#let’s also talk about how Macy asks him to dinner on his birthday and he GOES

[deathsweetblossoms]

Another night of me laying in bed thinking of characters who deserved better, who I just want to pluck right out of the story they were written into and drop them into a much happier, more deserving story.

#Elliot petropoulos I’m looking at you baby #get behind me #these crazies didn’t know wtf to do with you #and I’m irate forever #let’s also talk about how Macy asks him to dinner on his birthday and he GOES #foregoing any other plans he may have had with family and friends #and Macy ends it by basically shutting him down like 🤦🏻‍♀️ #just… lmaoooooo I have no words

[thiswasinevitableid]

winter prompt fill 29, indruck, sfw?

29. i should’ve done my shopping a month ago but now i’m running around last minute and when i enter your store, i’m absolutely frazzled. help me.

(Pinecone is borrowed from harrisonator’s fic “Monster Mash”)

Working at Kepler Petco isn’t the worst thing, even during the holiday shopping hellscape months. It’s not like anyone is getting in fistfights over cases of Fancy Feast. Which is why, on the 22nd of December, Duck is unprepared for the sudden sound of hands on hitting the countertop. 

“I need help.” The guy’s about his age, silver hair going patchy black near the top, pink and white striped sweater around his neck and a massive sweater hanging off his lanky frame. His red glasses barely conceal brown, anxious eyes. 

“Sure, what’re lookin for?”

“Rat treats, the kind that won’t make them ill.”

“Can handle that, right this way.” Duck leaves the counter and leads the guy back to the small mammal section. As they go the man spins a ring on his index finger, flushing under the merciless heating vents. 

“I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance. I have a mountain of things to do today and your store closes first.”

Duck glances at the AKC branded clock on the wall, which shows 12:30 p.m, “We close at five.”

“Yes, I know, but I really cannot overstate how behind I am on my Christmas shopping. Or, well, holiday is more accurate, since Joseph celebrates Hanukkah, which means I’m already late on that.” He sighs, runs a finger with chipped black nails through his hair.

“Big family?” Duck points to the row of snacks, grabs the man a basket from the end of the aisle when he starts piling them into his arms. 

“Lots of friends. We’re having a party tomorrow and I completely forgot about it until today. I know it’s ridiculous to forget about a holiday where you can’t turn around without being slapped with a reminder of it, but my brain doesn’t always work in the way I’d like it to.”

“No judgement here. Once forgot my sisters birthday until the minute my mom asked if I could get some candles for the cake after school.”

“Oh dear.” The man smiles, the expression shifting from odd to shy when Duck meets his eyes, “thank you for your help.”

Five minutes later the guy heads towards the register, then stops, backtracking to the display of rats, mice, and hamsters. Duck joins him in case he has questions, and to steal another look at his singular features. They’re not handsome on the surface, but something about them draws his eye back over and over. He’s just in time to hear the man cooing to a pair of brown rats.

“...so lovely, aren’t you just charming? If I could I’d take you home but space is limited. Oh” he blushes when he sees Duck, “I’m, ah, ready to pay now.”

“One of your friends got rats?” He indicates the pile of treats the man is buying.

“Hmm? Oh, no, these are for Luna and Emperor, my rats. I wanted to get them presents too.”

Duck can’t decide if the fact the guy prioritized spoiling his pets on the day he had to buy a bunch of gifts is adorable or worrying.

“As I said, I came here because you close first. And I, ah, I like spoiling them. It’s nice to know exactly how to cheer another living thing up.”

“I get that. Pinecone, that’s my, uh, my cat, gets more treats a month than I do.”

“Someone ought to buy you a few, then.”  The man murmurs, handing over his debit card. 

Duck, caught up in the mechanics of fighting with the card reader, doesn’t realize he’s being flirted with until the man is no more than a silver head merging into the throng outside. 

He’s lowkey annoyed with himself the rest of the day; he’s been in the market for a cute guy, and while his mystery shopper may not be Ryan Gosling, but Duck wouldn’t mind getting his number. 

Since he opened today, he gets off at three, decides to swing by Crate and Barrel in case the apron he thinks Barclay might like. There’s small hallways dotted through the mall, leading to exits or to backrooms.  As he passes one, he gets a glimpse of silver hair and a vibrant scarf. That’s the only good part of what he sees; the man from earlier is pressed close to the shiny wall, trying and failing to get his breathing order.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

He jolts, registers who’s speaking, and looks at the ground, “N-not really. I, part of the reason put this off so long is I can get incredibly overwhelmed in crowds sometimes, and yes I know that makes coming here three days before Christmas even worse an idea but I thought maybe I could handle it, but I’ve only managed to buy two of the gifts I need because I cannot focus with everything going on and, and I’m sorry, here I wanted to charming around you and now you’ve seen this and-”

“What would help?”

“I, I’d like to go somewhere quiet, but there’s nowhere, even the bathrooms are packed.”

“Do you, uh, want to come sit in my car for a bit? I can run the heater so we don’t freeze.”

“That’s really alright?” The question is so small and vulnerable he wants to tuck it into a shoebox to keep it safe.

“Yeah. C’mon, I’m parked on this end.” 

It’s snowing on and off as they walk to his car, and as he gets it running and turns on the heat his passenger finally pulls his clenched hands from his pockets; one holds a fidget cube, the other a very small, plush moth.

“I tried so hard to prepare for every possible future.” Is what he gets as explanation. The man sets both items in his lap and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Duck says nothing, opens his phone and plays two rounds of Plants vs. Zombies before he hears anything at all from beside him. 

“Would you mind turning the radio on, at a low volume?”

“Any requests?” Duck hits the power button.

“No talk radio.”

“Can manage that.” He fiddles around and finds the alternative station. Even it has Christmas songs interspersed with the usual mix. 

“Is your name really Duck?”

He wonders if the guy is omnipotent until he remembers his nametag.

“It’s a nickname.”

“I’m Indrid.” He opens his eyes, “thank you for letting me come here to calm down. I may actually manage to succeed in my quest now. It’s so hard, I actually enjoy being out around the lights, the feeling of so many people being happy or trying to do kind things for each other. But it’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially when I’m alone.”

“Would it help if you weren’t?”

“Possibly, but I couldn’t ask you to spend even more time in that mall given you work there.” 

“Got some last minute shoppin to do myself. Besides, if you get stuck on a gift, I’m pretty damn good at comin up with ideas.”

“Thank you.” Indrid smiles, excited, and that settles it: Duck is asking for his number after this.

They brave the crowds and the holiday cheer blaring across the speakers once more. The first stop is a store selling housewares, including a pair of small succulents that Indrid deems worthy of giving a friend as he listens to Duck talk about his part time job at the National Forest, laughing when Duck mentions last weeks run-in with a pissed-off migratory bird. 

The next few stores are no help, and they opt to take advantage of the lull between when people are done with school and when people are done with work to hit up the coffeeshop, Indrid ordering a white chocolate peppermint mocha and promptly getting whipped cream on his nose. Duck is tempted to kiss it off, settles for handing his new friend a napkin while he talks about his recent return to Kepler after traveling around the country in a Winnebago, selling his art at shows. As luck would have it, the store has a shelf devoted to artisan or local coffees, and they’re each able to find one for someone on their list. 

Macy's proves more treacherous, and once five o’ clock hits even Duck is feeling cramped. Indrid is tensing, his replies getting short or far off, and just as Duck is about to offer to dip out again, chilly fingers link with his own.

“Is this alright?”

“Better than alright.” He grins and Indrid holds tighter, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth as Duck guides them into a less crowded corner. The do eventually find some high quality hiking socks that Indrid buys, only letting go of Duck in order to pay. 

They reward themselves with dinner at Johnny Rocket, Duck hopping over to Indrid’s side of the booth to see pictures of Emperor and Luna, and show off the photos he has of Pinecone hiding under his ranger jacket. 

“One more stop, thank goodness.” It’s going on seven and Duck has to say he agrees; he loves being around Indrid, but his feet are killing him and he’s had “Jingle Bells” stuck in his head for an hour. 

Indrid’s last item is at Crate and Barrel, and Duck laughs when the other man goes straight to the aprons. 

“You got good taste, I’m gettin’ one of these too. Barclay said he needed a new one.”

A fine-boned hand freezes mid-reach, “Did you say Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“I am also buying this for a Barclay. Is your Barclay, by chance, dating someone named Joseph and hosting a party tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

They stare at each other, frozen long enough that another shopper passes between them. Then they double over in sync, Duck wheezing out a laugh while Indrid cackles. 

“Holy shit, we’ve been shoppin for the same folks!”

“Barclay mentioned there’d be new people at the party but I never thought one of them would be such a catch.”

Duck gets his breathing in order, steps across the faux-hardwood and takes Indrid’s hand.

“Hey, Indrid? You wanna be my date to the party tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“....wait, fuck, which one of us is gonna give him the apron?”

“You can, I have another idea for him. Consider it an early present from me.” Indrid tease. 

“Sugar,” Duck slips his hands into Indrid’s back pockets, smiling up at him, “you might just be all the present I need.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills #fluff #meet cute

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Nine

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

(fluff and smut)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Masterpost

Harry left early the next morning. He needed to get home to edit the photos he took on Friday. You took a shower, and got ready for your mom. She picked you up at noon like she said, and you headed to the mall.

“So, what do you need to shop for?” You ask her on the drive there.

“I wanted to go to Macy’s to look for a new comforter set. I had some coupons, and I’d really like a new one. You can pick one out too, if you want.”

“Thanks, I may have to take you up on that. How’s the baby?”

“Oh, he’s wonderful. I have my day with him tomorrow. I can try to Facetime you during lunch so you can see him, if you want.”

“I’d love that!”

Your mom pulls up, and parks near the Macy’s entrance. You walk with her to the bedding, and look at some sheets, these you could definitely use.

“Hey, mom what do you think of this color?”

“You really like blue don’t you?” She laughs. “Don’t you have these already? Why not go for like a blush purple.”

“Oo, that would be nice. I love a light purple.” You grab a pack of light purple sheets.

“Let’s go find some comforters to match.”

You two discuss which comforter would look good on her bed, and which one would look good on your bed. You find a white comforter that had purple and black flowers on it. A nice change from your plain, navy comforter. You two put everything in the car, and then head back into the mall to look at clothes.

“Do you need anything new for work?”

“Mom, you just spent like $200 on me, you don’t have to buy me clothes.”

“I really don’t mind sweetie, I like being able to do these things for you.”

“I have so many work clothes.”

“How about date clothes? You’re seeing someone now right? You’ll need some new clothes to add into your date night rotation.” You’re not sure how to explain that you’ve already moved past the date night phase.

“That would be great.” You smile at her.

You go in and out of a couple of stores, not finding the right fits. You start to wonder what stores Harry shops at.

“Honey?”

“Yeah, mom?”

“Do you have any pictures of Harry you could show me? I’d love to see what he looks like.” You reach for your phone, but then you remember you don’t have any pictures together.

“I don’t have any of him, but let me check his insta real quick.” You remember you haven’t even looked at the private account he let you follow. He’s not the selfie type, but you do find a pretty recent picture of him and Niall from around Niall’s birthday. “Here, he’s on the left, obviously, you know what Niall looks like.” Your mom takes your phone and squints.

“Oh my, he’s handsome! Well done.” She hands you back your phone.

“He’s kind of my boyfriend.” She stops short.

“Come again?”

“Last weekend, he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I said yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was just trying to enjoy it before I told everyone.”

“He must really like you.”

“He does, and I really like him. I know it’s only been a month, but we have a great connection.”

“Alright, I’ll trust your judgement on this.”

You both continue walking. You decide to go into H n M. You could usually find something cute here. You and your mom split up so you can divide and conquer. You meet at the back where the dressing rooms are. You end up getting a green jumpsuit that had a cut out in the stomach. You and your mom decide it’s cute, and she buys it for you.

“Okay, you are now done spending money on me.” As your mom is about to respond, you hear someone call after her.

“Mrs. (y/last name)!” You both turn around and see Niall…and Harry. Shit. You’re not ready for him to meet your family. His face is red, he clearly isn’t ready either. Niall jogs over to you both, and Harry takes his time. He stands awkwardly, and mouths I’m sorry to you.

“Niall Horan, is that you?” She says, giving Niall a light hug. “Good to see you, honey.”

“Good to see ya too, what brings you into town.”

“Just taking my baby here shopping.” She coughs.

“Oh, sorry, um, mom, this is Harry, my boyfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He sticks his hand out to shake, but she swats it away.

“Don’t be silly.” You watch as your mom gives Harry a hug.

“What are you guys doing here?” I ask. You suddenly feel like a teenager, bumping into your crush.

“Boyo here needed some new jeans, so we’re on our way to J. Crew.” Niall answers for him.

“Would you boys like to have lunch with us before you shop? We were thinking of grabbing some food.” Your mom says.

“Mom, I’m sure they were just making a quick trip.”

“Lunch would be great.” Harry says, surprising you. “I’m starved actually. We were on our way to the Mexican restaurant just down there.”

“Mexican sounds great, are you okay with that sweetie?” Everyone is looking at you.

“Um, sure.”

Harry takes your hand in his as you walk to the restaurant. Niall makes conversation with your mom.  He pulls you closer to him so you can speak without being heard.

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot you said you and your mum were coming to the mall.”

“No, it’s not your fault at all. Does Niall always go shopping with you?” You giggle.

“No! He asked me what I was up to, and I said I might come here, and he asked if he could come. I think he wanted to brag about Sarah. He also was really worried about you. Sarah told him everything.”

“Of course she did.” You roll your eyes.

You get to the restaurant and your mom asks for a table of four. You get seated pretty quickly at a booth, which makes things awkward because you really want to sit next to Harry, but don’t want your mom to feel awkward either.

“You two can sit next to each other.” Your mom smiles warmly. “You don’t mind, right Niall.”

“Not at all.” He slides in next to your mom. You sit across from her, and Harry across from Niall.

A waitress comes over with four waters, chips, and salsa. She leaves us to look at the menus.

“Honey, what do you think would work best for me?”

“I think taco salad would be pretty mild, mom.”

“So you don’t like spicy, but your daughter does? Interesting.” Harry says.

“When I was pregnant with her, I had cravings for buffalo chicken and all sorts of spicy food. I think that’s why she likes it so much. And it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just more of an age thing.” She laughs. “(y/n), what are you gonna get?”

“I’m thinking some tacos with just veggies.” You furrow your eyebrows at the menu. “Would everyone eat guac if I order guac?” Everyone nods. “Great.” You smile.

The waitress comes back to take your orders. Harry orders vegetable nachos with dairy free cheese. No wonder he liked this place, lots of vegan options. Niall, being courteous, orders a vegetable enchilada. Niall has seen you gag at a table too many times, he knows better than to order meat around you.

“So, Harry, what do you do for work?” Your mom asks kindly.

“I’m a photographer. I work for a geographical magazine, and also do some freelance work on the side.”

“Oh wow, (y/n) used to be quite the skilled photographer. She took her own senior photos in high school.”

“Is that so?” He looks at you and smiles.

“Mom, please.” You beg her not to embarrass you.

“What? Everyone asked you where you got them done, remember?”

“Why did you take them yourself?” Niall asked.

“Because I know my best angles, and I actually hate when other people take my picture, so I just did it myself.” You shrug.

“Seems valid to me.” Harry also shrugs.

“So, tell me again, how exactly did you two meet?”

“I set them up.” Niall says proudly.

“We went out for dinner, and just hit it off.” Harry says with a smile. He places his hands on the table, and you think your mom’s eyes are going to pop out of her head.  

“Are those real gold?” She asks pointing to the rings.

“Um, yeah. I’m not sure, like, how many karats they are though. My mum got them for me when I finished grad school two years ago.”

“Ohh, well, they’re lovely nonetheless.” She squints at his nails. “What beautiful colors to have your nails painted. Not many people can pull that off, but it suits you dear.” Harry sees where you get your kindness and understanding from.

“Um, thank you, very much.”

“Now the tattoos on the other hand…” Your mom begins to tease, “well, if you ever meet my mother, you’ll want to cover them up.”

“Is she conservative?” He asks.

“No, we just can’t really do tattoos, and she’s a little blunter about that fact. She’s blunt about a lot of things.” Your mom starts laughing, and you start laughing because you know exactly what she’s thinking of. Harry and Niall give each other a confused look.

“Sorry, it’s so stupid. This one time my Nannie.” You stop because you can’t stop laughing and neither can your mom. “My Nannie saw that my uncle added to the sleeve he has, that already pisses her off, and from the other room we hear go ‘You look like a fucking idiot!’, and my mom started laughing, and my Nannie heard so, she started laughing and she laughed so hard she.” Tears are streaming down your cheeks, and the guys have started laughing. “She peed her pants!”

The waitress awkwardly brings all the food to the table while you all wipe your eyes. You all dig in, and enjoy light conversation as you eat. You and Niall talk about your recent project at work, and your mom shows everyone pictures of your nephew. The waitress bring the check over, and Harry and your mom both grab for it.

“Oh, that’s very kind dear, but I got it.”

“I insist, please let me pay for lunch.” Harry gives your mom a warm smile.

“Harry, you really don’t need to.” You start to say, but he ignores you. Your mom slowly lets go of the check.

You feel bad, he pays for way too many things for you.

“Thank you.” Your mom says.

“Not a problem.” Harry takes out some cash from his wallet, and Niall throws a few bills in as well. “That should take care of it.”

The boys slide out, and Harry extends his hand to help you up. You all walk out of the restaurant. It was a good lunch, and you were happy your mom seemed to get along with Harry, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Well, it was so nice to meet you Harry.” Your mom gives him another hug, and turns to Niall to hug him. “And it’s always a delight sweetheart.”

“It was nice to meet you too. I’ll call you later, (y/n).” He leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Bye Mrs. (y/last name).” Niall waves, and the boys walk away.

“Oh, he is a keeper honey. I have never seen you with such an attractive man.”

“Mom, please.”

“Seriously, hold on to that one.” You roll your eyes at her, and make your way out to the parking lot.

Harry and Niall make their way into J. Crew. Harry grabs three pair of black jeans, and two pair of dark blue jeans. He grabs some t-shirts, and a couple of button ups. Niall mostly grabs some shirts and just one pair of pants. They each pay for their things, and head to Harry’s car.

“So, what did you think of (y/n)’s mum?” Niall asks him.

“She seemed really nice.” He shrugs. “Kind of an awkward way to meet her. Sort of a little soon to be meeting family, no?”

“Oh no, don’t start. You don’t get to ask that girl to be your girlfriend three weeks in, and then ask if it’s too soon to meet her mum.”

“You seemed to know her well.”

“I’ve been to a few of their family functions, yeah.”

“So what, were you like her go to date for things?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you went with her to Kate’s wedding.”

“I went with her to Kate’s wedding because it was right after she recovered from everything. She didn’t feel strong enough to go alone, otherwise she would have. Are you jealous?”

“No, I guess I’m just confused. You’ve known her for like what? Almost two years? How come you waited so long to introduce her to me?”

“You were still finishing up grad school, and honestly, you were still bein’a prick to girls.”

“Did you ever like her?”

“I thought she was cute, but the more we got to know each other, we both realized a friendship was what we both needed.”

“How did you not meet Sarah at Kate’s wedding?”

“We talked about that actually. We met briefly, but everyone was so preoccupied all night, so it’s not like we had time to really chat. You and (y/n) both came to my holiday party last year, you know?”

“Yeah, but we weren’t introduced.”

“Why are you gettin’ pissy all of a sudden?”

“I’m not gettin’ pissy.”

“Are you really mad that I know her mum well?”

“No.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what? What am I doing?”

“You’re actin’ like a fuckin’ baby. She’s yours, man, all yours. I’m her friend, her good friend that happened to be around during a shitty time. She didn’t know how to tell her mum about what happened, so she asked me to go with her the day she did for support. After that if there was a family party, I was also invited.”

“Wasn’t her family curious as to why you two weren’t dating though?”

“They asked us a couple times, but we just kept telling them it wasn’t like that.”

“You never thought of it?”

“Maybe once or twice, but after what happened, happened I stopped seeing her that way. I saw her as this woman who I wanted to be there for, almost like a sister.”

“I cried like a baby when she told me. Do you know if she ever pressed charges?”

“She didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve talked with her about it until I’ve been blue in the face, I think she just wanted to forget about it.”

“But he could easily do that to someone else.”

“Harry…”

“And then the next night when we hung out, we did stuff, man, good stuff, but I was so confused.”

“She’s in control of the situation with you. She feels safe, she doesn’t think you’re gonna do anything to hurt her. I’m really happy that she’s getting back to her old self. For a while there, I thought I had lost her. But slowly she’s been coming back to life, and you, well, every day she comes into work after one of your dates, she floats through the halls. Nothing could kill her good mood. Don’t doubt yourself. Besides, she’s good for you too.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re better when you have a lady in your life. You make more time for fun. You fall into your work too much, it’s not healthy, mate.”

“You know that night you came to pick her up from my place?”

“Yeah.”

“She mentioned how she didn’t have a toothbrush, and I literally went out the next day and got her a toothbrush. So the next time she came over, she’d feel more comfortable to stay over. I have this weird need to like keep her safe or something. Ugh, and she’s so cute and shy in the morning. Like it takes her an hour to come into herself.”

“You’ve really got it bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Harry didn’t call you Sunday like he said he would, but you figured he was just busy. You went to bed early, and actually couldn’t wait to get to work Monday morning. You settled in, with a coffee waiting for you on your desk. You told Niall your mom would be Facetiming during lunch so you could see your nephew, if he wanted to join. The baby was in good spirits, and the call went by way too quick. You hadn’t heard from Harry all day. He did say this was a busy time of year for him. You couldn’t help but think your lunch yesterday truly was awkward.

You and Niall walked out of the building together, and headed your separate ways home. You contemplated driving straight to his apartment, but you didn’t want to push it. You went to the gym, and had a good session. When you got to your apartment, you decided to draw a relaxing bath for yourself. You had done some HIIT, and knew you’d be sore tomorrow. When you looked at your empty tub you sighed. You didn’t want to take this bath alone. You grab your phone and call Harry.

“Hi, love.”

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“Um, well, are you busy?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, I’m still at work, why?”

“Well, I was thinking of taking a bubble bath.” You say lowly, slightly embarrassed.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, and well, my tub…”

“Are you asking me to come over and take a bath with you?”

“Maybe.”

“I can be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I should have wrapped up here a while ago anyways.” He sighs.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” You hang up and smile.

You get the bath ready, and put the bubbles in. You wrap yourself in your robe, and wait for Harry to show up. In thirty minutes, in true Harry fashion, you heard the buzzer go off, and you let him in. He walks in with his beanie on, dark circles under his eyes. He’s wearing a tattered blue t-shirt and black jeans. He looks at you in your robe, and nearly melts. He takes you in for a hug, and hold you tight.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. By the time I got back from the mall, I realized how much work I really needed to do on my freelance shit. And then I got wrapped up in some other shit today. I have some sort of annoying news.”

“What’s that?” You ask, leading him down the hall to your bedroom.

“They’re making me travel this week.” You stop short, and look up at him. “Someone else was supposed to go, but they got strep throat, so they’re not allowed to go. I have to catch a flight tomorrow afternoon.”

“Where are they sending you?”

“New Mexico.”

“That’s exciting! How long will you be gone for?”

“Until Sunday.”

“That’s not so bad. I’m glad you came to see me tonight.”

“Me too. Now, let’s not let this warm water go to waste.”

He takes his beanie off, and shakes his hair out. He takes his shirt off, and you can’t help but stare at his perfect torso. As he goes to unzip his pants, he makes eye contact with you.

“Staring?”

“N, no.” You say as he chuckles.

You untie the front of your robe, and slip it off. He watches you climb in, and you lean your back against one end. Harry slips his boxers off, and gets in, leaning against the oppose side. He furrows his eyebrows while looking at you.

“What?” You finally say.

“Why you so far away from me? C’mere.” He holds his arms out for you. You inch towards him, and turn around, so you can lean your back against him. “See, much more comfortable.”

“You just wanted to stretch those long legs out.” He squeezes his leg against yours, and wraps his arms around your stomach. “So, what did you think of yesterday?”

“Not how I pictured meeting your mum, but it was fine. Did she like me?”

“Like you? She raved about you the entire time. She thought you were cute and funny.”

“When you two were telling that story about your grandmum, I thought she was going to wet herself.” You immediately start laughing at the memory of your Nannie peeing her pants in front of you. It’s a throaty laugh, but you don’t care. You start to feel tears in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, that is just one of the funniest things I have ever seen her do. And she has done a lot of funny things.”

“You’re close with her?”

“Very.”

“That’s nice.”

“She had my uncle and mom at a really young age, so they’re all close too. It’s nice to see. My mom was like old when she had me.”

“How old is old?”

“Thirty-five. She was twenty-six when she had my oldest sister.” There’s a pause between the two of you as he takes in this information.

“What made you want to take a bath tonight?”

“I did sort of an intense workout and I wanted my muscles to relax.”

Harry starts rubbing your shoulders, and you lean into him further. Your head leans forward as he works your neck. His large hands feel like heaven as they knead into you. His hands move lower down your back. He kneads just above your bum.

“Oh, Harry.” You lean your head back against his shoulder. His hands travel around to your stomach and move up to your breasts. You hiss at his touch as he twists your piercings slightly.

“Are you sure you got these just for fun?” He says into your ear.

“What, what do you mean?” You’re breathing heavy.

“You really like when I pinch you, and twist.”

“Y,yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Harry.” You lean as far back into him as you can, and you feel him harden against you.

He’s going to be gone for the rest of the week. You want to make him feel good. You turn around to face him, breaking contact for only a moment, his hands go right back to your chest. Your hands reach below the water, and slide up his thighs, sending a shiver up his spine.

“Harry, can I touch you?” You say looking up at him through your eye lashes.

“Please.”

You scoot closer, putting your legs over his. He leans in to kiss you. You taste mint as his tongue goes into your mouth. Your fingers trail up to his tip, and your thumb runs over his slit. He takes a deep breath, and presses his lips to the crook of your neck, biting down slightly. Your hand starts to pump him slowly, as his breathing becomes more rapid, so does your hand. You love the way you need to basically pump him with both hands because his length is so big. You had been with taller men before, they usually had a bigger dick, but none had one like Harry’s. He had girth, and you couldn’t help but imagine would it would feel like to have him stretch you out as he pushed inside you. You shake the thought from your head, and focus on pumping him. You feel his slick precome all over your hands. His kisses on your neck become sloppy, and his hands move from your breasts to around your hips, pressing into you. For a moment, you think it might leave a bruise with the way he’s holding onto you. Normally this would make you stop, but you know he’s not intentionally trying to hurt you. You hear groans and curse words come from his mouth.

“I’m gonna come, (y/n).” He says releasing his teeth from your skin. “Can I come on your tits?”

You nod your head yes. He swiftly stands up in the tub, your hands cling to his thighs as he takes control of himself. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you watch his own hands work over himself. You tilt your head back, and push your breasts up to give him a target.

“Ah, fuck.” You hear him say as the warm liquid shoots to your chest, and drips down to your torso. He slowly sits back down in the water, planting a kiss to your forehead. You reach for your washcloth, but he snatches it from you. Harry dips it into the water, and wipes you off.

“Thank you.” You coo.

“No, thank you.” He smiles at you hazily.

You both stand up, and he grabs two towels. He wraps one around his waist, and wraps the other around you.

“Harry, will you stay tonight?” You ask as you climb over the edge of the tub.

“On a school night?” He asks with an eyebrow raised and a grin. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” You wink at him.

“I’d love to stay.” He wraps his arms around you, bringing you close to his chest.

You put on a large t-shirt and a pair of cotton panties, while he just puts his boxers back on. You make a couple of smoothies for dinner, and then climb into bed together. You’re snuggled to his chest, while you both scroll on your phones.

“(y/n), I have a favor to ask you.” You look up at him, he seems nervous.

“What’s up?”

“Well, I was wondering, if I left a key to my place with you, could you water my plants while I’m gone this week?” You think for a moment. Niall has a key to his place, why not just ask him? Because Harry wanted you at his place. He wanted to know that you were there while he was gone. He wanted you to take care of his things.

“Sure, I could do that.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Not at all, babe.” You give him a quick peck on his cheek. You notice the time on the clock, and see it’s almost ten. “I need to try to go to sleep now so I’m not tired tomorrow morning.

“Alright.” He leans over and turns the side table lamp off. You both slide further under the covers. “Could I, um, be little spoon?”

“Of course!”

Harry turns over with a smile on his face as your legs become tangled, and you’re pressed against his back. You both soon drift off into sleep happy and comfortable.

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles y/n fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #photographer!harry #smut #fluff #fanfiction #im writing part 16 and i cant wait to get there with you guys #hope youre all still liking it!

[trillian-anders]

amor de mi vida - 1949

pairing: bucky barnes x latinx!reader

warnings: racism, prejudice, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 3362

description: Bucky Barnes is a sweet young Brooklyn boy, just on the cusp of manhood, a hopeless romantic that falls in love with almost every girl he sees. when he sets his eyes on a young girl fresh off the boat from Cuba he finds out how hard love can really be.

for @cake-writes 1940s challenge.

Sunset Park was ever growing with Hispanic population, in the years since you and your Mother came to New York the population had grown and people, while still not allowing certain people to mix, there was a little less of a stigma of someone brown walking down the street. Surprisingly enough the property you’d found was right across the street from the bodega where Bucky had first dragged you in trying to buy bread and the man refused you. It straddled the line of the Hispanic and white population in Brooklyn. 

It was the perfect spot. 

The upstairs level would be for sewing and crafting, the downstairs would house the shop and sales. Bucky and George painted the upstairs and downstairs, fit new light fixtures, and fixed the shoddy wiring that hadn’t been worked on, you were convinced, since electric light had been invented. 

“What do you think?” He asked, coveralls splattered with paint and sweat on his brow. You grin up at him, 

“I love it.” 

The women you’d been selling dresses to over the past few years now had somewhere to shop and you could sell more products standardly while offering tailoring services. A big, ‘EVERYONE WELCOME’ sign in the front window. Which means you had to hire more people. You stuck to hiring women, the women who wanted to work in your community.  

You figured things were going pretty well, until the first time you were vandalized. Broken glass and a clear message of not being welcome a month into opening. You couldn’t help but figure it might have something to do with the man across the street who seemed to remember your faces. 

He stood there now, arms crossed. Lips pressed so tight they almost disappeared from his face. You huff, trying not try cry as the girls help you sweep up the glass. You called Bucky, knowing he was home with the kids, from the back office. 

“The front window is shattered.” You couldn’t help but cry when you heard his voice. 

“Okay,” He sighed, you could hear Grant fussing in the background, “Let me call my Pa and I’ll see what we can do.” The police didn’t care, but George was the one who originally talked to the inspectors and bank having already started his own business before. 

He had someone out in an hour to fix the window and to install new, easier to pull down, grate for them. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, he’d finally got the kids to sleep. The excitement of Mama coming home and a quick dinner had been followed by a carefully orchestrated bath and bedtime routine. Now it was just the two of you, and the bottle of wine you’d opened. 

“We are very lucky,” You start, “In New York they haven’t banned us being together, they segregate, sure, but we have a good amount of people who believe in integration. We don’t have a lot of problems with prejudice so sometimes I forget.” His hand met the back of your neck, massaging. “It’s just a little bit of a wake-up call.” 

He shrugs, “I thought that now Jackie Robinson was playing for the Dodgers that people would be a little more accepting.” You glare at him and he laughs. “If we are being honest here...” Bucky sighs, taking a sip from his glass, “I worry about our kids.” He leans further into the couch, “I worry all the time about the day we have to send Jaime to school, I worry about them playing outside. I worry about things happening to you and the kids when I’m not here.” 

People respected Bucky Barnes. He was a war hero, right hand man to Captain America himself. You lost count of the amount of times you’d take the kids for a walk and be stopped. Women wanting his autograph and men wanting to thank him for his service to the country. There was a level of protection there. It was possible that it was keeping you and your children safe. Not out of the realm of thought. Especially when you were actually with him out. 

Without him was tight smiles and folks crossing the street to avoid you, like you were some kind of threat to them. 

You lay your legs on his lap, wordlessly asking him to rub your aching feet. You’d worked the floor all day, first cleaning up glass and then helping with customers and you did four fittings in the afternoon. He drains his glass and begins to rub your stocking clad feet. 

“How was the shop today besides the window?” Thumbs digging into the sole of your foot you moan, letting your head roll back against the armrest of the couch. 

“Good, we sold ten dresses.” He switched to a different foot, “I think Amara and Rosalyn are a little more than friends.” He pauses, looking at you. 

“Like?” You nod. 

“Huh.” He shrugs, “That makes a lot more sense.” The two women, your first employees, told you they moved in together to save money and were tired of living in the boarding house. With their savings they bought a cute little property not far from the store. They also adopted a few animals. 

“What did you think?” He shakes his head, 

“I just thought they were strange.” They always seemed so fidgety, like they were doing something suspicious when you weren’t in the room, but it would make sense of having the fear of getting caught. An interracial marriage some could be okay with, but a same-sex marriage? That was a whole different story. 

His fingers danced their way up your skirt, to your hose, removing the stay ups slowly, keeping eye contact, while massaging your foot with his other hand his fingers slipped under the hose and rolled the first one down your leg. Then the other. 

“I missed you today.” He whispered, kissing your ankle. “We all missed you today.” He tapped your leg, tugging gently on your thigh to get you to sit up, straddling his lap. His erection was already straining against his trousers. You ground yourself against him, meeting his lips. His hands held your hips, moving you against him enough to tease. “It’s so sexy,” He whispers, going for the button on his slacks, you lift up, shimmying your panties off and tossing them to the side. “You're going off to work,” A breathy kiss, you bury your fingers in his hair, tilting his head back as you press kisses down his jaw and onto his neck. “You’re so talented dahlin.” He groaned as you sunk down onto him, rocking your hips with his hands. “So fucking talented.” 

“Te quiero mucho.” Kisses wet and sloppy as you muffle your moans against his lips. His hand held the back of your neck, body slipping down to hover his hips off the couch, bringing your body close to his in order to thrust upward into you. Mouth pressed tightly to keep quiet while you came, fingers dipping between your thighs to strum your clit, riding out the pleasure while Bucky’s hips stuttered with release. 

“I love you too sweetheart.” Erection staying stiff inside you. He breathes and lets you collapse on top of him before sighing, “We forgot to use a rubber.” 

And just like that, pregnant again. 

You pretended to be hateful. “This is all your fault.” But Bucky just laughed. “You planned this.” Grant crawled over his shoulder, going to tumble down his back, letting Bucky catch him before he falls, laughing and doing it again. Dia and Jaime were playing with the new dollhouse she’d received for her birthday. A present that ‘Santa’ brought her, but was really bought from Macy’s and you didn’t even want to ask Winnie how much it cost. 

This pregnancy was a little rougher than the last three. You felt sick constantly and the ginger mints only did so much, aside from the fact that you started showing almost immediately. Your feet were swollen from working at the store and a rushed doctor visit was needed after you’d started spotting. 

“Bed rest.” Was what the doctor said, you’d huffed indignantly. The last three pregnancies you’d lived normally up until the day they were born and the doctor had the nerve to tell you that it was because you were older now. You weren’t even thirty yet. 

“Sweetheart,” Bucky tried to calm you down after you cursed the Doctor, “He’s an asshole, but if he’s recommending bed rest, you should probably rest.” So the keys to the shop were handed over to Amara and Rosalyn. 

“I hate this.” You grumbled, the kids were a mess today, and you felt very stressed. You couldn’t do anything right for Jaime, Dia seemed to want nothing to do with you, and Grant was throwing a tantrum over a soft breeze. “When are you coming home?” You could hear him pause on the other end, 

“About an hour left and I should be on my way.” The longest hour of your life. 

The sickness, the bleeding, the swollen feet. You’d been blessed with twins by the way your belly was measuring. “You did this.” And Bucky laughed. 

You sat in Peggy’s kitchen, snacking on a cheese plate she layed out for the two of you, grumbling about it. 

“He doesn’t know what it’s like.” Peggy, radiant as ever, nods in understanding, “In the seven years of our marriage I’ve been pregnant for four of them. The other three he was gone.” Every year you’d been together resulting in pregnancy. Jaime and Dia within months of each other. Grant a little while after that, and then a break in between him and now. “I love my kids,” You defend, “But you’ll understand when you have them.” You sigh, rubbing your belly, “It’s difficult.”

“I’m not sure Steve and I are ready quite yet.” She laughs, “Our work is dangerous,” She wasn’t joking. You knew their apprehensions, you felt them every time Bucky walked out the door. You weren’t sure if he was coming home or not, every time. “But I’m living vicariously through you in the meantime.” The playpen was set up in the living room, the three kids in view of you, playing quite loudly to the noise of the radio. The boys were out back, fixing loose shingles on the roof. 

“You can take one if you want,” You joke, arching your back trying to relieve some of the pain. Bucky stepped inside behind Steve, grabbing a drink from the fridge he lays a sweaty kiss on your cheek before going over to the chorus of Papa from their sitting room. Dia was the one who wanted his attention the most, her little feet climbing up on the gate and reaching her arms out to him while Grant and Jaime quickly lost interest as the noise from the radio changed. Bucky picked her up and brought her over to where you were sitting, handing her a piece of cheese to nibble on. 

“You trying to sell our kids?” He asked.

“I’m trying to give them away for free.” Another kiss to your head and a hand on your belly. 

“Baby.” Dia said. Pointing to your stomach. 

“That’s right mija,” You smiled, “You want to feel the baby?” She nods, chewing on a finger. Bucky sits her on your lap, your sweet girl’s hair was finally growing, the soft brown curls done back with a bow, she put her hands on your tummy.

“Big belly.” She whispers, tapping on your stomach. 

“There’s two babies in there mija.” She scrunches her nose, tapping on your belly again before reaching beside you for some more cheese. Bucky takes down the gate for the playpen, the other kids coming around to snack on cheese. Jaime whining to come up into your lap as well, Grant behind him. Peggy picks up Grant, settling him in her lap. Bucky taking Dia for you to let Jaime snuggle up into your lap. His body curled around your tummy, thumb in his mouth. 

“Who would have ever thought.” Steve mused, “I thought you were crazy for chasing her the way you did.” Bucky chasing you, ten years ago now. So young and naive. 

“I thank God every day that I did.” He grins at you and you could almost see the way he looked when he was seventeen, when he ran into you on the street and dragged you into a shop you knew you wouldn’t be allowed in. 

You smile back, “Me too.” When Bucky leans in for a kiss Jaime groans and pushes him away, pulling you to him and making you give him a kiss on his forehead instead. 

“Mama.” He whines, “I’m hungry.” You give Bucky a look.

“Alright mijo, let's get you something to eat.” 

Something was wrong next door. The only reason you knew that was because the house was quiet today. Bucky had taken the kids to his parent’s house so you could nap, so you heard the shouting clear as day. You slipped out of bed, and walked to the bedroom window, the window facing the side of Martha Green’s house. The shouting was loud, almost frightening. Your hand fumbled with the bedside phone, dialing quickly. 

“James,” You rest a hand on your belly, still looking out at the house, but their blinds were shut, “Something is happening next door, I think he’s hurting her.” There was a blood curdling scream you were sure he could hear, 

“Call Steve,” He said, “I’m on my way.” 

Steve didn’t answer, you placed the phone in the cradle and heard another scream. Waddling down the stairs, you knew it would take Bucky thirty minutes to get home. Another call to Steve, another unanswered call. 

You could hear glass break. And you called the police. But how far out were they? You could hear her screaming and crying. There was a gun by the front door that felt heavy in your hands, shaking and nerves you walked outside, to her house and up the stairs. You knocked on the front door, hard. 

There was a pause in noise, the gun heavy in your hand, hidden in the pocket of your house dress. The front door ripped open. You’d seen Martha’s husband a number of times and you believed Bucky when he said he didn’t think that he treated her very well. There was a wild look in his eyes and behind the small crack he opened you could see the shattered remains of what must have been their china cabinet. 

You swallow nervously, but quickly ask, “Is Martha here? I uh… I came to return this.” In a quick moment of clarity you’d grabbed the glass dish you’d left by the front door that you’d asked Bucky to take back to Winnie, you thanked God he was forgetful in that moment. His jaw was tight and he looked down at the casserole dish in your hand. 

His grip was rough on the dish, yanking it from your hand, “I’ll be sure to give it to her.” You see movement in the background, Martha. The two children hiccuping in tears as she ushered them in the closet under the stairs. You could see the bruises blooming on her face. “Is there anything else you need?” 

“I would just like to talk to her.” You found some firmness. 

“I’m sure she would not like to talk to you.” And you knew why. A spit at your feet. Your jaw clenched, your ears listened for sirens but you couldn’t hear any. It felt like it had been twenty minutes but you knew it had only been maybe five. 

“Martha!” You called behind him. His hand quickly shot out, grabbing your arm and yanking you into the house. 

“You nosy fucking bitch.” Your back met the hallway wall, fingers fumbling for your gun. You quickly pulled it and aimed it at his chest. He looked startled and backed away. 

“Martha.” You could see her out of the corner of your eyes, “Grab the kids and go to my house.” She was frozen in the doorway, the anger from her husband clear on his face. “Go!”

You were shaking, which was a mistake, he rushed you. You fired the gun but it missed, the bullet embedding itself in the wall above his shoulder. He quickly grabbed your arm and brought a fist down on your face. You fired the gun again, clipping him on his arm. Screaming as you fell, hands coming to protect your belly as you fell. The gun spun out from your grip. 

Martha’s husband, the big hulking man he is, stepped over you and grabbed the gun, pointing it in your face. You gasp, coming back onto your knees, eyes springing with tears. 

“You stupid fucking bitch.” He spits, pulling the hammer back. You’ve made a mistake. Your heart in your throat you grab your belly. 

“You’re a fucking coward.” It springs from your throat before you can help it. His upper lip curling, his finger tenses on the trigger. But before he could pull it you see a flash of metal, Bucky’s hand going to grab his wrist with the gun and in one instant, disarms him and the gun, flinging the piece of metal to the side he wraps his arm around Martha’s husband’s neck, bringing him to the ground. 

When he arrived home he found a bruised and beaten Martha sitting in his den, her two sobbing kids beside her. When she told him where you were, his heart dropped. He felt like he was going to be sick. He snuck through the back door and came into the hallway through their den. Stopping the man about to take his wife away from him. 

“What were you thinking?” He would yell later. Crying. Both of you. “I told you to call Steve.”

“I did.” You were blubbery, “He didn’t answer.” Bucky sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face before turning back to you and sighing heavily.

“Come here baby,” A tight hug to his chest, “I’m sorry. You were so brave, I’m sorry.” Hands rubbing up and down your back as you cried. “Please, never do that again.” You’d talked to the police, Bucky backing your story and telling them what he’d done. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

The next day Martha showed up on your doorstep, an apology pie in hand. “I just wanted to say thank you,” She was looking at her shoes. You stepped aside, inviting her in. Settled down at your kitchen table with a cup of coffee she continues, “I honestly thought he was going to kill me yesterday.” A rough swallow, “He almost killed you.” Her blue eyes meeting yours for the first time. “I’m sorry I was so jealous of seeing how your husband treated you.” Her lips swollen with bitten worry, “And I used race as an excuse to treat you poorly and for that I apologize.” Her hands shaking, you reach over to comfort her. 

“I forgive you,” a mutual cry between new friends. “Listen,” You scribble down your number on the pad by the phone. “If you need help you can always call, James’ work…”

“I know what he does.” She thumbs the paper. “He’s a good man.” You smile softly, 

“Yeah, he is.” You muse at the thought,

Ten long years have led to this. Five children and an ever passionate love between the two of you that, at first, you thought was a simple infatuation that would pass with time. But he loved you, he married you. He helped you create five beautiful children and you couldn’t help but love him endlessly for that. 

He’s shown you how intensely he loves. Every single day. And doesn’t relent, even when things had gotten a little hard. You admire him for that, and know that he was true in every sense of the word. 

His love was all consuming and with every kiss he lay on your lips the relationship between you grew more solid. 

He truly was the love of your life. 

And you were his. 

.

.

.

taglist //  @corneliabarnes​ @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @albinotigerpython​ @cake-writes​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @000bananaclip000​ @shadowbusiness @sprinkleofbooty​ @gifsbysimplysonia​ @vhsbarnes​ @loseralert @wendaiii​ @mcueveryday​ @alwaysbenhardysgirl @beck-alicious​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #1940s!bucky barnes #1940s au #latinx!reader #latina!reader #sebastian stan #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier

[atlas-of-space]

Dance with me - writing prompt

Synopsis: Did you really think you would be going alone to prom?

Prompt: “Dance with me”

A/N: this is a writing challenge by @starksparker for this summer :) i think i went kinda overboard on the backstory but okay lol did i forget i was writing a prompt and did i have to insert said prompt later into the story? maybe.

Word count: 3,6K

warnings: a few swears here and there

You and MJ had been friends since elementary school. You bonded when both of you weren’t invited to Macy’s birthday party, thus organizing your own party that was way more fun. From that day, a close friendship was born. Fast forward to middle and high school. Both being kind of hardcore nerds, you both got into Midtown Tech. You befriended Ned and Peter and you felt that you had finally found your place in the world.

Your senior year was the hardest and easiest of high school. You started applying to your dream college (NYU), writing essays and what-not, you had several competitions and science fairs going on et cetera. That was the easy part. The hard part had yet to come for you: prom.

Most kids already had a boyfriend or girlfriend, so they automatically had a partner. There already had been a fair share of promposals (MJ had been asked by the new kid Brad (was he really new?? He just aged when the rest of you were in the Blip), Ned asked Betty and that was that.)

“So, who are you asking, Peter?” MJ inquired. Peter had been relatively quiet when you guys started talking about prom. He shrugged and his mouth set in a hard line. “I’ve been thinking about asking this girl, but I’m about 125% sure that she’ll say no. So I’m thinking about going alone.” MJ frowned, “there’s no harm in just asking the girl. Why are you so sure she’ll reject you?” Peter shrugged again, “She’s probably waiting for someone else to ask, so I’d rather not be embarrassed thank you very much.”

This was Peter’s pessimistic side talking. You two bonded over being total opposites (him being more pessimistic and you being the positive person) and you just knew that he was overreacting. “Don’t be so melodramatic Pete, for all you know she’s waiting to be asked by you. Who are we talking about by the way?” You really wanted to know who Peter was talking about because you had absolutely no idea who this could be. Could it be Charlotte from the debate team? Or Amina who’s volunteering at the library? Or even just someone he met on his internship because duh it’s the stark internship and how many smart beautiful awesome people work there??

For the rest of the day, you continued to sulk and you actually felt quite miserable. You had had feelings for Peter for a while now, but they really took off when you two spent a weekend together going on a field trip.

“So, can you get that stick out of your ass and talk to me or are you going to keep being miserable for the rest of the week?”, MJ pointed out. She sat next to you in the library, where you two always studied and revised together. You rolled your eyes but you knew that what she said was true.

“Well, if I say what’s been bothering me will you promise not to tell anyone?” “Not to tell anyone that you’re actually in love with Peter or to not tell anyone that in 4th grade you got the class hamster for the weekend and you accidentally killed it because you thought your older brother’s snake would want to be friends with it?”

“Jesus, MJ not so loud!”, you groaned. Let’s be honest. Both things she said were true and you didn’t want any one to know about them. “Please don’t ever bring up Ozzy up again. I’m still traumatized and everyone thinks he died of old age, so zip it.”

“So we’re not going to talk about you and Peter?”, she softly asked after a short moment of silence. “I just really don’t know what to say,” you sighed, “we’ve been friends for such a long time and I really don’t want to mess it up by like declaring my love or something for him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it declaring your love, but I do think there is something between you guys. Don’t you remember when you came back from Boston and you two were like, inseparable?” MJ was so fucking observant, nothing went by her without her noticing, and at times like these it was quite annoying that she knew everything, but for the most part it came in really handy. MJ just knew you and knew what was going on in your head. She just wanted to be a good friend.

“For anyone who didn’t know you guys, it really seemed like you guys were dating or something. Do you really not notice how he looks at you?”, you shook your head. You had been wrapped up in assignments after the trip and just had been studying and yeah, you just didn’t really have a lot of time to think about it. This doesn’t mean that you ‘lost’ your feelings for Peter, they just had to make room for other things.

What started as a boring history trip to Boston, ended in laughter and getting to know each other even better. The four hour drive was something no one was looking forward to, because duh you literally can’t do anything besides talking and okay, Peter was your friend but you had never had much one-on-one time and you were kind of nervous? Also, when did Peter get these muscles?

“Are we sitting together for this ten million hour drive, y/n?”, you nodded and pulled him onto one of the benches, giving him your backpack to put on the rack above you.

You started bickering about some random movie you had seen a week before and Peter wanted to facepalm because you were so stubborn. “No, jesus, Y/n, the ending was so good, it was meant to be sad because life isn’t just rainbows and butterflies! You can’t just expect a good ending in every movie because you get sentimental afterwards.”

“Well, okay mister I’m-always-negative, sorry for wanting the main character to have a nice life. I just think he deserved better. He just had this really romantic outlook on life and then everyone dumped him and he died alone. That’s sad right, don’t you agree?”

Peter had to agree, but he just wanted to get you to understand that sometimes shitty things happen (like getting bit by a radioactive spider and getting super powers and trying to save your city, because you were now a friendly neighborhood spider-man). Anyway, he admired your positive outlook on life and he didn’t want to ruin it, but he also didn’t want you to get hurt every time something remotely negative happened in your life - which was inevitable, let’s be honest.

“I was just saying, but I really like that about you,” Peter softly said, his eyes locking on yours. You slightly blushed, but disregarded the comment. Friends say stuff like that, right? You squeezed his bicep, turning to look outside of the window. “God we’ve only left the city and I already want to get out!”, you changed the subject. Peter swallowed hard and coughed, trying to get rid of the intimate moment you guys just shared.

For the following hours you talked and talked about everything and nothing. The bus arrived at the hotel you would be staying at for 2 nights and you both teamed up with someone to share a room. After doing a tour of the city, everyone got back to the hotel and you were free to do what you wanted.

“So, are you down to go eat something together?” Peter asked, whilst leaning against the doorframe of the room you shared with Drew. Drew shot you a look, silently saying ‘YES!!!! GO!!’, and you rolled your eyes.

“Um, yeah sure, let me just grab my things and we’ll go look for something then,” you started gathering your stuff and said goodbye to Drew. “It’s a date, right?” She winked and you wanted to throw yourself out of the window, because just stop with this! “Yeah bye Drew, have fun on your own!”, you sarcastically called out.

Peter and you walked down the street, trying to find a cheap place that had decent dinner.

You decided on a dumpling place that actually looked really cool, it had these old wooden floors and lots of plants. “You down to share some dumplings with me or not?” You asked whilst flipping through the menu. Peter nodded and decided for some classic dumplings, while you chose the vegetarian ones. That way, you could share some. 

“So, do you already know what uni you want to go to?”, Peter asked, whilst battling with your chopsticks to get a dumpling. “I’ve been looking into some unis in New York area so I can stay close to home, but there are just so many good schools over the whole country so yeah.. I’m still confused as fuck.” You smirked when you got the dumpling you were fighting about and popped it in your mouth.  “So, what about you?” You asked once you ate the dumpling.

“Yeah so I really want to stay in the city. This place is my home you know, and I’m not really ready to leave everything behind and start over again so yeah, I’m thinking about Columbia or NYU or just a local college so I can combine the stark internship with studying. But yeah, I’m really looking forward to next year.”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile, “so, we’ll probably stay in the same city. We can meet up then!” Peter’s eyes twinkled and he smiled, “this is going to be great! We can go to parties together and study together!”

After dinner, you walked back to the hotel, it looked as if both of you had drunk just a little too much, stumbling through the streets and giggling so much that you couldn’t breathe. “Are you actually serious? You thought the hamster would be friends with the snake?”

“I was in 4th grade! I just didn't want him to be lonely!” You exclaimed, trying not to ruin your mascara because you were definitely crying of laughter. You put your hand on the inside of Peters inner arm, trying to hold onto him because you just couldn’t keep your ground anymore.

“You can’t tell anyone though! MJ has been keeping it a secret for years, so if this ever gets out I’m done!”, you joked while you entered the hotel lobby. Because you both looked a bit out of place and were making a bit too much noise, you got some weird looks. You both ignored everyone, too wrapped up in each other.

You calmed down in the elevator, still holding onto Peter’s arm. You loved being with Peter alone. You connected on a deeper level, you just understood each other. You had liked him for a while now. Nothing serious, just a small crush.

You walked to your room. Instead of going inside, you waited outside and looked at Peter. He was leaning against the doorframe, waiting for you to open the door. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”, you said quietly. Peter nodded and licked his lips. He looked in your eyes, and it was as if he wanted to say something else, but he just kept quiet.

“okay, I’m going in now, bye Peter,” you got your room key and swiped it, opening the door. You looked at Peter one last time. He had already straightened up but opened his arms to give you a hug. You stepped into his arms and squeezed your arms around his torso. Had you ever been this close to Peter? God.  He smelled really good and you felt at ease in his arms.

He released you and gave a small wave, turning back to go to the elevator to go up to his room. You smiled to yourself and got into your room.

The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch. You visited some museums and did a few workshops, learning about the history. This was going to be one hell of an assignment to write. Peter and you spent most of the time you were awake together. Drew was suspiciously absent when you were with Peter. It's almost as if she stayed away on purpose.

When you returned, you had a lot of work to catch up on and you had to make this ginormous assignment about the trip. You still saw Peter a lot. During lunch and other classes you had together, you would always sit next to each other. You worked on the assignment together and you visited each other in the weekends. MJ noticed that every time you were studying in the library Peter was there, just left or was about to arrive. You hardly had any one-on-one time with MJ anymore, and she was starting to feel left out.

“I mean yeah, we became really good friends on that trip, perhaps even more but people don’t fall in love over a weekend, MJ, I’m not that naive.”

“People don’t fall in love over a weekend, but they do if these feelings have been build up for literal years!”, MJ was at the end of her wits here. How could you NOT see that Peter was in love with you?? He came over every other weekend, he helped you if you were stuck with something. You spend so much time together and he hadn’t been on a decent date in months. This wasn’t some bullshit crush - this felt real.

“AND, after that trip, we hardly spent any time together because you were with Peter every breathing second!” MJ exclaimed, “So don’t go bullshitting me that he doesn’t like you, because that boy is head over heals in love with you.”

“Well okay then. Why wouldn’t he ask to prom then? If he likes me?” You tried to reason. You were ignore these feelings, because once you both admitted them to each other, it would be real.

“He’s insecure. It’s 2019, girls can ask guys to prom. You just ask him already.” You sighed and rubbed your eyes with your hand palms. “I know you have like the soul of a 120 year old activist in you, but I’m still a regular-ass teenage girl who’s scared of being called abnormal. So i’m just going to ignore everything you just said and go alone to prom, because that’s what nerds do.”

MJ wanted to strangle you, because this was like a horror movie; the main character did everything they weren’t supposed to do. “okay, you do you. But don't complain to me if Peter shows up with some random girl because you’re both chickens.”

MJ got her books and got up. She was frustrated with you, but you knew it was all in good heart. You tried to get some more studying done, but you were really distracted.

What did you have to lose, if you asked Peter to prom? A few years of friendship? A great study-buddy?

-

Prom was next week, and both you and Peter had been avoiding the topic. Both MJ and Ned were so fed up with it (MJ had told Ned everything), but decided not to do anything about it. It was your life, so your problem in the end.

Cue to the day before prom. You had everything prepared. Your dress, heels, make-up, you even got a corsage. What you didn’t have: a date. You were too chicken to ask Peter, so you went alone. You were going to dance your heart out and enjoy your life, because that’s what being young is about.

You decided to drive yourself to the venue. You got everything ready and were about to put on your heels when the doorbell rang. You figured it would be MJ who forgot something and opened the door.

It wasn’t MJ though, who stood on your porch. Peter was wearing an all black tux and his hair was combed neatly, instead of the wild curls he always had. His hands were in his pockets (his hands were really shaky at this moment and he didn’t want to seem like a weirdo in front of you) and he didn’t say anything for the first few moments.

“Oh, um, wow, Y/N you look-..  you look amazing!” He struggled to say. His cheeks got a light pink hue, as did yours. “Thanks, Peter, you look very handsome yourself.”

You both looked at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to say, because What The Hell was Peter doing here?

“What do you need, Peter?” You asked him. Your palms were getting sweaty and you felt your face heath up. What is happening right now?

“I know this is probably so out of line and I understand if you don’t want to but I’ve been thinking about it for a while now and I was too chicken to tell you until this moment now, but uh-, Y/N I uh, I really like you and I totally understand if you don’t reciprocate these uh feelings,” he rambled and had to take a deep breath after saying all this.

Internally, you were freaking out, but externally, it looked as if you had just seen a ghost pass by.

“Um, Y/N? Can you say something please?” Peter croaked. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes and this lump in his throat was keeping him from rambling again.

“Oh my-, I’m so sorry Peter oh my god! No, I just didn’t think this moment would ever arrive? I don’t know what to say other than, um, that I like you as well?”

You royally fucked this one up. Peter was almost crying, you started to have a panic attack? What is this evening?

“Are you serious?” Peter asked after he gathered himself for a moment. You nodded and held the door a bit further, signaling that he could come in.

You closed the door behind him and rested your back against it, trying not to lose it. God was this real? Was this some awkward dream during the nap you took before you had to get ready?

Peter took a step closer to you and grabbed your wrist. “Do you want to go to prom with me and dance with me then?”  He softly said. You interlaced your fingers with his and looked up at him.

You gave him a small smile and nodded, “I’d love to go with you Peter.”

You were both shining and when you were ready to go, your mother called out to you.  

“Y/N, even though you don’t have a date, I still want pictures!”, she came out of the living room with her camera. When she saw you standing at the door, hand in hand with Peter she stopped and got a small smile on her face.

“Oh, unexpected but actually not. Hi Peter, how are you?” She joked.

“I’m good, really good actually. I’m coming to pick up your daughter for prom actually,” he answered politely.

“So, is this a,” she pointed between you two, “a date situation?” Peter instantly got red again, but you smiled confidently, “Yes, we’re going together.”

Your mother smiled dearly and nodded. “Well, if you’re going together, I do want some pictures of you two!”

You posed for some pictures and left quickly after, your mom giving you a wink. “Have fun, guys!”

Peter drove himself to your house, so you got into his car (after he held the door for you).

When you both walked up to your high school, some people did double takes. Especially your friends. MJ walked up to you with a smile, you never releasing Peter’s hand.

“Well, well, who do we have here?” She smugly asked. You wanted to give a quick-witted response, but you were just too happy.

“He came to my house just before we left and well, we both like each other and things just happened? And no we are here!”

She squeezed your other hand and smiled at you. “I’m happy for you, Y/N, even though it took literal WEEKS!”

For the rest of the night you had so much fun with your friends. You danced together, got stupid photo’s in the photobooth, and held Peter’s hand.

You slow danced together and he had his arms or hands around you at all times. This was such bliss.

You and Peter were sitting outside for a bit, trying to escape all the commotion. Your knees were touching and Peter’s thumb was rubbing over your hand.  

“So,” Peter said softly, trying not to disrupt the comfortable silence, “I know this is probably way too quick, but I really like you Y/N.”

“I really like you too, Peter,” you replied gazing into his eyes. Gosh, he has such pretty eyes. How did this ever happen to you?

“Would you wanna go on a date soon? Like a real date and not some high school dance?” Peter wasn’t nervous anymore. He knew you’d say yes, he just wanted to confirm that you were actually up for it.

You nodded quickly, “I’d love to. We could go tomorrow even! I just want to spend more time with you.”  God would you love to just spend the rest of senior year with Peter,  that was how much you liked him.

“What do you say, tomorrow at seven? We could go eat something and decide the rest during dinner?” Peter proposed.

“It’s a date.” You said, giving Peter a kiss on his cheek.

—————

Sooooo, this is the end! Sorry it took so long to write, I had less free time than expected lol.  I tried to leave the ending a bit ‘open’ idk this is my first time really writing something (other than weird af wattpad stories when I was 14 let’s be honest)

#tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #prompt #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman: ffh #peter parker #one shot #peter p #peter parker fluff #peter parker dance #tom holland fluff #peter parker spiderman #writing prompt #zendaya #summer challenge #tom holland #peter parker imagine #MJ #tom holland imagine #can i tag? #no i cant #help #i cant write either #wtf is this #okay bye

[starletwriting]

Killervibe Fic Week Day One: Fake Dating

Word Count: 3063

Notes: Occurs in the place of 5x07 (the season five Thanksgiving episode).

Tags: @thatkillervibe @shakesqueer-writes @narniasfinestavengingsociopath

~~~

“I need a really big favor.”

Cisco looked up from the tech he was working on and faced Caitlin. “Yeah?” 

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” 

Cisco raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the request. What for?” 

“My mom invited me to Thanksgiving with the extended family this year. I tried to get out of it by telling her I was spending Thanksgiving with my boyfriend, but then she insisted that I bring my boyfriend along with me.” Caitlin said. “I had to tell her it was a boyfriend. She wouldn’t have gotten off my case if it were anything else.” 

“So you need me to pretend to be that boyfriend?” Cisco asked. “Why not Barry?” 

“He’s spending Thanksgiving with Iris and Nora. This is his first Thanksgiving with his daughter, I’m not gonna take that away.” Caitlin said. “Please, man, you’re my only option.”

“Alright.” Cisco slowly nodded. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” Caitlin beamed. “Anything you need in return, it’s yours.” 

“If I ever need a favor, I’ll be sure to let you know. Besides,” Cisco met her eyes with a soft, caring gaze. “I’m not about to subject my best friend to the wrath of a judgemental mother alone. I know what that’s like. My mom was always asking me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend, when I’m gonna get married, when I’m gonna give her grandchildren.” 

“See? That’s why I need you.” Caitlin rested a hand on Cisco’s shoulder. “You get me.” 

“Hey, you know I’m always here for you. Even if that includes being your fake boyfriend for some family Thanksgiving you don’t really wanna go to.” 

“Like I said.” Caitlin chuckled softly. “You get me.” 

~~~

The smell of food filled the entire house. The turkey was still warm from the oven, golden-brown and rich, and surrounded by plenty of sides to go around. Cisco hadn’t left Caitlin’s side since they got there, and even now, he was sitting in the seat next to her. He was mostly making harmless small-talk with Caitlin’s relatives, talking about his job at Star Labs or his family, anything they asked. A few of them asked about his relationship with Caitlin. As someone who kept a whole secret superhero identity, Cisco had gotten used to lying. However, he found that lying about being in a romantic relationship with Caitlin was a lot easier than he expected.

“So, Cisco,” Caitlin’s mother passed the mashed potatoes to him, along with a side of gravy. “How did you and my daughter start dating?” 

“Well,” Cisco looked over at Caitlin to his left, meeting her eyes with the softest loving gaze he could muster. It wasn’t hard, looking at her. Then he turned back to Caitlin’s mother. “Caitlin has been my coworker and best friend for years. Spending all that time with her, I got to know her as the truly amazing, wonderful person she is… the feelings came naturally. I eventually mustered up the courage to confess, and well… look at where we are now.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet!” One of Caitlin’s cousins piped in. 

“Cisco is truly the best boyfriend I could ask for. We go for coffee dates at Jitters so often, the staff practically recognizes us. If I’m having a bad day, all it takes is one text and this guy will show up at my door with chocolates and a movie. He’s the most thoughtful, most considerate guy I know, and I’m so lucky to have him in my life. And I…” Caitlin laced her fingers in with Cisco’s, and gently squeezed his hand in hers. “I love him.” 

“You guys are too cute!”

“Alright, enough.” Caitlin’s uncle teased. “You’re gonna make the rest of us jealous.” 

Everyone at the table laughed heartily, and the conversation changed. Instead, they were discussing sports and the Macy’s Day Parade, and Caitlin and Cisco were off the hook. It was only when Caitlin let go of Cisco’s hand to grab some green beans that they both realized how long she had been holding it. Cisco and Caitlin both blushed, and then desperately tried to change the subject. 

Cisco was asked multiple times about what he does at Star Labs, but Cisco didn’t mind explaining. Caitlin’s family seemed to respect that he was a mechanical engineer. They asked about what it’s like living in Central City with all the meta attacks, to which Cisco tried to answer in the most vague way possible as to not reveal that he’s a meta himself, and one of the heroes stopping the attacks. Caitlin’s mother seemed particularly skeptical of Cisco’s answer on that question, but Cisco understood why. Dr. Tannhauser knows about her daughter’s superhero life. It wouldn’t take a genius for her to gather that Cisco is involved, too.

After dinner, Caitlin and Cisco helped clear off the table. The leftover food was placed into containers or wrapped in tin foil to be saved for later. Caitlin’s mother offered Cisco some leftover turkey to bring home with him, and he took it because he didn’t want to be rude. He figured he could have it for dinner one night when he didn’t feel like cooking or stopping by Big Belly Burger on the way home from work. 

The evening was coming to a close and the sun was setting in the distance. And yet, no one was quite ready to leave. The kids were upstairs playing with action figures, the adults were downstairs talking. Cisco and Caitlin managed to get away from the small talk for a bit, and Caitlin decided to bring Cisco upstairs and show him around her childhood home. After all, the house was a large part of Caitlin’s childhood, and she wanted to share that with her best friend. 

“This was my bedroom for twelve years.” Caitlin said. “Over there, I had a bulletin board with notes, pictures, postcards, et cetera. And over here,” Caitlin opened up her closet and took out an old, battered stuffed animal. “I had all my stuffed animals. This one was my favorite when I was about ten. I think his name was Oscar.” 

Cisco took the stuffed animal and held it ever-so-gently in his hands. “He looks like an Oscar.” 

Caitlin walked over to the other side of her room, where she had a telescope positioned so that it was looking right out her window. She turned to Cisco. “My dad got me this telescope for my ninth birthday. I had practically begged him for it for years.” 

“Wow, this is nice.” Cisco walked over and peered through the telescope. “You can see Mars from here.” 

“My dad and I spent so many nights together just looking at the stars, identifying constellations.” Caitlin said. “He would make some astrological pun and I would laugh, and he’d make another and I’d keep laughing. Mom would hear us down the hall and remind us that it’s late, and it was a school night. Dad would just make me promise to wake up for school the next day, and we’d continue looking at the stars until one of us got too tired.” 

Cisco wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Caitlin grabbed a photo frame off of her dresser and showed it to Cisco. Cisco blew off some of the dust. 

It was a picture of the Snow family. Caitlin looked about eight or nine in the picture. Her brown hair was woven into two little twin braids that rested on her shoulders. She was wearing a floral print dress and holding hands with both of her parents on either side of her. Her dad was smiling in the camera with a loving gaze that Cisco had never seen from Thomas Snow, and her mom was laughing- something Cisco had never seen Carla Tannhauser do. Cisco held the picture delicately in his hands.

It wasn’t just a picture. It was a piece of Caitlin’s childhood. 

“We did a photoshoot in the park for our Christmas cards. The photo turned out really nice, so Mom got it framed. I’ve had it ever since.” Caitlin said. “Those were simpler times, y’know? That was before Dad was Icicle, before I was Killer Frost, before Mom grew distant. Back when my main worry was stupid Lexi LaRoche.” 

Cisco wrapped his arm around Caitlin’s shoulder, offering her a comforting side-hug. He set the photo back down on her dresser, then turned back to Caitlin and brushed her hair behind her ear. “You know I’m here for you, right? No matter what happens with Icicle, no matter what happens with Cicada. You and I, we’re a team. I dare fate to try to seperate us. I’m always going to have your back.” 

“Thank you, Cisco.” The warmth in Caitlin’s eyes reflected her gratitude more than words ever could. “And, you know… The present is certainly different from the past, but it’s not necessarily worse.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Caitlin nodded. “Because right now, you’re here with me.” 

Cisco couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “You’re a sap.” 

“Yeah, yeah, maybe so.” Caitlin laughed. “C’mon, let’s head out. It’s getting late.”

The two of them walked back downstairs and said their polite thank yous and goodbyes to Caitlin’s family before heading out the door. Cisco twirled the keys around his finger as he walked down the sidewalk, and only stopped once they reached the car, in order to open and start it. Once Cisco had pulled out of the driveway, Caitlin began searching the radio for something to listen to. 

“Why are they playing so many songs from 2009-2010?” Caitlin asked. 

“I have no idea, but I’m not complaining.” Cisco shrugged. “2009 songs weren’t half bad.” 

“You also unironically like Rick Astley so I don’t know if I trust your music taste.” 

“Ouch. That hurts.” 

“What, me saying I don’t like your music taste?” 

“Yes, exactly that. I hold my music taste in high regards, thank you very much.” 

“Wait- shh.” 

Cisco glanced at Caitlin with a curious eyebrow raised, silently asking her what the matter was. Caitlin only leaned forward to adjust the volume on the radio, making the current song loud enough for Cisco to hear. 

“Oh my god, they’re playing Poker Face.” 

Caitlin nodded. “Cisco, this is like our song.” 

“From the very first time we met Barry.” Cisco said. “It feels like forever ago.” 

“Five years is a long time.” 

“Sing with me.” 

Caitlin laughed. “What?” 

“Sing along with me.” Cisco looked at her with a certain playful glint in his eyes, one that he knew she couldn’t say no to. “C’mon, you know the lyrics.” 

“You’re driving!” 

“So? I’ve been driving long enough to know how to focus on the road and sing at the same time.” Cisco said. “Besides, there’s not that many cars out tonight.”  

“I’m not the best singer.” 

“Who cares? It’s just us.” Cisco offered his signature smile, the one he knew Caitlin couldn’t say no to. “C’mon. Sing with me.” 

“Oh, alright, alright.” Caitlin gave in. She couldn’t resist smiling a bit at Cisco’s playfulness. He always knew the best way to persuade her. “But you start.” 

“Alright, deal.” 

Cisco started off humming the tune, then progressed into actually singing the words. Caitlin joined in, singing quietly at first, but she got gradually louder as she grew more comfortable. Cisco was right. She knew the lyrics. It was only the two of them. There was no harm in letting loose a little. 

Towards the end of the song, the both of them were belting the lyrics into air-microphones they pretended to hold in their hands. When the time the last note played, they burst into a fit of giggles, sounding less like adults and more like schoolchildren. Cisco was intent on staying focused on the road, but he took the liberty of taking one hand off the wheel to playfully shove Caitlin’s shoulder. 

“See? I knew you’d have fun.” 

“Alright, alright. You were righ-”

Caitlin trailed off as she heard the car engine began sputtering and slowing down. She looked at Cisco, who met her eyes with a concerned gaze of his own. He trailed off to the side of the road and managed to park the car on the dirt before it completely broke down. The two of them immediately unbuckled and got out of the car to take a look at what went wrong. Cisco popped the hood to try to understand what happened, but even he couldn’t figure it out.

“Maybe your car’s just old.” Caitlin suggested.

“Hey, don’t insult her like that.” Cisco rubbed the side of the car’s hood, as if comforting it. “She works great for her age.”

Caitlin laughed. “You’re a weirdo.” 

“Oh my god.” Cisco gasped, as if a realization had just dawned on him. “The battery.” 

“What about it?” 

“I was supposed to replace the battery and I completely forgot.” 

“Ah, so that’s it.” 

“Look, in my defense, life has been kinda crazy for us lately. We had just defeated Devoe- and Devoe was rough- when Barry and Iris’s daughter from the future shows up, and just her being here is causing timeline changes everywhere, and apparently now there’s a new supervillain named Cicada, and he can dampen our powers with that dagger of his. So yeah, I maybe forgot about a few things from my non-superhero life.” 

“I don’t blame you.” Caitlin said. “I know firsthand how crazy life has been.” 

“Hang on, maybe I can call someone for help. I wonder if Barry’s willing to come get us.” 

“Couldn’t you breach us?” 

Cisco held up his hands, showing Caitlin the white bandages tied around them. “My powers are still dampened from the shrapnel, remember?” 

“Right. Sorry. It’s been a long day.” 

“It’s okay. Lemme call Barry or Iris and see if they can come get us.” 

Cisco made a quick phone call. Caitlin decided to wait in the car, so she got back in the passenger’s seat and waited to hear from Cisco. Once Cisco hung up, he climbed into the driver’s seat next to Caitlin and placed his phone down on the dashboard. 

“Barry’s coming to pick us up.” He said. “He’s taking Iris’s car. We can call a tow truck for my own car, seeing as how there’s no way Iris’s will be able to tow it.” 

“Alright.” Caitlin said. “So I guess now the only thing to do is wait.” 

“I’m sorry. You’d probably be home by now if we hadn’t broken down.” 

“What’re you apologizing for? It’s not like you planned on it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Cisco sighed and leaned back against his seat. “Still, though. Even with your family’s constant questions… I’m glad I came with you tonight.” 

“Yeah?” Caitlin turned to him. “Even though my uncles wouldn’t stop asking you about baseball?”

Cisco laughed. “I was really confused. I really haven’t got a clue about baseball. But yes, even then.” 

“Well, good. I’m glad you came out with me tonight, too.” 

“Honestly, it’s better than eating store-bought turkey while watching Star Wars alone in my apartment, which is honestly probably what I would’ve done.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have let you be alone for Thanksgiving. I would’ve invited you over.” 

“That’s nice of you. Thanks.” 

“Y’know,” Caitlin readjusted her position so that she could face Cisco without leaning her neck. “I have to admit, I’m kinda glad Barry and Ralph were busy.”

“Why?” 

“Because… I don’t think it would’ve been quite this special if I had done it with Barry or Ralph. Barry, he’s married. Ralph, he’s not really my type.”

“What, and you’re saying I am?” It was initially a joke. Cisco followed it up with a chuckle, as if implying the idea was absurd. 

Caitlin didn’t respond. 

“Wait.” Cisco met Caitlin’s eyes with a million emotions at once as he realized what Caitlin’s silence meant. “You’re saying…” 

“Look, Cisco…” Caitlin took a deep breath as she mentally prepared her next words. “There’s another reason why I really wanted you to go with me tonight. Why I wanted you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Because, if I’m being honest with you… I like you. As more than a friend.” She hesitated. “God, I sound like I’m in middle school. But it’s the truth.”

Cisco paused. He took a moment to process the confession he had just gotten. The wheels in his head were turning, his heartbeat raced in his chest. He sighed, then found his words.

“You wanna know why I was so good at pretending to be your boyfriend tonight? I mean, none of your family members suspected a thing. Acting has never really been my forte. I took some acting classes with Dante back in high school, but we both sucked and inevitably dropped out. My point is, I can sell a fake story to cover up my hero alter ego when I have to, and I can lie when something really depends on it. But pretending to be in love with someone… I think I could only pull that off if it were at least partially true.” 

“What’re you saying?” 

“Remember when I told your mom that story about how we got together?” Cisco said. “Well, the whole part about me catching feelings for you... that was true.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened. “You… have feelings for me?” 

“Don’t act so surprised. With your intelligence and your charming personality, I’m surprised anyone can look at you and not fall completely in love.” 

She blushed. “I just… never thought my feelings were reciprocated.” 

“Neither did I.” 

“I’m glad we did this then.” 

“Y’know, Caitlin…” Cisco tapped his fingers against the leather car seat. “I think I have a great idea for how you can cash in that favor you owe me.” 

“Yeah?” 

“We’ll go out together, somewhere where it’s just us. We can talk and joke and I’ll buy you coffee. It’ll be a date. Our first real romantic one.” Cisco studied Caitlin’s expression for a reaction. “How does that sound?” 

Caitlin reached for Cisco’s hand and laced her fingers into his, holding his palm gently in hers. It was just like she had held it back at dinner, only this time, it wasn’t for show. 

“That sounds wonderful.”

#killervibeweek #killervibeweek19 #killervibe #the flash #caitlin snow #cisco ramon

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Is That Bibinka? | Cassian Andor x Filipina!Reader (one-shot)

Words: 2799

A/N: I don’t know why, but the two one-shots I wrote has best friends-to-lovers trope. Oh, well. Who doesn’t love that trope? Slow burn, mutual pining, and best friends to lovers. That’s that good shit right there, that holy trinity. Also, I’ve been wanting to write a filipina!reader ever since I read @propertyofpoeandbucky ‘s filipina!reader inserts and loved them. Mine’s nothing much, but...

-

Kayto sighed as he pushed the wagon alongside his friend, Cassian, and wondered why he was dragged into this. Apparently, your birthday was coming up and baking a cake for you wasn’t enough. No, Cassian wanted to bake you bibinka, a Filipino dessert that you had gushed about several times when you’d talk about your childhood and home. Although it won’t be as good as your mother’s baking, he could damn well try it. Kayto didn’t even know what mochiko powder was until Cassian showed it to him. They gathered the ingredients for both the bibinka and the cake, hoping to get all of it and reach their apartment before you could bump into them.

“Why do I have to help you shop, Cassian? You are perfectly capable of finding them yourself,” Kayto complained as he pushed the now full wagon to the cashier line.

“Because (Y/n) is your best friend, too, and you also want to make her happy,” Cassian said, loading the conveyor belt.

“Not in the same way as you do,” Kayto said, earning a glare from Cassian. “Please, Cassian, it is obvious that you harbor romantic feelings for a mutual friend and neighbor. If you want my honest opinion, you best make your move soon, or else she sets her eyes on someone else.”

“We’re just friends,” Cassian insisted.

“Sure.” Kayto rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you’d think living in the apartment across from the woman would encourage you to ask her out. To put some motivation in you, I heard Bodhi is also interested in her as well.” It was a lie, of course. He knew that Bodhi was interested in Jyn, but Cassian doesn’t need to know that right now.

“Bodhi from the engineering department? In the end, it’s all (Y/n) decision. She can date whoever she wants,” Cassian said casually, hiding the hint of jealousy.

“But wouldn’t your chances be higher if she knew that you were an option?” Kayto pointed out.

Cassian sighed, knowing that his friend was right, but what can he do? He didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him and what if you rejected him? It would make things awkward between you two and could never go back to the way things were. All he knows to do is find ways to make you smile. For that week, it was to bake a cake and a Filipino dessert. How hard can it be?

Their first attempt of a small three tier cake didn’t go so well. Cassian crossed his arms and frowned, wondering what went wrong while Kayto scraped the thin layer of cake, that looked more like a burnt pancake, off the circular cake mold.

“Perhaps we put too little of… something,” Cassian said.

“How about, instead of looking for three tier cake recipes, we just use one regular cake recipe and then repeat it until we have enough batter for each layer,” Kayto reasoned. Cassian nodded, but it didn’t seem to go register properly in his head. Kayto sighed. “Fine, I’ll deal with the cake, since I’m more competent in it. Why don’t you figure out how to make that butter mochi thing that (Y/n) loves so much?”

“Sure, I can do that. The recipes seemed easier than cake anyways.” Famous last words.

“I don’t understand. Why is it so floury? Do I need to put more vanilla inside?” Cassian muttered as he chewed on the small sample batch of bibinka he made. “Is it supposed to taste like this? (Y/n) always described it as having a simple but sweet taste. This isn’t sweet, but just… floury. There’s no sugar in this recipe, either. Should I put more butter?”

“Any more butter and you’ll be like Paula Deen,” Kayto commented, carefully stacking the perfectly shaped cake layers together. Kayto looked over at the slightly burnt butter mochi and took a bite. “Cassian, have you ever baked before?”

Cassian scoffed, offended, crossing his arms. “Yes… I have baked before. I’ve made cookies and such.”

“But were those pre-made?”

“… yes.”

“Okay, baking 101…”

-

“… and then I said, ‘Sir, you cannot make a return without a receipt.’ And then he goes, ‘But can’t you see that I’ve never worn it? I can go to Macy’s and get a return without a receipt’. I just stood there dumbfounded. Then he goes ‘Can I speak to the manager?’. Of course, he’d say that ‘cause he just can’t accept the policy we have,” you rambled to your roommate Jyn as you two made your way back to the apartment.

“Oh, god, this is why I try to avoid retail,” Jyn said, rolling her eyes. “There’s always a customer that – (Y/n), do you smell something burning?”

You paused, sniffing the air. Your nose led you over to Cassian and Kayto’s apartment where the fire alarm was going off. You turned to Jyn who had an expression that was mixed of worried and exasperation at the boys’ shenanigans.

“Guys? You okay?” you called out, knocking on the door.

“Shit!” you heard Cassian shout, followed by a loud banging that sounded like pots being dropped. The door swung open, revealing a disheveled Cassian. “Hi, everything’s fine,” he hastily assured you two.

Jyn raised an eyebrow. “What is your definition of fine? It sounds, smells, and looks like a disaster,” she said, peeking over Cassian’s shoulder to see Kayto opening the windows to let the smoke out.

“This is all Cassian’s fault!” Kayto quickly pointed the finger.

Cassian shook his head. Before he could defend himself, he froze as you stepped forward, sniffing the air inside the apartment. Unbeknownst to you, since Cassian had been blocking the whole doorway, you had to lean against him to get a view inside. His body stiffened as he felt your body heat radiating off you, your scent would have flooded his senses if the burnt smell wasn’t so predominating.

“Do I smell burnt… cake and… is that bibinka?” you asked. You turned and raised your head, your face inches away from his, but you don’t move.

“I, uh, um, I was…” Why weren’t there words coming to mind every time you were in front of him?              

Jyn gave a knowing smirk, pulling you away from Cassian. “Let’s leave the boys alone to clean up their mess and get ready for our little party, birthday girl,” she said.

You pouted, sending a smile to Cassian before turning. “I hope you actually mean little this time, Jyn. Last time, you practically invited the entire class,” you said, letting Jyn drag you back to your shared apartment. You toed off your shoes by the door and placed the groceries on the kitchen counter. “I’ve already had plenty of experiences where sixty percent of the people attending my party weren’t even invited by me, but by the people I invited and those people invite more people, et cetera, et cetera. I ran into someone a few years ago who said they recognized me because they were at my graduation party, invited by my cousin’s friend’s boyfriend. I don’t even know which cousin it was, ‘cause some aren’t actually related to me.”

“I promise that it’s only going to be close friends, alright? Me, you, Cass, Kay, Bods, Han, and the twins,” Jyn listed off with her fingers. “Chirrut and Baze aren’t able to make it, but they’re going to drop off a present for you later today.”

“That’s nice of them” you said, unpacking the paper bags. “I’m kind of glad Lando’s not coming. He’s a cool dude, but he’s just going to end up inviting everyone.”

Jyn nodded, then turned a mischievous smirk to you. “You know what’s also nice? Cassian going out of his way to bake something for you. And not just anything, he’s trying to bake your favorite dessert.” She playfully shoved your shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s very nice of him,” you said offhandedly, busying yourself in stocking the fridge to hide your smile.

“Yeah, that is very nice of him” Jyn mimicked you, “but Cass doesn’t just bake for anyone, (Y/n/n). He obviously doesn’t bake at all.”

You sighed, closing the fridge. “What do you want me to say, Jyn? ‘Oh, that’s great that Cassian not only remembers my favorite dessert, that he’s also baking it. It truly shows that my feelings for him are reciprocated.’.”

“Yes, and it’s true.”

Meanwhile, Kayto pulled himself away from the door, having just heard enough of the conversation to come up with a plan. He sent a text to Jyn and made his way back to his shared apartment with Cassian where he was making his third attempt of bibinka. Jyn agreed to Kayto’s plan, already setting things in motion.

-

Jyn made you wear a tiara and your favorite dress for the party, having strewn ribbons around the apartment and balloons floating around the place. Dinner was ready and laid out on your longest table, the desserts being kept all the way at the end. Bodhi arrived first, handing you a small rectangle sized gift wrapped in simple brown paper with twine tying it together. Han and the Skywalker twins came next, with the former carrying a paper bag stuffed with gifts from all three of them. Kayto and Cassian, despite living right across from you, came last, with a tall box and a aluminum foil wrapped cake pan. Jyn ushered them to the dessert area and grabbed their presents for you away.

“Glad you guys are finally here and haven’t burnt down the entire apartment complex,” you told them.

“Nonsense. The fire wasn’t unstable enough to consume the apartment. We had everything under control,” Kayto said.

You raised an eyebrow. “Right, well, now that everyone’s here… Food!”

“Finally!” Han shouted, shooting up from his seat on the couch. Leia pursed her lips, slapping her boyfriend’s arm. He scratched the back of neck sheepishly. “Alright, alright. After you, princesses.”

You filled up a plate first, followed by Jyn and Leia, the latter asking about some of the dishes that was made special for your birthday, as they were popular Filipino dishes found at almost every party back home. Pancit, pinakbet, lumpia, and you even managed to find longganisa. Han and Luke fought over who could go next while Kayto simply cut in front of them. Bodhi laughed in amusement over their antics, watching on the side with Cassian.

“What’s this in the foil?” Luke asked, pointing a fork at the pan Cassian brought. “It says it’s for (Y/n) on it.”

“I want (Y/n) to try it first. It’s my first time making it and I’ve never ate it until today,” Cassian said, looking over at you who shot him a bright smile that stopped his heart. He could do nothing as you waltzed over to him and gave him a tight hug.

“Thank you! I’m sure it’s edible,” you said, nudging him over to the dining table to get food.

“I hope so.”

You laughed, then walked over to the couch next to Jyn and the twins, going through Netflix to find the right movie. He sighed, his shoulders sagging as you walked away. He made his own plate and looked around for an available seat, debating whether he should take that empty seat next to you or settle on the floor. His options flew out the window as Bodhi casually sat down next to you, chiming in to something Jyn had said, making the two of you laugh. Cassian’s jaw tightened, not wanting to direct his jealousy to his kind friend that always meant well.

“Aswang? What is that?” Luke asked you.

“It’s like a shapeshifting vampire creature thing. My mom told me about them before. Apparently, her sister encountered one when they were visiting the Philippines,” you said, selecting the movie.

“The reviews don’t look too good,” Han commented as he looked it up on his phone.

“That’s because it’s a remake.”

Cassian sat down by your legs, stuffing himself with the food that you’ve cooked with extra care and practice. His plate was practically empty when he heard you giggle. He tilted his head up, to see you smiling down on him. Your warm hand rested under his neck and he had to suppress the urge to gulp.

“Good?” you asked him.

You had been watching him in between your conversations with Jyn and Bodhi, the thought that he was enjoying your cooking made you happy. When you first met him, he seemed to have a perpetual frown and it took some time for him to open up to you and smile.

“It’s delicious,” Cassian managed to say.

“Well, feel free to grab more. There’s a lot and I don’t want to have too many left overs in our fridge.”

“And you should try the apple and grape cider (Y/n) and I picked out – oops!” Jyn started to say, leaning over to the coffee table to grab her drink when it ‘accidentally’ splashed onto poor Cassian. “Sorry, Cass.”

She wasn’t sorry, of course. To think Jyn Erso, who had one of the best reflexes in the room, would simply splash a drink on accident was absurd. Kayto came over with a bunch of paper towels as if on standby, shoving it into Cassian’s hands. You jumped up and help him, moving him into a more open area to wipe as much of the liquid off of him.

“Oh, no. You should change your clothes before it stains,” Kayto said as Bodhi and Jyn shot a conspiratory look at each other. “Maybe you should go with him, (Y/n). I think I forgot your present in the kitchen.”

Kayto, having one of the best memories, forgetting something? You crossed your arms and at your friends, feeling something off. Jyn grinned innocently at you, waving a hand for you to get going. You followed Cassian over to his shared apartment.

“You don’t have to,” he began to say as he ran a hand through his soft brown hair.

“I think they’ll force me to anyways,” you said, noting how they trailed behind. You spun around to shoot them a suspicious glare as Kayto and Bodhi stopped in their tracks, suddenly finding the counter top and the wall clock fascinating.

Cassian was too preoccupied with cleaning his shirt that he hadn’t noticed. He unlocked his door and lead you inside, heading straight for his room. You gave Kayto the benefit of a doubt, scanning their kitchen counters only to find nothing but the remnants of their baking struggles. Cassian had pulled down a new shirt when he came back out, giving you a sheepish grin when he realized what you were looking at.

“Baking is a science that I haven’t studied or mastered,” Cassian admitted, grabbing the knob.

“I’m sure your bibinka turned out fine,” you assured him.

Cassian pulled on the door, hearing a thud as it didn’t budge. He frowned, pulling on the door again. Giggling could be heard from the other side, followed by Kayto’s hushed chiding to quiet down.

“Kayto? Bodhi?” Cassian called out. Their footsteps receded, followed by your apartment’s door shutting. He sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why they’re like this. I mean, I know why, but… I guess you’re stuck here with me.”

You shrugged, stepping towards him. “It isn’t all that bad,” you said softly, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “So, you know why they’re doing this?”

“I, um, yes. Yes, I do,” Cassian said, mustering up his courage. He is the captain of the Rifle team and the Soccer team. His job was to encourage and inspire and hype his teammates, and right now, he needs all of that. “(Y/n)…”

“Yes?” You stepped closer to him.

“(Y/n), you are one of my best friends and it wasn’t until last year did I realize how much I… How much I’ve fallen in love with you, but I didn’t want to ruin anything and if you don’t feel the same, then- “

You cut him off by pulling him down for a kiss. He stood there in shock, then relaxed into your touch, wrapping his arms around you and made the kiss deeper. Your heart swelled with happiness, one hand brushing his jawline, your bodies pressed together feeling each other’s heat. Your make out sessions lasted for a few more minutes, not realizing that Kayto had taken the chair from underneath the doorknob away.

After coming out for air, Cassian turned to try the doorknob again. The door finally opened, and he lead you back to your apartment by the hand. Your friends looked up from their plates and grinned at the sight of your joint hands.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Is that bibinka?” They looked away sheepishly, being caught red handed. “That’s supposed to be for (Y/n)!”

#Cassian andor x reader #Cassian Andor imagine #Cassian andor x filipina!reader #filipina!reader #rogue one imagine #oneshot #fluff

[shireness-says]

Playing the Part ch. 8: Before the Parade Passes By

Summary:  As a stage manager who’s clawed her way up from bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU.  Rated T. Also on AO3.  Prologue  Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3Ch. 4  Ch. 5  Ch. 6  Ch. 7

A/N: Thanksgiving has come early! For the readers, at least. I definitely don’t know anything about parade set-up, so take this with many grains of salt, please.

Chapter title taken from “Hello, Dolly!”

Just to reiterate, this is a Slow Burn. I know we’re all anxious for Emma and Killian to get together, but Emma’s still hesitant since they work together - and especially since she holds a position of some power over him. Plus, her ex keeps reminding her how men are dicks. Hang in there, guys - there is a plan, and the plan is for 20 chapters (unless I accidentally add more again) with a happy ending. We will get there.

Special thanks to @snidgetsafan, always the best beta ever, as well as to @distant-rose for telling me all about New York bowling alleys so I could add in a tiny reference. You guys are my favorites, don’t tell anyone.

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes. If you want to be tagged going forward (or taken off this list - I won’t be insulted!), shoot me a message, and I’ll make it happen.

Enjoy! Let me know what you think. :)

Henry’s birthday this year falls conveniently three days before Thanksgiving, on a dark Monday when there’s no show to pull Emma away from her kid. Well, that’s not strictly true; she has to go in for a few hours so everyone can rehearse their parade performance, but that should start after he goes to school and wrap up before he gets out. It’s not like they’re doing new choreography or anything, just making sure everything is as polished as possible. Regardless, work won’t be keeping her from her kid on his birthday, and she’s grateful for that.

Henry’s birthday party was yesterday, Sunday - 6 boys and 2 girls at the Lucky Strike for bowling, a perennial hit - but Granny’s hosting a family birthday dinner at the diner with Ruby, Mary Margaret and Elsa. It’s a long-standing tradition, and every year Granny makes all of Henry’s favorite foods and a big, gooey chocolate cake as everyone showers the birthday boy with more love than he can handle. Honestly, Neal can stick his bullshit about “real family dinners” up his ass - Henry’s got the best aunts imaginable and Granny’s been there since he was born. If you ask Emma, that’s all the family the two of them need.

It’s so hard to believe that it’s been eleven years since Henry was born. She still remembers his tiny, wrinkly red face like it was yesterday - this little, precious baby, the first thing that was truly hers. Now he’s half grown, his own person, smart as hell and sweet to boot. He’s growing so fast, she can’t help but think as she watches him practically inhale a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, his requested birthday breakfast, and talking a mile a minute in a recap of his party yesterday. Where has the time gone?

Emma remains in an introspective mood much of the day, thinking back on when her little boy was younger. God, he was so cute - not that he isn’t now, but there’s something about that gap-toothed look that was especially endearing. It keeps her distracted at work, but thankfully, there’s not much that requires her undivided attention. Her cast is just running their choreography for Thursday - the opening number, “In Want of a Wife”, should be a hit, Emma thinks - so she takes the opportunity to re-pencil some of the cues in her script that have gotten smudged over weeks of opening and closing the pages. If she has trouble focusing on that, it’s not such a big deal.

The hours fly by, much to Emma’s surprise, and before she knows it, they’re packing up to leave. Emma just needs to send out a detailed itinerary for Thursday, probably print out a stack for good measure, but then she’s free for the rest of the day and can actually pick her kid up from school for once. That’ll be a nice change of pace. Just as she’s making the final edits to her email, she’s startled by Killian’s sudden appearance.

“Fuck, you scared me,” she mutters, eliciting an embarrassed chuckle from Killian to match his suddenly pink-tinged cheeks and the signature scratching behind his ear.

“My apologies, love,” he smiles. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just hoping you might give this to Henry,” he explains further, thrusting a carefully gift-wrapped package in Emma’s direction.

Emma raises an eyebrow in question. It’s sweet of him, and certainly generous, but also a little weird that one of her coworkers is sending gifts home for her kid - even if he and said kid are, admittedly, friends-ish. “Should I be concerned about this?”

“Oh no! I don’t think so, at least. It’s just a notebook. For him to write in? I’ve heard so much about how he likes writing and wants to be a playwright, I just thought this would be a nice place to write all those thoughts down,” he babbles. Emma thinks she can detect a thread of nerves in his voice. “Of course, if you think I’m overstepping, that’s completely fine, it was just an idea, the lad had mentioned that it was his birthday and I just thought — ”

“No, that’s fine,” Emma replies, suddenly resolute despite her earlier confusion. Killian means well, and honestly, that is kind of the perfect gift for Henry. “I’m sure he’ll love it. Thanks.”

“Ah, well, it wasn’t a bother in the least,” he deflects, the pink cheeks making a reappearance in a sudden attack of bashfulness.

“Killian. You got a gift for my son. Let me say thank you. Now, what do you say when someone thanks you?”

“You’re welcome,” he parrots back.

“Well done.” While her words could have been taken in a patronizing manner, Jones still grins at her, seemingly pleased with their banter (despite the fact that it isn’t the first time they’ve had this kind of back and forth - or at least Emma doesn’t think so). “Ok, well, I’ve got to meet the birthday boy at school,” she concludes, jerking a thumb towards the general not-here, “but I’ll make sure he gets your gift and knows it’s from you.”

“Thank you, Swan. And a happy birthday to Henry!”

———

Henry loves the notebook, of course, telling Emma all about all the stories he intends to write in it. She suspects that Killian will receive the same treatment the next time Henry sees him as well.

The days between Monday and Thursday pass faster than Emma ever thought possible, so fast she wonders in passing whether they ever happened at all - though if her notepads are any indication, they certainly did. Thanksgiving dawns bright and clear but cold, pulling Emma out of her bed earlier than she wants. That’s fine, though; she didn’t really sleep much the night before, too busy running through lists in her head of everything that could go right and especially everything that could go wrong. It doesn’t help that she’d had a late night before she climbed into bed either, having trekked from the theater to Macy’s with the stuff they’ll need for the parade. There’s just a chair and a couple of hedges - not to mention the racks of costumes and boxes of wigs carefully supervised by the costume department - but this gives her a chance as well to check out the space set aside for the cast to get ready. Not to mention, Emma would much rather deal with transport the night before than fighting through the madness Thanksgiving morning. It’s going to be enough of a pain getting to Macy’s this morning with all the crowds milling about; there’s no way in hell she would willingly add bulky equipment to that mix.

The good news is that Henry’s so excited about the whole affair that he all but flies out of bed without needing to be nagged like she’d have to on a regular school day. It’s probably a mistake to give him a pack of pop-tarts for breakfast - lord knows he doesn’t need the extra sugar rush on top of his already excessive energy level. But they’re in a rush today, and she doesn’t have time for much else, not even a bowl of cereal. Robin doesn’t have to work today - performing outdoors for tv crews doesn’t leave much need for a lighting technician and designer - but he’s there with Roland anyways in the section set aside for production members if they want it, and he agreed previously to keep an eye on Henry while Emma works. Hopefully he doesn’t come to regret that.

Emma figures she’ll get to Macy’s before anyone else, but Belle’s already inside, practically vibrating with nervous excitement, and Emma spots Ruby helping a few of the chorus members with their wigs. Though Belle’s still in her street clothes, her hair and makeup are already done, leaving Emma to wonder exactly how long the brunette has been here.

“You alright?” she asks, more in amusement than genuine concern. Belle’s a trooper; Emma has full confidence that whatever nerves are playing through Belle’s head right now, she’ll power through like the pro she is. Still, it feels like the thing to ask when you find a key player in your production bouncing on the balls of her feet like an Easter rabbit who showed up for the wrong holiday.

Belle whips around, eyes blown wide with surprise at Emma’s little interruption. Too late, Emma realizes that their Elizabeth must have been lost in her own little world, and was likely given quite a shock. As Emma pulls a contrite face, Belle’s own visage softens into a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Belle assures. “This is mostly excitement, I promise.”

Emma throws her hands up in the universal sign for backing off. “I can understand that. Just wanted to make sure. Walking in you looked at little…”

“On edge?” Belle offers. “There’s a hint of that as well.”

Emma laughs. “Well that’s fine too.”

“It really struck me last night what an institution this is,” Belle elaborates, hastily adding “And I’m thrilled to be a part of it! But it was a little… daunting, remembering that legacy. And we’re going to be part of that, after today,” she concludes, voice echoing with traces of awe.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Emma replies, before making an attempt to lighten the conversation. “You should see Henry outside, he’s ecstatic. It’s been helping my nerves a bit, honestly,” she admits, “seeing how excited he is, his conviction that we’re going to be the stars of the whole thing.”

“He’s a good kid,” Belle smiles back. “You’ve raised him well.”

Even if it’s true, even if it fills her with a glowing pride that’s reserved especially for Henry, Emma never knows how to respond to such a compliment, so she deflects. “Yeah, well, he’s right outside with Robin and Roland and a disgusting amount of bagels if you want to borrow him. Steal a little bit of that confidence for yourself, if you need it.”

Belle laughs, seemingly accepting the words as they were intended - an emotional de-escalator. “I just might have to. At the very least, I should go say hi. Right outside, you said?”

“Yep, to the left near the heaters. He’ll be the one talking a million miles a minute.”

“Should be easy enough to find,” Belle twinkles back, offering a final wave as she heads to presumedly find her coat before setting foot beyond the doors.

From there, it’s a blur of preparations and quieting mini-crises that turn out not to be the end of the world. Honestly, her file box is filled with so many random odds and ends at this point, but it’s days like today, where everyone’s common sense and operational memory is clouded by nerves, that those things pay off. Even if it’s her first time at the parade, this isn’t her first rodeo; she’s learned a few things over the years, and how to prepare for so-called disasters is one of them.

Truthfully, she had expected to be talking Jones down from another breakdown the whole while, but he’s surprisingly cool as a cucumber, acting like none of it affects him in the least. Someone ought to be, at least, because Emma is internally freaking out a little bit - not over the actual mechanics of the performance, but over the knowledge of what a cultural institution they’re about to be a part of. It adds a certain amount of pressure, and even if Emma is confident that they can shoulder it with ease, she still feels the weight on all their shoulders.

Miraculously, the performance actually goes well. In fact, if Emma were to borrow a few of Killian’s fancy words, she might say that they pulled it off with aplomb. “In Want of a Wife” isn’t Emma’s favorite number - she prefers the ballroom scenes with their intricate whirling that shows off the costuming so well - but it’s a great introductory bit, and gives a great peek of the characters the audience will come to love, hate, and everything in between. The cast is in particularly fine form this morning; Emma can see Killian shift into Darcy’s uptight persona the moment the makeshift stage is in sight, and Belle exudes the perfect believable combination of curiosity and exasperation at the scheming of Mrs. Bennet and the Meryton neighborhood as a whole. Yes, there’s a few pitch issues - nothing major or particularly egregious, just the normal effects you’d find in temperatures barely above freezing - but overall, she’s quite pleased with their efforts.

Without cues to call or crew members to direct, Emma’s left without much to do during the performance itself. She’s already seen the show countless times, and will likely do so countless times more, so she instead takes the opportunity to find Henry in the crowd to watch his reactions to the action in front of him. In short, Henry looks enthralled, pointing out things to Roland as the four-year-old bounces with an energy only preschoolers can maintain. Emma longingly thinks in passing that she’d love to hear what Henry is saying, but reassures herself with the knowledge that she’ll likely get the full replay when she meets up with him afterwards.

In the meantime, she’ll turn her mind to the work still to come.

———

Well done, little brother! his phone reads when Killian retrieves his street clothes, accompanied by an array of celebratory emojis. Killian’s heart swells with pride at his brother's words, even if he does slightly regret introducing the old man to emojis. Lord knows he’ll never get a plain normal text message again.

There had been a general awareness, in the middle of the singing and choreography and concentrating on being as impressive as possible while also frowning ferociously, of the spectacle of the whole thing. Killian had been aware that the roaring sound was the crowd, not just the blood rushing through his ears, though he hadn’t focused on it at the time, too concerned with hitting his marks to allow himself to process much else.

Now though, as he goes to exit the department store and is faced with the full force of the crowd, it’s astounding. It seems the citizens of New York - and likely half the country to boot - have turned out in force, forming a mass of people exuding an almost palpable energy of excitement. It stops him in his tracks for a moment, right outside the revolving door with little awareness of the chill biting his ears.

He’s no idea how long he stands there, really, before he’s suddenly startled out of his shocked trance by a shockingly close voice, jaw snapping shut with a clack.

“Hey, Earth to Killian,” Emma grins. “Did you get lost in there?”

“Aye, maybe a little,” Killian admits with a chuckle. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“Sorry if I scared you, I’ve been doing that today without meaning it.”

“It’s fine, Swan,” he waves her off. “Did you need something?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she says, shaking her head in a hasty denial. “You just looked stuck there. Stuck and struck, if you want to play with words.”

“Oh, I think we both know how I feel about playing with words,” he winks.

Emma rolls her eyes, but also bumps into his side companionably, so the expression is rather negated. “Anyway,” she continues pointedly, “I thought I’d come see if you wanted to come watch the rest of the parade with me and Henry. I’m sure he’s got plenty of commentary about the performance.” The last bit is hastily added, as if in justification, but Killian doesn’t need any further convincing.

“I’d love to,” he smiles, attempting to muster every ounce of sincerity he possesses. “Lead on, Swan.”

As promised, Henry is ready with a full recap, stretching longer than the actual performance lasted. Killian catches Robin’s eye over Henry’s wild gesticulating, the lighting designer clearly struggling to hold back laughter as his shoulders shake with the effort.

“If you couldn’t tell, Henry very much enjoyed your performance,” Robin relates in as serious a tone as he can muster, causing Killian to suppress his own snort.

“We’ve got the best spot, you’re going to love it,” Henry assures, completely ignoring Robin’s comment as he grabs Killian’s hand to forcibly force him into a seat. “Have you seen the parade before? I mean, probably not in person - even Mom and I have only done it once when I was, like, five or six, and we missed half of it because we couldn’t get close enough. But we watch it on TV every year! Do you?”

It’s a lot to keep up with, but Killian does his best. “I’ve only seen a little, so this will be like my first time watching it. They don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in England, so Liam and I usually just enjoy the day off and don’t do much.” Honestly, he thinks Liam might sleep through the parade most years, but Henry doesn’t need to know that. Such blatant lack of festivity might break the lad’s heart, he suspects, if the current level of enthusiasm is anything to go on.

“We’ll just have to show you then,” Henry replies decisively, nodding to seal his declaration.

Indeed.

Henry proves to be quite the narrator, providing commentary on seemingly every float or balloon that passes by. Killian is particularly impressed by the balloons, floating far above the street in an almost otherworldly spectacle.

“Spiderman’s my favorite,” Henry offers, “but Mom likes Snoopy best.”

Killian turns just in time to see the woman in question shrug. “What can I say, I like the classics,” she explains. “Except the pilgrims. Those inflated heads are friggin’ creepy, and always look like they’re about to tip over.”

(She’s got a point.)

In the meantime, Henry’s mind finally catches up with some of Killian’s earlier words. “Wait,” he says, “you and your brother don’t celebrate Thanksgiving?”

“No?”

“So you’re not having a Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Not everyone does, Henry,” Emma reminds her son.

“Yeah, but he’s alone on Thanksgiving. That just seems wrong.”

“I don’t know, lad, I wouldn’t call this big crowd alone,” Killian reasons.

“Yeah, but what are you doing after this?”

The lad’s got him there. “Ah… well, I was planning on going home and heating up a bit to eat. Maybe order some Chinese takeout, if I can find a place that’s open.”

Henry stares at him at those words, wearing an expression Killian can only describe as being one of pure horror. “You can’t!”

“I’ll see if I have the makings for a deli turkey sandwich, if that makes you feel any better,” Killian offers to a stunned silence.

“Or you could just come to dinner with us,” Emma offers.

Killian’s head snaps around to meet her eyes. “Oh no, Swan, I couldn’t possibly intrude,” he protests, but Emma’s already waving off his attempts.

“Really, it wouldn’t be a hassle. Granny usually makes enough to feed 20,” she explains. “I mean, let me give her a call to make sure, but I don’t think she’d have a problem with it. If you want to come, that is, I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” she hastens to add, but there’s no need for that.

“I’d be honored,” he smiles.

———

God, what was she thinking, inviting Killian to Thanksgiving dinner?

Well, she knows what she was thinking, totally focused on making her kid happy and wiping that horrified look off his face. Plus, you know, it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, inviting Jones to dinner. He’s pleasant company, and chatty enough to fit in with all the rest of the maniacs crammed into Granny’s. Plus, he’d already know everyone, Ruby and Mary Margaret from the show and Granny from Emma’s birthday party. It certainly wouldn’t be the fiasco she’s currently inflating it into.

Granny had been more than agreeable to Killian joining them. “Of course he can come,” she said. “He’s a sweet boy. Hell, invite some of the other Thanksgiving orphans in the show if you want, Lord knows we’ve got enough to feed them all. As long as they bring booze to share.”

With Granny’s blessing, Belle had graciously accepted the extended invitation along with Killian, and Emma suspects that if Scarlet ever checks his phone and sees that his little crush is coming, he’ll join in too. Robin already has plans, taking Roland to Thanksgiving with his maternal family - “It’s the least I can do, now that his mother’s gone” - but there’s tentative plans to swing by later for pie, if timing permits.

The plan is to serve the meal at three, so all attending have been sternly instructed by the lady of the kitchen to arrive between two and two-thirty, drinks in hand. Of course, all attending just means their unexpected guests - Ruby and Emma are both expected earlier to help with the meal as needed, though in Emma’s case that mostly means putting stuff other people made into the oven and setting the table. When Granny runs out of things for Emma to stir - seriously, even Henry is trusted to do more in the kitchen - she’s banished to the dining room to act as a welcome committee for whenever their guests arrive.

Honestly, it’s a little too much time spent with her own thoughts. Emma invited Killian for the same reason she invited everyone else - she didn’t want him to have to be alone on for the holiday. That’s it. She doesn’t need to be worried for this, like it’s some date; it’s just a bunch of friends having dinner together. As friends.

That doesn’t keep her heart from jumping into her throat for a moment when Killian shows up at precisely 2:04 in the afternoon with a full bottle of red wine under one arm and an already opened bottle of rum under the other.

“I hope that’s alright,” he says. “The wine was a gift, so I’m not sure how good it is, but the rum is my own so I knew that would be palatable.”

“Yeah, that’s great. We can put those behind the counter if you want. Or back in the fridge, though I don’t really think either needs it, but hey, what do I know? Though they’re probably pretty cold already from the trip here — ”

“I promise, the counter is fine, Swan,” Killian laughs. As he moves to leave them on the laminate top, he leans in to whisper in her ear. “Relax, love. Don’t overthink it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Emma mutters, but Killian doesn’t hear her, already moving to greet Granny where she’s poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Thank you for permitting me to join your undoubtedly spectacular Thanksgiving feast, Mrs. Lucas,” he says with seemingly every ounce of formality he possesses. It’s funny to watch, Emma has to admit, especially knowing Granny and Ruby will disabuse him of that notion shortly.

“Enough of that,” she tells him briskly. “Now set down those bottles and come help, we need an extra set of hands.”

Emma can breathe easier with Killian in the kitchen as she turns back to setting the table. It doesn’t hurt, either, that the rest of the afternoon’s guests start trickling in not long after. Belle manages to arrive not ten minutes after Killian, cheeks pink from the chill, and Scarlet shortly after 2:30 with a case of cheap beer in hand.

Shockingly, it’s Mary Margaret who leaves them waiting the longest, everything but the bird itself already having been set on the table before she finally shows up. Her delay is easily excused, though, as she arrives hand-in-hand with David Nolan and red, chapped lips.

“I knew it!” Ruby crows from the table before smacking Henry in the arm. “Pay up.”

“Are you teaching my kid to bet, Ruby?” Emma calls, trying to infuse her voice with disappointed incredulity.

“Please, it’s five bucks,” she dismisses. “And it was his idea, for the record.”

“Hey Mom, do you have five bucks?” Henry grins across the table, causing a loud guffaw from Scarlet and what Emma thinks was a muffled snort from Killian. Figures.

“Hey, you got yourself into this mess, kid, you can get yourself out of it. This is what you get for betting that Co-Captains Obvious weren’t dating.”

“Oh, I still thought they were dating,” Henry clarifies. “I just thought that they’d hide it until New Year’s.”

That gets the whole table laughing, even Emma, as Mary Margaret tries to sit down with as much dignity as she can muster and a barely suppressed smile on her face. “If you all are quite done,” she says primly, “then yes, David and I have been seeing each other for the last couple of weeks. And I’m very happy about it.” She takes the moment to smile at her paramour, the picture of lovesick serenity. “And he is too. Now, can we start dinner before everything gets cold?”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, girlie,” Granny warns, the affection clear in her voice. “But we’ll put it aside for the moment. Serve yourself, everyone, I’m the cook not the waiter.”

As the room dissolves into laughter and conversation, everyone attempting to grab for their favorites, Emma leans over to whisper in Mary Margaret’s ear. “I am happy for you, you know, all bets aside.”

“Thanks, Emma,” the pixie-haired brunette beams back. “I’m happy too.”

Emma probably shouldn’t be surprised, but despite all the last minute additions, it still feels like a proper family dinner, not the hodge-podge of people it technically is. Of course, Killian is right in the middle of it all, trading innuendos with Ruby, patiently listening to Henry tell about seemingly every past Thanksgiving he’s ever celebrated, and gently ribbing David and Mary Margaret - but mostly David - about their budding relationship. Honestly, she could picture another holiday spent in his company, would welcome it in fact.

(With everyone else too, of course. Purely as friends. Because when you stumble across a good thing, why mess with it?)

———

Killian misses Liam’s first call that night, too busy trying to wrestle the mountain of Thanksgiving leftovers Granny sent him home with into the fridge, and almost misses the second, the device buzzing precariously close to the edge before he executes an impressive dive to snatch the phone off the counter in time.

“Hello?” he manages to gasp out, slightly out of breath from his dramatic grab.

“Am I interrupting something?” Liam asks, amusement coloring his voice. “I just wanted to call and congratulate you on the parade again, but do I need to call back later? Or tomorrow perhaps?”

“No, no, not really. It’s fine. What’s up?”

“‘Not really’? Not to pry, but I thought you were set up for a quiet day in after the parade. Did you have plans I didn’t know about?”

“Not that you knew about, no,” Killian hedges, “but I ended up having a late lunch with some people from the show.”

“Oh? Anyone I know?” Liam asks, a little too genuinely. The bastard probably already knows exactly what happened without even being told. Some days, Killian wonders if there’s some kind of psychic power associated with being a big brother.

“Oh, you know. Belle. David and Mary Margaret - they’re dating now, as it turns out. No one is particularly shocked. Will Scarlet put in an appearance - he’s the one who’s got his sights set on Belle. A few others. Anyhow, did you have an eventful day?” Killian attempts to breeze right over the fact that he spent his holiday with Emma’s family, essentially, but doubts it was very effective an effort.

“Oh no no no, little brother,” Liam redirects, laughing right over Killian’s muttered protest of younger, Liam, younger. “I see what you���re doing. A few others? One of those ‘few others’ wouldn’t happen to be your lady and her boy, would they?”

“Still not my lady,” Killian reminds Liam. Honestly, it’s getting a little old - especially since Liam was one of the voices telling him that maybe it wouldn’t be such a brilliant idea to ask Emma out in the first place. “But yes, they might have been there.”

“Might have been?”

“Ok, they were there. In fact, Emma was the one that invited me. They always spend Thanksgiving, and most holidays I think, with one of the costume assistants and her grandmother. Happy?”

“Quite.” It’s impossible to miss the smug note in Liam’s voice. “So, tell me,” he continues, “how was Thanksgiving dinner?” It’s so easy in Killian’s mind’s eye to picture Liam leaning forward with his chin propped in his hands, the universal sign for sarcastic attention. Wanker.

“No. I’m not telling you if you’re going to be a horse’s arse about it.”

“Oh c’mon, Killy,” Liam wheedles, but Killian’s having none of it.

“No, I’m serious. I appreciate your advice when I need it, but not when I have to deal with your relentless teasing the rest of the time! It makes me not want to tell you things, honestly.”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry,” Liam concedes. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry, younger brother,” he emphasizes, as if to underline just how genuine he’s being. “Would you like to talk about your day - or at least the dinner part of it? I’m a willing ear if you want it. Otherwise, I’d love to hear about the parade.”

Killian considers telling Liam no, flat-out, but the truth is he kind of does want to rehash the day, share his excitement and enthusiasm over his first real Thanksgiving (not the vaguely British facsimile he and his brother half-assed, to borrow a phrase, their first few years on this side of the pond). That doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy on his brother; no, after the teasing he’s been subjected to, he deserves a little taunting of his own - at least by way of leaving Liam in suspense for a while.

“The parade was amazing, Liam, every minute of it. Watching it on TV doesn’t give you any idea of the sheer spectacle of it all,” Killian says, gushing a little bit despite any intentions he might have had about acting like an adult on the phone. It’s far too late for that; the grin stretching his face at the mere memory of the day’s festivities is proof positive of that. “I must have looked like a fool in the crowd afterwards, just grinning like a madman, but Gods, Liam, I’ve never seen anything like it. Even for New York standards, the crowds were huge, and everyone was just buzzing with excitement. I swear, I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“Well you were amazing, Killian,” Liam replies warmly. “I’m so proud of you. I’m tempted to go find a YouTube video of the performance and email it to everyone I know, like some kind of obnoxious parent.”

“Well, that seems a bit excessive,” he comments dryly, “but I take your point. It really felt like we were one organism today, you know? All moving as once to execute the best performance we could.”

“Trust me, Killian, it showed. I’ll be shocked if that appearance doesn’t exponentially increase the buzz around the show.”

Killian could drag this out, describe each balloon in detail, exactly where and how they prepared inside of Macy’s, precisely how cold it was to the tenth of a degree with excruciating attention to which specific fingers and toes felt the chill, but he takes pity on Liam instead. He’s behaved, even though Killian knows he’s dying to hear about dinner. “Somehow, the Swans found out that I was planning to go back and microwave a meal in my apartment - Henry insisted we watch the parade together - so they invited me along to their own plans. Which kind of spiraled out into inviting several of the other Brits without plans. It was truly lovely, Liam,” he exudes, really getting into the recounting. “I swear, Mrs. Lucas cooked enough food to feed half of Manhattan. Henry swears she does this every year, and likely didn’t even have to cook any extra when Swan called about extra seats at the table. Though I doubt that last part.”

“Sounds like a regular feast,” Liam comments, chuckling.

“Oh, you have no idea. I missed your first call, and nearly the second, because I was trying to stack all the tupperware I was sent home with into the fridge. What do they call it? Fridge tetris?”

Liam barks out a laugh at that. “Aye, I think that’s the technical term. That much food?”

“That much. And Mrs. Lucas was sending it home with everyone, I wasn’t a special charity case. The whole affair was so lovely, really, I’ve never seen — ” Killian stops abruptly. “No teasing, you promise? Even if you think me some kind of ridiculous lovestruck fool?”

“No teasing,” Liam swears. “Even if you’re carrying on like a lovestruck fool. I’ll sit here and listen attentively and supportively, I promise.”

If they were having this conversation in person, Killian would toss his brother a skeptical look, but since that’s not an option, he plows on ahead. “I really understood the whole thing first-hand for the first time, you know? I mean, you can hear about how this is a holiday for families as much as you want, or see it on television or in the movies, but it doesn’t really sink in until you’re sitting in the middle of it. There was so much sheer affection at that table, Liam. And I’ve never seen Emma so at ease.” He pauses for breath, taking the opportunity to collect his thoughts. “I’m aware that that doesn’t really mean much, considering our relatively short acquaintance, but still. She was comfortable, in a casual way I haven’t previously associated with her. Like that was her place, in some kind of deep and emotional and cliche way. Does that make sense?”

“She looked at home,” Liam supplies, putting the words right in Killian’s mouth.

“Yes! Exactly. I know I must sound silly - this is where the lovestruck fool bit comes in, so please, contain yourself - but it’s nice, being able to discover these new sides to Swan that I don’t see every day. Charming. Wonderful. Some other word more expressive than nice.” Killian stops himself before he gets too far. “I’m babbling.”

“A little bit.”

“Kind of you to downplay it.”

“Anytime.”

They both laugh at that. Technically, the comments break Liam’s vow not to tease him, but their spirit certainly doesn’t, so Killian lets it pass.

“So you had a great day?” Liam asks.

“The best. Enough about me, though, what about you, how was your Thanksgiving? Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it, brother. My day was much more low-key than yours. Dropped by to have a few beers with a couple other ex-pats from the film, but that’s about it. Honestly, watching you in the parade was the highlight.”

Killian blushes at the words. “You don’t have to say that,” he mumbles, but Liam can probably hear the smile in his voice anyway.

“I only say it because it’s true,” his elder brother promises.

“Thanks, Liam.”

Conversation turns towards more general topics eventually, not that Killian minds. He loves these calls with his brother, even if he was a bit late to this particular one.

“Christ, it must be getting late for you,” Liam finally says. He’s not wrong - they’ve been on the phone for almost an hour, and in that time it’s gotten quite dark outside. “I’ll let you go - I’ll have to be up early tomorrow anyways.” It’s a half-assed excuse and they both know it, especially since Killian is pretty sure he’s the only one who has to work tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” he asks, even though he’s sure of the answer. Big Brother Liam, still trying to make sure little Killy goes to bed on time and brushes his teeth.

“Go on. We’ll talk later,” Liam replies, absolutely certain. Who is Killian to argue with that?

“Alright, well, Happy Thanksgiving, Liam.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, little - younger brother.”

#my writing #cs ff #cs au #Playing the Part #Before the Parade Passes By #Broadway AU #stage manager!Emma #actor!Killian #happy thanksgiving #a month early

[rose-of-pollux]

The Heart of the City (MFU oneshot)

Title: The Heart of the City Rating: G Summary: It’s the fall of 1986, and after being requested and cajoled to return to active duty for U.N.C.L.E., Napoleon and Illya learn that you can, in fact, go home again. Notes: this is a little ficlit I wrote on the occasion of David McCallum’s 85th birthday today.  This is meant to take place in 1986, and follows my headcanon that Napoleon and Illya left U.N.C.L.E. together in 1972 after Napoleon reached the 40-year-old mandatory retirement from field duty (I don’t consider the Return movie canon, simply because it was so out of character for Napoleon to leave without Illya, for Illya to let him go, and for them to have not spoken to each other for 15 years).

If you prefer reading on FFN, you can read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13070195/1/The-Heart-of-the-City If you prefer reading on AO3, you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040378

So much had changed, and yet, so much had stayed the same.  Manhattan had always been a constantly-changing world, even in the twelve years that Illya had lived there, though the 60s and the beginning of the 70s. It was the fall of 1986 now, and places that had been staples of his and Napoleon’s life in New York were apparently lost to the mists of time—the Purple Unicorn was gone, along with several other hole-in-the-wall eateries that the two had entertained each other in. Napoleon’s favorite high-class eatery, the Casablanca Club, still remained, though having moved up to Midtown, just off of Times Square.

Their favorite bagel haunt was, thankfully, exactly where they had left it, and Napoleon had proceeded to order their “usual” (an asiago bagel with hot pepper cream cheese for himself, a plain bagel with plain cream cheese for Illya, and a serving of lox for their cat, Baba Yaga), and then proceeded to take the meal to go to their new residence, a furnished apartment in a new high-rise, just across the street from the new location of U.N.C.L.E. HQ.

“You know, I almost miss that other apartment we had,” Napoleon said, as he began to unpack.

“So do I,” Illya said. “This one is unnecessarily larger. What are the two of us going to do with all of this extra space?”

Baba Yaga let out a meow and began to intently explore the larger space; clearly, she had no complaints.

“There’s your answer,” Napoleon teased.  “We can get a whole bunch of cat trees and let her run wild.”  He glanced at her, thoughtfully.  “…You know, she’s awfully spry for being 26 years old…”

“We have looked after her very well,” Illya said, picking up the cat and cradling her as she purred away in his arms.

“…I still say it’s because she’s the daughter of Bastet,” Napoleon insisted.

“So you have told me…” Illya said, feeding her a piece of lox.  “…I’m almost beginning to believe it.”

She licked her lips and leaped to the top of the wardrobe, getting a better vantage point to observe her new kingdom.  Illya smiled and opened the wardrobe, hanging up a black turtleneck—which prompted Napoleon to stop and stare.

“Is… is that what I think it is…?” he asked, pointing at the sweater.

“The same sweater that I’ve had since 1960?  Yes, it is,” Illya said, without missing a beat.

“…I haven’t seen that for a while; I was beginning to think it was long-gone,” Napoleon said, staring at it in wonder.

“Well, considering that we have been spending the last 14 years in Hawaii, a sweater was not something that I used while we were there,” Illya said, smirking at him.

“…I’m also trying to figure out how that thing is still in one piece,” Napoleon added.  “When I think about all the suits I had to get reimbursed because they got damaged on missions…”  He ran a hand over the sweater.  “What is this thing made of, anyway?  Indestructible mithril?”

“Apparently,” Illya said.

Napoleon smirked, as well, and looked to his partner, happy to see him looking so content.

“You’re in a good mood,” he observed.

“Well, it has been a long time since I felt autumn in New York,” Illya said, opening the window now. “I have enjoyed Hawaii, but…  I can’t deny that a part of me has really missed this.  We have arrived at the right time, too—soon, the trees in Central Park will be changing color--”

“…And then we’ll get the first snow…”

“People will start putting out pumpkins and start making things with nutmeg and cinnamon…”

“…And then there’ll be even more snow…”

“Soon there will be chestnuts and gingerbread before we know it!”

“…And did I mention lots of snow?”

Illya looked back at Napoleon, rolling his eyes.

“Never fear, Napoleon; I will lend you my indestructible mithril sweater.”

“…And there was a time when that could have fit me; now, I’m not so sure,” Napoleon mused, staring at his waistline, which had grown slightly along with his age.  “But I appreciate the thought.”

Illya paused for a moment and then attempted to put the sweater on.  He managed to fit into it, but it most definitely accentuated his waistline, as well, which it had not done back in the ‘60s.

“…Oh, well…” he shrugged. “At least it still fits.  All of your rich, gourmet cooking wasn’t enough to make it useless.”

“Don’t blame my cooking; you’re the one who eats three servings of each thing at mealtime,” Napoleon teased.

“You should consider that a compliment,” Illya returned.  “…Ah, and that reminds me; I wonder if those all all-you-can-eat restaurants that blacklisted me have forgotten about me by now…”

“If they have, I guarantee you they’ll remember once they see the look in your eyes as you stare at the lunch buffet…” Napoleon mused.

“Surely some of them are under new management after 14 years!” Illya said.  “I think it is worth looking into…”

“Not tonight,” Napoleon said.  “Tonight, I want to take you to the Casablanca Club.  It is a special day, after all.”

“Ah, yes, our return to New York and our old lives as U.N.C.L.E. agents,” Illya sighed.  “It is a cause for celebration…”

“Well, it is, yes,” Napoleon said.  “But it wasn’t quite the reason I had in mind.”

“But what else could possibly…?” Illya began, but he trailed off as Napoleon pulled a small, wrapped box from his pocket, and Illya chuckled sheepishly.  “…I lost track of the days and forgot it was my birthday again, didn’t I…?”

“You did,” Napoleon said. “It really makes shopping for your presents very easy.  Well, anyway, you can’t be blamed this time; we’ve been traveling for hours, across multiple time zones.”

“And we will be doing a lot more of that, being with U.N.C.L.E. again,” Illya said.  “At least that will remain the same.”

“You think we did the right thing?  Agreeing to come back, I mean,” Napoleon said.  “With our private investigation service in Hawaii, we got to choose what we did, how we did it, and stayed in control of whatever danger we got ourselves into…  Back with U.N.C.L.E. again, we’re going to have to follow orders, even if we don’t like them—probably means a lot more solo missions and time apart.”

“I know,” Illya sighed. “Mark was talking about long-term undercover assignments being in store for us.  I didn’t like the sound of that too much.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” Napoleon sighed.  He glanced at his partner.  “…So, why did we say yes?”

Illya turned from the window and glanced back at him.

“We have a duty of care, I suppose,” he said.  “After all the work we put in to preserving peace back in the 60s, we don’t want to stand aside and risk things going wrong that we could have helped to prevent. You, in particular, saw preserving peace as your ultimate mission back then.  Deep down, that has not changed in you, in spite of how much you enjoy relaxing on the Hawaiian beaches.”

“And you wouldn’t let me come back here alone,” Napoleon added.

“Of course not.”

Napoleon smiled.

“Well, alright then,” he said.  “We’ll give this a try—and someday, we will return to that little Hawaiian bungalow.”

“We will,” Illya promised. “We survived the worst of what THRUSH had to offer; we can get through this, too.”

“You bet,” Napoleon said, and he handed over Illya’s present.  “Happy Birthday, Tovarisch.”

Trying not to appear too eager, Illya opened it, slowly.  He blinked in surprise to see a black bow tie with golden elephants embroidered in it.

“Oh, it’s charming!” Illya said, grinning.  “See, this is the kind of thing I like—there’s no need to spend lavish amounts of money on expensive things!”

Napoleon let out an embarrassed cough, prompting Illya to arch an eyebrow.  Removing the bow tie from the box, Illya sighed in amusement as he saw, hidden beneath the tie, a pair of gold cufflinks with a black opal set in each one.

“…Of course, you couldn’t resist the flashy, expensive thing, too…”

“They just seemed so… you, when I saw them.”

“Let me guess—Macy’s?”

“Where else?  I just thought they’d look good on you.”

“No doubt they will,” Illya said, embracing his partner—a gesture which Napoleon cheerfully returned. Illya couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Napoleon.  I shall wear these to dinner tonight.”

Baba Yaga, still perched on the wardrobe, meowed at the word “dinner,” her ears up and alert.

“Yes, of course, Dearest; we shall bring you something from the restaurant, as well,” Illya assured her.

“Nothing but the best for our daughter of the cat goddess,” Napoleon insisted.

Satisfied, Baba Yaga curled back up on the wardrobe, purring again, and Napoleon turned back to Illya.

“Shall we?”

Illya nodded, attaching the cufflinks to his sleeves and tying on the bow tie.  He paused in the mirror on the way out to admire how he looked; Napoleon had been right—they did look good on him…

“Can I pick ‘em, or what?” Napoleon grinned, his reflection appearing in the mirror behind Illya now.

“Yes.  Yes, you can,” Illya said, with an amused shake of his head. That, too, had stayed the same. “Now, let’s go.”

They headed outside to hail a taxi, curious to see how the rest of the city had changed in their 14-year absence.

One thing was for certain, though—their partnership would be as strong as it had been in the ‘60s, if not more so now.

And even if Napoleon missed the warm Hawaiian breezes and the days he could waste basking in the sun, the heart of the city was just as much home again as it had been in the ‘60s—for Illya was with him, and that was all that mattered.

#Illya Kuryakin #Napoleon Solo #Happy Birthday David! #the man from uncle #mfu fic #napollya

[acehotel]

INTERVIEW: Justin Strauss with Honey Dijon

Honey Dijon is a force of the highest order — brazen, idiosyncratic and sharp as nails, she arrived in New York City during the halcyon days of its club scene and became a beacon of light. Heralded for her cross-genre sets and unparalleled fashion intuition, Honey Dijon effortlessly moves from sculpting runway tracks to creating inclusive, dance-utopias in the club. Her first full-length album, The Best of Both Words, was put out by Classic Music Company to critical acclaim and she’s not stopping — ever. In this edition of Just/Talk, she talks to Ace friend and DJ hero Justin Strauss about being a piece of a revolutionary puzzle, eBay sweaters and the synthesis of art, music and being open to everything. 

Justin Strauss: Let's talk about what brought you to New York from Chicago.

Honey Dijon: What brought me to New York from Chicago was actually nightlife. When I was a teenager, we had a store called Wax Trax! Records and that's where I discovered The Face and i-D, Details and Interview Magazine, all of that stuff.

Justin: What year?

Honey: I'm not giving a year because that would be giving away my age, and we're not going to do that. Like Grace Jones says, it's about an energy.

Justin: We know some of those magazines first appeared in the 80s.

Honey: Yeah, they were the late 80s. So I was like a teenager then. I discovered that when I was about 12 or 13 in the late 80s, I just became completely fascinated with, you know, Stephen Saban’s article on nightlife and the Bill Cunningham photographs, and then I also discovered the early Paper magazines and they were documenting the whole downtown thing. And it was just everything that seemed so exciting, all these artists, musicians, fashion designers and creators, all exchanging information and collaborating. And so I always knew that I would end up in New York, just from these worlds that I would read about.

Justin: What was happening in Chicago?

Honey: The thing that people don't realize is that with early house culture, like most subcultures, people communicated with their clothing. And so if you were house, so to speak, you were really influenced by like a lot of European designers, stuff like Versace, Montana, Ferre, and the French designers like Montana and Gaultier. So actually I learned about fashion through house music, and because these were the clothes that people used to wear, and they used to also appropriate a lot of the lower east side new wave scene from New York as well.

All of these things were tied together. I never, ever separated anything. And so as a young kid growing up at the beginning of house music culture that was emulating the new wave sound from people that went to The Mudd Club and Hurrah, and Danceteria — which was also emulating the English synth bands at the time like Human League, Yaz and Heaven 17 — with the asymmetrical hair cuts and Spandau Ballet, part of the late new romantics. And just reading The NME , i-D, Face, BLITZ, Details and Interview magazines...all of this stuff was so connected, even if the music wasn't the same. It was all of these subcultures in bed with each other. I just always realized that. We had just gotten cable at the time and with “Style with Elsa Klensch” show, the Stephen Sprouse show at the Ritz, it was like someone had dropped a brick on me. It was like I had never seen anything like that. It blew my mind.

And then the Chicago Tribune, which I still have to this day, did this whole article on Stephen Sprouse and Teri Toye and Steven Meisel, and it's like a paper trail. You just keep digging and digging and then things just keep popping up. I knew when I could, I was going to live in New York. And that's what brought me here.

Justin: And had you been here before?

Honey: No, my mom used to work for TWA, and so on my sixteenth birthday, I made my dad take me to New York. I specifically remember, because my uncle used to be a tailor, and so we had all these GQ magazines from the late 70s, and 80s that I would look through and that's when I knew about Macy's, Charivari and Matsuda. I remember going to the store Parachute on Columbus Avenue.

So I'd been here as a teenager, but I had never been here as an adult until I basically moved here. And by that time everything was gone. I didn't move here until 98.

Justin: Were you disappointed?

Honey: No. I moved to DC before I moved to New York, so I used to take the bus up to New York because I was really good friends with Gant Johnson — Gant Johnson’s college roommate lived with Derrick Carter. When I look back at my life, everything fits into place. And so I met Gant Johnson at Rednail, which was the loft that Derrick Carter, Mark Farina, Chris Mazuka and G Most lived in. I was saying, "Oh, I'm moving to DC." And Gant was like, "Well, if you ever come to New York, you can stay with me." And I was really known as a dancer. I was a dancer before DJ, and so when I came to New York to visit Gant, Gant was really involved in the Lower Sast Side scene, the drag scene, at Crow Bar.

When I would come up I’d stay with him in his tiny walk-up on First Avenue and 13th Street, and he sort of just took me around and that's how I started to meet people. And it wasn't the New York that I read about, but it was still very vibrant. It was still pre-Internet, it was still pre-Guiliani. At that time you could go out seven nights a week in New York. So Mondays was Sugar Babies, Tuesdays was Jackie 60, Salon was on Wednesdays, Thursdays was Sound Factory Bar and Fridays was either Twilo or Tunnel, and then Sundays...I forget what was on Sundays. But I literally went out seven nights a week every fucking week. And that's just how New York was at the time. I mean, I didn't get to to Area, I didn't get to go to The Mudd Club, I didn't get to go to all those other places, but I still got to experience a part of New York that is not even here today.

Justin: And what were you doing to support yourself?

Honey: I was working in corporate America. I was managing the mental health benefits for the city of New York employees, for firemen and congressmen. If they needed mental health, their insurance would call and I would negotiate rates with their hospitals for inpatient and stuff. So I had a day job, but that's what I was doing when I left Chicago and moved to DC. I was working during the day, then I would come home and sleep for four hours, and then I would go out on every night.

Justin: And how did going out turn into DJing?

Honey: Well, I'd always bought records since I was a kid. I never threw away any records, and I loved house music because I grew up on house music.

Justin: Musically, what was going on when you were growing up?

Honey: My parents were really young when they had me, so there was always music. But I think growing up in Chicago, especially in a very typical, middle-class, African-American household, music is just on 24 hours a day, every day. Barbecues, dinner, when my mom was cooking, cleaning the house, going to the store, there was constant music. That's where my real music education was from, my parents. My second music education was Cable TV when we had a channel called MV60, and that's when I found about all the English bands and they would play all the early new wave videos. I guess the same stuff that they were playing at Danceteria, I was getting in my living room. Bow Wow Wow, and Scritti Politti, all the early stuff.

So everyone knows jacking, when people say “jack your body.” Before that they called it punking out. Punking out was basically emulating new wave culture from New York. And so it never seemed separate.

Justin: In New York we had The Mudd Club, we had Area, we had Danceteria — did you have clubs that kind of fused that all together?

Honey: Yeah, we had that. We had video bars and stuff like that. We had a club called Bistro One and Two, which was predominantly a teenage 18 and over gay club. It was predominantly white. I mean, as you know, Chicago was very segregated, but since I was already into going to Wax Trax! to buy records by Ministry and Front 242, I was a misfit, in a way. I've always been a misfit. I'm still a misfit. But we had industrial clubs because industrial music was quite big in Chicago, too.

This is why it's so funny for me. I just don't see a separation of anything. That's just how I grew up. And it's so funny, because I grew up in a really black and Latin neighborhood, and I was a misfit. Because I was a queer kid, I was already a misfit. So I found my community of misfits through music and culture.

Justin: When you started DJing, did your DJ sets reflect that diversity?

Honey: Yeah, and they still do. I think I just hone my craft all the while. Definitely how I grew up reflects my approach to music. Well, you ask me when did I start DJing in New York? It's so funny, when I moved here things were so separate, and they weren't separate in Chicago. If you were into soulful house music, you went to Shelter. If you wanted the more tribal, big room stuff, you went to Sound Factory.

Justin: It wasn't always like that.

Honey: Yeah, the gay white kids had all their Circut parties. I don't know if Danny Krivit’s 718 Sessions was around at that time, but people that were into what happened at the Garage and The Loft gravitated towards that party. I just thought, that's not how I experienced music, or was exposed to music. So I just literally started DJing. I'd always bought records. I had a huge record collection just from my love of music. I wanted to DJ because I was not seeing music presented in a way that I had experienced in Chicago, with which was no boundaries. What always amazes me about that is that you had inner city black kids that were so fearless and forward thinking about how they played music to other black kids, because these were marginalized people that were listening to a lot of European music. I found out about the B-52s from other black kids. I found out about all of this music from other black kids, you know?

I always think, does that still happen? Because everyone is so mono-vision right now. Everyone just has tunnel vision about what they like. And so I just started DJing out of necessity of wanting to experience music how I experienced it.

Justin: And where were you playing in New York?

Honey: My very first DJ gig was on Eldridge Street at a place called bOb, that I used to do on Monday nights. I used to call it Chicago House. I got paid 60 bucks a night to DJ for five hours. When I go and DJ somewhere for two hours, I'm like, "You know, in New York, if you were the DJ for the night, you played from beginning to end."

Justin: Well, I do know that.

Honey: I mean that's just the culture of New York, and that's how I learned how to DJ.

Justin: It was really hard for me when that whole thing changed, and then I had to play for two hours. I didn't know how to do it.

Honey: I still don't know how to do it.

Justin: I was like, "Oh, This doesn't make sense." There's no time to build up to something.

Honey: To breathe, or let the music breathe, or connect to the crowd, or set up a vibe.

Justin: I mean I figured it out , but it took a while to really feel comfortable doing that.

Honey: I don't like it.

Justin: It's nice to see there are a few places now letting DJs play the whole night again. In New York, I was DJing at The Mudd Club, and then some friends took me to the Paradise Garage and that changed my whole life and what DJing meant, and I finally understood what this all means. Did you go to the Warehouse in Chicago or was there a club or DJ that made you feel like that?

Honey: I was too young for the Warehouse, but I did have a fake ID. I did get to go hear Ron Hardy once, and I used to hear Frankie Knuckles at different places around the city. But my education, really, in the craft of DJing came from Derrick Carter. Just being in the Loft and seeing him. He used to work at Gramophone Records and when you're a kid, the way kids used to make money, was to make mix tapes and sell them at the store. So I would be around while he made mix tapes. He was really the one that showed me what DJing could be. Him and Mark Farina. Derrick Carter was so fearless back then. I mean he still is amazing. I still have a lot of respect for him, but just beat juggling, and phasing records, and acapellas, and different genres together to make something new, taking a pop vocal and putting it over a techno record. We didn't have names for it. It was just this is what they did.

My second education was when I moved to New York and became really good friends with Danny Tenaglia and seeing him go from playing at Gag on Tuesdays at Sound Factory Bar, to when he blew up into the legend that he is, after he'd just moved back from Miami. And I used to see him play at Twilo, just the theater of presenting music, the drama, the space, the sonics and the tension that he builds. And it was a whole different education for me. And then my other education was at the Body & Soul party, how Joe Clausel manipulated the EQ, and how eclectic Francois K. was, and then Danny Krivit bringing more of a heritage soul vibe with a disco element to it, how just all of these different things sonically worked in the course of a night. And also seeing Victor Calderone, and Peter Rauhoffer play at the Roxy. I was able to see a lot of people DJing in a lot of different environments and different ways, and that was my education that I still carry with me today.

Justin: And the DJ world today, there are so many DJs.

Honey: Everyone would like to say they're a DJ.

Justin: Yeah, well. DJs getting paid incredible fees.

Honey: Millions of dollars.

Justin: Who are "DJs" and have never played a whole night.

Honey: Or to a gay audience, or to a black audience. I remember the first time I played at 718 Sessions, and I literally had all of these people that... There's nothing shadier than when you have a bunch of black queens staring at you with their arms crossed, waiting for you to entertain them, that have been around, that know their musical history. Once you can pass that test, I feel like you can sort of DJ, because these people aren't on drugs. They're very serious about their music, dancing, expressing, and the spirituality in music. But having said that, DJing has gone, and our culture has gone, from a community of marginalized people regardless of race, sexual orientation, economic status, social standing, to a middle-class form of entertainment. And so DJs now are marketable. It's no longer about what music you play... it's just different.

Justin: How would you describe your role as DJ?

Honey: To challenge, educate and entertain.

Justin: You know when people come up to you, "Can you play...do you have?" I'm like, "No. This is not what this is about." They don't get it.

Honey: I feel that a certain generation of people look at DJs as a form of entertainment. You're there for their entertainment and so they feel entitled, especially if they don't have a culture of clubbing and DJing.

Justin: That's an issue.

Honey: They think we're a jukebox.

I'm just going to put this out here, it's normally white women of privilege that are the ones that feel entitled to go to the booth and demand that you play something.

Justin: Shove their phone in your face.

Honey: I've even had people say, "Oh, can you play from my iPod."

Justin: We've all had that.

Honey: It's even harder for me when you do fashion events, because when you're there, they really look at you as you're no different than the busboy or the caterer. I recently did a fashion event and five different women came up to me and asked me to play five different requests that were all from the corporate office. And at a certain point, I just said, "Look, can I just do my job?"

Justin: I think there’s a disconnect. A lot of kids who are into this today have never been to a club. They go to festivals. It's a show.

Honey: And they read blogs, they look at YouTube. And this is a thing, too. I also have to say no. When I listen to a lot of electronic music today, I'm just like, "You've never really danced," because there's no swing and I can just tell the difference between people really experiencing music in a community of people that are there for the same reason.

Justin: I'm all about new music, and there's lots of great stuff being released. So much in fact. It's just filtering through the good and bad, it’s finding the stuff that you connect with, because it's there.

Honey: That's true. You just have to work a bit harder now because I think there were always horrible records, but we didn't have the Internet, and we didn't have the technology that made everyone a producer as well.

Justin: But we had DJs that we would go hear and we trusted his taste, and he would turn us on to new records.That's where you heard music first.

Honey: And record stores.

Justin: Yes! You'd hang out there. "Hey, did you get this?" You had Wax Trax! And Gramaphone in Chicago, we had Vinylmania and others in New York.

Honey: It was the same thing. When I moved to New York and there was Eightball Records, there was Satellite Records.

I remember, literally, you would take a day and go to all the shops. You would have to take a day just to go record shopping because you went to so many different places.

Justin: And the person selling the records knew you and your taste because you shopped there all the time..

Honey: I was always turned on just by hanging out at the record store. I would be at Satellite Records and someone will play record, and I was like, "Oh my God. What is that?" "Oh, it's in the progressive house section." I'm like, "But that's not progressive house." Or then someone will be playing something like, "What record is that?" "Oh, it's in the trance section." I'm like, "Huh?" And that's what I loved about community of DJs is that sometimes you would go and hear things that you never would look for. And I miss that.

Justin: You had an amazing year. You've become an icon.

Honey: Oh, yeah, it doesn't feel like it.

Justin: It's true. And you've worked your very hard to get there. Well deserved.

Honey: Most people forget that this has been a lifelong thing.

Justin: I know that.

Honey: But thank you for saying that. I'm glad, though, that it happened to me at an age where I'm better able to understand what's happening. I feel now that the pressure is really on, because now there's expectations.

Justin: Right. It's like when no one knows who you are, you're like, "Oh, wow. Who are you?"

Honey: There's a sense of freedom, and now I have to live up to what that last DJ set or the last record.

Justin: Do you get nervous before you play?

Honey: I don't get nervous anymore before I play. I'll tell you why. Certain places I get nervous before I play, but my nervousness comes from wanting to do well. Just always wanting to just be my best, and to challenge myself to be better. It doesn't come from me worrying about the crowd, but it just comes from me challenging myself to be better because I still feel like I'm learning. Sometimes I fuck up mixes. Sometimes I feel like I could have EQed this better, or the flow could have been better. I'm always very, very critical of my work. But for so many years people said no. For so many years record labels didn't take my music. For so many years people considered me a gay DJ, so straight venues or festivals weren't booking me. The gays weren't booking me either because I wasn't playing circuit music or pop remixes. So that sort of trained me to really be confident in what I do musically, and it's nice that all of these things are happening to me, but I still feel no different than when people were saying I was shit, or I wasn't good.

I think the only thing that I'm enjoying about success is that I'm able to finally say I'm a DJ, that I make a living as a DJ, and that I don't have to worry about what my next two months of gigs are going to look like or calling my agent, “why am I not being booked.” And there's still places that I want to play that aren't booking me, there's still things that I want to do...

The funny thing about what's happening, is that just now my name is higher up on the bill. It's the same clubs, the same people. It's just now my name placement is different. And so I look at it very much like that. And it's nice that I make a little bit more scratch, and my name's higher on the bill, but it's the same shit.

Justin: And how does being transgender come into play in the DJ world?

Honey: It is my life, but I think there's just been a lack of conversation about diversity in our culture for so long. I think we've plateaued with just straight white men running the show, musically, culturally, artistically. And I think one of the great things about social media is that it's given a lot of different people a lot of different voices. It's not just a trans thing, but women, women of color, queer women, queer people, gender nonconforming people, non-binary people, now have avenues to have their voice heard and not have someone filter that voice. I have to say, I don't live my life as a professional trans person.

I find it's the least interesting thing about me. I know that people are interested in that part of it, but if I wasn't who I was, I wouldn't have been exposed to music the way I have been. I came up at a time when that music was specifically black, gay, Latin and queer. And if I wasn't queer, I wouldn't have been able to hear music presented in that way in those environments. So my marginalization has actually benefited me in a lot of ways, and now, having a platform to be able to talk about what that's been like and give voices to those people, it's not about me anymore. I really feel like I'm just carrying and giving visibility to the people that have always been there and have always done this shit.

Justin: You're here to carry on the tradition.

Honey: I'm a piece of the puzzle. I mean I'm not so egotistical that I think that I'm the only one, or anything, but I'm a piece of the puzzle. I mean, when Frankie Knuckles died, to me that was the last black, gay DJ. We only really have one left, which is Derrick Carter, just still carrying on that information from that time.

I'm supposed to curate a lineup soon of DJs, queer people playing disco, and I couldn't think of anyone that really has the experience of presenting disco in that way because the club culture that nourished that is gone globally. Those rooms and those energies are gone globally. So it informs my work, but it doesn't define it.

But there's likely less than 20 people. It's a very small pool. And as far as a trans artist is concerned, I don't know of anyone else that just comes from what I come from. So I feel like it's important for me to play how I play, to play the music that I play, because if I don't do it, it won't get out there. A lot of people don't like it. A lot of people like it.

Justin: Well, obviously a lot of people are liking it now.

Honey: Well, more people are hearing about it, so it's nice. But again, I'm just a piece of the puzzle.

Justin: And let's talk about fashion and music, because I grew up with that, and for me that goes hand-in-hand.

Honey: Of course.

Justin: They inspire each other, and like you I live in a house full of magazines and books, and it's influenced my music, my productions. But fashion, like music, has became part of mainstream culture.

Honey: It was more elitist back then.

Justin: Now, like DJing, everyone's a fashion expert.

Honey: Well, now you don't even have to know the craft or design as long as you have surface and visuals, social media presence, celebrity.

Justin: I mean your social media is very focused on fashion, as well as the things that inspired you, that still do inspire you.

Honey: Sometimes I feel that I'm at odds with my social media. Like, "Why am I always posting old shit?" Do you know what I mean? And sometimes I have a problem with that. It's very fashion-focused, but it's music-focused, too. It's heritage music focused. I think I post a lot of that stuff because, to me, they're forgotten sources of inspiration and a lot of people appropriate that work without giving respect to the source. But I'm so envious that you lived in a time when it was the apex of fashion art and music, everyone slept in bed together.

And you really had to have a talent to be even considered. And to me, that doesn't exist anymore. I think fashion has become so commercial and corporatized now. When I do a lot of fashion events it's like DJing a wedding. They want familiar things, and if I play anything with a 4/4 kick drum, even if it's a disco record, they associate that with techno and they have no idea what the fuck techno is. So even though I love clothing, I love fashion, whenever I got into it, I was like, "Who did the hair? Who did the makeup? Who took the picture? Who styled the photo, the composition, the model?" So for me it was more about image making. I was so obsessed with Jean-Paul Goude, and it was just about art and image making. There was always this fine line and a crossover between the two.

Even my favorite bands, what they looked like was just as important as the cover art and what they sounded like. I never, ever separated any of those things, so I try to do that as an artist. I try to be a 360 with art and the use of fashion. I love clothing. I don't love it as much as I used to because I feel like what's happened in fashion has become so democratized and also so corporatized, now there's no soul to what's happening. I wouldn't say there's no soul for me. I don't want to speak for others because someone else they might feel differently. But we're just living in a different time. We didn't have social media back then. We didn't have the Internet back then, and so you actually had to have a point-of-view. You had to research, you had to dig, you had to find a like-minded community of people that felt the same way about these things, instead of just logging on or just scrolling on your phone, having all this information there.

I find that when you find something, when I would discover a designer or something that no one knew about, it just sort of was like a badge of honor for me because it felt like my thing. It felt like I was creating my own thing for me, and it wasn't about someone giving it 100 likes or someone wanting to brand it, or make money from it. It was just my self-expression. I found it, I nurtured it, I let it evolve and that was my thing. And then you met other people that did their thing, and then you came together and created this new thing out of your own thing. And now everyone has access to the same looks, the same designers, so everyone's just basically recycling the same shit that everyone else is doing.

Justin: So how do you stand out and be an individual today? How do you deal with being a misfit today?

Honey: I think being a misfit today is easier. It's easier to be a misfit because of social media. You don't need a magazine editor or the record label to say, "Yes, this is good." You can just do your own thing. So I think there's a great amount of freedom in being a misfit today. However, everyone being different is actually everyone being the same.

I had to go out to Brooklyn yesterday and I took the bus, because I had to go to IKEA, and I saw this kid on the bus who was such an amalgamation of so many different things. He was a Latin kid with gold fronts, but two ponytail poofs, grills, tattoos all over his neck, baggy clothes, but then a beeper. Then he had on a plastic back rave backpack. And I just thought, wow. I don't think he knew how many different things he had mixed together. He had a beeper.

I just thought, wow, he's like cyber punk, but punk, but then hip hop, but then drug dealer. It felt really fresh to me. He wasn't styled. It was a bit rough. It was raw. But I felt something.

Justin: It's funny because you just see everyone looking the same these days. You get on the subway car and half the car is wearing whatever the goose jacket is. It's a uniform, they all want to look the same. When I was a kid, I just didn't want to look like just anybody else.

Honey: Well, I buy a lot of stuff on eBay now, just because I've been finding old Parachute clothes and old Kansai Yamamoto sweaters. I always liked clothing that was associated with cultural movements and expressions. I think why I love dressing so much like the 70s is because it reminds me of when people dressed up to go get laid and go out to get drugs, made an effort to go dancing. Dressed up to go out.

Now everyone dresses to get their photograph on Instagram or a style blog. There was a really good article recently about how all of these girls, and these style blog stars, they're basically given fashion by corporate companies. It's just a different way of advertising. Most of the people that are photographed are thin, white women that these companies are trying to sell to other thin, white women. You have to go out to Red Hook, or Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens, just to find more real street-style. And these kids are just living their lives — I find that so refreshing.

Justin: Is anything in musically inspiring you right now?

Honey: I feel like as a house music DJ, a lot of my music is percussion-based, and there's not a lot of melody. I mean, there is dance music that is made that way, but I've been listening to a lot of Alice Coltrane, Carole King, Phoebe Snow. Just going back and listening to the music that had great lyrical content and reflected on the political landscapes of the times. Especially in our political climate now, there's a lack of music that is consciousness music. So I've been sort of turned on by that.

And there's a few techno producers that I like. There's this kid called Wbeeza who's from Peckham, which is like the Brooklyn of London. I love his stuff. There's another producer from London called Loan, I love his stuff. Most of the stuff, for me, is still European. I miss the days when we had a New York sound. The last DJ or producer that came out of New York that I liked was Galcher Lustwerk.

Justin: He's great.

Honey: I like his stuff. He's really cool.

Justin: Yeah, I heard his stuff, and I didn't know him, and I just wrote him a message on SoundCloud one day, and I said, "You don't know me. I don't know you. But I'm a big fan of your music." And he wrote me back and we connected.

Honey: One of my songs on my album was inspired by him and I wanted him to do the vocals, but it just never happened.

Justin: That's the one of the best  things about the Internet. That people can connect with you who have been touched in some way by your work.

Honey:  Even connecting with older artists — I don't like that word. Heritage artists. I became friends with the Dj Bruce Forest that way, through social media. And people like you, and I've been able to connect to things that I love. I don't like to live in the past, but I like to take inspiration from that time.

Justin: Yeah, I'm all about that.

Honey: Because I don't believe in a timeline. If you look at physics, the past, the present and the future all exist on the same plane. So I just look at music and art like that. I can still look at a Gustav Clement photo, as well as a Mapplethorpe, as well as something that's happening today, and it all still feels the same to me. I don't separate them. And just like I can listen to 1920s swing music, I can listen to 70s rock, I can listen to what's happening today. All of it informs to everything for me. I just think if you're an artistic person, it all feeds the source.

#just/talk #justin strauss #nyc #ace hotel #ace hotel new york #honey dijon #honey dijon dj #yes #interview #lgbqtia #DJ #music #queer culture #just talk

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Fighting the Clock

Fighting the Clock - Kidge Fest Prompt 3 Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: It’s New Year’s Day, and Pidge is a little miffed with Keith being away on a mission with the Blade after already missing the other holidays leading up to this. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: Previous two prompt-fills can be read [here] and [here] respectively. The final post for KidgeFest!... Or is it???? :3c

She wasn’t normally very fond of big crowds but she had always wanted to attend the ball drop in New York City in person. It was just like her to let her curiosity outweigh her discomfort or unease, but she wasn’t alone. Hunk and Lance had also been excited at the idea and agreed to come along. She had spent most of the early morning and afternoon alone, bundled up and waiting on the top of a parking structure, while Hunk and Lance had gone to do some sight-seeing and hit up some four-star restaurant Hunk had been raving about in the weeks since they’d agreed to coming with her. She had received a brief message on her communicator from him shortly before she was supposed to meet back up with them.

Keith’s smile on the screen twitched with nervousness at the corners.

“You aren’t going to make it, are you?” She asked bluntly, raising one eyebrow and forcing a teasing grin on her lips. It was hard to manage due to her disappointment, but a small voice in the back of her mind nagged that she shouldn’t really be surprised at this point. He had been unable to come back in time for Christmas. Or her father’s birthday. Or Thanksgiving.

It was just like him to be unable to be punctual when she had something important to talk to him about.

“I’ll be there, I’m just… Gonna be a little late,” He said, wincing a bit, and his tone sang of a thousand apologies she’d probably be hearing later. Evidently, her frustration must have showed through. So much for her poker face. “Not because of the Blade or the mission, though. I was fine leaving headquarters, I just… The coalition checkpoint is backed up all the way to the Big Dipper and it’s slow going.” He turned his communicator to show her the long, long line of ships ahead of his cruiser.

For the first time, Pidge resented convincing Allura to take them back to Earth so that they’re home world could join the coalition. If she’d known that so many aliens would want to come visit the planet the newest Paladins originated from she wouldn’t have said a damn word. Or, rather, she would have made a camouflage device for Keith’s cruiser so he could just bypass the whole circus. She’d never been a big supporter of bureaucracy and all that restrictive caution tape, anyway. “Have they given you any kind of E.T.A.?” She asked as the communicator focused back on him.

“A few hours… Probably closer to, like, ten or eleven o’clock tonight, if the estimate on the space-highway sign in correct,”

“Oh, well then we’re totally fucked, because those things are never right,” She barked, rolling her eyes.

He frowned. “Maybe things will go faster. You okay? You seem a lot angrier than I was honestly expecting you to be,” He said, his tone a bit softer. He had learned over the years that inquiring what had Pidge’s feathers ruffled was a science; tread carefully, and if she only rustled up even more than drop it until she felt like opening up herself.

She cast him a bland look, not even wanting to dignify that comment with a verbal response. He winced again and she let her shoulders sag a bit, trying to remind herself that getting angry wouldn’t help any. “You know, last time I checked, I was the one wearing the wedding band, not Kollivan.” She let a slightly more teasing note creep in to her tone. She didn’t want to end her year with making Keith feel like shit, thus starting the year on a sour note.

His smile was small and thankful. “Being married to Kollivan would be pure Hell, don’t even joke about that,” He laughed. She giggled as well and then stood up, making sure to keep her grip on the communicator so it stayed primarily focused on her face. “I’ve missed you.”

Her smile became softer and her eyes warmer. “I’ve missed you too, you big sap. I’m meeting up with Hunk and Lance so I have to go. If you can, let me know when you’re past the check point, though, so I can meet up with you,” She said.

“Will do. I’ll see you soon, promise,” He said, flashing her a quick salute before the feed shut down. With a deep sigh, Pidge stuffed the communicator into her purse, adjusted her scarf and gloves, and then scrambled to the elevator of the parking garage.

She ended up hailing a cab to get to the restaurant the other two had gone to, since it was across the city from her position, much to her chagrin. The drive had given her the chance to clear her mind and wonder what she would do if Keith ended up not making it in time to see the ball drop with her – as, she surmised, she could let it slide if he missed dinner – and the idea of kicking his sorry tail on to the couch didn’t seem quite strict enough. Her pettier side insisted that she make him spend at least two nights in his cruiser, since she knew that thing couldn’t maintain heat when shut down and tended to go in to an automatic shut down if left on free-flight mode for longer than three hours.

When she arrived, Hunk offered her a small plastic bag with a Styrofoam container inside as well as a water bottle. “I take it he got held up?” He asked, flashing her a sympathetic smile.

“He’s stuck in a long line waiting to pass through the coalition checkpoint,” She said, taking the two offered items, letting the bag hang from her wrist by the handles. She opened the water bottle and took a quick sip. “Thanks, by the way. How much do I owe you for it?” She asked while putting the water bottle in her purse and peering into the bag to verify that some plastic utensils were inside.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Hunk laughed with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Yeah, we figured that Keith would get caught up in that mess,” Lance scoffed lightly, waving one gloved hand flippantly in indication of the sky above them. He indicated his head and started walking, Pidge and Hunk falling into step with him. “Last year we got caught in that whole headache bringing Allura and Coran down for Thanksgiving. Which is why they just come down here and stay from Halloween until the last week of January.”

“It can get pretty crazy, now that Earth has become a hotspot for alien travel,” Hunk agreed, shuddering a bit at the memory. They’d never divulged the full history of what they’d gone through trying to get back to Earth, but she was well aware that some less-than-diplomatic phrases had been exchanged between Allura and one of the Garrison staff stationed at the checkpoint.

Lance ended up leading them to Central Park, where they settled on a bench so Pidge could eat. She had nearly wept her gratitude as she opened the container and took a bite of the herbed chicken parmesan they’d picked out for her. It didn’t hold a candle to her mom’s homemade one, but it was a nice substitute that would leave her full throughout the rest of the days activities. As she ate, Hunk and Lance told her about some of what they’d done. They’d stopped in front of the Macy’s Department Store where the Thanksgiving Day Parade always stopped at and perused through. “It’s, like, twenty times bigger than any other one I’ve been to before! And it’s selection? Totally validated the size of that place,” Lance said.

They’d also gone to Broadway to see a musical right before lunch, which had Hunk thrilled to talk about. She remembered how Lance had enlisted her help to get the tickets the minute they went on sale, as there was a big bustle over the latest presentation of the renowned classic The Count of Monte Cristo. “I mean, I’ll always have a preference for the years old original Broadway casts recording,” Hunk said excitedly, showing her the bag full of merchandise he’d bought after the show, “but this was definitely an amazing performance! Especially the two they cast for Edmond and Mercédès! And their rendition of I Will be There was so amazing! They really sold it!”

“And this is why I’m the literal best husband in the world~!” Lance sing-songed proudly. Pidge chuckled but did have to admit that it was a sweet gesture. Hunk was a surprisingly big buff on classic literature and had loved the novel that inspired the musical many years later. It had always been his dream to see the musical in person if it were ever brought back to Broadway. So when Lance found out that very musical was being brought back for the new generation of musical buffs? He had known it would get him tons of bragging points if he got them in to see it.

Even if that meant waking up one very disgruntled Pidge at nearly two in the morning to guarantee the purchase.

They walked around the park after that, enjoying the sights and atmosphere. There were still plenty of people present, but there seemed to be more space for a bit of privacy between she and her friends. She watched Lance head out toward the water, pointing excitedly at some ducks and geese swimming close to the shore, tugging Hunk along with him. She stretched, humming in delight at the light pop and rush of relief, and stared up at the sky. She huffed quietly as she turned her attention back to Hunk and Lance, whom were now being chased by a disgruntled goose. For as much as she loved spending time with Hunk and Lance, she couldn’t help but wish that Keith was there with her.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Keith groaned and drummed his fingers along the armrest of his seat. He’d been sitting here for a whole hour and probably only managed to slip half an inch closer to the checkpoint. He looked at the watch he wore that was set to Earth time and scowled. He would still have another two hours of flight before reaching Earth even after the checkpoint. He groaned again and scrubbed his hands over his face, staring up at the slim gold band on his finger, then let his eyes close. It was a simply band but it was the engraving inside – Sword and Shield; the perfect pair – that always had him falling for her all over again.

You aren’t going to make it, are you?

Pidge’s disappointment had been painful, but what had been worse was how resigned she seemed to the notion. She had been expecting him to call and cancel his arrival just like he had for Christmas the week before. And Samuel’s birthday before that. And even Thanksgiving before that. The realization that he hadn’t seen his wife in person since the second week of November was a sobering one; he knew that he’d been gone for a long time, but putting it all in to perspective like that was like a punch to the gut.

You know, last time I checked, I was the one wearing the wedding band, not Kollivan.

She had meant it as a joke and clearly wasn’t trying to be underhanded or passive aggressive – mostly because Pidge didn’t do passive aggressive; she did regular aggressive – but it still hurt. This wasn’t the first time he’d been taken away for extended periods of time due to missions. In the last two years of their marriage, he’d spent a total of eleven months away from her – including his most recent stint – and it left him suddenly reeling as he realized that he’d spend nearly half their marriage away from his wife. They had been talking about starting a family before he got the call for this most recent mission but he got the feeling that talk would be non-existent for at least a month once he finally did touch back down on Earth.

He opened his eyes to stare at the wedding band again. What would happen if Pidge did get pregnant and he got another mission and something happened? While medical technology was advanced – and Allura was always just a call away – there were always risks that could come with a pregnancy. Or, his mind goaded, what would he do if Pidge went in to labor while he was away and he couldn’t be reached in time to make it back? What if he wasn’t there to support her through delivery and see the birth of their first child? ‘Well,’ A voice in the back of his mind scoffed, ‘you’re certainly getting yourself a splendid track record of being dependable and supportive. Assuming she doesn’t just dump your sorry ass for a better guy after all the shit you’ve pulled recently, you’d better be intending to make it up to her.’

That thought was all that was needed to steel his resolve. He sat upright and reached out, taking a grip of the throttles. In one quick motion, he sent his cruiser upwards, hovering just above his spot in the line-up as well as the tops of the other space crafts around him. He then twisted to the left, shoved his foot down and sent his ship spiraling around and past the lines. He knew that the patrol vehicles used by the Garrison in charge of the checkpoint didn’t get quite a much speed as the fighter pilot models – the ones that were similar to his own Blade provided cruiser – so as long as he got a decent head start on them, he could land his cruiser on the lot roof Pidge had gotten sealed off just for him – another perk of being a Paladin, she had said – and be well on his way into the crowd before they knew what hit them. He wouldn’t be able to change clothes like he wanted to, but he should be able to take the duffel bag he had shoved them in to with him.

Finding a bathroom to change in wouldn’t be hard, given their locations, and then it was just a matter of locating Pidge on the ground.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

He stole a glance at his communicator as he leaned against the wall of the handicap stall of a restaurant two blocks from the parking garage. 11:21. “Okay,” He breathed, a bit winded and winding down from the adrenaline rush that the chase had been, “all I have to do is call Pidge and find out where exactly she is. That shouldn’t be too hard.” He ran his fingers through his hair again before dropping his duffel bag and rummaging through. He changed in to his casual clothes as quickly as he could, then followed it up with a quick combing of his hair and brushing his teeth. He used a water bottle he’d had inside to rinse and spat in to the toilet, instead of the sink to avoid getting weird looks.

Well, more than he already got from when he first walked in wearing his Marmora suit and asking where the bathroom was.

He pulled on his gloves and grabbed his scarf from the bag, holding off on putting it on until he got outside and instead just tossing it over his shoulder. He rested the strap of the duffel bag on his other shoulder then headed out of the restroom. He took another quick glance at his communicator as he stepped out on to the street. 11:35. He started up to the link with Pidge’s communicator and watched the fuzzing noise line as it chimed to reach her before tying on his scarf and starting at a jogging pace towards the ball drop.

He ducked through the crowd and weaved between the other people, making his way to try and get as close to the ball as possible, while looking around and then back down at his communicator. Pidge would be as close as she could get – he was certain of that much – but then it became a concern of if she’d actually hear the communicator going off. He hoped that he’d be able to spot her in the crowd, but it was a bit difficult already. Between the light snowfall and everyone being bundled up in dark, heavy winter coats, it was near impossible to tell this huddled blur from that one.

He growled, terminated the attempt to reach her, and launched another as he checked the time again. 11:43. He looked around again before cupping one hand over his mouth. “Pidge!” He called out loudly. A few people turned to look at him with confused or annoyed expressions but none of them were the face he was looking for. He growled and tried calling for her louder, continuing to push through the throng. “Pidge! Pidge, are you around here? Can you hear me? Katie!” He shouted, getting louder and more frantic as he struggled against the current of other people.

He kept struggling and shouting, even as the crowd erupted into chanting out the count of the last minute before the ball dropped.

It was then that his eyes caught sight of a back. The person was wearing a black coat with a faux fun lining the hood and a bright blue scarf. What caught Keith’s eye was the fact that they were far too tall, towering twice as tall as those around him. He realized quickly that they were sitting on the shoulders of someone else, the two almost blurring together by the similar coloring of their coats. It was the scarf, however, that specifically caught him; he recognized the color and initials embroidered on the end.

L.M. Lance McClain.

He charged forward and felt his chest warm when he saw a slightly smaller figure standing just a few paces ahead and to the right of Lance, wearing a green and white stripped sweater and his red beanie with the white puff ball on the top. He shoved past Hunk and Lance, ignored the exclamation of protest he got, and reached to grab her arm as they reached the final few seconds.

10!

She whipped around, lips twisted up in a snarl, ready to spit venom. She was on edge already with so many people constantly bumping and crowding her, but when combined with the fact Keith hadn’t made it? She was starting her New Year on a note of irritation just as she’d been dreading. She gasped when her eyes landed on an all too familiar.

9!

“Keith! You made it!” She gasped, her irritation melting away. He looked distressed and his shoulders sagged a bit.

8!

“I’m so sorry I cut it so close. I was trying to get here faster but the Garrison was chasing me and I had to shake them and I didn’t think that running around in my Blade uniform would be a good idea in this weather and-!” He kept prattling on, his words laced in anxiety. She could tell he’d been rushing to find her, frantic to make it back and keep his promise.

7!

She decided to take pity on the poor guy and lightly pressed one gloved hand over his lips to cut off his rambling. Pidge could be petty and spiteful, but even she knew when it was time to bury the hatchet; especially when she could tell he felt sincerely bad.

6!

She let her hands slide to rest on either of his shoulders and grinned up at him. “Hey, you made it before the end of the year, right?” She teased.

5!

He blinked a bit before reaching over to cup both sides of her face, still seeming a little distressed. “I should have been here a few weeks ago,”

4!

“Yeah, but I’m willing to let us start the year off with clean slates. Sound like a plan?”

3!

His lips twitched up in a smile and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Well, at least let me make it up to you. For the sake of my own conscience,”

2!

“And what did you have in mind?” She mused, raising one brow at him inquisitively. His smile turned a bit more devious before he tilted his head and pressed his lips gently against hers.

1! Happy New Year!

She pressed her lips more firmly to his and let out an eager little purr. He took charge and surged forward, lightly tracing her lip with the tip of his tongue and letting one hand slide up higher, tangling in her hat-frazzled hair. She was more than happy to voice her contentment with a slightly louder moan. He left one hand in her hair but let the other slide down to wrap around her waist and pull her closer, his body sturdy and warm through their respective layers.

God, she’d missed him.

She’d missed being able to lean into him and press close, to share his warmth. She’d missed tucking under his arm or into his side and just resting there. She’d missed waking up with his face pressed into the crook of his neck and his arm around her waist, her back flush against his chest. She’d missed being jolted out of her work by a puff of air against her cheek followed by the soft touch of lips to the hinge of her jaw. She’d missed the two of them dancing around the kitchen together to make dinner or tidy up. She’d missed feeling like her partner-in-crime was just a brief hand gesture away.

She’d just missed him in general.

When they pulled away she smiled up at him, their foreheads touching again. It seemed that the world had faded back into focus and the ruckus around them sparked back to life. People were bustling around more aggressively than before and Pidge stepped even closer, curling up against his side to avoid getting moved around too much. “Glad we came this year. No way would we be able to do this next year with a little one,” She laughed.

He chuckled a bit and hummed. “Yea- Wait, what? Pidge, are you pregnant?” He asked, at first jovial and then freezing and staring down at her in surprise.

Her grin widened. “I’ve been waiting to tell you in person since I found out. I intended to tell you at Thanksgiving, and then when you came back for Dad’s birthday, and then I figured I’d just tell you at Christmas but that never panned out. And, I mean, I really should have just told you since I know that would have gotten you home, but that just didn’t feel right. Telling you in person was the only way I wanted to tell you,” She explained, nodding her head from side to side as she mentioned each time she’d planned to, and then nodding at her conclusion.

She watched his reaction carefully, his expression seeming to be frozen in shock, before his eyes sparked bright and his lips split in to one of his rare full smiles. He scooped her up with both arms and spun them around in a circle, laughing like a mad man while she squealed, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. When he skidded to a stop he looked up at her with such wonder and glee it left her a bit winded. “We’re gonna have a baby!” He breathed.

She flushed a little bit and giggled. “I’m about thirteen weeks in now. Due date is looking like mid-June right now, and we can find out the sex in February,” She mused, leaning down to press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Ah, so the lone wolf finally comes trekking back to the rest of the flock, I see?” Lance huffed as he and Hunk strode up.

“Um, Lance, I don’t think that you’ve got that quite right,” Hunk said meekly, squeezing the other’s hand with a small chuckle.

“Hunky, my love, I’m trying to make a point,” He said, looking up at him with a raised brow before turning his attention back to Keith and Pidge. Keith set Pidge down but still kept her pressed into his side with an arm around her waist, which she appreciated. Even with her heavy clothes, she was still a bit nippy. “Oh, and thanks for nearly send us toppling over. Couldn’t even say an ‘excuse me’?” He huffed, though there was a bit of a playful hint at the edges of his tone. While the rivalry still existed between them, they – Lance – had gotten better about letting the rivalry be more teasing than volatile.

“I’m gonna be a dad!” Keith blurted out excited, still grinning like mad. He then swooped in and gave Pidge a kiss to the forehead.

Lance opened his mouth – most likely to make some kind of teasing remark – but Hunk beat him to the punch. “Congratulations, you guys. You’re gonna be great parents,” He laughed happily.

Pidge wrapped her arms around Keith’s chest and nuzzled in while Keith, Lance and Hunk fell in to casual chatter. She wasn’t showing too much yet, but there was a little bit of a baby bump starting to become more prominent. She leaned up and kissed Keith’s chin when she felt his hand stroke against her side through her coat. She waged he had probably noticed the slight bulge now that she was pressed so close up to him.

She basked in the light glow that the year was starting on; well, until she had to get in to a screaming match with the Garrison over them trying to detain Keith after foregoing the checkpoint.

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #KidgeFest #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Forty-Three

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: TW: Mention of past abuse!!! (It’s really graphic) Fluff and Smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Harry wanted to make more of an effort to have time with you in the morning. He missed you so much all day, and wanted to enjoy the few minutes with you before you had to leave for work, so Monday morning he got up to have breakfast with you. He made you both oatmeal.

“This so nice.” You say sitting next to him at your island. “Thank you sweetie.”

“Course.” He smiles sleepily at you.

“Harry…I was wondering if you had to work late tomorrow night?”

“Shouldn’t have to, love. Why?”

“Well, and feel free to say no, but I was sort of wondering if you’d want to see Dr. Mara with me tomorrow.” His eyes softens and he puts a hand over yours.

“Did I…do something wrong?”

“No! Oh my god, no not at all.” You smile reassuringly at him. “I have sort of come to realize I have a real communication problem. You’re not a mind reader, and I feel really bad about when I sort of snap at you when you ask me certain questions…like I expect you to just understand something. It’s not really fair of me. She actually suggested I bring you with me after what happened last week, and I’ve had some time to think it over, and I think it would really help. She knows everything about me so…maybe she can help me explain some things to you. She can also be a mediator if I start to get a little snippy.”

He knew this was a huge deal for you. Harry had been to therapy before, he knew it was an incredibly vulnerable thing to do.

“I’m there.”

“Really?”

“Of course! I’m…honored you’re asking.”

“I really am sorry for all the times I’ve just sort flown off the handle. My undergrad degree is in communication for fuck’s sake, I should really know better.” So that’s why she was so good at reading others and assessing situations, he thinks to himself.

“I thought your degree was in like film studies?”

“No, no. That was my minor. My major was Communication and Media studies.”

“Ohhh, that makes a lot more sense.” He laughs.

“I should really practice what I preach. I can always tell when other people don’t communicate well. Or honestly, I’m great with like workplace, interpersonal communication. But I guess in my relationships I struggle a little.”

“I don’t love when you blow up at me, but I understand it. I can’t imagine how scary it must feel to be triggered by something, and have all of that adrenaline running through you.”

“Don’t make excuses for me, please, it’s okay. I’ve been wrong a lot of the time, I can admit to that.” You finish up your oatmeal. “Mm, this was so good.” You look at your watch. “Shit, it’s my day to pick up coffee, I need to get going.” You give him a quick kiss. “Have a great day.”

“You too babe. You goin’ t’the gym tonight?”

“Yup, should be home around six.”

“Great.”

//

You get Niall his coffee, and discuss theories about You and set up certain days to watch it during your lunch breaks. Everything felt back to normal with him which you were thankful for. The last thing you needed was for your work environment to be stressful. Your classes were all signed up for, and you’d be starting your first one in just a couple of weeks.

A companywide email went out about your annual holiday party. You were always thankful your CEO had the party at the end of January to give everyone time to recover from the holidays themselves. It was at this swanky hotel, and there was a huge ballroom for dancing. The food was always exceptional too, not to mention an open bar.

You come home sweaty from the gym, excited to tell Harry about the upcoming party.

“Hey babe!” You say.

“Hey! Just got through the door myself, haven’t had a chance to make up dinner.”

“No worries, I can cook.” You shrug. “Mark your calendar for the second to last weekend in January, the company party has been announced!”

“Oh great! What hotel is it gonna be at?”

“The Boston Harbor Hotel, it’s so beautiful!” You open the fridge and pull out some cauliflower. “M’gonna make some buffalo cauliflower, that work for you?”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Hmm, I’m gonnna have to go to Macy’s this weekend to get a dress.”

“Right, cause you don’t have enough in your closet.” He says playfully. You point your knife at him.

“You realize if I go shopping you get to watch me try on a bunch of different things right?”

“Ohh, okay, new dress it is.” He kisses your cheek as you prepare the rest of dinner.

“Your birthday is the weekend after that right?”

“Mhm.”

“I was thinking, if you wanted, we could go to a nice dinner.” He smiles at you.

“Just the two of us?”

“If that’s what you’d like.”

“I’d love nothin’ more.”

You toss the cauliflower into a bowl of your homemade buffalo sauce and toss it around. You pop them into the oven, and wait for them to crisp up a bit. You go to change out of your sweats and wrap your robe around your body. Harry’s sat as his desk. You go over to him and wrap your arms around him. He leans his head back to look at you.

“You know what this weekend is?”

“Hmmm.” He gives you a funny look. “What’s that love?”

“Five whole months together.” He tilts his head to kiss you.

“How lucky are we, hm?”

“So lucky.”

//

Harry meets you at Dr. Mara’s office after work. You were incredibly nervous, but happy he agreed to come with you. You had so much to get off your chest. He gives you a kiss when he meets you in the lobby, and holds your hand as you wait to be called in.

“Y/N?” Dr. Mara says, her smile deepens when she sees Harry with you. “Come on in. Is your friend joining us today?”

“Yes, Dr. Mara, this is my boyfriend Harry.”

“It’s so nice to meet you dear, I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.” She shakes Harry’s hand.

“Same to you.”

You and Harry sit on the couch in her office.

“Harry, I’d like you just to observe for a bit. Y/N and I usually talk about our week, and anything positive that may have happened.”

“Sure.” You don’t let go of his hand.

“So, Y/N, how was your week, since I saw you last. You seem much calmer.”

“I am! Niall and I worked everything out. We’ve set up some new boundaries.”

“That’s very good.”

“Our CEO announced our annual holiday party.”

“Oh, you love that party.”

“I do! It’s so much fun. Harry’s coming with me this year.”

“That’s great. You must be excited to introduce him to so many people.”

“I am.” You look over at him. He smiles at you.

“Would you like to tell me why you’ve brought Harry with you today?”

Harry liked Dr. Mara. She reminded him of his mum. Her demeanor was calm, and her voice was quite soothing.

“Well, after what happened last week, I had a revelation that my boyfriend is not a mind reader.” You laugh. “I can’t expect him to understand why something may be upsetting me if I don’t fully explain everything first.”

“I see. And what would you like to explain to him today?”

“Why I don’t feel comfortable doing it from behind just yet.”

Harry chokes on the air in the room. You and Dr. Mara were both so calm about the subject. He didn’t realize you talked about the nitty gritty in here.

“Harry, are you uncomfortable with this conversation?” Dr. Mara asks. “It’s alright if you are, we can work our way up to this subject matter.”

“No, no, I just, um, didn’t realize we were going to be so…blunt.”

“I tell Dr. Mara everything, she knows a lot about…us.”

“This is a safe space Harry.” She says, giving him a reassuring smile. “Absolutely no judgement. These types of situations are sort of my specialty.”

“Alright.” He smiles back weakly. He looks over at you, and you squeeze his hand. Your heart was beating fast.

“Y/N, would you like to start?”

“Sure. So…I feel really bad for our fight last week. You really did ask me a simple question, and it triggered me. But I know I handled it immaturely. And then I just got more mad when you spoke with Niall about it.”

“Why does it bother you when Harry and Niall discuss these things?”

“Because even though they’re also best friends, and should be able to talk about their girlfriends, I just feel like if I don’t want to talk about something or if I’m not ready for Harry to know something, it shouldn’t be up to Niall to just tell him anyways. I feel like you two run off to each other sometimes, and it bothers me.” You say looking at him.

“I’m sorry…I can work on that.” You nod.

“Anyways, it was the third time you had brought it up, us doing it like that. And you sort of brought it up out of nowhere.”

“It had been on my mind.”

“Why?” He looks at you and then Dr. Mara, then back to you.

“Because…it feels good, and it’s a position I’d like to really do. And you hadn’t really given me a reason other than just shaking your head or saying no. I just wanted a little explanation. I know in the past I’ve told you that you didn’t need to explain things, but I was just very confused because we’ve done other things.” You nod.

“I see how that would have been confusing, and I should have just come right out and explained myself.” You take a deep breath. “Um…I’m going to tell you something…I’ve told you a little bit about what happened that night, but not the full story. If you’re okay with hearing it, I’d like to tell you.”

“I’m all ears.” You shift and let go of his hand. You twiddle your thumbs and look down to your lap.

“You both are doing great.” Dr. Mara says.

“So that night, Jake and I had only sort of made out up until that point. I didn’t want to have sex with him yet, but there were other things I wanted to do with him, that I would have been happy to do.” You close your eyes. “I can’t quite remember how it all escalated so quickly. I know he didn’t slip me anything.” You open your eyes back up, but keep them glued on your hands. “We had moved to the bed so we could kiss more comfortably. I was on top of him at first, and then he got on top of me, and pushed my dress up. Then he moved my underwear to the side and started touching me.” Harry’s jaw tenses, but his eyes remain soft. “I was fine with it, he was being gentle.” You look up at Dr. Mara, then back to your hands. You feel a tear go down your cheek. Harry grabs a tissue and hands it to you. “Like I said, I can’t remember how it escalated so quickly, but the next thing I knew, my face was being pushed in the mattress and he was just drilling it inside me. It hurt, a lot. He didn’t make sure I was wet enough for how hard he was going.” You shift, feeling uncomfortable from the memory. “He was pretty thick, so I knew I was tearing. Because he was being so forceful, I was too scared to fight back or tell him to get off me. I didn’t know what else he might do to hurt me. So I just let him do it.” Your voice cracks. “When he was done, it felt like a razer was being pulled out of me. I don’t know how he didn’t see the blood on his penis, there had to be a ton, there was enough between my legs and on the sheets.” Harry swallows hard, grabbing a tissue for himself to dab his eyes with. “When I think of doing it from that angle again, I just…” You take a deep breath. “I’m just automatically reminded of all of it.”

“The night we, um, you know when you let me?” His voice was hoarse, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“That was different, for whatever reason. You had taken your time with me, and I felt safe. I wanna work up to doing it, I really do. I’m just…I can’t not think about it.”

“I’m so sorry…” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I can’t imagine doing something like that to someone. I truly will never understand how people can be so cruel.” He looks at Dr. Mara. “There’s a question I’d like to ask, since we’re in a safe space. Somethin’ that’s been on my mind since you first told me everything.” He looks back at you.

“What babe?”

“Why…why didn’t you ever press charges?” Your eyes grow wide and your mouth drops open. “I’m not trying to shame you or anythin’, I just don’t understand.”

“I almost did, but I just wanted it all to go away.”

“Didn’t you ever think that he might do it to someone else?” Your body was starting to shake, and you felt your breathing start to move rapidly.

“I…I feel…” You couldn’t breathe.

“Shit. What should I do?” He looks at Dr. Mara.

“Y/N, get up and walk around, I’ll get you a paper bag.”

You get up and pace around the room quickly trying to calm your fight or flight. Dr. Mara hands you a paper bag to breathe in and out of. She rubs your back lightly.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No.” You say returning your breathing to a more normal pace. “No, it’s okay, it’s a valid question.” You sit back down. “I don’t have a good answer. I still have everything, the sheets, the outfit…it’s hidden in my storage unit. I think I just wanted to pretend like nothing happened, or that it wasn’t as serious. I didn’t really want to seek vengeance, but I see what you’re saying about him potentially hurting someone else. I was selfishly only thinking of myself.”

“You’re not selfish Y/N.” Dr. Mara interjects. “Everyone deals with these things differently, and it’s up to you at the end of the day.”

“Wouldn’t you encourage her to press charges though?”

“It’s not my job to tell her what to do. Forcing a victim to go through that trauma over and over again is a lot to ask.” Harry nods.

“Someday I might, but right now it’s just not something I want to do. I know it doesn’t make sense, Harry.”

“It doesn’t have to, it didn’t happen to me.” He clears his throat. “Not that everything needs to be about sex, but Dr. Mara, how would you suggest we proceed with all of this?”

“Well, that’s up to the two of you. Keep having this open communication with each other. Don’t be afraid to speak up. Y/N, we’ve talked about you trying small things when you feel comfortable doing so. The two of you could try getting into the position, but with no penetration. Little things like that.”

You look at Harry, and back to Dr. Mara.

“I have another suggestion, Harry I don’t think you need to come here every week with Y/N, just so she can still feel like she can talk about anything with me, but why don’t you come once a month or even every other month so we can have small check ins like this?”

“Yeah, I could do that. Is that something you’d want?” He asks you.

“Yes, definitely. This was really helpful.” You smile at the both of them.

//

When you get home later, Harry doesn’t let you out of his touch. Whether it was his hand needing to hold yours, or his arm being around you, he wasn’t to let go of you. Neither of you said much, nothing really needed to be said. He was still trying to process everything, you finally told him about that awful night. You both had gotten cozy into some pj’s, and he made some soup for dinner. You ate on the couch while the two of you watched TV. He kept a hand on your knee the entire time.

“Harry?”

“Yes, love?”

“Would you read to me for a while?”

“Like on the sofa?”

“Yeah, I could lay on your chest and get cozy. I wanna know what happens next and I don’t wanna be too tired for it.”

“Alright.” He smiles and gets up to retrieve his book and glasses from the bedroom.

Harry lays on the couch, resting against the armrest. You snuggle up to him, and pull the blanket from the back of the sofa over the both of you. He picks up where he left off, and reads the story to you. You close your eyes to imagine Eric and Jane. Two best friends. You’ve gotten to the part in the story where Eric realizes he has feelings for Jane, but he has no idea how she feels about him. He talks about wanting to be around her all the time, and anytime she’s near, his heart flutters.

“Harry?” You interrupt him.

“Hm?”

“How long have you been reading books like this for?” He shifts his glasses to the top of his head.

“God, for a long time. I never realized how much I liked them until uni though. I took this young adult literature class for an elective, and I loved like every book we read. The professor let us pick out a lot of our own to read as well, and I sort fell into this genre. I think I like them because you can just get so lost in these stories. They can get a bit steamy sometimes, but that’s not why I read ‘em. I could read about two people fallin’ in love over and over, and never get bored.”

“You’re so romantic.” You kiss his cheek. “It’s sweet.” His kisses the top of your head. “Please, continue.”

He chuckles and continues reading. The characters begin to have a fight over Jane’s son. Harry gets choked up when she tells Eric she needs to move because she can’t afford her apartment anymore. She tells him she’ll need to move in with her mother, who lives hours away. Eric offers to have them move in him, but she says no, and the fight just gets worse. Harry full on starts crying, and has to take his glasses off to rub his eyes.

“Are you alright? You’ve read this before baby.”

“I know.” He says through his tears. “This part just makes me so mad because if he just fuckin’ told her how he felt she’d stay because she loves him too.” He dog ear’s the page and takes a deep breath. “I need t’take a break, they’re both just so fuckin’ stupid. And her poor son, he looks at Eric like a father and like to rip the two of them apart? It’s fucked.”

The way Harry was getting worked up reminded you of how you cried over Max and Liz at the end of the first season of Roswell: New Mexico. You loved how sensitive he was, and how invested he was with his book. You take the book and his glasses from him, and rest them on the coffee table. You kiss him tenderly and wipe his tears away.

“I can’t wait to hear what happens next. I have a feeling they’ll work it out.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?” You burst out laughing, and so does he.

“Did I tell you earlier how much I appreciate you coming to therapy tonight?”

“I was happy to go.”

“I love you so much, Harry.” You snuggle into him.

“I love you too, baby. You’re so strong and brave, I hope you know that.”

“I want you to know that I’m open to trying some different things. Not tonight, obviously, but I’m going to be less closed off when you suggest things.”

He holds her tight to him. He was impressed with her attitude change.

//

Harry tended to keep a cool exterior at work. He liked keeping his personal life private. He worked with mostly women and only one other guy. He wasn’t close with any of them, friendly enough though. He knew a couple of the interns had crushes on him. Sometimes he wished the magazine didn’t hire on so many college students. He didn’t pay them much attention, but he could always tell when they were watching him work.

He had a small office with a desk and decent size monitor so he could edit whatever pictures he needed to on the spot. He had a few photos in there, one of his mum and sister, and one of you. Actually two. He had one from your weekend away in New Hampshire, and one from England. He snapped a cute picture of you in your pj’s on Christmas morning. You’d probably kill him if you knew that was the picture he had of you on his desk. When he needed a smile or a good chuckle, he’d look over at it. Sometimes he’d find himself scrolling through Facebook or his camera roll to look at pictures of you. He hated how much he missed you during the day, but he couldn’t help it.

He was working at his desk, he looked over at one of the pictures of you and smiled. He really did think you were cute. There’s a knock on the outside of his door, pulling him from his distraction. He looks up to see one of the interns.

“Yeah?”

“Um, hi Mr. Styles-“

“You can call me Harry, I’ve told you, it’s not that formal of a place.”

“Right…sorry, um, Harry.”

“So, what’s up?”

“Oh, right…um, I was told to give these flash drives to you. These photos need touching up.” She continues to stand in the doorway.

“Okay, can you come hand them to me please?” She blushes and walks further into the office. He holds his hand out and she drops them into his palm. “Thanks.” He says without looking at her. She notices the photos of all the women on his desk.

“Are all those women related to you?”

“Hm?” She points to the pictures. “Oh, no.” He smirks. “Well, that’s my mum and sister, and then that’s my girlfriend.” He looks at the picture and smiles, then back to the intern. “I love her very much.”

“Oh…well…that’s nice.” She stands there awkwardly.

“Did you need anythin’ else?” He asks, putting his earbuds back in.

“Nope.” She walks out and goes to the other intern, defeated. “He has a girlfriend.”

“So, not like he’s married.”

“He looked at me and said he loved her very much.” She groans. “Who was I kidding, that’s the most he’s ever talked to me.” She looks back at him. “He’s so fucking hot, of course he has a girlfriend.”

“Did you see a picture of her?”

“Yeah, he has two on his desk.” She rolls her eyes.

“Was she pretty?”

“I didn’t get a good look.”

//

You got a call around 10:30 in the morning from the realtor. He let you know that you got approved for the apartment. You squealed and yelled and freaked out in your office. You didn’t want to just call Harry to tell him. The realtor gave you all the details you needed to move forward and you told him you’d call him back in a little while. You decided to do something you never did before: surprise Harry at his office.

You looked really good today. You had blown out your hair and added some curls on the ends. You were wearing a green short sleeve shirt and a black pencil skirt that came a few inches above the knee. You had black tights and heels on. You were wearing a white blazer as well. You grabbed your long jacket, and decided to take an early lunch to go surprise him with the good news. You grabbed your red lipstick that you knew he loved so much, and touched it up in the mirror in your car.

The building he worked in had the heat cranked up, probably to keep the plants from dying. You took your jacket off, and got into the elevator up to the studio. He had described the building enough times for you to know where to go.

When you walk in you see a young man sitting at a large desk. You smile at him and ask if Harry was in. He smiles and points to where Harry’s office was. It was set up so different from your office. There was a large open space and multiple set ups for photos to be taken. All of the office had glass windows. There were some other desks out in the open. You see two younger girls looking at you, their eyebrows raised. You turn and see Harry’s name on the outside window next to his open door. You run your hand over it and knock.

Harry was deep into his work. He figured it was just one of the girls hanging around his door again. You knocked a little louder.

“Excuse me, Mr. Styles?” He rolls his eyes and sighs, taking his earbuds back out. He gasps when he sees that it’s you.

“Oh my god.” He immediately perks up, and stands to greet you, wrapping his arms around you. The interns watch the whole thing. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Got a sec?” You say with a big smile on your face.

“Yeah! Come in, let me grab the door. Not that it makes for much privacy.” You watch him close it.

“I can see why you’re not able to have sex in here.” You smirk, and sit on his desk. He chuckles.

“You look really nice today.” He takes the end of your hair between two fingers.

“Thank you.” You blush.

//

“That has to be his girlfriend.” One of the girls says.

“Shh, I’m watching. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that guy smile so much.”

//

“So for real, what’s with you surprisin’ me?” He boops your nose.

“I got a call a little while ago.” You beam at him.

“Oh really?” You bite your bottom lip, and he can’t help but stare at your mouth. “Babe, you’re killin’ me.”

“We got the apartment!” You squeal jumping up and throwing your arms around him.

“What?!”

“The realtor called me earlier!”

He wraps his arms around you, lifts you up, and spins you around. He dips you slightly and kisses you, your hands go into his hair as he deepens the kiss, not caring who could see.

The girls who were watching the entire exchange have to pick their jaws up off the floor. The boy who works at the reception desk walks by them and sits on their desk.

“That’s the luckiest bitch I’ve ever seen.” He says to them.

You break the kiss as Harry sets you back up right. You giggle at his now red lips. You take your thumb and try to rub it off.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“S’okay, I really don’t care. So, what do we need to do next?”

“He said we can call him together after we both get home from work. I was just so excited, I didn’t want to just-“ Your eyes bug out and you snatch the picture of you in your pj’s from his desk. “Harry!” You whine. “Out of all the pictures we took that week, this is the one you choose?” You look down at it. “I look like such a dork.”

“No, you look so cute. It makes me smile every time I look at it.” He pouts. You roll your eyes and put the picture back on your desk. He grabs your face with his thumb and forefinger. “I really, really fucking hate it when you roll your eyes at me.” He says with a smile on his face. You bite your bottom lip.

“Harry.” You whisper. “We’re at your place of work.”

“And?” You were starting to sweat. You look down then back up at him through your lashes.

“We should, um, celebrate tonight.” You put your hand on his and slide it up to your mouth, giving his knuckles a kiss. “Don’t you think?”

“Great idea.” You look over your shoulder, and squint at the three younger people watching you. They all look in opposite directions.

“You really don’t have much privacy, do you?” You chuckle.

“Nope. I think all three of ‘em have a crush on me. He’s worked here the longest out of them, he’s the least annoying. The girls are interns from some college. They bother me all the time.”

“I don’t blame them.” You smirk.

“What?”

“Harry, if I was twenty years old, and I was working at a place where I had to be around a guy that looked like you all day, I’d bother you any chance I got.”

“That so?”

“Oh yeah, I’d be in here all the time like, Mr. Styles I got you a coffee, Mr. Styles you’re needed for a photo, Mr. Styles you are so funny.” You giggle as he shakes his head at you.

“That’s literally what they say to me, minus that I’m funny. I don’t think I’ve ever cracked a joke around them.”

“Really? I’m surprised, you’re a performer at heart.”

“Oh shut up.” He nudges you. “So you really came here cause ya just wanted to tell me in person.”

“Yes, you goober.”

“Ha!” He throws his head back as he laughs. “That is seriously my new favorite word. I’m not goober though, you’re goober.” There’s a sudden knock at his door. A woman with really short hair and a tattoo on the side of her neck and a hoop in her left nostril. Harry waves her in.

“Hey Harry.”

“Hi Mariah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N, she was just stoppin’ by quick.”

“No worries, hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Same to you.” You smile.

“I’m having trouble setting a shot up for one of my frames and I’m starting to get aggravated, do you have a minute to help me?”

“Course, give me two minutes.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, where did you get your nose pierced? I’ve always wanted one, but the place I’ve gotten my other piercings went out of business, and I can’t find any good places around here.”

“Oh! I went to the same place I got my tattoos. It’s this little place called Rob’s Ink. Ask for Andrew, he’s the best, made me feel totally relaxed.”

“And you didn’t have any issues after?”

“Not at all. I will say if you want a hoop, just make sure you get it pierced with a stud, the hoops heal weird.”

“Good to know, thanks.” You smile.

“What other piercings do you have?” You blush.

“Oh, just my, um, naval. Pretty basic.” Harry smirks.

“Cool, mine’s pierced too. So two minutes H?”

“Yup.” She gives you a small wave as she leaves.

“She seems nice.”

“Mariah? Yeah she’s cool. She’s been here about as long as I have. She’s the only one I don’t find to be a complete idiot.” He squints at your nose. “Do you really want your nose pierced?”

“Yeah! It’s becoming more acceptable at my work. I want a little hoop, I think it would look cute.”

“It would look hot.” You shake your head and smile.

“I better go so you can help her. I’ll see you tonight. Meet me at home so we can call the realtor and then we can go grab a bite?”

“Sounds good, love.” You give him a quick kiss, and leave his office. “I love you.” He says just as you walk out.

“I love you too.” You blow him a kiss, and he catches it, putting it in his pocket for later. Your heart flutters.

Harry walks over to the interns. The young man had gone back over to his desk. Harry places his palms on the desk and leans over.

“You girls enjoy the show?” They both blink at him as he smirks at them. “Maybe you both should find somethin’ t’work on.” He stands up straight and walks over to Mariah’s set up. They watch him walk away.

“He has to know the power he has.”

“Oh yeah, he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“What I would give to be the girl he was kissing, my god.”  

//

When you get back to work you tell Niall all about the apartment, and he hugs you. You couldn’t wait to get home so you and Harry could go over everything. He got home a few minutes after you. You both sit at island and call the realtor going over all the steps you’d need to take next. He said you’d be able to move in, in February.

“Harry I am so excited!!”

“Me too!” You both stand and hug each other.

“Okay, where do you wanna go to eat? I’ll bring my laptop and we can make a spreadsheet of our budget. I was almost thinking we should open a joint checking account that we could just both deposit into to pay the rent through automatic payments.” He had never seen you talk so…businessy.

“Um…sure, we could talk about all tha’.”

You grab your laptop and put it in its case. Harry grabs his keys and you both head out the door. You go to a local bar that had wifi. You sit on the same side of a booth so you both can add the numbers into a spreadsheet. You talk about the different banks that you go to, and research which one would be best for you both to open an account with. He was so impressed with you. Once you finish with all of the “adult” stuff, you start to sip on the drinks you ordered.

“So…we should probably tell our families soon, huh?” You say.

“Yeah, I’ll call mum tomorrow.” He smiles. “She’s gonna be thrilled, I know it.” He puts his hand over yours. “Do you want me to help tell your folks?”

“No…it’ll be alright. My mom will be fine with it. I’m sure she’s half expecting it anyways. Maybe I’ll drive in to see her Sunday.”

“I don’t mind going with you.”

“I should really tell her myself, but thank you sweetie.”

“What about your dad. I really don’t want him yellin’ at you. And this is somethin’ you should tell him in person. Do you want me to like ask him for his permission or whatever?” You laugh.

“No, he’s not like a super traditional guy. I mean Erica and Kyle (her brother, I never named him) both moved in with their significant others early on…well, not this early on. But…I’ve always been different from them. My dad doesn’t think I think everything through, but I do.” You kiss his cheek. “I’m not going to let him ruin this for us.”

“Anythin’ special you wanna do this weekend? Five months is a big deal ya know?” He smirks.

“I would love to spend all day Saturday with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

“In bed.”

//

Harry got you out of that bar and into the backseat of his car faster than you could count to five.

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles y/n fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #throwing this at you a little earlier than usual #i know a lot of you are bored stuck at home #im going to to try to write some blurbs tonight too #let me know what you think!

[birdboyworthington]

DATING DIANA PRINCE WOULD INCLUDE...

Let's start out by saying that Diana is very cautious at first

Ever since Steve died, she thought she would never be able to love again

Especially a woman

Diana spent decades alone because she was afraid to love someone

When she found you she was confused about her feelings

She felt the same way she did when she was with Steve

You on the other hand, already knew you felt the same way about women as you did with men

So when you met Diana you were struck by cupid’s bow

You met her at one of Bruce’s galas

One of the waiters was passing by with glasses of champagne and only one was left

You both reached out for it

You guys held hands for like 2 seconds and it was magical

Diana was mesmerized by how beautiful you looked under the dim light

You could say the same for her to

There was an immediate connection there ;)

After that incident you started to notice her more and more

You're Bruce’s personal assistant so you make lots of calls for him and run errands for him

This means you call Diana sometimes when Bruce needs something from her

You tricked her into going on a date with you because she kept rejecting you

You told her Bruce wanted to meet at a restaurant to discuss business about the Justice League

You told Bruce your plan and literally paid for your fucking dress because he already ships you to together

So Diana got there on time and sat at the table you reserved for you two

You got there a few minutes late just to make sure she was there first

When she saw you she was literally a mess

But a beautiful mess of course

She was very surprised but glad that she stayed to talk because that's where everything took off

She started asking you out more often

Diana was actually the one who asked you to be her girlfriend

She set up a while candlelit dinner at your apartment while you were working

Did you know that Diana Prince is the most adorable person ever? Yup, she is

She set up only one glass of champagne because that's how you first met

So you ate and shared a glass of champagne peacefully and then she grabbed your hand from across the table and gave the most beautiful speech and asked you to be her girlfriend

You of course said yes and kissed her like it was the last kiss you would ever share with her

Then things turned heated ;)

Her clothes came off

Your clothes came off

It was her first time sleeping with a woman so you made it memorable for her

You had been with women before so you knew just how to make her feel good

A few toys were involved

She basically passed out from all the pleasure

But you woke her up gently to make her go pee and you helped her clean up

She suggested taking a bath

How could you say no to that face, honestly

So you ran a bubble bath and got two glasses of wine

You both sat in the bathtub facing each other talking about your future together

“Diana?”

“Yes, love?”

“Are you sure you want to be with me?”

Diana was so confused because you were the one who was so determined to make her yours and now that she was, you were doubting yourself about it

“Why would you ask that? Of course I do”

Then you told her about your fear of growing old without her. Eventually losing her

She frowned and you instantly regretted bringing up the subject

If Diana was being honest with herself, she also had that fear

She just held both your hands and looked at you lovingly and proceeded to tell you that she loves you and she will never lose you

That was the first time she told you that she loved you and you were brought to tears

“I love you to, Diana”

You and Diana spent lots of time together after that

You were both proud to be with each other

Of course Bruce secretly was so obsessed with your relationship

His conversations with Barry often consisted of talking about your relationship

Barry is very annoyed with this but he also loves your relationship

Double dates with Lois and Clark are the best ok don't fight me

You love taking her out on old fashioned dates like drive-in movies or 50’s themed diners cause you know that she loves it

She's showed you lots of old music to

Diana also showed you how to swing dance, it was difficult but a fun experience

You fell on your butt many times

Diana almost passed out because of how much she was laughing

Diana isn't too interested in talking about her past with anyone but with you, she'll answer any questions

She even has told you about Themyscira and all the Amazonian warriors

She even started training you so you could defend yourself

Of course she would always be there to protect you but she just wanted you to be able to fight for yourself if the day ever came

After training you would shower together and the cuddle in either one of your apartments

Diana wasn't a fan of being apart from you constantly so she bought a big apartment for the both of you

She gave you the key as a birthday gift and you were so thrilled to finally be able to share everything with her

I think Bruce was more excited about you moving in than you were because he rented the biggest moving truck and he drove it himself back and forth with your stuff

“That's all your stuff y/n. Have fun love birds!!!!! Don't get pregnant… oh wait.”

You and Diana had already discussed having children but came to the conclusion not to because she would have to watch that child grow up and eventually die while she stays the same

That would be too much pain for her, she already is going to have to go through the same thing with you

A second time would be too much

You adopted a dog and two cats instead

All girls

The cats were named Macy and Jade and your dog was called Bella

You were more than happy with your little family 

I couldn’t resist not writing headcannons for Diana. I literally wrote this in under 12 hours. Let me know who you want me to write about next! Feedback is always appreciated to! 

#diana prince #wonder woman #justice league #diana prince x reader #wonder woman x reader #bruce wayne #justice league headcannons #diana prince x fem!reader #diana prince headcannons

[kcsfalloutshelter]

Happy?… Thanksgiving

The crying continues. One minute I am decorating and feeling the spirit of the holidays and yearning for the joys of the past. The next…I am longing for my grandmother and my dad and all that I feel I have lost over the last few years.

This year feels more painful than last year. Maybe, I was in shock for a year. I don’t remember feeling so heart-broken last year. It was brand new, fresh last year. Grandma has been gone almost two years. Yet, it feels like yesterday when they left me.

I spent most of the 2017 taking care of dad and trying to avoid inhaling the ever rising floor waters around me. I let myself fall apart for my birthday. I stayed in bed and cried like I had not cried in a very long time.

Just when I thought I couldn’t stand the pain another minute, Warren’s grandma called me. All I wanted was a call from my grandma and my prayers were answered. We often don’t get exactly what we ask. We get what we need.

After my birthday, I wiped myself off, put on my big-girl panties, and got on with the daily schedule.

This denial…which I didn’t even realize I was in until right now… was easily hidden because dad was getting so much sicker.

Dad and I had a conversation in last September. The cancer had used the chemo and radiation as fertilizer.

I love my dad. I could not have asked for a better dad. He had faults. Lots. But, he was my dad. He was there for me no matter what, always.

Why I felt the need to justify that statement is beyond my knowledge at the moment. Further investigation may need to happen.

The conversation lead to dad’s last gift for Beth and I.  Thanksgiving and Christmas have been the big holidays in our family all our lives. Slight changes over the years but the foundation stayed. Grandma died in the middle of December. I basically begged my dad to either die before December or wait until after January.

Sounds harsh but the conversation wasn’t. Dad understood.

This conversation was another where dad said he was ready to go home. He didn’t want the pain his body was being tortured with every second of every day. But, he didn’t want to leave us either.

I promise to take care of my sister.

Another revelation…more tears too. I didn’t feel the real weight of this promise until now.

The last real conversation grandma and I had consisted of a similar promise.

I promise to keep our family traditions alive.

These promises came almost 10 months apart. Thanksgiving was a no show.

I have been increasingly anxious about decorating the house. Creating lasting holiday memories for my grandsons. Crushed by traditions that are being changed or lost. Brainstorming how to keep our family together and help shape our traditions to honor the past while being flexible to the current family schedules, and locations.

I have felt like it was up to me alone to determine, or plan to keep, family traditions alive. It is not up to me alone. I am one of thirteen grandchildren. Several of us have adult children. Although, I believe I am the only grandma.

Is that why I feel like I am the head of this insane pack?

Maybe…

While letting this post write itself, like ink flowing from the quills of Lord Tennyson’s mind, I am continually amazed by the connections my mind makes.

Critical thinking is obviously a blessed companion to wandering.

I am trying to plan and be joyful.

I want to smile and laugh.

I want to be free of the aching pain that fills my chest and threatens to drown me.

I do not want to bite at my husband. I do not want to avoid family and friends.

So, I take it minute by minute.

In an effort to feel better, Wednesday night,  I drug all the Christmas decoration storage boxes from the basement. The idea was to have the boxes ready for decorating after the Macy’s Parade.

Hit the music, Please.

A little Lauren Daigle and friends.

Some of the boxes are damp. I knew I should have changed to all plastic bins. 100 year old house comes with some challenges. In the end, all are well worth the work. I love my house, even the rooms we haven’t fixed yet.

See? Do you already have emotional whiplash? My husband says he does…

The music played. I sorted and tossed items that were damp or falling apart from age.

  Bringing up the bins.

After sorting a bit…

  The orange bin…Some pieces from my grandma’s village live in the orange bin for 10 months a year. After grandma passed away, we got to split up the village between all the grandchildren and great grandchildren. It was her pride and joy. She loved her village. We all would help her add to her collection over the years. Most of us went on to start our own villages.

In 2013, my cousin and her family helped grandma put up a large portion of grandma’s village. The love and memories that are attached to each building, tree, person, pathway and light are irreplaceable.

What did grandma’s 2013 village really look like? Glad you asked…

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So, happiness fulled the air. Warren commented that he felt grandma and dad in the room with us. As we chatted, I kept moving boxes and trying to decide why I was just moving the items into another box or bin, when we were just going to take them back out Thursday.

Let the decorating begin.

Five hours later, Warren begs me to take my tired self to bed. I am tired. I am that tired that seeps in you bones and makes your muscles ache. My eyes burn and are a delightfully puffy shade of rouge.

But, will this happiness leave if I rest?

1 AM – I finally submit to trying to sleep.

Toss. Turn. TOSS. TURN.

Have you played this fun game? Delightful.

2 AM – Not going to happen.

Insomnia sucks!

Back downstairs to the bins. No radio. Fix what is bugging me and go back to bed. That is the plan. Stick to the plan.

Sure.

Not going to happen.

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That’s it. Five pictures.

What time did I fall asleep?

3:30 AM.

I was not working on just these. No, that would make sense. I was still sorting bags and bins. The orange bin has returned to the safety of the basement as it is only full of packing paper.

I have also decided to go through all three drawers under the window seat in the dining room.

Why?

Well, I found a glue gun. No glue. I thought I saw some glue in one of the drawers. I throw things in two of the drawers all the time. You know that quick clean up of random items that mysteriously appear, through the help of no one living, and Never leave.

Not there. At least, the drawers are clean and organized again.

I slept through my 8:45 AM alarm. Of course.

Way to go, wacky sleep pattern and racing mind for the win.

I missed the beginning of the Macy’s parade. At least we decided no turkey…or ham…or gathering of any sort days ago. So, no food is ruined. I am Blessed.

I have to look at the silver lining, the blessings, the miracles above the pain. Above the Anger. I feel it simmering below the surface.

I want to lash out. I want everyone to hurt as much as I do. I never want anyone to ever feel as much pain as I do now.

Poor, Warren. Some one really should get him a helmet and shoulder pads.

I am sure you are bursting with interest in what we did eat. Sorry, had to poke fun at our desire to share our meals with each other via virtual images. I have been the poster of many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. Not to mention, additional posts of ice cream and cake. Warren and I love sweets, almost as much as we love each other.

Constant blessings are in my life. I just have to remember to look . Warren talks me down when the anger threatens to spill out the door and down the highway. I thankfully know the tricks to anchor him when similar events arise.

Food Choice: Breakfast – Chocolate chip waffles.  When? Still pending.

Current time: 5:58 PM Thursday, November 22, 2018.

Oh great! Another day where eating wasn’t a priority. Too bad eating one meal a day doesn’t make you thinner. But, we also know how picky I am…You missed that post? Oh, take a look back over past posts. I know I have mentioned it. 🙂

I have cried. I have laughed. I have been thankful. I have been angry. I have been blessed.

I need to keep reminding myself that dad and grandma, and everyone else we have lost over the past 8 years, are right here with us. I just need to stop. Breathe. Listen. They are there. A wise person told me today that I know exactly what they would say to me if I was talking to them . Listen. You can hear them with you.

Death is not the end. We will see each other again.

Each time depression bares down, pulling me down a dark path, I remember that I am not alone. Even when I cannot see, I am being carried. I am Loved.

So, let the anger pass. Cry every tear that wants to fall. Whether you are in denial, anger, sadness, bargaining, or acceptance, let your grief run it’s own race. Don’t expect to one day wake up and never feel sad again.

I am grateful for every emotion. These emotions hold precious memories linked to the most important people and events in my life. Without these moments, I would not be who I am.

Life sucks. Grief sucks.

Smile through the pain. Remember we are never truly along. We just need to stop. Breathe. Listen. …and don’t forget to go eat something.

  If you are enjoying my blog, please share and follow. I appreciate you and thank you for reading.

  Happy? Thanksgiving... Can we be thankful when we are in pain? Can grief over-shadow joy? Happy?... Thanksgiving The crying continues. One minute I am decorating and feeling the spirit of the holidays and yearning for the joys of the past.

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Do you still enjoy eating ice-cream in the winter? We don’t have winter, but it is nice to eat ice cream during the colder months. It’s hot and humid all year, so we grab the chance to be chilly as much as we can. Do you swear a lot? This comes up a lot in surveys and I always give the same answer: of fucking course. Have you ever been told off for swearing at school/work? In elementary and high school, yeah. There were looooads of goody-goody people there. Has someone of the opposite sex made you smile recently? Nope.

Who was the last person you talked about love/relationships with? Ehh just my girlfriend. Did you get any friend requests on Facebook today? Not today but I’ve been getting more ever since I decided to apply for an org. The last time you said "leave me alone", did you really mean it? I always make sure that I do mean it when I ask for it. Do you have plans for the weekend yet? I have a makeup class on Saturday afternoon, but other than that not yet. My dad already left for work overseas, so we’re back to lazy weekends in the house. What were you doing 2 hours ago? I was watching a Korean show called The Return of Superman. Are you attracted to the last person that put their arms around you? No, that was a co-applicant who hugged me unexpectedly and I’m not close with her yet. Has anyone let you down recently? Myself. Have you met anyone new in the past month? I’ve met tons of new people in that time period, again all thanks to this org I’m currently in the process of applying for. There are 35 resident members and 24 of us applying, so that’s 59 new people I’ve known :) Who was the last person to really get on your nerves? Idk maybe someone stupid on the road. What did they do? Be a bad driver. My biggest pet peeve when driving is when people swerve to my lane without using a turn signal, and then proceed to drive slowly; but apparently a lot of Filipinos like to do that, so plz kill me. Would you prefer to be told the truth, even if it wasn't nice to hear? Yes I hate it when stuff I’m involved in are kept from me. What was the last thing you had to do, that you didn't enjoy doing? Go to school on a Monday. Where was the last place you thought about having sex, other than your bed? My car. Who is the 10th contact in your phone? Gabie. What colour are his/her eyes? Dark brown. Have you ever spilled anything on your computer? Nope. I’m clumsy, but that’s a grave sin. How long have you had your current mobile phone? I’ve had this particular phone for 8 months; but I’ve had a 5S since 2015. When was the last time someone of the opposite sex asked for your number? People in general have never been that straightforward with me. Did you give it to them? Do you remember the last time you went against someone's advice? Not really. I’m easily swayed by advice. Do you regret it? More recently, no I haven’t. Do you care about the last person you Facebook messaged? Of course, she’s my partner. When was the last time one of your parents bought something for you? My mom got me McDonald’s twister fries last night. What was it? ^ Name the last 10 people in your Facebook inbox. (Most of the recent ones are group chats, so I’ll just list down the last person to send something from each) 1: Gab 2: Dima 3: Macy 4: Rick 5: Sham 6: Angela 7: Kaira 8: Michelle 9: Miggy 10: Agatha When was the last time you saw 4? Yesterday. He was part of the writing workshop we had. How many siblings does 9 have? I have no idea; I haven’t had a proper conversation with him since the first semester of last year. Has 2 ever made you cry? No, that would be mortifying. Where did you meet 3? I first met her in grade school. I remember she was a new student in Grade 2 and I reeeeeally really wanted to befriend her. We ended up becoming closer ten years later instead. What's the age difference between yourself and 6? Five months. How old is 2? I guess he would be 19 this year. Have you ever slept in the same bed as 5? No I barely know her. She just happens to be part of my group in one of my classes. Is 4 attractive? I’ve only seen him once and didn’t study his face long enough to form an opinion. Does 3 care about you? I guess it’s safe to say that. We’re always jokingly mean towards the other, but we really look out for each other. Have you ever kissed 10? No thanks. How long have you known 6? 12 years. Is 9 younger than you? No clue when his birthday is and how old he even is. What if you had a one night stand with 8? Uuuuhhhh that would be so awkward. What's the first letter of 7's last name? B. Have you ever met 5's parents? Again, nope. Don’t know her at all. What colour is 7's hair? Black. Is that his/her natural hair colour? Yes. What if 3 told you that he/she liked your ex? I would tell her ‘nice try.’ What kind of men/women does 4 like? I barely know the majority of people I listed. 1 is coming to your house for dinner, what will you cook for him/her? I won’t cook for her, we’ll go out LOL. Has 9 ever cried in front of you? No and I haven’t talked to Miggy for over a year except for the occasional hi. Describe your relationship with 2. I was closest to him in our freshman block last year, but he shifted to business and I rarely talk to him now. What colour eyes does 1 have? Dark brown. When was the last time you saw 10? Last Friday. What was he/she wearing? I don’t remember. I’m sure it was something nice; Agatha really changed over the course of a year and makes an effort with her outfits now. Not that she didn’t before, but it has a little more bang nowadays. Describe 4's personality. I DON’T KNOW HIM. Do you know when 7's birthday is? Between May 21-29, that’s for sure. I keep forgetting hers. What's 5's favourite food? Dunno, don’t really care either. Do you know 3's middle name? No, but if you let me pick from a list of names I could probably recall it. Does 6 have long or short hair? Well it’s shorter than its usual length, but it’s pretty long for a girl. Have you ever held hands with 1? Always. Does 8 have any piercings or tattoos? I think she has ear piercings. If 3 never spoke to you again, how would you feel? Confused but also sad. Have you ever felt jealous of 4? No. Which of these 10 people would you say you're closest to? 1.

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