*Write a 300 word love scene for them: I chose Darren x Jeanie*
Jeanie wasn’t quite sure how to handle her situation. There was a warm feeling in her chest that blossomed like the red flowers outside their not quite house.
She fiddled in the kitchen eating candied ginger. She tamed her hair as best she could given the humidity and debated joining Darren down at the water. But he liked the quiet of their private beach where he nursed a beer for hours while he fished.
Darren Treacy fished. He let his hair get shaggy, his goatee shaggier. He played cricket with Aussie ex-pats. He relaxed and swam and gave enough money to the resort owners who offered to sell it to him and Jeanie.
Jeanie let out a deep breath that blew a stray hair from her forehead. She waited half a year for the shoe to drop, but no one came for them except Mary. She had never seen Darren smile so genuinely. Or his eyes turned that shade of ocean. Mary and the girls were just a few cottages down.
His ears must have burned because suddenly Dazz filled the doorway. He was singing, which was new. He carried a basket in one hand and hid his other behind his back.
“Tell me what you would do, if her hair were red and her eyes were..” Jeanie blinked expectedly at her boyfriend who had to think. He gave up with a grin.
Darren set the basket by the stone oven in the corner, and humming he took Jeanie with his free hand and spun her in towards him then back out. “I took her hand and gave her a twirl,” he went back to singing.
Jeanie’s stomach churned. She giggled in spite of it and let Darren dip her playfully. He produced the most beautiful blue purple orchids.
Upright again, Jeanie held them to her nose. “I know how much ye love t’at van Gogh painting. I reckon they’re the same color as the night sky.” He told her with a kiss on the neck. Then clung to her hips.
“I’m pregnant.” The words burst from her like a busted dam.
Darren rocked back on his heels, “Ye taking the piss?”
Jeanie shook her red curls. She searched his face for any emotion. In a rush of arms and feet off the floor, legs around a thin waist, Darren hurried them to the bed where he laid her down gently. His long body is awkward while it bent to kiss her deeply. Then he lifted the tee shirt she wore to kiss her stomach gently.
She giggled and held Darren’s head to her. “I’ve got a family again,“ was all he could whisper.
An Umbrella Academy AU featuring Flight Attendant!Klaus Hargreeves & Pilot!Dave Katz
A/N:I promise I am still writing my murder mystery (new chapter coming soon!) but sometimes an idea just burrows into your brain and makes a little home. Like blowfly. Or a severe case of head lice.
Anyway, here’s an enemies to lovers slow burn featuring Flight Attendant Klaus and Pilot Dave having a series of sexy misunderstandings which will culminate, eventually, in smut.
Dedicated to the people responsible for planting these thoughts in my head: Naomi, Jenni, Twisty and Gray. Bon appétit. And thank you so much to @allisoooon for her amazing Photoshop skills, featured above. ❤️
SUMMARY:Pilots are all the same: stuck up, arrogant, full of their own importance. Klaus would never dream of sleeping with one. Flight attendants have standards and he’s not about to lower his for anyone. Not even the new guy - the pretty blond-haired one with the dimples and the body like a Men’s Health cover model. Nope. No siree Bob. No way, no how…
SNIPPET:This is his favourite part.
It’s not the fake smile he’s forced to wear or the fact that after nearly 11 hours spent waiting on these people hand and foot that he finally gets to see the back of them, waddling their asses off the plane with their cranky children and carry on luggage, nor the fact that each passenger sends him a wan but sincere smile of thanks as they disembark.
No, none of that. It’s the fact that as soon as the plane door opens he can sense the air is different here. The stale smell of London farts is replaced with the dry Nevada heat and with it comes the promise of slick, suntanned bodies, frozen margaritas by the pool and the ding-ding-ding-ding of a million slot machines all begging to be fed and to have their big, satisfying buttons pushed.
That part never gets old. Even if the passengers themselves succeed in wearing his patience.
“Take care. Have a great trip,” says Klaus, waving each one off with a practiced smile and a pageant-style hand wave. There goes the woman who changed her baby’s diaper across three empty seats and tried to hand it to him when she was done.
“Have a lovely vacation.”
There’s the man who clipped his toenails into a paper cup and stuffed it in the pocket of the seat in front of him.
“Thanks for travelling with us, have a safe onward journey.”
There’s the honeymoon couple who got far too tipsy on champagne and attempted to pass their violent vomiting off as airsickness.
“Hope you feel better soon. Auf weidersehen!”
Klaus maintains his rictus grin as they shuffle off one by one. After a while, he feels the warm heat of lips hovering by his ear. “I can’t wait to get to the hotel,” says Lila. “My feet are killing me.”
“You’re still coming out tonight though, right?” Klaus asks in between affected pleasantries.
“Only as long as we don’t have to go back to that awful club with the neon body paint. Took me weeks to get that shit out of my hair after last time.”
“Atta girl,” says Klaus, passing her the kind of sideways glance that promises they absolutely will end up in that club again and her hair absolutely will get full of glow-in-the-dark body paint if Klaus has anything to do with it.
