and you’ve had a crush on him for a long time

For You

valentine’s day mini special

Kang Daniel

Hot Summer

You and your boyfriend Kang Daniel decide to beat the heat by heading to the amusement park, and you’re looking forward to the chance to make new memories with him. However, your perfect day is ruined by events that spark Daniel’s jealousy, leading to you two fighting.

non idol! au kang daniel ft. somi, sohye, sejeong, daehwi, jihoon and jaehwan (i decided who was dating by who was the same age lolol)

i tried to do angst but it’s not too angsty

you lowkey teach daniel a bit abt rape culture/blaming the victim instead of the perp

Reaction to significant other hating ghosts and you two watching a horror film

A Hamster?

You and Daniel argue over whether to adopt a cat or dog next.

Reaction to you being close friends with another male idol

Harry Potter AU

bullet-style scenario

Crazy Cat Couples

You’re at a bar with your best friends when you find a small cat. It turns out that you’re not the only one who likes cats.

cutie daniel flirting with you

some kinda au that’s nonidol

warnings for mentions of alcohol?

Bring the Heat

You wanted to celebrate your three-month anniversary with Kang Daniel, but instead of a loving date with your boyfriend, your world collapses around you. As you’re left to pick up the pieces of your heart, you uncover a scheme that runs a lot deeper than just your own heartbreak, and you’re not going to take it sitting down.

aka, daniel and his friends are fking scumbags and girls supporting girls

heavily

inp. by this scene in riverdale

Mafia AU

What Would Kissing Him Be Like?

very short, bullet-style +too poetic lol

Red Bull

You’re busy cramming for finals when you meet Kang Daniel, a fellow student doing his best to survive a week in hell. Slowly, you start to fall for him and his charm.

Backstage

It’s not uncommon for rookie groups to run into each other often, due to the near constant cycles of promotions. Fate seems to have a lot in store for you and Kang Daniel of Wanna One.

Assignment

You’re trying to do work, but Daniel is occupying the space where you normally work. Cuteness follows.

I Hate that I Love You

Kang Daniel is your all-time enemy, your #1 rival. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to start dueling during class, but when Slughorn assigns the two of you to make Amortentia during detention, some interesting things develop.

harry potter au

enemies to lovers

gryffindor daniel and slytherin reader

actual fic; NOT a bullet-style scenario

Three Points to My Heart

You’re the basketball manager, Daniel is the star player and team captain. You were basically meant to be.

It's Ok to Not Be OK

Drabble

Captivating

in the same universe as the mafia aus, but daniel is the ceo of a company that operates as a front for the 101′s arms trading operation and the reader is his unaware secretary

Irritate Me

high school au, enemies-to-lovers

Memorable

valentine’s day mini special

Comfy

fluff!

Better

kehlani mini series: 24/7

Too Real For You to Handle

kehlani mini series: did i

Park Jihoon

Jeojang!

Jihoon gets a bit jealous of you and Daehwi joking around, and a cute conversation ensues (because the cutest kind of relationship is one with communication)

non au?

jisung and sungwoon the aunties and guanlin the angsty teen

Mafia AU

bullet-style scenario

Harry Potter AU

Fashionista

Dating Park Jihoon can be… challenging. Especially when he’s on a mission to prove to the nation that he’s not the fashion terrorist that they make him out to be.

Dance Into My Heart

You and Jihoon are partnered up for your friend Somi’s dance video, and get closer as you prepare for filming.

dancers au (1million-esque)

Stop Being Cute

You love your best friend dearly, but sometimes the amount of attention that Park Jihoon gets just because he has a nice face can get a little annoying…

high school au/ best friends w/no romance au

Be My Distraction

Drabble

Hold Me By The Heart

drabble

Hear Your Voice

drabble

Pink

valentine’s day mini special

I’m Sorry

kehlani mini series: the letter

Distraction

kehlani mini series: escape

Park Woojin

Picture Perfect (ongoing)

1 | 2 | 3

You’re not particularly into BNM, the new rising kpop group, but your best friend has fallen head-over-heels for their adorable maknae, Lee Daehwi. Your days in college are filled with working on your photography portfolio in hopes that a magazine will hire you, while your best friend’s is filled with stalking keeping up with BNM. However, when one day, your best friend decides to attend a fansign with your best camera, your entire world changes.

A multichaptered fic ft. Park Woojin, the trainees of Brand New Music, Yoo Seonho and the pd101 boys. In this story, your best friend’s name is Lee Seonmi; you two have been friends since high school, and you attend university in Seoul and room together.

Did anyone say slow burn?

Harry Potter AU

bullet–style scenario

Mafia AU

bullet-style scenario

I Love You

Super fluffy

You visit Woojin a few hours before Episode 11; cuddling and cute times ensue

What Are You Waiting For?

you and woojin are best friends. the catch? you’ve had a crush on him since forever, and you’re helping him ask another girl to prom.

ft. friend! kang daniel and older brother!jisung who eats cheese shirtless

high school

set in usa au?

Sweat

Your boyfriend Woojin has a tendency of playing soccer during lunch, but at least he brings you snacks to bribe you into wiping the nasty sweat off his foreheadpre-established relationship

for anon who requested woojin fluff

based off of this pann post

Rivals

You attend a football game between your own university and its rival, Silver Creek Institute. At the game, you meet a super sweet guy, Park Woojin. However, you soon realize that maybe you didn’t know everything you needed to about him.

for an anon who requested a romeo and juliet fic without death

based off of the usa university system

You're a One Hit Wonder, Baby

Your older brother is a boxer. Through his competitions, you come to meet Park Woojin, another boxer, who catches your eye.

Being With You

You and your boyfriend Woojin had a tradition. Every week, you spend time at his dance studio, him working on a choreography and you working on your drawing, before heading over to grab some street food. It’s a good tradition.

Can't Be With You

drabble

You Spin My Head Right Round

When your best friend Jaehyun ditches you at the county fair, you find yourself riding the ferris wheel with a stranger (who is admittedly quite cute). The catch? You’re super afraid of heights

Pretty Cute

You’ve just moved to a new school and have an interesting interaction with Park Woojin, the school’s resident bad boy ™

Can’t Be With You

kehlani mini series: in my feelings

Bae Jinyoung

Reaction to significant other hating ghosts and you two watching a horror film

Harry Potter AU

bullet-style scenario

Mafia AU

bullet-style scenario

Best Friends AU

bullet-style scenario

no romance

Sick

You’re feeling a little under the weather, but Jinyoung is there to cheer you up!

Special

Valentine’s day mini special

Beautiful

kehlani mini series: bright

Lee Daehwi

Hit Me Up

You play hard to get, but Daehwi is determined to get you as his date.

Hit Me Up (The Sequel)

Now that Daehwi’s managed to get a date with you, how does the first date go?

Secrets

You and Lee Daehwi are dating, but your older brother Daniel isn’t aware. What happens when you two go to a movie and Daniel is there as well?

Harry Potter AU

bullet-style scenario

Mafia AU

bullet-style scenario

Banana Milk Love

You and Lee Daehwi have been best friends since kindergarten. However, when you reach high school, you start to drift apart, and you find yourself missing his sunny presence.

(childhood friends/best friends to lovers; next door neighbors to lovers)

Help Me Fly Again

drabble

Dear Guardian Angel

You work at a barbecue restaurant fairly close to the buildings that all the businesspeople work in. One night, you notice a new face among a crowd of regulars.

Focus On Me

Your boyfriend Daehwi has the tendency to flirt with other people without even realizing it.

Forever

valentine’s day mini special

Lai Guanlin

Harry Potter AU

bullet-style scenario

One of Those Days

It was one of those days where you just felt down about yourself, comparing yourself to other people. Luckily, Guanlin’s able to cheer you up.

pre-established relationship

ft. blackpink cameos

warning for body image-concerned reader

Mafia AU

bullet-style scenario

Let Me Love You (complete)

1 | 2

When you were first paired up with Lai Guanlin for your Advanced Business final, you didn’t know what to think. Guanlin was quiet and shy, but as you continued to work together, you realized that he was also kind and a gentleman with his own personal problems. Slowly, you fell for him, and unbeknownst to you, he’d been in love with you all along…

featuring kang mina (pd101/gugudan), kang daniel and ong seungwoo as your best friends; park jihoon and yoo seonho as guanlin’s best friends

high school! au

Reaction to significant other hating ghosts and you two watching a horror film

Reaction to you being close friends with another male idol

I Can’t Let Your Heart Go

As one of the hottest rookies, your participation in collaboration stages is a given. But when you perform Troublemaker with YHUA’s Justin, your boyfriend Guanlin gets a little worried about his own talents and it’s up to you to reassure him that you love him all the same

ft. yuehua trainee justin bc dont lie he would do a gr8 troublemaker

and idol!reader

Let’s Dance… or Try

To boost popularity for your own group, C.I.E.L, your entertainment company decides that you’ll do a special stage with Lai Guanlin of Wanna One. It’s decided that you’ll be performing Troublemaker– the only catch? Guanlin isn’t exactly the world’s best dancer.

Hype

You, Guanlin and Seonho are best friends and it’s messy as hell.

no romance

best friends/high school au

Savior

royalty!au; guanlin is a prince and you’re a palace healer

Nice Shot

You’re practicing basketball in your school’s gym when Lai Guanlin decides to join you; a strange friendship blossoms.

Will

valentine’s day special

I’m Down For You

kehlani mini series: down for you

Kim Jonghyun

Reaction to PD101 Ep.11

Harry Potter AU

bullet-style scenario

New Beginnings

On your first day of college, you’re introduced to Kim Jonghyun, a kind third-year student. As your time in university progresses, you experience many of your college “firsts” with him, leading you to fall for the junior. ft. yuehua sprouts as your best friends (pls ignore their ages omg)

4.5 k words

warnings for alcohol, drugs, attempted use of date-rape drugs

Mafia AU

Cuddles Reaction

New Neighbors

You move into your new apartment, and discover Jonghyun and Jisoo, the adorable father-daughter duo across the hallway. It doesn’t hurt that Jonghyun is incredibly attractive.

non-idol! au

single father jonghyun

What Would Kissing Jonghyun Be Like?

short bullet-style drabble

Forgetting Isn't Easy

drabble

Rosy Cheeks

office!au

Kang Dongho

Reaction to PD101 Ep.11

Harry Potter AU

bullet-style scenario

What Would Kissing Dongho Be Like

bullet-style

Mafia AU

Sunrise

You and your boyfriend go on a date to the beach to watch the sunrise.

Mornings

Just a cute mini fluff about you and Dongho waking up together

Cuddles Reaction

Blue Salvia

Written version of Dongho’s bullet-list mafia au

Captivated

vampire au, set in the same universe as moonstone (yongguk) and colors showing (minhyun)

Here

valentine’s day mini special

Comfort

kehlani drabble series (unconditional)

Beautiful

kehlani mini series: everything is yours

Warmth

kehlani mini series: unconditional

Choi Minki

Harry Potter AU

Mafia AU

Cuddles Reaction

Personal

drabble

Ahn Hyeongseop

Reaction to PD101 Ep.11

Mafia AU

Harry Potter AU

Mall Date

Just a cute mall date with Hyeongseop. That’s it.

Dinner

Lee Euiwoong

Mafia AU

Harry Potter AU

Huang Justin

Mafia AU

You Know I Want Your Love

You’ve never liked Huang Justin, the #1 fuckboy at your high school. That starts to change when you’re assigned as his tutor in Literature.

I’m Here

You get into an argument with Justin, your best friend

Just Relax

kehlani mini series: hold me by the heart

It’s November

kehlani mini series: honey

Jung Jung

Moments Like This

drabble

Noh Taehyun

Harry Potter AU

Mafia AU

Host Club AU: The Sporty Host

That Soulmate Kinda Love

brother ha sungwoon and brother’s best friend noh taehyun

Im Youngmin

Confession

It’s Valentine’s Day, and in a moment of true bravery, you decide to gift your long-time crush Im Youngmin with chocolates. When you see how many other girls have also given him gifts, your confidence dips, but it all works out in the end

valentine’s day fic in july? hell yeah lets do it

high school au! ft. im nayoung (pristin) and choi seungcheol (17) bc they’re also 95 liners

seonho and guanlin as reader’s best friends

Harry Potter AU

bullet-style scenario

You’ve Got a Pizza My Heart

You and your boyfriend have your first fight, but he has an incredibly cheesy way to say he’s sorry

pre-established relationship w/youngmin

Don’t Play (complete)

1 | 2

ft. ha minho as the asshole™

Im Youngmin is your brother’s best friend. You happen to have a huge crush on him.

angst and fluff ish? in chapter one; pure fluff in chapter two

some weird non idol au

kim donghyun is your older brother

warning: this includes unsafe/underage (?) drinking and sexual harassment.

Passion

link to navigate chapters

Ever since you accidentally spilled your lunch on Im Youngmin, the popular chaebol senior with money and fame, he’s seemed to hate you. However, when some odd photos of the two of you arguing appear in a tabloid, he has a solution as to how you can make up for it– pretend to be his girlfriend.

high school au + fake dating au

same universe/basic timeline as let me love you

multichaptered for all you youngmin stans!

dancer!reader

reader is a second-year in high school; youngmin is a third-year

Yearbook

You and Daehwi win “the best couple that never was” in the yearbook. Your boyfriend Youngmin is not pleased.

Conceptualize

As a famous producer, your good friend KittiB asks you to help her label out by lending a hand to BrandNewMusic’s latest project– an idol group. You decide to help out

no romance!!!

producer!reader

Mafia AU

Cinema

It’s your first date with Im Youngmin, and you’re incredibly nervous about your movie date.

Sweet Like Honey

Drabble

Kim Donghyun

Conceptualize

As a famous producer, your good friend KittiB asks you to help her label out by lending a hand to BrandNewMusic’s latest project– an idol group. You decide to help out

no romance!!!

producer!reader

Mafia AU

Harry Potter AU

Heart to Heart

kehlani mini series: 24/7

Kim Samuel

Reaction to PD101 Ep.11

Mnet Who?

After seeing all the activities that Wanna One was participating in, Samuel feels a bit down and it’s up to you to cheer him up.

Harry Potter AU

Yoo Seonho

Cute

You’re babysitting your older sister’s 6-month old daughter, doing your best to get her to sleep, when your boyfriend Seonho shows up on your doorstep. Cute, snuggly times ft. a baby ensue!

Welcome to Paradise

Summer is a time for the sun, ice cream, and of course, beaches. You experience this first-hand with Yoo Seonho, the could-be-a-five-year-old boyfriend.

Oppa?

As a new trainee at Cube, your fellow labelmate and sunbae Yoo Seonho has a lot of advice. Is he really an oppa, though 👀👀

no romance!

Welcome to the Family

high school!au

bullet-style scenario

Harry Potter AU

Hype

You, Guanlin and Seonho are best friends and it’s messy as hell.

no romance

best friends/high school au

You're New Here

School has just begun, and you’re deskmates with the new kid, Yoo Seonho.

Spiderman Squad

spiderman!seonho au, high school au

Kim Donghan

Harry Potter AU

Mafia AU

They're Wrong

drabble

based on 24/7 by kehlani

Make It Official

drabble

Life is Cold

drabble

Host Club AU: The Prince Charming Host

Come Home?

kehlani mini series: jealous

They’re Wrong

kehlani mini series: 24/7

Make It Official

kehlani mini series: the way

Jin Longguo

Harry Potter AU

Misunderstanding (complete)

1 | 2

You really dislike Kim Yongguk, your seatmate in Civics, because he cheated on one of your best friends a while ago. However, you soon learn that he wasn’t the only Yongguk to attend your high school.

Moonstone

You sign up for a Blood Partners program online, which matches humans up with vampires to get fed on and be paid for their services (college is expensive). You’re paired up with Kim Yongguk, a kind vampire with money and a lot of secrets.

modern day vampire au (vampires are integrated into society au)

I Got You

drabble

Only You

drabble

Distance

drabble

Host Club AU: The Natural Host

There’s No Turning Back

You’ve been pining over Jin Longguo, a surgeon at the hospital where you work at, for ages, and your friends decide that it’s time you put yourself out there again, arranging a blind date for you.

Not Right Now

kehlani mini series: do u dirty

Kim Sihyun

Ice Packs

You’re beating the heat of the summer with your boyfriend Sihyun and his best friend’s cat, Tolbi.

All I Need

kehlani mini series: wanted

Did It Again

kehlani mini series: good life

Takada Kenta

Harry Potter AU

Mafia AU

Guest MC

You’re on Weekly Idol as a guest MC when JBJ is featured as a guest. One of Kenta’s more embarrassing secrets surfaces, and it has to do with a certain guest MC.

I Like You a Latte

You first met Takada Kenta on your college campus’s only 24 hour cafe, desperately trying to finish an essay for class. Slowly, the two of you grow closer.

college au/coffee shop au

Heart On Your Wrist

You’re super excited to be seeing Takada Kenta and the boys of JBJ at their very first fansign. However, while you’re there, you find your soulmate

soulmates au (the one where your soulmate’s first words are tattooed on your wrist)

Keep Your Heart

drabble

Talk

kehlani mini series: jealous

You’ll Be Alright

kehlani mini series: be alright

Woo Jinyoung

Mafia AU

Kwon Hyunbin

Mafia AU

I Love You

kehlani mini series: jealous

do u dirty

kehlani mini series: do u dirty

OHSHC AU

Jung Sewoon

Heartache

drabble

Mayday, Mayday

After the first time you spilled coffee on an incredibly handsome man at a bus stop, you never expected to see him again. When you spill coffee on him the second time, the two of you get to talking.

Get To Know You

You’re a counselor at a summer camp, and Jung Sewoon is the cute counselor who plays his guitar during camp bonfires. Unfortunately, you’re too shy to say anything to him.

A Song For You

Fluff, pre-established relationship

Stay

Valentine’s day mini special

Mafia AU

Taedong

Harry Potter AU

Stuck On You

drabble

Wrong

kehlani mini series: you should be here

Hong Eunki

Take Me As I Am

drabble

Kim Sanggyun

You’re the Apple of My Eye

idol rapper! reader who is from starship

pre-established relationship w sanggyun

ft. Doni and Coni!Weekly Idol

Lee Gunhee

Mafia AU

Cozy Vegetables

Move On

kehlani mini series: do u dirty

Zhu Zhengting

Mafia AU

Lee Gwanghyun

Harry Potter AU

860 notes · View notes

lobsters-on-their-heads · 7 years

Text

Continuing Travels of Cophine, Chap. 7

They’ve cured all the Latin American Ledas, and they can go home for a bit now. This chapter starts a little differently, though.

You can find the entire work here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12116799

Also, if you haven’t yet read A Galaxy of Women, the work that kicked this off, you should read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11836590/chapters/26716833

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Toronto, early December

“So how's your class coming?”

Sarah looked up at Art and scowled. “You sound like me, talking to the kids.”

He grinned and held the door open for her, then followed her into the diner. It was the tail end of the dinner rush, so they had to wait for tables to be cleared before getting seated. The air was filled with the clatter of dishes and the smell of coffee and fried food.

“I am proud of you, though,” Art added. “Going back to school is hard, no matter what.”

“Yeah. It's not doing much for my self-esteem, though, I'll tell you that. I just keep reminding myself that it's for Kira. I can't just coast by without trying to improve myself, not with Kira watching everything I do.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Kids change your perspective.”

Sarah had finally earned her GED in August, and spent a fruitless month searching for gainful employment that didn't involve a cash register, a deep fryer, or a toilet brush. She'd considered a few overnight positions, stocking shelves, baking bread, and doing security, but she could not leave Kira and Charlotte alone all night, and it was a lot to ask someone else to watch them for five nights a week. She didn't have the people skills for customer service or the physical strength to deliver packages. Even filing clerk positions usually asked for an Associate's Degree. It all reminded her why she had gone into drug dealing in the first place, but she would clean toilets before she went back to that life.

In early September, Alison tossed her a metaphorical bone and put Sarah on the Sadler and Daughter's Foundation payroll as a part-time administrative assistant, for minimum wage, ten hours a week. She still had that title, but within a week, it became plainly clear that Sarah wouldn't have gotten or kept the job working for anyone other than her sister. She'd never made a spreadsheet before, and she couldn't make head nor tail of the databases Alison had set up. Her main job duties quickly turned into running errands for Alison or handling last minute issues for Cosima and Delphine.

Then, just as toilet cleaning was starting to seem like a real possibility, Sarah checked her bank statement to see if she afford new shoes for Kira, and almost fell out of her chair. Just over $3 million had magically appeared in her account overnight, courtesy of MK, who'd set up her account to transfer the funds automatically in the event that she did not log in to her account for twelve months. Sarah's job search ended, and she enrolled herself in a ten-week Computer Applications course at the local community college. She'd just left the classroom when Art texted asking if she wanted dinner.

“Don't tell me this class is too hard for you,” Art said, as the hostess seated them near a window.

Sarah groaned and leaned against the cold glass. “It just about is. I think I can pass, but it's kicking my ass right now. It doesn't help that the teacher's two years younger than me, and most of the other students aren't even twenty yet. The only ones older than me are, like, seventy-five and taking the class because they're bored.”

“Don't worry about that. You focus on you.”

She sighed. “Some pimple-faced git in the class with me, one of those under-twenties, he told me I'm not detail-oriented enough for computer work. I wanted to slap him, but I think he's right.”

They ordered coffee and tea, and Art wrinkled his forehead at her. “Not detail-oriented? Don't give me that bullshit. You conned me, and the entire police department, for weeks as Beth, remember? You conned Beth's bank and her boyfriend. Didn't you once convince Ferdinand that you were actually Rachel Duncan? You don't do that kind of conning without being detail-oriented.”

“That's not detail-oriented, that's just paying attention and being flexible, isn't it?”

“Is it? You managed your way around the computers at the station while you were there.”

She laughed. “That's `cause I got Raj to help me with everything. How's he doing, by the way?”

Art said that Raj was doing fine just as the waiter returned with their drinks. They ordered – steak and a salad for Art and a cheddar bacon scramble for Sarah. Outside, the drizzle of the afternoon turned into steady freezing rain that tapped against the glass of the diner window.

She sighed. “You wanna hear something sad? I took my placement tests for the college, to figure out what levels I need to be in, you know, and I placed, no shit, I placed in fucking developmental math and English. Developmental, like, for the stupid people who can't handle regular classes.”

“It just means it's been a while since you took those subjects,” Art assured her. “You'll get back up to speed.”

She shook her head. “Doesn't feel like I will. And I've never been good at math. I took the same math class three years in a row in school, and I failed every single time. Meanwhile, my bloody clone is working on her bloody PhD and figured out how to cure all of us by her bloody self.”

As if on cue, Sarah's phone beeped, showing a message from Cosima. Opening the message, she saw a picture of Cosima and Delphine, smiling at each other in a garden at sunset, surrounded by banana trees and climbing vines with bright red flowers. They both wore short sleeves and Cosima had her arms around Delphine's waist. “God, she has to rub it in, doesn't she?” Sarah muttered. Before she could show the picture to Art, another message popped up, written in all caps.

SHE SAID YES

“Well, shit!” Sarah cried, “It's about bloody time!” Grinning, she spun the phone around to show Art. “She finally asked Delphine to marry her. Like she wasn't gonna say yes. Pssh.”

Art's face broke into the kind of grin he usually reserved for Helena's babies or his own daughter's accomplishments. “So we're gonna have a Clone Club wedding, then?”

The phone beeped again. Maybe don't tell everyone yet, Cosima wrote. Or is it too late for that?

No problem. Art's here, so I told him, but that's all. I'll let you tell everyone else. She sent the message, then added, Just don't wait too bloody long to tell them!

Sarah remembered Cosima when Delphine was missing, and when they thought she was dead. She remembered when Cosima herself had been dying, hooked up to an oxygen tank and coughing up blood left and right and all any of them could think about was survival. And now Cosima and Delphine were getting married. Looking back at the picture Cosima sent, she grinned, her happiness mostly overcoming her envy. Mostly.

“Excuse me.” She waved to the waitress when she passed. “Could you take a picture of us? Art, look miserable.”

The waitress agreed, taking a moment to sort out Sarah's phone. Sarah and Art slouched in their seats, elbows on the table. Art wore his best hang-dog expression and pointed at the weather outside just as the waitress snapped the photo. Sarah send the picture to Cosima with the message, It's a little less romantic up here. Good thing you asked her before you got back.

Then, in all seriousness, she sent another. Seriously, I'm thrilled for you both. You bloody well better invite all of us to the wedding.

* *

Delphine told Marie, the owner of the bed and breakfast, the news as soon as they returned for the night. They'd eaten dinner at La Nacional, recommended as the “best romantic restaurant in Monterrey,” which gave Delphine an excuse to buy a new skirt to replace the one with the salsa stain on it, and it really was quite romantic. All the same, Delphine would have been happy with a taco truck as long as she was there with Cosima, but Cosima wanted to spoil her, and she wanted to give Cosima what she wanted.

“Where's the ring?” Marie demanded, looking at Delphine's fingers once she'd ascertained that it was Cosima who'd done the asking.

“There isn't one,” Delphine replied.

Beside her, Cosima squirmed a little. “I'll get her once we're back in Toronto.”

Marie nodded, satisfied with that answer. “They might have a better selection there, and you'll have time to resize it up there if you need to.”

And then there were pictures and a bottle of wine brought out especially for them, and they drank to their future together.

In their room upstairs, they took their time getting ready for bed. Every few minutes, Cosima looked at her sideways, with those shining puppy dog eyes that melted Delphine's heart. Finally, seated on the edge of the bed, she wrapped an arm around Cosima's waist and her pulled her close, so Cosima had to wrap her arms around Delphine's neck to keep from toppling sideways.

“You know,” Delphine said, “you don't have to buy me an engagement ring at all.”

Cosima smiled and blushed a little. “Are you just saying that because I don't know what kind to get you?”

“No, not at all. I've given it a lot of thought.”

“Have you?” She twisted a little and sat sideways on Delphine's lap, one hand playing with Delphine's hair.

“Yes. For years after I left Jérôme, I thought about what he did that made me so upset, when everyone else thought I should have been happy.”

Cosima's fingers followed the line of Delphine's jaw from her ear to the slight divot in her chin. “You said he just wanted to show you off, like a possession he'd won or something.”

“Yes, that was most of it. And the engagement ring, well, you know that was him showing off, too.”

“Because it cost 15,000 euro.”

“Yes, partly. But also because he put it on my finger in front of everyone. He...” She searched for the right words in English. She'd explained this to her close French friends, but never to anyone else in English. “It was like when I bought that painting of you. He'd put a sticker on me and bought me for 15,000 euro in front of everyone.”

Cosima smiled at the memory of the painting. They had talked, and talked, and talked some more, for what ended up being hours, about commitment and autonomy and vulnerability both before and after Delphine bought it. They'd talked even more while planning their trip to Latin America, about entitlements and responsibilities and obligations.

“I guess engagement rings are like that, though,” Cosima said, “for straight people, anyway. It's a way for guys to, like, tag their women so other guys know she's off limits.”

Delphine nodded. She gets it. She gets me. “Yes. And it's telling, isn't it, that men don't wear engagement rings? That only women do?”

“Would it be, like, terribly unfeminist of me,” Cosima said, “if I kind of want that, though? Like, if I want people to know your mine? I mean, just walking down the street today after you said yes, it was so fucking hard for me to keep my mouth shut and not just shout it out to everyone we passed.”

Delphine giggled, because she'd had the same inclination before, just not today. Her first night with Cosima in Toronto had had that effect on her; she'd wanted to shout from the windows, “Cosima knows who I am and she still wants to be with me!” In the end, the only person other than Cosima who saw Delphine gloat in any way was Aldous Leekie. She couldn't keep from smirking too much that one of his subjects had so thoroughly outperformed him, but it took her several days to let the smirk come out. She kissed Cosima's hand, first the side, then the palm.

“No,” she assured her. “It wouldn't be terrible to want that. But you know, I was yours long before you asked me to marry you. That hasn't changed.”

With her free hand, Cosima brushed Delphine's hair back behind her ear and played with her earlobe. “I know. I was yours, too; I have been yours. I just... I just want everybody to know it. And you can give me a ring, too! Claim the hell out of me.”

A breeze came in from the cracked open window and made them both shiver. Delphine pulled Cosima closer and nuzzled her neck. “I will give you one when we get married. Wedding rings are a little different from engagement rings that way. We give them to each other, and we make each other promises. It doesn't matter even who goes first, because we both say the same words, the same promises, and we both lay claim to each other.”

Cosima leaned back, allowing the breeze to raise goosebumps on Delphine's now exposed chest. “You can be so romantic sometimes, Dr. Cormier.”

“Sometimes.” With a smooth motion, she deposited Cosima on the bed and stood up to close the window. “Sometimes I'm practical.”

The flight out of Monterrey left at close to four in the afternoon, leaving them time to stroll around the Macroplaza and the Palacio del Obispado before heading to the airport. Marie gave them a small gift basket full of local goodies when they checked out, winking to show them it was a special gift.

“Send me wedding pictures!” she told them.

On their way to the airport, Cosima watched the Mexican landscape go by, Delphine's hand in hers. Delphine watched her, seeing the small frown forming between Cosima's eyebrows. “Will you miss Latin America?” she asked.

Cosima took a deep breath and considered before answering. “Yes. But I'm looking forward to getting back. Seeing all the sestras again, having my own lab, you know. Flushing the toilet paper instead of throwing it away.”

They both giggled. “That will be our first culture shock when we get back,” she said, “put toilet paper in the toilet instead of a trash can.”

The airport check-in went smoothly; they had both flown enough times by now to have the routine down pat and to know exactly what measures to take to ensure a pleasant experience. They were accustomed to the panicking travelers running around them, the brusque security agents, and the variable selections of airport food. Over the past several months, Cosima had developed characters to go with common airport denizens, sometimes named after actual people.

“Looks like another Rodrigo up there,” she commented as they shuffled through the line towards security. Sure enough, when Delphine looked, she saw a man shouting instructions to the folks in his line, just like the original Rodrigo with his security line in Santiago had.

“Put the bins back on the stack when you finish!” this one shouted, first in Spanish, then in English. “If you put them back, the line moves faster!” Five minutes later, when he found more empty bins piling up on the conveyor belt, he yelled again. “You're not listening to me! Put the bins back on the stack!”

“How much longer do you think he has?” Cosima asked.

“Before he quits?”

“Before he gives himself an ulcer.”

“Too late for that; he probably already has one.”

They transferred in Houston with a ninety minute layover that gave them enough time to use the bathroom (and flush their toilet paper), grab some premade sandwiches and snacks from a kiosk, and find their next terminal. On the way, they shared a hallway with a girl in her late teens or early twenties, a Powerpuff Girls pillow strapped to her hiking backpack and tears streaming down her face. “This is such bullshit!” she cried out. “I can't believe it. Such fucking bullshit!”

Delphine would have ignored her, but Cosima cocked her head in the girl's direction and watched her as they all walked in the same direction. At the end of the hallway they were stopped by a set of sliding doors and sign asking them to please wait for the shuttle to take them to their terminal. The girl made a sound like her arm was being ripped off.

“What time does your flight leave?” Cosima asked.

“It leaves at four fucking thirty! And it's four o'clock right now! There's no way I can get there; I'm going to miss my fucking flight!” She grabbed her hair at the roots and yanked hard.

A Tabitha, Delphine thought, remembering the girl at the airport in São Paolo, named Tabitha by Cosima, who had come close to this level of drama. But worse.

“Where are you flying to?” Cosima asked the girl, smiling a little at her.

“Nowhere because I'm gonna miss my fucking flight oh my God!”

Delphine rolled her eyes. “You'll be fine,” she told her. “Freaking out never -”

“Okay, you don't know anything about me so don't tell me not to freak out, okay?”

Now Delphine just wanted to laugh. This is why she avoided interacting with strangers whenever possible. She could deliver babies and save lives, but emotional management was Cosima's wheelhouse, not hers. If the person didn't respond to Delphine's attempts to calm them in the first few seconds, Delphine gave up, and in this case, she had to admit she wasn't even trying. “Okay,” she said.

Thirty minutes later, she and Cosima were on their next plane, in seats a few rows back from First Class, and the Houston Tabitha, as they now called her, was off somewhere else. “I hope she got her flight,” Cosima commented as she settled into the middle seat. Delphine got the window seat this time.

“I hope she didn't.”

“Really? That's a little petty of you, don't you think?”

A middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard sat in the aisle seat next to Cosima, nodding to both of them as he did. Delphine barely took note of him, and said to Cosima, “It's not petty. If she makes her flight, she might think that all of her dramatics led to her success, but if she misses her flight, she'll learn that life goes on.”

“She could be stranded here. We don't know what her situation is.”

“No, but I'm not convinced she knows her situation all that well, either. She shouldn't have been so rushed; she should have planned better.”

“Right. Like we've never missed a flight.”

Their flight from Lima to Buenos Aires, like most all of their flights, had been schedule last minute, with few options to choose from, and they ended up having less than an hour to transfer in Santiago. As a result, they missed their second flight by about ten minutes, and spent the night in Santiago, earning Cosima an unpleasant earful from Alison Hendrix.

“I don't recall either of us making that kind of scene when it happened,” Delphine remarked. “Do you?”

“Not the point, love.”

They settled into comfortable positions, with rolled up sweatshirts, travel pillows, water bottles, and portable entertainment situated in routine-tested places around them. Delphine was fishing a bag of mixed nuts from her bag when she heard Cosima gasp and exclaim, “Holy shit, that's awesome!”

“What? What's awesome?”

But Cosima wasn't looking at her; she was turned to the man in the aisle seat, who had removed his left leg from the knee down and propped it up against his shoulder like a rifle, the foot poking up beside his head. He grinned at Cosima's enthusiasm. “I've always got legroom,” he said.

The plane began to taxi toward the runway, and Cosima jumped into an animated conversation with her seat partner, who said his name was Amir. He asked about where she'd been and she told him, introducing Delphine with a grin as her fiancée and then leaning back to allow them to shake hands. He congratulated them and said he was returning from a year-long study on flesh-eating bacteria along the Gulf coast. At that, Cosima's eyes really lit up, and by the time the plane was airborne and the fasten seatbelt sign turned off, Cosima and Amir were pouring over charts and images on his laptop. Amir's prosthetic leg had moved to straddle both of their laps, and Delphine heard the women sitting in front of them expressing private, quiet discomfort at the topics under discussion.

“Babe, check this out,” Cosima said a couple of times, tapping Delphine's arm to show her something Amir had on his computer. “See this model shows the spread of nectorizing fasciitis in hurricane-prone areas, and this one-” Cosima broke off to grin at Delphine and hold her hand more closely. “Delphine's the one you should really be talking to. She did her dissertation on host-parasite relationships.”

Amir's eyebrows popped up. “Really?”

She squeezed Cosima's hand, trying to tell her without saying so that she loved her, but was looking forward to zoning out for the next few hours. Again, chatting people up was Cosima's gig, not hers. “Yes, really.”

“Well, I'd love to hear about your research if you don't mind sharing. Scientist to scientist, you know.” Amir had a warm smile, the kind that would understand a polite decline. Cosima, on the other hand, was beaming, showing the full force of her canines, and Delphine could never resist that grin. She gave Amir the overview of her dissertation work, now several years in the past, and tried to emphasize that she wasn't focusing so much on host-parasite relationships these days. Amir then asked Cosima about her research, and the conversation swerved into discussions of clone cells, stem cell lines, and the perils of doing research remotely. After a few minutes, Delphine felt safe turning away and leaning her head against her make-shift pillow. She watched the heartland of the United States pass beneath them and listened to the chatter of her lover – her fiancée – beside her, and before she knew it she drifted off.

* *

The blood was everywhere – on her hands, her blouse, the floor, even the walls of the antique dressing room. In her arms, Cosima twitched and gaped like a fish out of water, and Delphine screamed. Then, in a moment, it was over. Cosima went limp, her lungs ceased their struggle, and her eyes glazed over, fixed on nothing.

“Let her go, Delphine.” Siobhan's hand was gentle on her shoulder, but firm. Sarah was there, too, and with Siobhan's help she pulled Delphine back, took Cosima from her arms, and told her it was over, there was nothing she could do.

“We got him,” Sarah said. “He's dead now, too.” Turning, she saw it was true. The man she'd known as PT Westmoreland was dead in the doorway, pistol still in his hand. She couldn't even avenge her lover's death.

Time passed, and there were still clones to cure. Delphine went alone. She saw countless women with Cosima's face, but none of them were her. They didn't have her hair, her tongue-between-her-teeth smile, her brilliance, her humor. They weren't her. A few of them flirted with her, but she just stuck the needle in their arms, or their uteruses, and left. At night she went alone to her hotel, always a blank, business-oriented room. She drank whiskey and smoked cigarettes on the balcony and fell asleep with her clothes on. Eventually, she stuck a needle in the last Leda. The woman left without Delphine even learning her name, and then Delphine had nowhere else to go. There was nothing left to do, no reason to keep going...

BONG

“Attention passengers. We are now beginning our descent into Toronto. The captain has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign...”

Reality crashed into Delphine like a shock. She tried turning, but she couldn't move, and for a moment, she panicked. Then a gentle hand held her face, and she heard soft laughter.

“It's okay, baby. You're still on the plane.”

“Hnnnn?”

“You passed the fuck out. I don't think I've ever seen you sleep that deeply on a plane before. Usually that's my job.”

Her eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lights and her breathing returned to normal. She was indeed on a plane, and Cosima was not dead, but sitting and smiling right next to her. Outside the window, gaps in the clouds showed tiny winking lights of cars, buildings, and street lamps far below, clustering around neighborhoods and cities and outlining waterways. She could still taste the cheap dream cigarettes in her mouth, and it took her a minute to remember that she'd quit smoking over a year ago. Her face was damp. A look at the sweatshirt she'd been using a pillow showed a five inch wide wet spot right where her face had been.

“Yeah, you were drooling.”

“Apparently.”

Cosima offered her some water, and she drank it with shaky hands. Her body was back in reality, but her mind could not shake the dream. The overwhelming sense of loss and despair lingered in the folds of her heart even as Cosima took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Mm. Yes. Just... still sleepy.” She tried to stretch, but was thwarted by the carry on bag at her feet. She wanted to turn and wrap all of herself around Cosima, to feel her heart beat and her breath against her skin, but that would have to wait. She settled for leaning her head against Cosima's. “A bed will be nice.”

“We'll get you tucked in soon enough,” Cosima assured her. “Scott promised to put fresh linens on the bed for us today, and he said there's a new space heater down there now.”

She smiled and closed her eyes against the plane's lights. Children in the seats behind them cried out that they saw snow on the ground, and an adult told them it was not snow, but a white roof. “Weather says no snow,” the man said. “Just a lot of sleet and gross weather.”

As her body crept further into wakefulness, she felt her scar flaring up, itching and burning at the same time. It was a familiar sensation, with the symptoms presenting themselves far enough under the dermis that no amount of rubbing or scratching the area would ever help. In fact, it only made matters worse. She winced and tried to press on the site with the heel of her hand, trying to at least contain the discomfort until it passed or she could put an ice pack on it. She'd been sitting too long, twisted and crunched and using her abdominal muscles without really thinking about it because she'd been asleep, and this was the result. This was why she usually did her best to stay awake on plane flights, so she could at least change positions once in a while.

“What's wrong?” Cosima asked.

She almost brushed it off like she had with the nightmare. Physical pain, though, was easier to manage, easier to share. “My scar's bothering me,” she said. “You know how it is sometimes.”

“Hmm.” Cosima reached around their seat belts to rub Delphine's upper thigh. “It's been a while since it hurt you, though.”

She nodded. Images from the dream kept flickering in her mind, no matter how hard she tried to convince her brain that it wasn't real. She remembered Siobhan's hands on her shoulders, the smell of blood, the pervasive grayness and hopelessness of it all. It wasn't real. Siobhan had never put her hands on Delphine's shoulders, and Delphine had never wanted her to until now, when she remembered that Siobhan never would.

It could've been real. There was that little voice again, reminding her of how terrible things could have turned out. Like she needed to be reminded of just how lucky she was.

#cophine fanfiction #continuing travels of cophine #my fanfiction #my writing #orphan black fanfiction #post canon

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builder051 · 7 years

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Mike & Co Introductory Story (OC sickfic)

Alright, here’s the intro story for Mike, Jason, and Colby (well, it’s a story about Mike, with cameos from Jason and Colby). It’s the only story I have planned for them so far, so once you read this, feel free to send requests for any/all of these guys.

Trigger warnings: a little bit of eating disorder thought process, but no descriptions of ED behaviors. Also a little disrespect for the field of ED therapy. I don’t hate all therapy. I’ve just had a bad experience with that kind of therapy.

Mike sits heavily down on the picnic bench and unzips her blue insulated lunchbox. She has no idea what to expect; Colby had shuffled around the kitchen and then thrown the thing at her after she’d threatened to leave without it. The others around the table—Mike isn’t sure how to think of them. Clients? Patients? Other among the sick, weak, and damned?—sheepishly unload their packed dinners and surreptitiously glance around at what everyone else is either trying or pretending to eat tonight.

Mike joins in and dumps out a host of ominously heavy items. There’s a Tupperware of something salad-looking, a glass bottle of kombucha, a baggie of brownish clusters resembling granola cereal, a peach, and a banana bread muffin wrapped in a paper towel. She organizes the individual parts of her meal across her placemat and realizes with a pang of guilt that it’s probably what Colby intended to eat for tomorrow’s lunch. Now wasted on her. Mike’s even less inclined to tuck in.

She gets up from the table both to buy a little time and search down some flatware since Colby neglected to give her any. The journey across the covered patio and into the home-style kitchen is quick, but conspicuous. Mike’s barely back in her seat when one of the nutritionists, Krista, brightly asks, “What’cha got there, Michaela? Looks different from your usual.”

Mike shrugs. She pulls the top off the Tupperware and reveals a mess of greens topped with what looks like a whole avocado and two or three fistfuls of sunflower seeds. Although she knows the monounsaturated fats in the dish are actually quite beneficial to her overall health, the sheer number of calories within the clear plastic dish seems staggering. But then again, it was meant for a 6’2” teenaged man. Not for her.

Krista won’t stop looking at her, so Mike digs her plastic fork into the center of the salad and jams a wad of veg into her mouth. She takes her time chewing, tasting the bitter greens and creamy avocado and nutty sweetness of the seeds. She thinks for a second that she understands why Colby prefers these kinds of meals. It tastes a hell of a lot better than the false chemical sweetness of, say, pop tarts. But that fucking fat content…

When the allotted dinner hour is up, Mike waits in line. The mandatory after-dinner private conference with Krista or Deb or one of the other heartless fools who run the outpatient therapy program has to be the worst part of the 4-hour-a-day, 3-day-a-week torture. A degree in nutrition or psychology isn’t enough to give anyone the right to glance across a table and decide whether an independent, free thinking person should be forced to consume even more calories of dairy-based high-sugar “nutritional” drink.

Mike plays with the zipper on her lunchbox, hoping she won’t have to open it and talk through its remaining contents. She’d made a decent attempt on everything, but finished nothing. But she feels full. She almost feels overfull. Mike wishes she could go to the bathroom. She’s learned by now that when the digestive system’s been underused or forced to work in reverse for an extended period of time, it goes into the mode of something like a tiny, sick kitten. Indigestion just follows eating, and sometimes going to sit on the toilet or just stand around in the bathroom— and decidedly not purge—are necessary measures to deal with impending stomach pains. But that’s not allowed in the fucking therapy program. Apparently letting grown adults use the toilet on their own whims is too much of a risk. So it leaves Mike feeling like, well, like shit.

“Michaela, you’re up.” Deb lets the previous girl out of her office and beckons to Mike.

Mike tries not to roll her eyes as she steps into the overly cheerful office with its yellow walls and daisy-centric décor. Deb is decidedly Mike’s least favorite staff member, and unfortunately, she’s the highest ranking. She’s a businesswoman, owns the therapy program, and despite not having the proper credentials, gets to tell everyone else what to do and where to go.

“Alright, what did we have tonight?” Deb’s supremely annoying in way she addresses Mike in the plural. Like she’s a pair of twin toddlers or something. “I think I saw some salad across the dinner table. You know that’s not part of your nutrition plan.”

Ah, yes, the nutrition plan, Mike thinks. The fucking spreadsheet that seems to place human beings as creatures that consume only macronutrients. “It wasn’t really a salad. It was a lot of nuts and avocado,” Mike defends.

“That’s still deficient in protein and carbs,” Deb says back with an overbearing, almost sarcastic patience.

“Plus fruit. And cereal. And banana bread,” Mike lists monotonously.

“Nutritionally, that’s not enough.” Deb scratches her flower-topped pen across a notepad, probably writing something scathing for Mike’s file.

“It was my brother’s boyfriend’s packed lunch,” Mike says, letting her forehead wrinkle into her expression of distaste. “Some people have a muffin or a cup of cereal for their whole meal.”

“You need to stick to your nutrition plan to normalize your eating habits.”

“Normal people eat what I ate.” Mike crosses her arms. Colby probably won’t appreciate being glumped together with everyone else on the planet, but to Mike, his calmness and ability to go with the flow places him distinctly opposed to her on the scale of anxiety. He’s as decidedly normal as Mike’s not.

“Michaela, I know you don’t like to hear this,” Deb says with a sigh. She opens the mini fridge behind her desk and pulls out a bottle of nutrition shake. “A muffin or a cup of cereal isn’t enough to keep a person going. We need to focus on eating the right things in the right quantity to actually meet your needs.”

“So you’re saying everyone is nutritionally deficient?” Mike snaps.

Deb uncaps the shake and pours out 8 ounces into a marked glass. She pushes it across the desk toward Mike. “Here.”

“Can you answer my question?”

“Please drink it,” Deb says, false patience thick in her voice.

“Fucking answer it.”

“Michaela.”

Mike’s stomach cramps a little under her folded arms. “No, I…it makes my stomach hurt. My stomach already hurts.”

“Your parents enrolled you in this program because they want to help you get better,” Deb says. “You owe it to them, and you owe it to yourself. Let’s lose the excuses.”

Mike tentatively wraps her hand around the glass, trying to crush it with her minimal grip strength. She almost laughs and shakes her head. “No, my parents enrolled me because they couldn’t be bothered to drive 2 hours out of the way to come visit, and they didn’t want to impose on my hardworking brother and ask him to babysit me.”

“That’s not true. Your parents are very caring people.”

“You’ve never met my parents. Just talked to them on the phone,” Mike snorts.

“Do you want to drink that and get back to the group session?” Deb asks, the false cheerfulness starting to wane.

“You wanna answer my question?” Mike reminds her.

“Michaela,” Deb says firmly. It’s that tone of voice, the kind that clearly betrays a desire for the other person to submit and obey because it’s somehow the right thing to do. It’s the way Mike’s mother speaks to her. The way teachers talk to students, the way people order around their dogs and horses when they’re forcing them to do something.

Mike lifts the glass. She’s already nauseated before it’s to her lips. She manages to chug down a sip of the blatantly artificial tasting vanilla beverage before everything comes screeching to a halt. Mike presses her sleeve to her mouth to keep from belching the milky fluid back up. She’s 20 years old. She doesn’t have to be here. Her parents will only lose money if she leaves. “I can’t,” she chokes out.

“You need to finish that.” Deb says it firmly, but then her saccharine smile is back. “You don’t have to take it all at once. I can get you some water. We can stay in here for a while.”

“No.” Mike gets on her feet. “No. I can’t do this anymore. Any of this.” She swallows the sour-tinged vanilla taste at the back of her throat. Her fist closes around the strap of her lunchbox. Mike towers over Deb, who’s still seated behind the desk. “You’re a liar and a fraud. You are the opposite of helpful. Fuck you.” She’s shaking with combined lightheadedness and anger.

“Michaela—”

Mike doesn’t hear her finish. She’s already out of the office and down the hall.

Her car’s parked on the street half a block down from the therapy program’s house-like building. Mike jumps in it and starts low-key speeding down the street before she realizes she’s about to fall apart. She just had a confrontation with someone. She cussed someone out. She was a total dick to Deb and that feels…amazing?

Mike’s hands are shaking and sweat-slick on the steering wheel. Her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. There’s a throbby ache behind her forehead that’s starting to push her vision into sparkles around the sides. She needs to calm down. She needs to breathe.

It’s a 15-minute drive back to the apartment. Mike’s stomach twists, sending a tendril of hot nausea up her back to erupt in prickles around her neck and jawline. She has to make it home.

But her breath’s not coming evenly. Each choppy inhale is shorter than the last, and after a few moments she’s almost gasping. Mike rolls down the window to invite the fall breeze into her Rav-4. When she looks up to the view through the windshield, her eyeballs feel foggy. There’s a siren behind her, and it sends disorienting flashes of red and blue into the car. Mike tries to pull over, but before she’s sure what’s happened, she’s sideswiped a half-dozen orange barrels and jammed her tire into the curb.

Mike lowers her forehead to the steering wheel, trying to comprehend what she’s gotten herself into while also swallowing the urge to be sick.

“Hello ma’am. Have you had anything to drink this evening?” The officer’s standing beside the already-open driver-side window.

“No, I…” Mike says. There’s entirely too much spit in her mouth. The still-flashing police lights are giving a strobe effect that isn’t helping with her ability to ground herself in time and space. She swallows thickly. “I just—” The words are lost in a gag that Mike tries to obscure with a hand clapped over her mouth.

“Ma’am?” The officer yanks the car door open and frees Mike from her seatbelt so she can lean out. Mike retches, and a spray of whitish fluid hits the asphalt.

“Oh fuck,” Mike chokes. “I’m sorry.” She heaves again and brings up more.

“Ok, breathe. Try to calm down,” the officer instructs. “You ok? Just not feeling so hot?”

Mike takes a hitchy breath. “God. Yeah, I—” another heave forces its way up her throat, and a weak stream of bile leaves her coughing.

“Alright,” the cop says.

“’M not drunk,” Mike mumbles when she finally has enough breath.

“Yeah, I know. You don’t smell like alcohol.” The officer scratches his head. “You seem pretty sick. Do you think you need to go to the hospital?”

“No,” Mike whispers. “I’m ok.”

“You sure you don’t need medical attention?”

“Yeah.” Mike coughs and wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “I just…need to go home.”

“I don’t think you should drive right now,” the officer says.

“Huh?”

“I don’t think you hurt your car or anything, but you’re not in good shape to operate your vehicle.”

Oh. Yeah. The construction barrels. It already feels like ages ago.

“Do you have someone to call?” The officer asks. “I could give you a ride home, but we’d have to tow your car.”

“I don’t know…” Just the thought of asking for help is turning her stomach again.

“Or I could call paramedics.”

“God, no,” Mike murmurs. “I, uh, I can call my brother…” It’s about the last thing Mike wants to do. She digs her phone out of her back pocket and stares at the lock screen for a moment before clicking back into action. She fumbles her trembling fingers and selects the contact for Jason. She lets out an anticipatory sigh as she holds the phone to her ear and listens to it start to ring.

“Yo,” Jason’s deep voice answers.

Mike clears her throat. “I, uh…” How is she going to explain this?

“You’re supposed to be in your group until 8, right?” Jason asks.

“Um, I, uh, had to leave,” Mike explains. She’ll tell him about walking out later. Maybe. “I started feeling really sick, and I, uh, started driving home, but…Can you come get me?” Her heart is a stone plummeting down through her body into the car seat.

“What?”

“I got pulled over.” The admission’s bringing back the prickly nausea. “I got sick.”

“Why?” Jason sounds tired.

“I don’t know. I was swerving or something.”

“No, Mike. Geez. Why?” He’s not asking why she got pulled over. It’s another thing Mike’s learned the hard way. Once someone learns that she has one of those eating disorders, it’s like she’s not allowed to be sick for any other reason.

“I—It wasn’t on purpose. I’m fine. I just got nauseous. I’m fine. I…” Mike’s about to gag. “Will you and Colby come get me so the cops don’t tow my fucking car?” She holds the speaker into her chest while she leans over to let out a wet, belchy cough that doesn’t bring up anything. She’s almost glad her body’s deciding to rebel so she has something to focus on besides the shame of being week and needy.

Jason’s mid-sentence when she gets the phone back to her ear. “…on our way. Just, like, chill for a little bit. You’re probably all wound up.”

“Thanks,” Mike mutters. She hangs up, then leans back in the seat and closes her eyes.

“You’ve got him on the way?” the cop asks.

Mike nods. She realizes she stupidly didn’t tell Jason where she is, but she assumes he’ll just start driving toward the therapy center and find her pretty quickly.

She sits in awkward silence with the cop leaning against the car frame for a while. He asks once or twice if she’s ok, but stays mercifully quiet when Mike just nods and slumps sideways into the velour seat. Eventually she recognizes Jason’s black sedan as it pulls into a parking lot across the street. He jumps out, all pale legs in seasonally inappropriate basketball shorts, and dashes across the deserted road. Colby’s on his heels, looking like an overgrown loyal dog.

“Hey, thanks for looking out for her,” Jason says to the officer. He looks at Mike, and she can almost see his hardheartedness melting away. She must have no color.

“Alright, you look like trash,” Jason says by way of greeting. “I’ll get you home.”

The officer wishes them well and takes his leave. Mike feels like she can finally think a little once the flashing lights are out of her visual field.

“You wanna jump in the other side?” Jason asks, gesturing for Mike to vacate the driver’s seat.

She steps down unsteadily, avoiding the splash of vomit just outside the door. She doesn’t look forward to being stuck in the car with her brother. Mike can practically see Jason’s thought bubble. He’ll ask a lot of questions. Want to know what happened. Mike’s having a hard enough time reconciling it for herself, and she doesn’t anticipate her brother having a great understanding of the way certain foods and emotions tend to turn her sensitive stomach.

“You know, why don’t I drive this one?” Colby offers as Jason’s about to hop into the seat Mike just left. “You’re car’s too small for long legs.” It’s not a great excuse since Colby only has a couple inches on Jason. He meets eyes with Mike and raises his blonde eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure,” Jason sighs. There’s no way he doesn’t know what’s up, but he has the grace to pretend to be oblivious. “See you back home.” He crosses back to his own car.

Colby deftly climbs into the Rav-4. “You know he’s pissed cause he cares,” he says to Mike, who has her temple pressed against the passenger window.

“Yeah,” she says. “Just…feel like I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

“I’ll save the lecture, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mike repeats.

Colby stays silent for a while. Then he asks, “Was it the food I packed? That made you not feel good?”

“I don’t think so,” Mike murmurs. “I think it was probably…a lot of stuff.”

“Ok.” Colby knows not to press. He turns into the parking lot of their apartment complex.

As they’re gliding into a spot, Mike bluntly asks, “Why’d you care about me?”

“Cause you deserve to be cared about?” It’s less a question than a statement of duh. ��I know you don’t always think so, but it’s true.”

“Huh.”

Colby puts the car in park and removes the keys from the ignition. “So, if you’re not opposed to my cooking, you wanna maybe join us for breakfast in the morning? I’ve convinced Jason to let me make him something other than pop tarts.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it,” Mike says. It’s too early to tell how she’ll be feeling in the morning. But she really does intend to think about it.

#sickfic #ocs #new ocs #mike & co #very small ED tw #emeto

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xwwaqdyd-blog · 5 years

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How much money do you have to make an hour to be able to support yourself.?

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"cheap insurance for inexperienced drivers

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