A Naomily fanfiction by patriciancore
Hi everybody! I'm fairly new to the fandom and even newer to writing, but after spending the last few months immersed in Naomily fanfiction, I really felt propelled to give it a go, because I became so passionate about it. This borrows a lot from what I've read on here, I'm just adding up bits and pieces of what really grabbed me on the stories I read, and trying to make it all come to some sort of sense.
Keep in mind English is not my first language, I'll try my best to make the characters sound english but there's a big chance I might fail at that. All mistakes are mine
Hope you enjoy!
Prelude
She's married now. She's finally gone and settled down. Changed her surname to Mitch's. At least there's a recurring joke she managed to get rid of in her life. She puts on his shirt after he rolls off her with a content sigh, and feels the night air turn to ice when it makes the shirt stick to her sweaty skin as she steps out for a smoke. It's a good change she thinks, the way the shivers make her feel alive in a way that the warm, cozy air inside can't. Of course, she can't help but to wonder. Why? What's missing?
It's funny how your life can turn out completely different from what you envisioned. She looks at her daily routine, and it's such a bitch because it's all it is and it's all it's ever been: A routine. It didn't change when she started dating Mitch, the shy copy director at the newspaper she worked for. She thought she'd try to do it differently this time. Maybe, all the past times the problem really wasn't with them, all her past relationships have always ended because of something that she lacked. Just maybe, she was a little bit too hard to deal with, as her mother always told her. So she changed her clothing, changed her hair, and slowly as she accommodated her life to Mitch's, she changed her attitude.
Gone was the idealist kid who had so much passion in her heart, always getting the best grades in politics, so sure they meant she was destined to one day make the world a better place. She felt special back then, like her life was her own to live, she had a purpose and made sure she'd be prepared for it. Of course she wasn't quite so prepared to be turned down by every newspaper she tried, doors slammed to her face so hard it made her fly right to this position as a writer for a shitty local newspaper. She had tried the first few issues to instigate a change, placing her words just so that they might start a flicker of flame, maybe. But she'd been doused in cold water again and again by the editor and now she'd gotten used to feeling cold in her bones, like it had always been there.
Yeah, her life changed a lot, she mused as she took one last draw of her cigarette, and she couldn't quite place where it had started, but surely it was there now. She called it the routine. She blamed it on the routine. This perpetuating feeling of dormancy, this dull ache that seemed to pulse everywhere around her, never in the same beat as her heart. She'd hated it, it was always what she most despised, swore to herself in her teen years she'd never let her life fall in a steady pace. But she didn't know how to fight it anymore, so she'd given up to it, and now she was forcing her heart to go with the beat.
Naomi flicked her cigarette butt over the balcony and watched with interest as the little flame flied down in the direction of a homeless person walking by. She was hoping the cigarette would hit him. She was hoping it'd hit a patch of gasoline and burn everything up, red reflecting on her skin and warmth fighting off the cold.
PART I: Cocoon
Chapter 1
"It's safe, isn't it?" Naomi asks as she eyes the container in her hand "I can definitely see some tiny metal lines though, Right here! God damned nancy designers why do they have to make it difficult for us" She turns around with a scoff and crashes onto Mitch who grabs the container from her hand.
"Tell you what, we put it in there, we hit the start button and then we hide under the table in case it explodes" He says as he holds the pot just above her reach, smiling into her eyes.
"Oh fuck off Mitch, it's not like I think it'll explode, I just don't want our damn microwave to go to shit, we only just bought it"
"Well, I'm willing to risk our microwave if it means I get a sodding meal in the next 5 minutes. If I'm late for work I can get fired and THEN we won't even have the money to replace the bloody thing when it goes to shit" And with a loud bang he closes the microwave door and turns it on. He reaches for her then, grabbing her elbows and pulling at her blouse as she half-heartedly fights his embrace.
"Was this our first domestic fight? How did I do then, did I do okay?" He whispers jokingly and she can't help but to smile, "No you were right shit at it. I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to have a few bruises by now. A black eye at least" putting a little more effort into getting away from his embrace, just to drive the point home
"And where are my broken furniture then? Or my clothes scattered about the place? A man can't do a domestic fight alone you know"
"Yeah I'm quite sure there's little a man can do alone in a home other than jerking off and smelling his farts all day"
"Oh my darling, always so delicate! That's why I chose you" He leans in for a kiss but gets interrupted as they hear a crack from the microwave, then another and another and by the fourth one Naomi's already hit the cancel button and opened up the door as if expecting a fire to be inside.
"Well now, there's your half-heated food and I'll let you know later whether you'll have to work a few extra hours to fix this" She says as she hands the slightly deformed plastic pot to him, and stalks off with a little content smile. So the microwave was probably totaled. Who cares, at least she'd won her first domestic fight.
She's constantly in contact with Mitch now that he'd been promoted to head editor. She saw enough of him before, always sending in texts, getting called out for the odd foul word here and there. So when she gets called to his office the fifth time that day, right as she was indulging in a little bit of gossip reading on her computer, she takes 3 deep breaths before getting up from her chair. It's not like he irritates her. He's a lovely man, really. And she's found it in her heart to love him, although this wasn't how she had wanted it. She'd never wanted love to develop. She'd wanted it to hit her right in the face, she'd wanted to have that kind of love that is ever present and ever aware, that makes your body squirm and your ears burn just by being in the presence of your lover. Like it was in the books. But fuck the books, they never got her anywhere, did they?
With that thought, she eased onto a lighter pace and broke out a small devilish smile as she opened the door to his office "Mitch I swear to God if you're calling me here to try it on with me again I'll – " It was Mitch's wary eyes that made her stop talking. Something was off. She took another step in the room, coming in completely and closing the door. Never taking her eyes off Mitch, she noticed out of the corner of her eye there was somebody else in the room, standing right beside her. Shit.
"Naomi, I'd like you to meet Emily Fitch, our new photographer." Mitch said in a slightly strangled tone, and Naomi felt her cheeks burn. Oddly, as she turned her head completely to face the new photographer, she was taken by the scorching feeling spreading from her cheeks throughout her body. Well I've never been so embarrassed in my life, have I?
Okay, so I'm trying to work out how to make this story better presentable with the tools, hopefully it'll get smoother down the line. Sorry if this was a bit hard to read!
Please comment, I'd really like some constructive criticism!
