#Her gay little she/they avocado shirt

[aste-ri-sm]

[shyvioletcat]

Rudely Interrupted

It Takes Two managed to get 20 000 hits on Ao3 and I wrote this little thing to celebrate because I was just so excited! (I also bought myself some delicious cookies) Thanks for reading everyone!

Ps. This is set just after the beach trip with the other couples.

PPS running into some tagging issues bar with me

~ It Takes Two Masterlist ~

~~~~~

It was not surprising at all how they found themselves in the current situation, all things considered. Aelin had taken the first shower, Rowan heading straight in after once she had appeared in their bedroom in her towel. He’d given her a look, but all she had done was given him a playful shove out the door. They were at home together today so Aelin didn’t bother to put on much more than one of Rowan’s t-shirts. By the time Rowan had finished his shower Aelin was in the kitchen eating the last of her toast. Then her boyfriend had waltzed right in, looking devastatingly handsome with his damp hair and bare chest, his athletic shorts sitting low on his hips. He’d come up behind her and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck, letting Aelin lean back into his chest. She’d closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent of his body wash. It was a scent she had become obsessed with the past few months, a weird pregnancy thing according to Rowan’s book.

And his scent and warmth and steady hands was all it took for her to turn around and kiss him.

It didn’t take long for Rowan to lift her up onto the counter to more easily kiss her senseless, it took Aelin even less time to slide his shorts off his hips–Rowan kicking them away with a soft chuckle before kissing her again. His hands were firm on her thighs, pulling her just that little bit closer as best he could with her stomach in the way.

What was surprising was the lock on the front door unlocking and then the door opening, something completely unexpected for the two of them. For one stuttering heartbeat they looked at each other with wide eyes–then they were moving. Rowan helped Aelin ease off the counter, making sure she was steady before frantically looking around for his pants. Ever the gentleman, he now didn’t have time for that as the footsteps came closer. All he had time to do was drop to the floor as their guest finally came into view, Rowan’s head smacking soundly on the cupboard.

“Hey, cuz,” Aedion said, hands in his pockets. “How are you this lovely morning?”

Truthfully, Aelin was still trying to catch her breath from their previous activities, she knew her face would still be flushed from the heavy makeout session. But she tried.

“It’s great. Good.” Aelin kept in her cringe at her own words. “What brings you here?”

Because she may or may not be quite annoyed at the intrusion, but was trying her hardest not to show it.

“Just came by to grab something,” Aedion explained. “Is Rowan around?”

Aelin nearly choked and couldn’t help the quick glance at the floor where Rowan sat, knees up and looking downright horrified.

“He’s ah– around here somewhere,” Aelin managed to get out. “Why?”

“He said I could borrow the book.”

Oh. The book.

“Um, yeah. I… Rowan knows where it is.” This time Aelin couldn’t stop the face she made at her own incompetence. She should offer to get it, but she was not keen on showing exactly how little she was wearing. Granted, it was a lot more than Rowan was wearing at this current moment.

“You okay?” Aedion asked, no doubt picking up on her weird vibe.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, leaning a little bit closer to the counter.

Aedion looked sceptical. “So, Rowan is around, yeah?”

“Yes,” Aelin tried to say confidently. Then the idea struck her. “Bathroom, he’ll be out in a minute.”

There was the softest snort from next to her and she resisted the urge to glare at her boyfriend. Yeah, it was a flawed plan. She just needed Aedion to go towards the door again.

“Hey, um.” Aelin cursed herself, she needed to pull this together. “Did you lock your car? There’s been some issues with thefts from the cars in the carpark.”

“I parked on the street and most definitely did,” Aedion said with all the confidence Aelin wished she had. “While I wait, can I grab a drink of water?”

“No!” The reply was far too quick and the look that Aedion gave her just proved it all the more.

Aedion’s eyebrows furrowed as he asked, “Why?”

Aelin didn’t have a good answer, she was too busy thinking of something to do that she didn’t exactly notice Aedion stepping around the counter. But her mind managed to catch up but not quick enough.

“I would stay there if I were you.”

Aedion scoffed. “Why would I–”

There was a ghastly moment of silence as Aedion saw everything: Aelin wearing Rowan’s shirt, Rowan sitting there in the corner of the cabinetry with his shorts bundled in his lap. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as Rowan gave her cousin a small wave.

Then Aedion slapped a hand over his eyes, his hip catching the corner of the counter in his rush to get out of the kitchen making him grunt in pain.

“Gods! Aelin!” Aedion exclaimed as he reached the empty space between the living area and kitchen.

“Don’t Aelin me. I tried to warn you,” Aelin said with a shrug. “And hey, at least I’m not the nearly naked one. Lucky you.”

“Really?” Her cousin was not happy.

Aelin shrugged again, feeling braver now that had the safety of the counter again and the cat was well and truly out of the bag. “I don’t know what you want me to do here. Rowan can go and–”

“Nope, nope, he can stay right there thanks.” Aedion was looking at the floor like he wanted it to open and swallow him up. “I’ll go.”

Aedion didn’t spare her a glance as he walked past the kitchen towards the door.

Aelin lent over the counter the best she could to call out to Aedion. “Did you want that book?”

“No. Just tell Rowan to bring it to work,” Aedin said without looking back.

Aelin laughed. “He’s right–”

“I know!” Aedion all but bellowed as he slammed the door behind himself.

The slamming door echoed around the apartment, then it was followed by Aelin laughing.

“It’s not funny,” Rowan said from his hiding spot.

“Oh, yes it was.” Aelin’s voice was shaking.

He stood finally, shorts in his hand. “If I could have crawled into one of the drawers and died I would have.”

Aelin laughed again, resting her hand on his chest, fingers rapping on his skin. “And you two had made such progress since the beach trip.”

Rowan’s hand rubbed at her shoulders as he finally laughed, kissing Aelin on her forehead. “Thanks for trying though. Commendable effort, although entirely not smooth at all.”

“Anything for you, my love.” Aelin shifted to the side slightly, so she could lean her chin on his chest as she looked up at him and grinned. “So, what do you say we carry on from where we left off before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Without anymore prompting Rowan’s hands began wandering as he grinned right back. “Anything for you, my love.”

~~~~~

I thought this up a little too late and it didn't really fit in any of the remaining chapters, so it'd a fun deleted scene. Also it is qyute kate so I hope it makes sense. Thanks again for all your support guys. mwah!

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[masterswrd]

Hannibal Fashion Meta Pt. 3

Like our boy Will, this one took a while to come out and just like him, I’m valid.

So Will’s turn. I don’t what to talk as much about his clothes per say (yet), but more what he does with them. So I’m covering his person suit. Part 4 is going to melt better with the series and be closer to it’s usual comedic tone.

This one isn’t funny like the other ones because I made it to specifically stab people in the chest. I also got a brain so I put this one under a read more so the people who follow us won’t want to murder us.

Apéritif’s costuming gave us everything we need to know about Hannibal and it gave us everything we need to know about Will and I use a few episodes of season 3 to really twist the knife about it.

Will goes through life being deeply uncomfortable with who he is. Through this episode we see Hannibal slipping his person suit on and off while Will’s is slowly being pulled away by himself returning home to Wolf Trap.

Will Graham hates ties. He absolutely hates them. This is borderline canon, not my personal opinion. Ties can feel constricting and bothersome especially if you have sensory issues. As soon as class is dismissed he takes it off and aggressively shoves it in his bag. (He does this again in S1E7 Entree when he goes from class to his meeting with Freddie Lounds).

Alone in his car he takes off his sport coat, rolls ups his sleeves and undoes a few buttons, before taking the shirt off entirely and replacing it with one of his white t-shirts.

Will’s person suit for season one was very much making people think that he was just a loner and harmless and awkward. He doesn’t like to socialize so wants to be unapproachable.But this suit was also a form of armor. The more Will is uncomfortable in a scene, he usually wears glasses and more layers.

There’s plenty of evidence for Will using layers to shut people out. A great example is when Will is taking refuge in Maine during his marriage to Molly, who I can only assume he met on farmersonly dot com (did you know that’s a gay friendly site? neither did Will Graham. I think he might’ve tried talking a guy then went home and threw up and never tried again. Hannibal is kind of like how my sister ate a bad avocado and now insist she’s allergic to them. She isn’t and Will Graham is bisexual). After Jack comes, Will puts on an extra coat. I live in the northern united states and we rarely get a temperature drop so sudden that we need to put on an extra coat, especially with a hot cup of coffee and the sun shining.

Will also slips his person suit off when he doesn’t care what people think. People, being being Bedelia, of course. When he chat’s with her, he takes off his glasses and has open body language. He knows what she is and she knows what he is. No need to hide the fangs and claws when they’re bound to just get into a cat fight anyways. Will is an asshole, anybody who says otherwise is lying to themselves and unless your Molly Foster Graham trying to hold together your crumbling marriage, you have no reason not to accept that.

Person suits aside, Will is not going to wear things that make him uncomfortable unless it serves a specific purpose and love struck Hannibal won’t make him wear a tie to the opera. In their shared mind palace, Will is usually wearing the clothes he has on in real life, safe for the dressy little suit (no tie again take that). But this? That loving gaze? That’s nothing compared to Hannibal’s display of love in Digestivo.

In Thomas Harris’ Novel, Hannibal, our cannibal saves Clarice from Muskrat farms like Hannibal does with Will in the show. I don’t think I need to prove anything about Will being a stand-in for Clarice Starling unless you’re new here. When Clarice wakes up, she’s need stitched up, bullets removes, cleaned, she’s given pain medication that makes her physically weak. Hannibal dresses her in a fine black dressing gown and gives her a pair of heels to wear to eat dinner with him.

In Digestivo, Will is put under very similar circumstances. When he wakes up in his bed he struggled to lift himself and needs to sit up and lean against the wall so that he can look at Hannibal at eye-level. Hannibal dressed Will in his own clothes. A grey undershirt and a soft flannel. Will owns nice clothing befitting a fancy dinner, but this is what he wanted Will to wake up in.

Hannibal gave up trying to manipulate Will along the way is season two and Will never bothered putting up his walls since he knocked them down in season one, before he knew what Hannibal really was. There’s no point. He was already being seen.

After he tells Hannibal goodbye, he puts his armor back on for the rest of the world. Same flannel that Hannibal dressed him in, a sweater, a jacket, and his glasses. Keeping the love that Hannibal has for him kept out of sight from everyone and close to his chest.

Another worthy mention of Will’s layering is in the following episode when he takes Hannibal’s letter out of his dresser. Despite being in front of a roaring fire, Will puts on a sweater, feeling too vulnerable being in his sleepwear. Probably afraid of what would happen if Molly walked in.

When chooses to talk with Hannibal in the red dragon arc, like the entirety of the show, Will never wears his glasses. He makes a show to the viewer of taking them off when he approaches Hannibal’s cell.

Will removes another layer in Wrath of the Lamb, being his jacket. (This one probably doesn’t mean anything, they were inside for at least a few hours.) BUT! I see a lot of people write that Will found clothes that Hannibal bought for him when he thought Will would run away with him. That mirrors Clarice wearing clothes that Hannibal picked for her before running away with him.  I love to see it, but the last clothes we see Will in are canonically his clothes. The one’s he’d been wearing all day. Shirt unbuttoned, untucked, and very apologetically Will Graham. As much as I love reading about Hannibal dressing Will up like a ken doll, he’d never make this man wear a tie for him.

Will might not be consciously doing the things he’s doing when it comes to Hannibal, but he’s doing it. He has no control over how Hannibal makes him feel, but time and time again he will peel over his layers in his presence in a way that he doesn’t do with any other character in the show.

[davecall93]

Teddy (2)

“They still fit. But they’re tight…”

Coach growled. “What are you doing wrong?” He wrapped his arms around Teddy, cupped his emergent gut and shook it. “Scrawny.”

“I just do as I’m told.”

“Turn around.”

Teddy turned around. Coach crouched down and put his face at level with the button of Teddy’s shorts that still held against the strain of Teddy’s growing waistline. “Why won’t you pop off you little motherfucker? You’re so close.”

It was noon. Coach had played some tennis that morning. When he returned, Teddy asked him jokingly when he would be allowed to go out again. He had not left Coach’s since the first night, while Coach lived his usual life. It had been two weeks.

“When I have to buy you new clothes.”

“Isn’t that now?”

“Let’s see.” Coach went to the laundry room and came back with the shorts and shirt Teddy had been wearing that first day.

“Looks like today is not your day of deliverance, fatty. No pop, no leave. My work here is not done.”

Teddy grinned. “Guess I’ll just have to stay emprisoned.” He then remembered that actually the question was somewhat important. “You know, Coach, I have an apartment I have to move out of at the end of next month.”

“What’s the complex?”

“Fairwood.”

“Oh.” Coach shrugged. "My family owns it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“So I can just get my security deposit back without a walk through?”

“One phone call to my mother, and I could get you on the deed.”

“Really?”

“No, we keep the assets in house. And she would be depressed to see her favorite child had settled with someone so beneath him.”

Coach sat on the bed. “Now what the fuck are we going to do about that button?”

Teddy stood silent as Coach looked at him. He waited for Coach to realize that he should probably just prepare him a meal and…

“You know, fatty, I am going to take you out. You do need some fresh air. We’re gonna burst that button off and you’re gonna get some scenery. Get dressed.”

***

Coach drove Teddy to an old restaurant in the gay neighborhood of the city half an hour outside the college town. Teddy noticed that his shorts were more uncomfortable and tried to say so to Coach.

“Don’t placate me. You’re gonna eat like you were rescued from a stranded wagon party. Have you been to Follies?”

“No. I had friends who used to make trips to drag night."

“I used to go when I would come home from college and get blow jobs in the bathroom from the little twinks hanging around.”

“Serious?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, fatty. I wouldn’t ask a teddy bear to do a twink’s job. I don’t think I could fit both of us into a bathroom stall. I.” Coach turned his head and winked at Teddy in the driver’s seat. When he turned his head back, he put his hand on Teddy’s thigh.

Follie’s was a sprawling restaurant, with a dining room, bar, stage and patio. It was busy with the brunch crowd, and Teddy watched as Coach flirted aggressively with the host, who was looked like a bookish twink.

“It’ll take an hour to be seated but they said I can get you drunk at the bar.”

“Did they say that?”

“I think they said I can do whatever I want with you. Come along.”

The bartender, a rough-hewn man with a smoker’s cough, welcomed Coach. “Ah! Look everyone it’s Hewie! Where have you been the last two weeks?”

Coach smiled and nodded to Teddy. “This one’s been keeping me out of trouble. Teddy this is Cal. He’s a fixture here.” Cal warmly shook Teddy’s hand.

“What can I get you boys?”

“I’m driving, Cal, so just an iced tea for me. Teddy here will have a tequila sunrise.”

“Yes, sir.”

When Cal had moved down to the other end of the bar, Coach said, “I should be putting some white russians in you but I don’t want you getting sick. I just want to make sure you’re hungry enough that I’m not wasting any money taking you out.”

“No worries. I know you’re on a budget…Hewie”

Coach’s face turned hard and Teddy knew that meant if they were at home he would get punished for being fresh.

“The name is Hubert, and it’s a good name for someone with my looks and jawline.” Like Teddy is for someone with your waistline.”

***

Coach ordered two burgers with fries and a large salad to split, “since no one wants just a side of salad.” He got Teddy a milkshake and avocado and bacon on his burger. The waiter thanked them and walked away from the table

“No nachos?” joked Teddy.

Without a second’s hesitation, Coach got up from the table and darted to the waiter catching him on his way to key it in. Teddy noticed that his mannerism were flirtatious, putting his hand on the waiter’s arm and smiling thankfully as he made his request.

Coach returned to the table. “Your order Is in. Carne asada nachos with extra meat.”

“Jesus Christ. I hope you’re planning on eating some of those.”

“I love a good nacho. One or two. Maybe three.”

“Are you gonna eat that burger?”

“Half of it. They’re excellent. Very large though.”

“And your fries?”

“Also very good. I can’t resist having a  small handful when I’m here.”

“And what happens with the rest of it?”

“You know how I hate waste, darling Teddy.” Coach smiled at him. “And I want to give you this chance to win your button’s freedom.” Teddy felt Coach’s foot, removed from its flip flop, lift and poke him in the stomach under the table. “I mean yours.”

When the food came, Coach ate mostly salad and some bites of his burger, frequently distracted Teddy. The food was delicious, and Teddy could not help but put on a little show for Coach, picking up multiple fries at once, dipping them in his shake and shoving them in his mouth. When he thought no one was looking, he picked up some nacho in his left hand and his burger in the right. Deliberately, he stuffed the nachos in his mouth and then the burger.

Coach did not take his eyes off of him.

A few minutes later, Teddy began to slow down. “I don’t know, Coach…” he said leaning back.

Coach filled his water glass with the carafe left at the table. He handed it to Teddy. “Go for it.”

Teddy took a breath, lifted the glass, and gulped. When he put it down, he stifled a groan and took some short breaths.

“Coach…I think I’m free.”

After Coach settled the check and gathered the to go boxes of what was left, Teddy, breathing shallowly, got out of the booth. The button from his shorts had popped off, and when Coach saw he gave Teddy the boxes to hide it and steered him to the car.

At home, as Teddy laid naked on the bed digesting, Coach exploded all over him. He had been blue-balling since Teddy had said, “I don’t know, Coach…”

As he wiped Teddy off, all he could do was repeat again and again, “Good, good boy…"

[marvelgbt-posts]

you’ve changed

i thought the song goes well with the scene (sw: peter cries) where peter cries so if you wanna play it there, you can :)

Request: Hi I hope your having a good day or night depends on the time your reading this. How about a Peter Parker x Male chubby reader were they dated before thanos snapped his finger and the reader didn't get snapped away and spent the next 5 years living out his life and when peter comes back he finds the reader but their in their 20's and divorced with a kid. Then they try to work things out. It could have angst but have fluffy ending. Maybe the reader waits till peter is olderand ask him to marry

i absolutely l o v e this idea, ty for requesting ^^ it's somewhere after homecoming, but mj already knows about peter, in the first part. The second one would be uh after endgame lol

You weren’t popular amongst your peers. Hell, no one really knew you or your friend group of four. You didn't mind, nothing like that really bothered you all. Michelle was currently using Ned as a reference for another one of her art pieces that would bring some sort of “revelation” to those who viewed it, like the ones you see when browsing your Instagram feed about global warming or species endangerment.

Peter, on the other hand, was working on his new suit upgrades. Behind Mr. Stark’s back, he wanted to make his suit more powerful, especially since his parental lock was taken off - also behind Stark’s back, but he didn't have to know (though, of course, he already did). You were working on school assignments since there was nothing better for you to do anyways. Both you and Peter worked on the floor while MJ had Ned sat on the bed in a position where he looked as if he were murdered.

You glanced over at Peter; he peeked over at you simultaneously, the two of you smiling as a bit of pink made it to both your cheeks. You went back to your respective work, as did Peter.

…

“Peter?” you whispered, careful not to wake MJ and Ned up; MJ next to you on the ground and Ned, snoring on the top mattress of Peter’s bunk bed with an arm and a leg slung over the edge. “Yeah?” he whispered back, equally as cautious. You sat up a little, “I can’t sleep…”

“Yeah, me neither..” he responded.

“Can I, um.. Sleep next to you? Maybe?” you asked shyly, before shaking your head, “nevermind.. That sounds stupid, just forget it.”

“No!” Peter winced, looking up to Ned dangling over the edge of the bunk, before lowering his voice, “No, it’s fine. You can come up here, I don’t mind.”

You carefully slipped out of the blankets you shared with MJ and hopped into bed next to Peter. He was at least a head taller than you, if not half. He awkwardly shifted to the wall, and you felt like cringing. You were always a bit.. soft.. You weren't obese; oh no, you were the average healthy weight, and you could complete the mile somewhere in its required time. It wasn’t like you were unhealthily big, it was just your body shape. You had big thighs and a tummy that would show through shirts that were too tight (for your liking, anyway). Compared to Peter’s secretly toned body, you were like a marshmallow, and you disliked it very, very much.

However, Peter loved it, though he’d never admit it. Sure, you took up a little over half the space, but Peter honestly could care less. You felt him nudge your side, moving to come a bit closer. He was just in boxers and a t-shirt. You had pants and a hoodie, and Peter could just barely feel your body warmth. He looked at you, and you could just barely make out the shape of his eyes, how they looked; begging, big, puppy-like eyes. You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle, “Careful Parker, that’s pretty gay..!” you joked silently. He let out a breathy laugh, “Nothing’s gay about cuddling with your best friend..!” You chuckled, opening your arms for him to come into. He rested his chin on top of your head, wrapping his arms around your upper body while you wrapped your arms around his slim waist.

Like magic, you both found the sleep you’ve been craving so much.

~~~

You watched in fear as half of the people around you began to vanish in clouds of dust. You looked over to MJ, who was accompanying you to a bookshop that had just opened a few days ago. She looked down to her feet, which began to slowly fade away, before looking up at you in fear, “y/n, i–” but she was gone. You tried to grab her hand, her shirt, anything, thinking it would somehow stop what was happening. But you couldn't, if anything it sped up the process. You cried, trying desperately to grasp some of the ashes of one of your best friends before she was gone– to no avail.

Crying there in the streets of New York, watching as people screamed for their loved ones, you curled up into a fetal position, tears streaming down your cheeks. You knew Peter had skipped a school field trip to join Iron man and the other well-known Avengers in whatever was causing this, but you had no idea where Ned was, if he was alright... And, well, you already knew MJ was long gone.

What about your parents? Were they disappearing as well? Quickly, you ran back in the direction of your small Queens apartment, praying to whatever gods were out there that they were safe and unharmed.

~~~

The hallways of Midtown high school were crowded as those who had disappeared from the ‘Snap’ reunited with their friends. No one realized that, for five years, they had all gone missing. Sure, they remembered the process, but for them, it was like taking a five-minute nap rather than a five-year-long one. Peter was almost breathless as he saw MJ and Ned on campus, a wide smile on his face as he jogged up to them, surprising the both of his friends as they all had a moment, hugging, shaking hands, glad that everyone was safe.

Well...

Almost everyone.

“W-Where’s y/n?” Peter asked, looking around to try and find your small and round frame that he missed since he’d left Earth. MJ and Ned shared a look, and Ned bit his lip. “He-... he’s not here..”

Peter choked on his breath, “He died?!”

“What? No, no,” MJ was quick to confirm, waving her arms almost frantically, “He wasn’t uh, what do you call it? Snapped? He stayed here, he grew up.. He’s like, twenty now.”

Peter couldn't believe it. You would’ve been way older than him now! “Tell me you’re kidding, is this a prank?”

MJ shook her head, as well as Ned. No. No, no, no, that can't be true. If it was, were you lost from them? Did you know where they were? He was scared for you, imagining your chubby, short form frightened and worried for everyone's sake. He looked desperately at his two remaining friends, “Do we.. Do you know where he is? His location?”

Ned beamed, “I’m your guy in the chair, of course I know where he is!”

…

Peter was hesitant to knock at your door, knuckles moving towards and then away from the wooden surface. He had to admit, your place was nice, on the outside at least. He could judge the inside once.. If… you answered the door. Once Peter got the courage to finally make his presence known, a few seconds later a child peered through the window. He was surprised, but smiled and waved to the kid. She smiled and waved back, before looking behind her. Peter assumed that was, hopefully, you. The door opened, and Peter had to look up, like, wayyy up. You had gotten taller, and slimmer. Peter noticed you were more built, and he had to stop himself from lowering his gaze and letting his mind melt into the gutter. “Peter..?” you asked, almost dumbfounded at the sight of your high school crush. The little girl from before wrapped her arms around your leg, looking up at Peter with wide eyes, “Daddy, who’s this?”

“Daddy?!” Peter blurted out without thinking. This was all happening so fast. “y/n?” he looked up at your face again, and you nodded. While much had changed about you, he was glad your smile remained the same. Soft and bright and infectious.

“Yep, this is my daughter, say hi honey,” you looked down at your daughter, who shyly waved and grinned at Peter. She has your smile, Peter thought to himself.

Wait, if this was your kid, that meant.. You were married? He couldn't imagine it, the thought of it. The life he imagined so many times over and over in his head, about what life would be like with you in the future, ruined because of some giant purple alien with a lack of brain cells and the face of an avocado’s backside, and a woman he didn’t know of.

“Peter, would you like to come in? I bet you have questions..?” you asked, and Peter shook his head to get out of his thoughts, before nodding, “Yes, please.” Here you two were, speaking formally as if you were business partners. You invited him inside, and your daughter moved to the couch, taking a small, pink, fluffy bunny into her arms as she sat down. “Emily,” you said sternly, making Peter flinch, “What did we say about shoes on the couch?”

The girl, Emily, promptly removed her velcro slip-on shoes before looking to her father, who smiled in approval, “Good girl!” She smiled, and Peter giggled as he sat himself on the couch. You sat on the opposite side of him, your daughter moving from next to Peter, to your lap. You sat her on your knee as she played quietly with her bunny stuffed toy.

“So, you, uhh, grew up?” Peter asked awkwardly, and you chuckled bitterly, “yeah, haha.”

“You’ve changed,”

“Five years does that to you, I guess,”

“This your daughter?”

“Yep. Emily. She’s three.”

‘That means you had her around, what, junior year? y/n, I didn’t know you had it in you…!’ Peter joked to himself in his mind. But there was a burning feeling in his stomach. This domestic lifestyle; a quiet house, a child, and later on he found out you had a german shepherd named Skittles (Emily had named him). He wanted this life for so long, ever since he realized his feelings for you, with you. But you had lived a life without him, not that he blamed it on you.

After an hour or two of recalling the last five years of your life to Peter, including meeting Amanda, your ex-wife, and having Emily, it was time for him to leave.

“It was nice talking to you again, Peter,” you said shyly, another thing that hadn’t changed, thankfully. He bit his lip, lingering on your porch a bit, “Uh, hey.. y/n..?”

“Yeah?”

“So.. you aren’t with your ex-wife anymore, right?”

“Yep, no contact, nothing,” you were holding Emily in your arms, resting her on your hip. You could see conflict in Peter’s eyes, so you let her down and shooed her off playfully to go entertain herself with toys. She obeyed, and you turned to Peter, who looked up at you with glossed eyes. You felt your breath hitch, “Peter.. What- are you okay?”

He nodded, biting his lip, before shaking his head, “no, no I’m not okay! You grew up, you have a life now.. I didn’t even get the chance to be a part of it.. You– I loved you! I still do..” he cried, wiping his tears as he sobbed. You looked down at him, and you couldn’t help but sigh. He was still a child, of course. He hadn’t matured at all, since he’d basically been frozen in time. He was still the same childish teenager you knew five years ago. “Peter..” you whispered soothingly, wrapping your arms around him. It was now your turn to rest your chin on his head like he would do all those nights in freshman year. You held him in a protective embrace, and he just held onto your back, gripping at the fabrics of your t-shirt. You shushed him, “Peter, it's okay, I’m here..”

“But you’ve outgrown me! You’ve lived your life, you have a daughter, you got married, all without me! I wanted to be the person you could count on, the one you would go to sleep and wake up to at night, someone you loved, but instead.. I-.. you…” he didn’t know how to finish his sentence, instead crying into your shoulder. “Peter, I understand..” You whispered, “I loved you, too, I still do.. It’s just.. Our age gap now, I don’t think we can make it work now..”

Petr let out a shaky breath, nodding, “Yeah… I’m sorry,” he said, and you shook your head, “You don't have to apologize, none of this is your fault…”

Peter looked to your chest, still holding tightly onto you, before he perked up, looking up at your eyes, “Wait, y/n, I think.. Could you… What if I graduated? Wait no, that didn’t come out right.”

You chuckled. Peter shook his head, “no, listen to me. I know I’m five years younger than you now, but.. If I came back after graduating high school, when I’m older, would you be willing to, I dunno, make it work?” You thought for a minute, biting your lip, “Maybe… it would give us enough time to.. Catch up, fully…” the look on Peter’s face, it made you melt.

~~~

Ever since that day, Peter had been visiting you and Emily almost every day. Emily became used to him a few weeks in, now looking forward to her favorite visitor to knock on the door. She would open it and squeal, “Uncle Petey!” and Peter would always carry her when he walked in, without ail, and lift her up and make her giggle. The fact that Peter was treating your young like one of his own, it made you fall even more in love.

One day, you and Emily were in the kitchen, finishing up homework for her first-grade class. She huffed, “This English stuff sucks! I’d rather do math, and be super brain smart like Uncle Peter,” she said, crossing her arms. You sighed, and a giggle came from the doorway of the kitchen. You looked behind you to see Peter leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, “English is important too, kid,” he said, sitting next to Emily, across from you. He was eighteen now and on his way to a promising college. He had a lot of responsibilities already, with his senior grades coming to an end and taking up half of Stark Industries with Pepper. You were proud of him, to say the least.

“In order to be super smart,” you said, “you have to be well-rounded. That includes English, young lady. Come on, it can’t be that hard,” you took a look at her paper, “Oh shit, wait this is hard.”

Peter and Emily gasped, “Language!” they said at the same time, making the three of you giggle. “y/n, I have something to ask you,” Peter said, glancing at Emily, “privately.”

Emily sighed, exasperated, “What?! Why can’t I know?!” she whined, kicking her legs a little. You chuckled, ruffling her hair a bit, “Get to finishing that homework, kid, we’ll be right back.” Emily pouted but got to work regardless.

“What is it Peter?” you asked once the two of you made it to the living room. Peeter looked into your eyes, he had grown taller, almost as tall as you now. “So, uh, I talked with Mrs. Stark, about things… I uh, I think I’m gonna move into the Stark Tower, focus on my studies there, help Pepper with running the Industry and prepare Morgan. She’s seven now, you know, just a year younger than Emily... They’d be great friends.. Emily likes math, Morgan is a science buff, like her dad.. Uh,”

“Peter, what are you getting at?” you asked, a small grin forming on your lips. He rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m getting at- uh, what I’m trying to say, what I’m asking is if, you and Emily would like to stay with me in the Tower? It would be easier for us to see each other.. And Morgan would love Skittles, and Emily, she wouldn’t be lonely when she comes home. Morgan is homeschooled at the moment, they could both be homeschooled together so they aren’t lonely, you know? A-And–”

“Peter,” you cut him off as he began rambling. He looked up at you, clearly shaken and desperately awaiting your response. You smiled, “Of course, I'd be happy to move in with you. But I might reconsider the whole ‘homeschool’ thing. I want Emily to be raised normally. She’s smart, sure, but she still needs school. Homeschool, we can think about when she’s older.”

Peter grinned, hugging you, “Of course! We can do that!” he giggled, and you heard a cheer come from behind the two of you. You turned around, a scowl on your face as you saw Emily, not doing homework. “Emily! Why aren't you finishing your English homework?”

She blushed, “The kitchen and the living room are right next to each other! How could I not overhear..?” she paused a moment before speaking up, “Are we really gonna live at Stark Tower..?” You sent Peter a look, and he smiled and nodded, “Mhm! Right next door to Uncle Pete!” Emily was ecstatic, and that was an understatement.

~~~

An eleven-year-old Morgan and ten-year-old Emily were playing Wii Sports in the lounge, Morgan purposefully losing to Emily since she had been winning too easily the last few rounds. She was treating Emily exactly like a younger sister, and it warmed your heart as much as the coffee you held warmed your hands. Emily cheered, having won another Tennis match. Morgan faked sighed, “Huff, that doesn’t make sense, you’re cheating!” she playfully shoved Emily, and they both giggled. Eventually, Pepper came into the room, “Morgan,” she called sweetly, and both daughters looked up, “it’s time for you and Emily to head to bed.” The girls groaned but nonetheless followed directions.

You nodded over to Pepper, “I’m gonna head to my room now, got some work to do,” to which Pepper responded with a nice, “alright, sweet dreams y/n.” You waved goodbye and made your way to your room.

…

You were covered in your bedsheets, warm and on the verge of falling asleep when a knock came from your door. You sat up, a groggy and sort of annoyed “Come in,” emitting from the depths of your throat. Peter came in, a little embarrassed, you could tell, that he had disturbed you at this hour, “y-y/n, can I come in? I.. can’t sleep,” he admitted, looking at his bare feet. You yawned, not being able to stay mad at him, and nodded, patting the space next to you. No longer had you filled up more than half the space in the bed like you had 5 years ago, Peter noticed, beginning to miss those times when you did and feeling a little bitter that he had missed so much time with you.

You took initiative and wrapped your arms around Peter’s shoulders, bringing him into your now toned chest. Peter went red; you could feel the heat of his face against your skin. Peter wrapped his arms shyly around your waist. He was twenty-two now, and you were twenty-seven. It didn’t seem like much of an age gap now as it had seven years ago. He bit his lip, should he ask now?

After a few minutes of conflict, Peter opened his mouth to speak, until he realized you had… already fallen asleep.

‘Great,’ Peter sighed, ‘The one time I manage to muster up the courage to ask, and he’s asleep.’

…

Another few months had passed. You were in the kitchen, going through your phone while making another cup of coffee for yourself, before you felt Peter wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his head in between your shoulder blades. “Good morning, handsome~” you teased, to which earned a groan in response. You had been dating for around four or five months, but it honestly felt like longer. Well, of course you were dating before making it official, you yourselves just didn’t know it yet, but pepper sure knew, as well as morgan, Emily, May, Happy, and everyone else you knew.

‘Today is the day,’ you thought to yourself, handing Peter a cup of coffee as he opened up his tablet to begin working on lab assignments. He thanked you and you kissed his cheek, before leaving the kitchen to the lounge, sitting on the couch while waiting for Peter to join you. ‘Today’s the day,’ you repeated the thought, ‘I’m going to ask him, today’s the day.’ Peter eventually joined you and you cuddled for the whole day, Peter finishing his assignments all the while.

You checked your watch, sighing, “Pete, I gotta go pick up Emily,” you said, kissing his cheek and nudging him off you. He whined, “If we homeschooled Emily, you wouldn’t have to worry about picking her up!” he whined, and you had to hold back a laugh. Peter had picked up Emily’s habit of whining. You swore she was becoming more like Peter’s child every day.

…

Peter began sleeping with you since you two began dating. It helped Peter with stress from work and his recurring nightmares of Tony’s death. It also helped you, since you had trouble sleeping as well. One night, however, as you both were staying up late talking and kissing, a hesitant knock came at your door. You looked to each other before Peter sat up to allow whoever was knocking to come in. It was Emily and Morgan. “Hey girls,” you sat up, voice calm and soothing, “What’s wrong?”

Morgan spoke up, “Mom’s out of the tower right now and the storm outside is scaring us,” she admitted, and Emily nodded her head. You cooed, and Peter opened his arms for the two children to come into. They climbed into bed, sleeping in between you and Peter. Emily had her head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as she hugged you. Morgan had her back against Peter, who was sleeping on his side, petting her hair gently. The two of you were shirtless, but warm from the blanket, and the girls loved it.

A loud crack of thunder scared them both, and Emily clung onto you. You looked at Peter, who had the same look of sympathy as you. You sighed softly and began humming a tune from a song you’d heard once, calming the kids down until their eyes began to droop closed. Eventually, they were sound asleep against the two of you. You smiled, seeing as Peter was beginning to look a bit tired as well. “Pete,” you whispered, careful not to wake the girls, “Mh?” he responded tiredly. You played with Emily’s hair lovingly, running your hands through her h/c locks, the ones she inherited from you. “Emily really loves you, y’know?” Peter smiled, “That’s good to hear,” he said with a yawn.

“Yeah, she really looks up to you, kinda makes me jealous,” you admitted. Peter leaned forward, not wanting to crush Morgan. “Hm? Yeah.. I can tell she wants to follow in my footsteps, but it’s scary. If I mess up, she might too, you know what I mean?” Peter looked down at Emily, “I don't wanna be the villain in her storybook.”

You brushed Emily’s bangs out of her face, nodding, “Welcome to my life. It’s been hard ever since I divorced her mother. I don’t recall ever telling you this, but her mother was an alcoholic, which is why I left her and took Emily with me. She was never physical, but yelled at Emily a lot, even though she was only two years old.” Peter nodded in understanding, “That.. I’m sorry about that,” he said, looking up at you. You shook your head, “Don’t be. It’s in the past, and Emily hardly remembers any of it now… but, her looking up to you, reminds me of how she’d normally look up to a parent..”

Peter flushed red, “But, I’m just her uncle…”

“You don’t have to be,” you said immediately after, and Peter looked as if he would cry, “y/n, don't tell me y-you’re..”

“Peter, I think... I think I want to marry you, have the life Emily and I never got to have with Amanda. I know it won't be exactly the same, seeing as we’re both men. But I know Emily won't mind, and honestly, that’s all that I think should matter..” you looked up at Peter to see him crying, “Oh, god, no Peter don't cry..!” you said but he just shook his head, before biting his lip and nodding, “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then yes,” he said, a little choked.

…

The next morning, you broke the news to Pepper, who was a little more than excited. You then told May, who threatened you with your life, going on about how if you ever broke Peter’s heart she’d blah blah blah. You laughed at Peter's embarrassed face. Happy could have cared less, mumbling an “It’s about time, jeez”. Then, you told Emily, who took a second to process it before she jumped up and hugged you both, kicking and jumping around and just being a happy little ray of sunshine. You and Peter could say– without a doubt– her reaction, her happiness, that was what was most important, what made it all worth it. Time really has changed you and Peter both, and it was safe to assume you both wanted to keep it that way.

[warmbeebosoftbeebo]

The Slow Unfurling (continuation of the Slow Unraveling)

other parts here

does anyone want me to still do tags? if so:  @greatheromuffinpalace @paypoulterer1 @anyh0w @anobsessioncalled @panicsinning @queerbrendon @prettyoddfiction @iwriteficsnottragediesladies @uriellybrendon @pageoftheclouds @brendonuriesbubblyass @ier0-must-die @itriedallthenamesiwantedaretaken @xfoxtalynx @spacesams00 @satanspuppet-x @1-800-hallelujah @ryrostan @tacobelltylerr @urie-dreams 

just message me to be added or taken off the tag list. i was also thinking of pming people the link to the story instead? any preferences? 

I love writing this and I love our boy! This is the most drawn out I’ve done teasing/flirting/touching in pg-ways with no sex except for in thoughts/dreams in a fic, I think, and I think our reader and our boy may be getting some blue bulbs and blue balls, respectively, that they take care of when they’re not together...

---

B loves coming over for two main reasons: you and Tessie, so he's over the next afternoon after he comes back from Hawaii. Tessie is really big and always excited to see him so she usually knocks him over, assuming he doesn't assume the position first, or is sitting on the couch or leaning against something, licking him as he giggles on his back, giving her pets, pats, smoochies, scritches...

You get distracted by his lips, let's be honest, especially as you get lost in your thoughts as the high hits you, Bad Religion, Lita Ford, X- Ray Spex, Against Me, Manic Street Preachers in the background, punk that gets broken up by Public Enemy, TLC, PJ Harvey, who is pretty punk herself too. You love how into the music he gets, even more than you tend to, although seeing him so gleeful, joyous, even campy and animated at times makes you even happier too, matching his pleasure.

He's darker than you now, and you wonder how much of him is tanned, imagine what your skin would look like on each other's, you laying on him between his thighs, wrapped around each other, kissing him, rocking your mound against his dick and balls... Giggling as you both sing along to Ain't 2 Proud 2 Beg. He purses his lips to take a drag, and you're thinking of them on yours, your skin, between your legs too after your playlist switches to Tori's Raspberry Swirl...

Being high makes him way less anxious too, relaxed. He's still surprised your parents let you smoke pot, in the house and everything, even after you told him they told you about how they used to use it too. You two munch on chips, fruit, chocolate covered almonds. He lays his head in your lap as you rub his belly and he makes whiny puppy noises, both of you bouncing to the Clash's Complete Control. You let Tessie in your room when the smoke clears through the window and switch to a calmer playlist. Suede's The Drowners, but still. The obvious homoeroticism is not lost on either of you, both of you grinning. You have a double bed so she can fit in with you, and you wind up petting his hair, neck, back as he pets a now calm her, her fitting some against his front. "You my lil pup, Bren?" He nods, ruffing, and nuzzles his nose against your thigh.

You think about bringing your plan slash resolution slash feeling the waters out up, but don't want to ruin the moment, Fiona Apple's Never is a Promise adding a lovely sadness to the sweetness. Then grooving to Bowie's Starman, B telling you sometimes he feels like a starman... He joined Ryan, Spence, and Brent in the Summer League, they changed their name to Panic! At the Disco, and he just became their singer. Letting that inner starman come out more, you tell him. “Just wonder if we'll ever get Ziggy Stardust, too?”

-

Your mom and dad get you a peach-kiwi-berry and cream pie for your birthday a couple days later—you've always preferred pie to cake—and your first cell phone for your 17th birthday, so you call B on it, inviting him over for leftover pie before you go to the punk house show. He brings over some presents from Hawaii: a couple leis, matching Hawaiian shirts for you and him, seashells, an alcohol he has to tell you how to pronounce a couple times, a book about Hawaiian goddesses, as well as an old guitar of his and sheet music for Tori Amos. And some dank weed. You are such a pothead now. You played guitar in class at your old school last year, played his at his place too, “now you've got one for your own.” All happy and nervous. You can tell he likes treating people, and he tells you that he loves doing this for his friends. You want to treat him back, but don't want to wait until his birthday all the way in April.

You sneak out to drink a couple times—no longer complaining of your love for fruity ones after you tease him back about the Capri Sun and other fruit juices he loves—him drinking it too. You mosh with him before you have to beg off because some guys use it as an excuse to be dickheads, too aggressive. He gets a couple pot brownies from Eric, and you sit with some friends like him, Amanda, Leah who are there too, eating them, drinking, chatting, getting into the music, or some combination thereof. Luckily there's a taco place a block away that's open late, so you two toddle over, tipsy, but not full on inebriated, him less so—“so I can be a good host.” You order a huge burrito with sweet potato, pico de gallo, avocado, black bean, peppers, rice... Doing that Austin Powers Scottish “Get in my belly!” line. Telling him he should eat his veggies too, dammit. He would look even cuter if he managed to gain some weight, the little bean. You nudge some of your burrito at him too as he eats his tacos. You both need it, even if he's the only one who needs more meat on his bones.

You spill some on the Hawaiian shirt and he immediately reaches over, wiping if of your breast.  “Uh... sorry...” he pulls his hand away but you smile, tell him it's ok. Then giggling, you pat his breast too, saying that's how ok it is. Then smooch him on the cheek, before plowing that burrito down, only breaking to grin and look at him. You make it back a couple songs into the next group, but the last one's the best, you and B dancing at the edge of the crowd. You want to kiss him so bad, thanking him over and over, so you do: a peck on the lips. “You're the best, B.” You nuzzle noses with him, hugging him close, swaying, feeling so warm and happy and buzzed, aware your crotch is lightly on his thigh, but you don't pull away. Kind of in love too. You pull him to a loveseat for more cuddles, touching his hands, arms, hair, face, smooching over his forehead, cheeks, nose too—“cutest face ever, B”—back, thigh, petting, massaging, asking a couple times if it's ok, saying he can do it back. He does, more cautious than you are, probably more worried than he often is because you're still tipsy. Fuck, you want to... fuck him every which way into next week,

Walking to the bus stop, you keep touching him, holding hands, brushing shoulders, thighs, hips. You're glad your parents are open-minded, because “Wanna sleepover, B?” They thought he was gay before you told them he was bi, but they'd still be cool with him staying over, even in your bed.

Since you were sixteen, they told you you could have boys over, as long as you were careful, that your mom could take you to the sexual health clinic, that you could have fun in ways that you didn't have to worry about getting pregnant. That they didn't want to tell you you should do things, but they didn't want you hiding things. The few people who knew how they were were surprised you didn't take more advantage, with boys, sex, booze, drugs... You've not done drugs other than pot and booze, not even cigarettes, and there's only been two other boys, one good, one... not, and mostly clothed fooling around. Seems like kids with strict or completely checked out parents were the ones who chased those things, or fell into it.

They knew about those two other boys but not much detail, hell they already knew about you masturbating since you were a baby, and you've told them about crushing on B too, being all touchy with him, leaving out how turned on he got you, the dreams and fantasies... They told you about oral and manual stuff just in general terms, and you made out, grinded with Jax, came with him, wished you two were less shy so you felt free to continue with him, but B told you about outercourse, rubbing on each other, all these different ways, and in more detail...

You just wear shorts and a sportsbra to bed, and he wears shorts of yours and a tshirt. You want to say you'd be down for sleeping naked, but don't want to weird him out, or make him worry about you being too drunk/high to know what you're saying. You're just buzzed now; you know what you'd be saying, and are clearheaded enough to want it, like you'd want to say and do it completely sober too. You do ask him for cuddles and hair pets though, and he grins, nodding, so you gladly oblige on each other, humming and singing songs to each other to get the other to guess what it is.

You, cackling, wake him up with a slap on the ass after 10 because he's on his belly, sheet around his legs. “Couldn't help it, B. Dat ass.” He blushes, and you grin. “I could smooch it better?” He cocks his eyebrow, flushing, but smiling, a soft “you want to?”, so you kiss his lower back first, then the soft skin where your shirt is riding up on him. Then his clothed butt. It's so silly it doesn't seem like a wtf moment or like it's giving anything away.

He strips off, except for his boxer briefs, and grabs his clothes, saying he should've been home already, for family time. “At least I brought you breakfast,” you say, holding out the last of the pie. You feed it to him as you wait for the bus with him. As you see it approach, you kiss him closemouthed on the lips again, hold his hand, thank him for a lovely birthday. “Must be the best birthday ever, Bren, thanks to you.” He gets up and you hug him close. “Best boy ever, B,” you whisper in his ear, hands circling from his back to his ass. “That ok?”  

“More than ok...”

Damn, you love all of him, including his booty. “Lovely all over. Butt, too” makes him blush even more than he already is, even grinnier than you.

“Th-thanks. Y-oh, God—you're great too. I mean, the best birthday girl. Uh...” Neither of you have time to finish, because the bus stops, and you tell him not to miss it so he doesn't get in more trouble.

-

When you're back in class the next day you talk each other's ears off about visiting his family, how everything and everyone in Hawaii is beautiful in their own ways, you wishing you got to see it too, saying you've only been to Scotland and England, also because of family, with their oceansides and hilly farms and castles. He's got a lot of Scot in him too. Chatting until Ms Eliot glares at you two for at least a second time, clearing her throat loudly.

You keep touching him even more than before, matching your birthday celebrations: his hair, imagining flowers in it, his almost brown now skin, thinking he'd get Hawaiian flowers if he got any tattoos like he sometimes talked about. Picturing him naked even, swimming, or covered in flowers, or only in a grass skirt, or the cloth skirts both sexes wore. Or kissing that couple he got a crush on in a matter of hours... Clearly, that beauty rubbed off on him too, making him even more gorgeous. Hand on his thigh, hip, even. When he smiles, remembering the lushness and from your touches, you melt. He promises you pictures soon, saying he first panicked because he thought he lost the camera (it was in his mom's things), then forgot to get them developed, then they couldn't do it over the weekend. He wanted to show them to you and tell you about it at the same time because he can't really do it justice, but couldn't hold off anymore.

You grab onto his hand, nudge your shoulder into him as you're walking in the halls. You sit next to him during lunch, thighs and arms touching, pressing. After, you play with his hair and he just melts into it as you sit in the grass after. He touches back, your back, arm, nuzzles into your hugs and lap. Let's out little moans as you play with the nape of his neck, scalp... You find the small of his back, and he likes there too, even able to feel those Venus dimples he has too, fingertips daring over that strip of bare skin, wanting to go lower... so you do, hand resting on his ass, thumb stroking, sometimes patting to a beat. Watching his blissed out face, lush lips. It's turning you on, quite a lot, thinking about some of the things you could get up to, but you don't stop.

People have assumed that you're either a) boyfriend-girlfriend or b) a gay and his fag hag for a while now, even a couple brother-sister assumptions, but this may be upping it a level.

[seabasstrash]

The Week From Hell~ S.S.

Word Count- 1325

Warnings- Angst, a little fluff at the end 

A/N- This was requested by a lovely anon! Hope you enjoy! 

You were having such a great time. You had invited the cast of the live-action Aladdin movie over to your apartment for a night of drinks and games. You had been cast in the new Disney movie and you were ecstatic about it. You were a huge Disney fan so this was a dream come true. Since you had started filming for the movie you had grown close to some of the other actors and you wanted some of your friends to meet them. So you threw a party and invited most of the cast and a few of your friends over, along with your boyfriend, Sebastian.

The party was going great, everyone was having a great time. That’s when you all decided to start playing truth or dare. It started off innocent enough with just stupid little truths and dares. Sebastian had walked out to refill his drink so you handed him yours to refill as well. When he came back in you were in the middle of kissing your best friend Kevin. It was a dare and you weren’t about to back down from it so you did it. Besides, he was your best friend, but he wasn’t interested in you in that way so you knew the kiss meant nothing.

“What the hell?” You hear Sebastian yell. You pull away from Kevin and watch as Sebastian walks out of the room again.

“Sorry,” you say getting up to go after Sebastian, “I’ll be back shortly.”

You follow him to the bedroom and shut the door.

“What the hell was that Y/N!?” he shouts, getting angrier as every second goes by.

“Relax. It was just a dare and it didn’t mean anything. You know how competitive I can get, I wasn’t about to back down from a dare.”

“Yeah well, it sure didn’t look like nothing. How can you do something like that when I’m right here. You know what don’t answer that, I’m done. Don’t bother trying to get ahold of me.” He storms out of the room and grabs his jacket and proceeds to walk out of the front door.

You tried to hold back your tears as you headed back out to the living room where everyone else was.

“Umm..uh... You guys can stay if you want but, I’m going to be in my room,” you get out before the tears start coming. You quickly go back to your bedroom and let the tears out.

That was a week ago. You hadn’t seen or heard from Sebastian since then. You had tried calling him, but he wouldn’t answer the phone. He wouldn’t answer your text messages. You were a mess. You weren’t eating much, you barely left your apartment. Thankfully you had finished most of your filming for the movie so you had a bit of a break, so you could wallow all you wanted to.

Your friends kept checking in on you but you were honestly doing horrible. You didn’t know how to go on without Sebastian. He was the love of your life, the one you were going to be with forever.

One of your girlfriends decided to come over to your apartment and get you out of the house that day. She convinced you to go out to a coffee shop for brunch and that’s where you were currently sitting watching people walk by. You had ordered yourself a coffee and some avocado toast. You didn’t look the greatest either, sweatpants with a baggy shirt, hair thrown up in a messy bun with no make-up on. You didn’t care anymore though. Let the paparazzi take pictures of you looking like this, then maybe Sebastian would see how bad you were doing.

She helped distract you from thinking about Sebastian for a couple of hours. You guys talked about your filming schedules and how you were excited for some of the movies that you were going to be in. You both finished and got up to leave. As you are walking out the door you run into someone that was coming in.

“Oh, sorry, my bad,” you mumbled not really looking up to see who it was.

“It’s ok… Y/N??” the man whose voice you hadn’t heard in a week, spoke.

“Sebastian…” you whispered as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. You couldn’t say anything else, you didn’t know what to say to him.

You start to walk away when you feel him grab your arm. You turn around and look at him. He moves closer to you, you’re trying to keep the tears in, you didn’t want him to see you like this.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” he sighs as he looks down at you. You finally look up at him and that’s when you realize that he looks just as bad as you. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and his eyes were red from crying.

“Not here, I can’t do this here,” you croak out through your tears.

You look over at your friend and she nods in understanding. She heads back to her place so that you two can go to yours and talk. Your apartment was close to the coffee shop so it made it a bit easier.  

You walk there in silence, not exactly sure what to say. You know you needed to talk to him, he didn’t give you a chance to talk before he broke it off so you needed to get some things off your chest.

As soon as the door shuts your turn to face him. Ready to yell at him for what he put you through but as soon as you look at him it all falls apart.

“You didn’t give me a chance to explain,” you start crying, not able to hold the tears in anymore. “You just assumed that kiss meant something, Seb, but it didn’t and you would know that if you would have let me explained. You would have known that Kevin is gay. You would have known that it was just a stupid dare that meant nothing because I love you and no one else.”

“Wait, Kevin’s gay??” Sebastian questions as he walks closer to you.

“Yes, Kevin’s gay,” you sniffle.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I let my anger get in the way. I should have let you explain everything. I’m really sorry.” He moves even closer to you and reaches out to rub his thumb on your cheek, brushing some of the tears away.

You lean into him, you can’t help it. You missed his touch.

“This week has been hell,” you look up at him with teary eyes.

“I know, it’s been hell for me too.”

“Today was the first day I went out of my apartment. I… I just don’t know what to do without you…” you whisper.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be ok, I’m here again, and I’m sorry, I should have let you explain. I don’t know why I didn’t and I feel so stupid about it. I feel so stupid about how I treated you. I shouldn’t have done that, but will you forgive me?” Seb pleads with you, starting to cry some too.

“I… I think it’s going to take some time, but I think I will be able to forgive you,” you admit.

“I’ll take that,” he sighs out leaning his forehead onto yours.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, not sure how you’ll respond to that.

You just nod your head and he leans down and gives you a soft kiss on your lips. It doesn’t last long, he doesn’t want to push it. He knows that it may take a while for you to forgive him, but he won’t stop at anything. He realized he can’t live without you. That week of not seeing you or talking to you was hell for him too. He was miserable the whole time.

PERMANENT TAGLIST- @fortheloveofjbbarnes 

[prettyboiiharringrove]

Harringrove AU // Steve && Billy watch Queer Eye

i try and make one headcanon and then this shit happens 

I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL

So for the sake of this it’s a modern au because I want like early twenties billy and steve

Okay but we need to talk about like queer eye is a seriously emotional show, and when it comes to being a queer person watching the show like it fucking hits you hard no matter the circumstances

So imagine being billy. Constantly thrown around, beat, spit on by his own fucking father just because he happened to be attracted to men. 

Growing up and not being allowed to show your feelings, so being a robot with the idea of fucking respect hammered into your head and then only knowing how to get your emotions out through fucking explosive outbursts

And then fast forward to meeting steve and them reconciling and getting the fuck out of Hawkins

And they’re in their own little crappy apartment in cali but billy and steve fucking love it, it’s tiny and they’ve got weird neighbors and you’ve got to call the maintenance guy like six times before he even answers but it’s theirs and no one is going to take it away from them

And billy is happy with steve, happy to hold his hand and call him his boyfriend, but the whole like pride thing is hard for him because what does he have to be proud of? Like sure he’s gay and maybe that’s not horrible but neil fucking Hargrove is still sitting in the back of his head so like he’s trying but he’s not all ‘rainbow happy’ (billy’s words) like steve is

It’s like three years before he can even get billy to go to anything gay pride related but billy does and he loves it because for the first time he feels completely safe in a room. He’d only ever felt that with steve

But billy still lives in his head most days, “it’s fine that we’re gay but can we not show it off”

Most of the time anything queer related that comes up he watches to humor steve because he figures it means something to steve, so they go through the fucking gay section on Netflix, and he lets him put a fucking rainbow bumper sticker on the car but some days billy still doesn’t know how to face being a big old homo and the only reason he’s okay with it is because he could never see anything wrong with loving steve. One look at steve and he’s at peace, because it’s legit impossible not to fall in love with steve Harrington, fucking asshole

So he plops down in the couch, his hair wrapped up in a towel, another towel on his waist, and he ignores steve groaning when he sits on the couch and gets it all wet, ignores steve bitching over billy stealing his nachos and says “what’re we watching?”

And steve says queer eye and billy just rolls his eyes and grumbles. And steve pauses it and is just like “the fuck is your problem?” and billy is like “I get it stevie, like we’re here we’re fucking queer, can we fucking move on?” and in the past steve would have started a fight because billy is being an asshole but over the years he’s learned that billy is just being a shit because it’s one of those fucking days, so instead steve scoots closer to him, shoves more nacho’s in his boyfriend’s mouth and says “just give it a chance asshole”

And let me tell you what starts out as billy making comments about how hot they are progresses into “fuck off harrington, you couldn’t be tan if you tried, you’re a total bobby. Jesus fucking Christ, accept it, this is like golden girls all over again!” “fuck off I’m blanche and you know it!” “you are rose, you fucking dumbass”

and then billy is constantly crying and steve only points it out three times, he knows because his shoulder is bruised in three different places, before he learns to just shut the fuck up and play the next episode

“baby why are you crying?” “I’m not, fuck off Harrington” “you just watched karamo propose, didn’t you?” “…no?”

speaking of karamo, they start buying so many bomber jackets, like they start to outnumber the amount of denim billy has in the closet it’s become that much of a thing

“steve if you put another facemask on me I swear to god I’m not fucking you for a year” “you know that music video they did?” “how the fuck is that relevant?” “well you haven’t seen it right? I figured we could watch it” “okay and?” “Antoni wears a crop top in it. I’ll be getting dick in like twenty minutes” “just give me the fucking face mask”

“I just got called ‘the avocado guy’s boyfriend’ trying to buy lube. You need to stop” “name one antoni inspired snack I have made that you didn’t like and I’ll stop” “I hate you” “That’s what I thought”

Steve rearranges the furniture constantly. They’ve had new curtains at least three times in the last month. “We can’t afford all this shit you keep getting, pick a design and stick to it” “calm down I know a guy” “jesus Christ Harrington, people say that about their drug dealer, not some guy who gives you fake plants and crystal paperweights” “You said I’m bobby, so let me be bobby”

“you said you wanted more shampoo right? what kind?...no steve they don’t have that kind...yes i fucking know, no sulfates...stop bringing jvn into this i knew no sulfates before that...yes i did...pretty boy we got tied for best hair in our high school yearbook, i’m surprised you didn’t know the no sulfates rule...no, you’re full of shit...oh fuck you and you’re fancy hair, wash it with dish soap for all i care...i am not apologizing!!...fuck you steve...yeah i love you too...OH MY GOD YES, NO SULFATES GOODBYE STEVE”

okay take us to season two coming out alright, and they promised each other they wouldn’t watch it without the other but billy is an impatient child and he was totally gonna play the “you watched the first couple episodes without me, we’ll just rewatch them calm down babe” card, flutter his fucking eyelashes

but then steve comes home to billy with his knees pulled to his chest crying, with the show paused on lil antoni’s face (my angel watching my angel) and he’s going to make a comment about billy being a little shit but then he realizes this is big

like this is billy is shaking and crying so hard he can’t breathe big so he sits down next to him, freaking manhandles billy into his lap and just tries to calm him down and when billy starts breathing normal steve is like “baby what happened, talk to me?”

billy has been having a bad week, max called him bitching about some crappy thing neil said not realizing how much it would fuck with billy’s head, that was Tuesday, it’s Friday, and steve knows that he still doesn’t feel better. He knew that billy crying was somehow connected to that too but he wasn’t sure what he’d missed.

“it’s stupid” is all billy says before hiding his face in steve’s chest again and honestly steve’s wasn’t surprised because billy gets like that and it sucks but he deals with it. 

He rewinds the show just a little, hoping that maybe that could help put some pieces together because what else is he supposed to do when he’s got a lap full of distressed billy Hargrove and Netflix as his only clue?

[Antoni] she thought her faith told her to judge somebody who’s gay. But she chose to see past that, and she saw the individual. She saw the person that her son is and she changed her mind. She says that it was a religious experience, but she made that choice. Not all parents do that.

Steve froze. fuck. his poor baby

She saw the person that her son is and she changed her mind.

Not all parents do that.

Their parents didn’t do that. Neil Hargrove didn’t do that. He let his hate determine his relationship with his son rather than let his son affect how he looked at the world. 

Neil didn’t love Billy and seeing a mother that put away her prejudice to love her son could be comforting, or it could make the sting of things like Neil hurt even more.

“aw baby” “told you, it’s stupid” “honey it’s not stupid, that’s not stupid at all”

Billy and Steve stay curled up like that for awhile, until billy stops shaking and the tears stop spilling and he’s exhausted. “come on, let’s get you to bed, we can watch this later” “no, wanna finish it.” “you sure?” “yeah, she’s nice, wanna see her happily ever after or whatever” “alright but new rule” “oh, and what’s that king steve?” “you’re not allowed to watch it without me anymore” “thought that was already a rule” “it is, but you’re a fucking brat so I’m just letting you know I mean it”

billy loves steve for making things playful instead of dragging out what had happened. they both knew billy was hurting, they knew why, and they also knew billy was not in a place to talk about it so steve held him, billy cried some more, they watched one more episode, and then they went to sleep in their bed in their room in their apartment where neil hargrove could never hurt billy again

Steve doesn’t point out that billy has gotten a lot better about expressing his feelings after watching queer eye. Casually mentions that the show means a lot to different people, a subtle hint that it’s okay to care that much without calling billy out for it

Also imagine the boys meeting the fab 5

billy thinks he’d be so cool with the guys but if he ever met the fab five he would cry so fucking hard and cling to steve shyly and billy is in a crop top and combat boots and he doesn’t realize that he’s clinging to steve until he feels steve squeeze his hip and “you look so hot today” “don’t worry, I used the waterproof mascara on you” all the reassurance and praise

he thanks them like a lot and blushes and it’s so precious billy is not a tough boii he is a shy boii

steve is a confident protective proud boyfriend he will show off his boyfriend and casually chat while giving billy time to calm down

omg but billy feeling more confident because of the boys so like he lets steve play around with makeup on him and do fancy stuff with his hair and like I said he wears crop tops omg matching crop tops crop top boyfriends

“you better French tuck that shirt or put on a different one” “steve when I said I liked it when you got bossy this is not what I meant” “WWTD” “I know I know, what would tan do? Speaking of, change your fucking shoes”

[happyprinceling]

Nina let's talk about girl harry please!!! What do you think she'd be like? Personality wise, fashion wise, would she like books, tea in the morning etc

 i woke up at 20 to six, saw you message and couldn’t fall asleep again. please always send me asks this great 🙏

i’m gonna talk about a girl harry (bc of course there are several) that i haven’t seen before, ‘kay? you’ll see this harry on a saturday midmorning in a café sitting at a table at the window, either staring at her phone or paging through, yes, a book. i’m gonna go with a mixture of gay classics, contemporary political authors, and dystopian novels. however, whereas you arrive there at, like, 11am she has been there for about 2 hours. because this walnut was at the gym beforehand. and it shows. sweaty band t-shirt dark under her pits, disgusting bike shorts, Horrible neon trainers, curls plastered to her temples, she doesn’t give a fuck. neither about the look, nor the smell, nor the hairs on her legs because who can be arsed to shave when you wake up at 6, scroll through the news with blinking eyes, and do some push ups eventhough you’ll be boxing for at least an hour anyway. i’m sticking with my idea of her having Massive biceps, due to the boxing, and she likes to show them off. therefore, loads of tank tops, rolled up sleeves, patterns that look nice against her skin. for special occasions a tight suit + button up.

she does feel the pressure to perform femininity now and then, just as she sometimes feels like shit for staring at a girls’ butt too long or when she has Real trouble looking a girl in the eyes when her neckline is low. and she hasn’t really found a way to deal with that yet, but she’s talking about it with her friends. also, i imagine her to have a gay friends group, i do get why we have lots of fics where she’s either feeling isolated, or only has louis / the others, but in this one i imagine her swimming in a pool of gays, because she’s either active in the lgbt department of her uni, volunteers in an lgbt shelter every now and then, or simply emits so much Gay other gays are drawn to her.this girl harry carries a backpack everywhere that bears all the essentials, but also so, so much clutter. because as much as she Needs to organize her room, her mails, her spice rack, she’s a collector and just Can’t get rid of things. sentimental little avocado (obviously she eats those too). she always seems a bit spaced out, and you think she’s having some real deep thoughts, but actually her mind is just stuck on All Star. she’s distant sometimes, will Not say what’s on her mind, snappy when she’s hurt, doesn’t Really like explaining herself. she does love a good crying session, tho, has no trouble just full on sobbing in front of other people. and she’s a top. ✌️

[1dffsummerexchange]

It’s All in the Timing

Written For: @firaemsen

Written By: @earthshake

Pairing: Harry/OFC

Word Count: 5,000

Warnings: Language

Summary:

Harry and Nora were strangers, and sometimes Harry thinks it would have been better for everyone involved if they would have stayed that way. 

A story about when two people are right, but the timing is wrong.

Micah is running late.

It isn’t that big of a deal, or at least it wouldn’t have been if Nora weren’t already running twenty minutes early. She bought herself a glass of wine to pass the time, but after forty-five minutes of sitting alone she’s finished two glasses and half an appetizer. She’s texted Micah twice, but he hasn’t replied.

The restaurant they’ve agreed to meet at was recently opened, one of those typical Los Angeles up-and-coming places with expensive dishes, organic produce, and twinkling lights. It had been practically impossible to get a reservation; Nora had put their names in three weeks ago, and this was the earliest slot they had open. She can’t believe Micah would bail on her tonight.

She is about to call him when somebody else slides into the booth across from her. He wears a confident smile, extending one of his long arms across the take to shake her hand.

“I’m Harry,” he says.

“Hi.” She blinks at him. “I’m Nora.”

“I like your headband. I noticed you instantly.” He nods at the green and gold scarf tied across her forehead. Nora sets her phone down on the table, feeling a little more comfortable in front of cute guy under the impression that he’s probably gay.

“Your date finally showed up,” the waitress says, pulling out her notebook and turning to Harry. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll have a glass of whatever she’s drinking, that you,” he says before she can find a way to explain that he’s not her date, they aren’t sitting together. Nora picks up her phone again, noting that Micah is now over a half hour late. From previous experience she can assume he’s not coming, and so she decides not to tell Harry that she’s meeting someone.

“So what brings you here tonight?” She asks.

Harry grins boastfully. “My sister is dating the owner. She pulled a couple strings.”

“Impressive. I was on the waiting list for what felt like forever. Do you want some Avocado Bruschetta?” Nora pushes the plate towards the center of the table, and Harry gratefully takes up her offer. Nora notices a few tattoos on his fingers and up his forearms. He’s wearing long sleeves with the cuffs unbuttoned, draping over his wrists. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone as well, revealing even more ink and reinforcing the notion that he is definitely, totally gay.

“So tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” Harry asks after he’s finished chewing.

“I’m an aspiring actress in LA, the ultimate cliché,” Nora admits.

“Me too,” Harry says with a laugh. “But so far all I’ve been in is hair product commercials.”

“You do have lovely hair,” Nora compliments. He has dark curls that roll over his ears and down to his chin. He pushes them back with one hand, purposefully showing off.

“Thank you, it is quite literally my claim to fame.”

Nora laughs. “What’s your dream role?”

“War movie. Easy. I want to be the next Matt Damon.”

“Saving Private Ryan?”

Harry nods.

“I have to be honest, you don’t really look like you’ve been to war,” Nora says.

“That’s why they call it acting, Natalie.”

“Um, it’s Nora, actually.”

“Shit, sorry! ” Harry looks embarrassed, but Nora isn’t offended. She doesn’t actually remember giving him her name in the first place. “Okay Nora, what is your dream role?”

Nora has to think about her answer for a few moments. She’s been auditioning aimlessly for about a year now, trying to ignore Micah’s reminders about how unlikely it was she’d ever be successful, how she’d be better off going back to school. It came from a place of love and concern for her, it was always made Nora feel like a special kind of failure. At this point Nora would take any role she was given, at almost any cost.

“I guess I don’t really have a dream role as much as I do a couple directors I’d really like to work with. Ron Howard is at the top of the list. Frost/Nixon is my favorite movie.”

“Of all the movies to choose from, that one is your favorite?” Harry asks.

Nora shrugs. “I’m also a history buff.”

Harry and Nora enjoy an expensive, but exquisite dinner together, discussing their favorite movies and sharing audition horror stories.  The food is delicious, living up to every review Nora had read. The company is even better, so much so that Nora doesn’t even bother to check her phone for Micah’s probably work-related excuse.

“I’m so full,” Harry complains when they finish, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his stomach. “How would you feel about taking a nice walk around the block to help the digestive process?”

Nora agrees, and it’s during this walk that Harry tries to kiss her.

“What are you doing? I thought you were gay!” Nora blurts.

“Excuse me?” Harry scowls. “If I were gay, why would I go on a blind date with a girl?”

“Huh? This isn’t—I’m not---“ Nora sighs. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I have a boyfriend.”

“Then why did Niall set me up with you?”

“Who is Niall?”

Harry steps back, face red with realization. He runs another hand through his curls, this time pushing them forehead to cover more of his face. He eyes a homeless person across the street warily before saying, “Niall is my roommate. He set me up with one of his co-workers. I told her to meet me at La Verne’s wearing something green and gold.”

“The Packers are my favorite football team,” Nora says lamely.

Harry scoffs. “Mine too. Figures. I finally meet a girl I like and she’s taken.”  

Nora’s cheeks turn a soft pink.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry says with a sigh. “And don’t worry, there are other fish in the sea.”

“I did think it was weird when you, a total stranger, just sat right across from me. I should have said something. You’ve probably ruined some poor girl’s night now by standing her up.” Nora has been there enough time to not wish the same fate on even her worst enemy.

“What about you? Were you just out to dinner by yourself?” Harry asks.

Nora hesitates. “I was waiting for someone, but…he didn’t show up.”

“Your boyfriend?”

Nora’s silence answers his question.

Despite her relationship status, Harry has trouble not thinking about Nora for the next few weeks. He grows more and more annoyed as the days go by, wondering how it’s possible that a girl who seemed so confident would put up with getting stood up by a guy. If Nora had been single, and agreed to go out with him again, he would’ve never pulled a stunt like that.

It turned out that Niall had forgotten to pass along the message to meet Harry to his co-worker, which at least meant she didn’t think he was an asshole. They make plans to meet up next Friday, this time after exchanging numbers to ensure no more mishaps were had. Before the date Harry does his best to push Nora out of his mind.

Niall’s co-worker is named Natalie, which Harry makes an effort to cement in his brain. He lets her pick the restaurant, having previously used his one impressive first date idea. Instead of dinner she suggests they go ice-skating, which Harry agrees to even when Niall warns him he’s going to make himself look like a fool. Harry hasn’t skated since grade school, and even then he wasn’t very good.

Natalie turns out to be an extremely talented skater; she laps Harry twice before slowing down to his speed. She takes the time to correct his form, holding his hand to keep him from falling as they start going faster. He makes it around at least a dozen times before getting too ambitious, spraining his ankle after attempting a jump.

“I’m so sorry, this is the worst first date ever,” Harry gushes in the emergency room, thinking he should have listened to Niall until Natalie laughs and kisses him hard on the mouth.

They go on one more date to Catalina Island before Harry asks her to be his girlfriend. They’ve been together four months when Harry lands his first lead role. It’s a romantic comedy, which is exactly the opposite direction he wanted to go in as an actor, but he’ll take what he can get. If Ryan Gosling can star in romantic comedies and action films, so can he.

Harry is cast before the female lead, and so he spends much of his next few weeks reading lines with potentials, testing their chemistry. Harry is excited it’s all he can talk about, and he thought Natalie was excited too until she tries to pick a fight with him in the middle of his living room, during the Super bowl.

“You didn’t tell me there was a sex scene,” she snaps after walking back from the bathroom and into a conversation about it. Harry had neglected to mention this piece of information on purpose, just until he could find the right way to say it, but then Niall had brought it up after enjoying a particularly raunchy commercial.

“It’s just one. It’s not a big deal,” Harry says.

“It is to me! How could you accept a role like that without discussing it with me first?” Natalie stands in front of the television, blocking the two of them from seeing what is undoubtedly an unbelievable touchdown.

“Get out of the way, Nat. Go fight somewhere else,” Niall says.

“How naked do you have to be in front of her?” Natalie demands.

Harry prefers to plead the fifth.

They’re up until three in the morning arguing, and the next day at work Harry is exhausted. He has another chemistry test first thing, and before it begins he locks himself in the bathroom for ten minutes, trying to get himself into character. He can’t seem to get the dead expression out of his eyes, and he keeps fumbling over his lines like there’s taffy stuck to the top of his mouth.

Harry picks up coffee from the cart on the way to set, burns his tongue on the first sip, and receives a scolding from the director about being late. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor or his script as he sits in his designated chair, waiting for the cue to begin.

“Wow, Stephen, I-“ The girl opposite him clears her throat and Harry looks up into Nora’s sea foam green eyes. “For a second there even I believed you were in love with me.”

Harry swallows, his head swimming with last night’s accusations. He waits a beat longer than he’s supposed to recite his next lines, his voice cracking over the words, “Me too.”

Nora glances at the front of the room, bites her lip, and then turns back to him. “Harmony looks really jealous,” she says.  

“I don’t care,” Harry says. “I’m not pretending anymore.”

“But Stephen, that’s not fair! I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to, and now that you finally have what you want you can’t hold up your end of the deal?”

Harry gets off his chair, which is something he hasn’t done before during this scene, and walks over to Nora’s chair. He touches her lips with his thumb, and then brushes a strand of sandy hair over her ear.

“I can’t pretend to be with you anymore, Lyla, because it isn’t pretending for me anymore. It’s real, more real than anything I ever had with Harmony.” He leans down to kiss her lips that taste a mixture of vanilla and mint, his eyes falling shut until he hears the words Cut.

He pulls away, blinking.

“We’ll be in touch,” the one of the casting directors says to Nora.

“Bye Harry,” she says to him quiet enough so that he’s the only one to hear.

Her stomach is a field of butterflies as she sits in her car, trying to replay every second of the audition. It was her second one; her agent told her they were between her and a handful of other girls, and that she shouldn’t get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d been so shocked to see Harry wander in from the hall, but the shock had given way to joy. It was fate that they’d met that first night at La Verne, and it could only be fate that now they’d show up at the same audition. She hoped that even though she’d turned him down, he would at least speak highly of her with the casting agents. She’d told him how important her career was to her. He understood how big of a break this movie could be for her. For both of them.  

Harry doesn’t let her down. She gets the call two days later that she’s gotten the part. She had more chemistry with Harry than any of the other girls they’d tested. Nora has a dance party in the living room with Michelle, her best friend. She wishes she had Harry’s number so she could text him thank you.

“I had nothing to do with it. They didn’t even ask for my opinion,” Harry confesses when she thanks him in person, after they’re first read-through of the full script. They’d both lingered in the conference room until everyone else had left, nervously approaching each other as if for the first time.

“Well, it’s really good to see you again,” Nora says, her skin warm.

“Do you want to go do something?” Harry asks despite himself.

Nora’s butterflies return.

Their first stop is the movie theatre, an activity they’d both discussed doing together back when Harry thought Nora was single and she thought he was gay. They share a large popcorn in the back of the theatre, gushing over particularly well-done scenes and impressive cinematography. It’s the first time Nora’s spent with a guy that wasn’t related to her since she and Micah broke up three weeks ago.

“He said he needed to focus on himself. He’s in med school, so he was always stressing about tests and his internship. He had to pick up an extra shift that night we met, that’s why he wasn’t there. I can’t really blame him for going after his dreams, can I?”

Nora shares this over ice cream on the beach. They’re walking barefoot in the sand, slowing inching towards the waves while the sun sets over the horizon. The sky is free of clouds, a true California sunset full of pinks, oranges, and reds. Filming hasn’t even started, and Nora already feels like she’s in a romance movie.

“How long had you been together?” Harry asks.

“Five and a half months,” Nora answers.

Harry kind of hates himself for thinking it, but no, she can’t blame him for going after his dreams. Harry is in the same situation with his own girlfriend, after all. She’s barely kissed him since she found out about the sex scene, and instead they spend all their time talking.

The weird thing is, Harry used to love spending all day talking to Natalie. He liked listening to her share stupid stories of stuff that happened at work (especially when it involved Niall). He liked that they could talk sports for hours, and that she made him laugh even when the serious stuff would come up.

Now they just bicker, and she nags, and Harry feels guilty every time he comes home from work, especially those times when he kisses Nora and likes it a little too much. He starts thinking maybe Nora’s ex did the right thing by breaking up with her, being honest instead of stringing her along. He doesn’t want to be too hasty, though, so first he asks Niall’s opinion.

“Aw, fuck man. You’re gonna make it awkward in the office again,” he says.

“Fucking hell, why’d you set me up with her then?” Harry asks.

“I thought you guys could at least last long enough for me to get promoted. Then I wouldn’t have to see her everyday. I hope she doesn’t cry at work.”

“Okay, but does that mean you think I should break up with her?”

“To be clear, you want to dump her for this Nora chick, right?”

Harry hesitates. “When you put it like that…”

“Dude, either Nora is the one or you’re getting caught up in the whole romance movie bullshit, in which case Natalie has a pretty good reason to be pissed at you all the time. I’d say either way you and Natalie are fucked.”

Harry goes to bed thinking it’s decided, and when he wakes up he sticks to his decision, texting Natalie to meet him for coffee after work. He arrives before she does at their favorite local place with the outdoor seating and mugs with quirky phrases on then. He orders her favorite, a vanilla latte, and sits in the same spot they always sit at, waiting.

Natalie shows up apologetically late, after her coffee has turned luke-warm. She kisses him before sitting down, looking flustered and stressed from her own workday (she’s the manager of an Urban Outfitters), and says, “God, this week has been terrible, I don’t know what it is about people…Anyway, I’ve missed you.”

And Harry can’t do it. He doesn’t know what he was thinking trying to break up with the best girl he’s ever had, for a girl he barely knows? He’s been with Natalie for almost half a year now, and this is the first they’ve fought. And it sort of made him freak out.

So Harry apologizes for not being honest about the sex scene, and Natalie for making it a big deal. He says he understands why she was upset (Niall had a point), and she says she understands why he can’t turn down the job. She says she’s really, really happy, and proud of him, and by the time he’s finishing reliving every detail of filming their coffees are cold.

“It sounds amazing, baby. When can I come visit?” Natalie asks, the wind blowing through her sun-kissed hair.

“Um. Yeah, maybe sometime after work next week. I’m sure everyone would love to meet you,” Harry says, but feels weird about doing so.

It’s just as weird when Natalie actually does show up, and he has to introduce her to Nora, who is hoping he doesn’t notice the expression on her face finding out Harry even has a girlfriend.

“I feel so pissed at myself. Harry and I, we really clicked, but I was so hung up over Micah and he treated me like shit…Harry is cute and nice and funny. Of course he has a girlfriend. Of course she’s also cute and nice and funny. I feel like an idiot,” Nora tells Michelle that night over Chinese take-out.

Michelle tugs at the ends of her dark hair, weaved together in a braid that falls at her shoulder. “The timing was off,” she says.

Nora nods. She resolves to forget there was anything more between them than friendship. It’s the truth, which she thinks should make it easier, but it doesn’t when they’re supposed to be pretending they’re in love all the time. Nora is starting to lose track of where she and Harry end and Lyla and Stephen begin.

After filming Harry still asks her on little dates, just the two of them, where they sit so close on a park bench that she can feel the heat off his body and he still smiles at her the same way he did the first night they met. He tells her all about his family-a mom who taught him everything he knows, two dads who don’t get along, and a sister he wishes he saw more. She tells him how being an only child always made her lonely, which is part of the reason she thinks she let her friends (and boyfriends) treat her badly.

“In high school I was asked to prom by a guy my best friend liked, and so she made hate accounts about me on Instragram and Twitter. She said all this stuff about me that wasn’t true, and got the rest of our friends to comment and say stuff too. I was so…” Nora shakes her head, averting her eyes. “And then when she took it I was so relieved to be her friend again. We just pretended it never happened and hated on the guy instead.”

“People are fucking assholes,” Harry says with a scowl.

They make a habit of never going to the same place twice, maybe to give off the impression that this is still a one-off, just two co-workers getting to know each other. Nora doesn’t mind at all, though. She’s from Colorado, born and raised in a town she knew like the back of her hand. Even after almost two years of living in LA she still feels like she’s exploring new territory, like the city is a giant playground.

The weather is warm, the beach is never more than a half an hour away, and Nora’s gained five pounds from all the specialty food, but it’s one of the best summers she can remember. She’s finally getting paid to do the thing she loves, and when she’s not doing that she exploring a city she loves, or spending time with people she loves—Harry included, maybe.

The last day of filming feels bittersweet, a mixture of accomplishment and disbelief. Nora walks outside into the sunlight, trying to wrap her head around maybe not ever going back in. She’s terrified of the movie flopping, of the bad reviews she’ll have to read if the critics think she’s a bad actress, or even worse if no critics have any opinions at all. What if no one sees it?

Harry doesn’t seem to care about any of this, of course. He’s excited about the cast party later that night, and for all the people he hopes to be interviewed by. Nora can’t bear to burden him with the anxiety.

They both have some time off before promo begins, which Nora uses to visit her mom. It too is a bittersweet experience, the joy of seeing each other clouded by the tension of her mother never wanting Nora to move away in the first place, and the guilt she feels for doing it anyway.

When Nora gets back to LA she and Harry have a meeting with Allie from marketing. We’re in one of the conference rooms without windows, seated at a round table with a phone in the middle. She goes over our schedules for the next couple of weeks, pointing out events of significance, of which there are few. The schedule is light, even for an indie romance with two completely fresh faces.

“I wanted to throw an idea out there,” Allie says in a voice that is misleadingly casual. “The promotional team thinks it would really benefit the film if the people could see you together in real life as much as possible.”

“When you say together…?” Harry says.

“Just let a photographer catch you holding hands every once in a while. If somebody asks you about it you don’t even have to say anything. It’s good to give the people a little mystery. We’ll go from there.”

The first thing Harry thinks is that Natalie is going to kill him.

Still, he doesn’t totally hate the idea.

He looks at Nora, a wary smile on his face. She hesitates before offering him a tiny nod. They agree to a date a few days after their first interview, during which they will be photographed for the tabloids.

Nora feels like she’s now fully transformed into a stereotype, but she doesn’t hate the idea either. Nor the execution.

Harry doesn’t make the same mistake twice, so he tells Natalie about the arrangement the day before the first photos will be released. She isn’t as mad as he expected.

“I kind of figured this would happen,” she admits.

“Am I that much of a cliché?” He asks.

Natalie laughs and Harry’s heart skips a beat.

But even though Natalie is totally cool with him pretending to date somebody else, Harry still feels guilty about being with Nora. He has a love-hate relationship with holding her hand, and when he’s not thinking about that he’s thinking about how easy it would be to kiss her. It’s not sustainable.

He’s got to pull himself together. It isn’t fair to Natalie. Maybe not to Nora either.

Harry swings in limo until opening night, the accumulation of all their hard work finally coming together in one two hour experience. Nora wears a simple, slinky little thing that matches the color of her eyes, her hair pulled up in an up do looks to Harry like a maze. Their fingers are laced together while they walk the red carpet, smiling blindly at the cameras.

Nora’s stomach is in butterflies, the way it has been for weeks now it seems. She’s let the pretending go to her head a bit, which she tells herself is fine for now, at least through tonight. She’s acutely aware of Harry’s actual girlfriend coming in somewhere behind them, under the premise of Niall’s date.

They sit in the best seats in the house, and Nora loves seeing them on camera together. The chemistry they had at that first audition is magnified on the big screen, and Nora feels herself fall for Harry all over again when she gets to really see the way he looks at her. It’s not just the lights or the background music; you can’t fake or fabricate a look like that. Nora knows because he’s giving her that same look in real life when the movie is over.  

There is a lot of schmoozing to be done after the film finishes, and Nora momentary forgets about Harry in the mist of exchanging compliments with the other guests. Aside from what she’s developed with him, she’s also riding the high of starring in her first film. She tries her best to dazzle the critics and interviewers, reciting all the lines her agent had told her to say.

It isn’t until the middle of the after-party that Nora finally gets the chance to ask Harry for a moment alone. She makes sure Natalie is nowhere in sight, finds him chatting up one of the musicians, and steals him out the back door, where a couple of kitchen staff are taking their breaks. Thankfully they don’t seem too interested in eavesdropping.

“I just needed a moment, you know. It’s a little overwhelming,” Nora says, wiping the under of her eyes from the eyeliner that’s certainly smudged there.

“Very surreal,” Harry agrees, all dimples.

“I’m sort of sad it’s over, though.”

“It’s not over yet. We still have to read reviews and get the box office numbers. And I think there are a few more interviews too.” Harry pulls out his phone to check.

Nora swallows the lump in her throat. “Yeah, but it won’t be the same. I won’t get to see you everyday like we used to.”

Harry looks up, a strange expression coming over his face.

“Harry, I have to ask...if I don’t I’m afraid I’m going to regret it later. Filming this movie with you has been one of the best things to ever happen to me, and it’s not just because of the movie. It’s because of you, and I just wanted to know if there was any possibility-I know you have a girlfriend, but-“ Nora sighs, her words getting all tangled.

Harry steps back, unreadable “Nora.” It sounds like an apology.

“Oh,” Nora breathes. “Okay.”

“Wait—“ Harry panics, grabbing her hand. “I wasn’t ready to have this conversation tonight.”

It’s the moment of the truth, the decision he’s been putting off ever since Nora walked into the audition room. And even when she lays it all on the table for him, deciding still feels impossible.

“Nora, I’m sorry. We’re friends. And it’s not that I haven’t felt...things for you. But it’s not the same as what I feel for Natalie, and I can’t do this to her. I’m sorry. I like you, I do, but…the timing is off.” ��

“Okay,” Nora says. She doesn’t think she has a right to be mad.

“Let’s go back inside?” Harry suggests, and so they do. And in the moment, Nora feels like it’s one of the worst things to ever happen to her. It makes her feel sick inside the rest of the night, so much that she and Michelle leave the party early without telling anyone goodbye.

Three months later she and Harry officially break up, and it is apparently very messy. (It isn’t actually anything, just a string of unconfirmed rumors). It’s for the best that Harry and Nora lose tough as well after that, and eventually Nora breaks her phone and really does lose his number.

She starts dating around again, but none of them really stick, and so when Nora does meet Harry again she’s been happily single for about a year. They run into each other in the grocery store of all places, which feels like an even more specular meeting place than La Verne. He’s cut his hair since she’s seen him last, and so she almost doesn’t recognize him at first.

Nora doesn’t ask if he’s still with Natalie. Instead they talk about their recent projects and the weather, almost as if strangers again. They exchange numbers for the second time, but Nora doesn’t hear from him for another three weeks. He asks her to meet him at the Santa Monica pier.

And then, finally, with salt in their hair and sand in their toes, the timing is right.

[maggieisalarrie]

Length: Under 15k

*UNDER CONSTRUCTION (3/10/18)*

By Length:

Summaries for the fics listed here are included below in the By Name section of this post. 

3k

Happy Birthday by sleepingalone

I Don’t Want You To Leave, Will You Hold My Hand by roughvoiced

It all comes out in the wash by Conscious_ramblings

make me feel like i am breathing by crybaby 

Rippling of Electricity by sleepingalone 

4k

Dust Off Your Highest Hopes by marie24 

like an animal (i wanna feel you from the inside) by bottomlinsons (grimgrace) 

5k

anything plain can be lovely by el_em_en_oh_pee 

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by hilourry

Huggin’, Kissin’, Holdin’ Each Other Tight. by kotabear24

it starts and it never fades away by scagnetism

No Chance At All by lululawrence 

rest your heavy heart by orphan_account 

So Kiss Me by embro 

take your time rolling up your sleeves by aniloquent 

the beast you made of me by Ashtarok 

6k

All We Have by colourexplosion 

Around the World by orphan_account 

One Day, Maybe Next Week by kikikryslee 

Patience by Star55 

Power Inside by whoknows 

7k

A New Buzz by stylesoftheshire 

a virgin to that money by eversincewefellapart 

Ain’t My Fault by afirethatcannotdie 

His. by SS98

pick my petals off (make my heart explode) by orphan_account 

Your Silhouette Over Me by Lis (domesticharry) 

8k

Always Be My Baby by itsmiz  

Baby Honey by nikogda 

baby, you and i are undeniable by graceana 

Draw by dolce_picante 

I roll and I roll, ‘til I change my luck by lightofathousandstars

like how your hands feel me up and down by ballsdeepinjesus 

make the wait worth your while by karamelised

put you on repeat, play you everywhere i go by eversincewefellapart

Sun-kissed Hurricane, Perfect Storm by iwillpaintasongforlou 

take me for what i am (who i was meant to be) by howlouvely 

Two Sugars, No Cream by loveyoulou (orphan_account) 

9k

Go Out for Adventure, Come Home for Love by myownspark 

love with every stranger, the stranger the better by leighbot

oh baby baby, the reason i breathe is you by ballsdeepinjesus 

Spin Me Like A Record by zarah5 

Unbelievable sights, indescribable feelings by serenityandtea 

we can meet again somewhere by LSFOREVER 

10k

Can’t Keep This Beating Heart At Bay by myownspark 

everything i can arrange, every part of me you change by tomorrows 

Give Me One Excuse by green_feelings

glitter and helium by starseas

our love is bitter (but I really like the taste) by brightbluelou 

put your faith in my stomach by hilourry

spice up your life by bottomlinsons (grimgrace) 

trusting things beyond mistake by sarcasticfluentry 

We Will Find Our Way by supernope 

yes, you make my life worthwhile by tomorrows 

11k

A Long Way From The Playground by nightwideopen 

A Run At The Past by hostagesfic 

All I Want Is To Be Free by lululawrence 

Court-Ordered by kikikryslee 

Ever Since by letsjustsee 

Far Afield by QuickedWeen 

give you my fever by beautlouis 

infinitely all for me by swallowsmateforlife 

It’s Hard to Say It, Time to Say It by kikikryslee 

Reckless Serenade by boyfrombradford 

Stuck In The Middle With You by green_feelings 

Sweeter Than Strings by polkadotpeacoat 

Tell Me What You Want by stylinsoncity 

The Art of the Giants by asphodelknox 

through the wire by Awriterwrites 

12k

(I Will Run Into) The Hurricane by cherrystreet

One Shines Brighter by afirethatcannotdie 

13k

call me home and i will build a throne by queenmcgonagall 

If You Build Yourself a Myth by pukeandcry 

Like to Keep You Laughing by kikikryslee

Little White Lies by xxSterre

take my hand (and lead me home) by tumsa 

You Knocked Me Off The Ground From The Start by sinkingtothebottomofthesea 

14k

Candle to Keep Out the Night by standintherain16 

Fall with Style by crimsontheory 

Hold On To The Words You Spoke (Anchored Down In The Throat) by justletmegohome

Just a Fine and Fancy Ramble by throughthedark 

Sound Like a Song by allwaswell16 

You See The Sky I Can’t See by LiveLaughLoveLarry 

By Name: 

A Long Way From The Playground by nightwideopen (11k)

Louis is a single dad who is having a lonely life crisis and Harry is a doctor that carries around princess band-aids in his pocket.

Scraped knees make grown men bond, apparently.

A New Buzz by stylesoftheshire (7k)

‘No way,’ Louis says, shaking his head disbelievingly. ‘Only you would come out to your best friend by making him buy you a fucking dildo.’

The classic tale of how Louis helps Harry purchase a vibrator and later helps him use it.

A Run At The Past by hostagesfic (11k)

Harry doesn’t expect it to happen while Gemma’s in Australia. He’s not lonely, this time, with plenty to do and the adrenaline of the end of tour, the excitement of going back to Japan. And Gemma, of course, her jokes at his expense and her flirting with Niall and her hugs for every occasion, the way she looks like mum when she scolds him half-heartedly. There’s no reason it should happen.

He wakes up in Louis’ bed anyway.

a virgin to that money by eversincewefellapart (7k) 

AU. Harry and Louis are broke university students who hate each other and make a sex tape. (In which Louis gets fucked a lot, Harry can't find the camera, and the road to falling in love is different for everyone.)

Ain’t My Fault by afirethatcannotdie (7k) 

Liam, M4M is for sex! You posted in a sex forum about your missing jacket.”

“It is not for sex!”

“It is. Trust me.”

“Well, if it helps me find my jacket then I don’t really see why it matters. Besides, someone already texted me about it. This Styles guy’s coming over in a bit to get it.”

“You invited the avocado man to come get his jacket at our flat after posting on a sex forum. Do you see where this is going?”

“I really don’t.”

“Someone is going to have to have sex with the avocado man!” Louis screeches, and Liam covers his ears.

AU. Liam posts an ad on the wrong section of Craigslist, Louis is pretty sure they’re gonna get murdered as a result, and Harry’s missing an avocado.

All I Want Is To Be Free by lululawrence (11k) 

“Uh, you saw photos? Of me wearing the shirt?”

The guy nodded eagerly while he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah! I took a picture of the photo I saw so I could remember to look it up. Hold on.”

The guy scrolled through his phone and made a happy sound when he found it. “Here!”

Louis grabbed his phone to look at the picture. Yep. That confirmed it. He was going crazy.

The photo he was looking at was definitely one of him wearing his beloved shirt, but there was a taller man standing beside him, looking at him and laughing as Louis had his hand resting possessively on the guy’s hip. Louis had absolutely no recollection of this ever happening.

Or the one where Louis keeps finding photos around campus of him with a man he’s never met before, and the only logical explanation must be he’s going crazy.

All We Have by colourexplosion (6k) 

He looks at the person who’s asked him a question and then immediately wishes he hadn’t. He’s beautiful, is the thing, and Harry’s met him before.

“No, sorry,” he says, shaking his head, averting his eyes. It’s an old habit, one he’s gotten better about resisting, but he supposes seeing Louis Tomlinson out in the wild transports him right back to youth club.

“Ah, s’fine really,” Louis says, instead of just walking away like a normal person, “Pretty boy like you shouldn’t be smoking anyway, yeah?”

Harry’s cheeks flood with heat before he can stop it, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Of course. Of course Louis Tomlinson — the boy who basically made Harry realize he’s gay — thinks he’s cute now. Ten years after the fact, and much too late for it to do any good at all. Or, a 'Grown' au

Always Be My Baby by itsmiz (8k) 

Louis isn't looking forward to his birthday, and Harry makes him see that age truly is just a number.

Based on Louis' tweet: 22 is old :(

anything plain can be lovely by el_em_en_oh_pee (5k) 

Harry sees Louis - like, really sees Louis - again for the first time in his mid-thirties. (a grew-up-together AU)

Around the World by orphan_account (6k) 

“Could you–” Harry breaks off, gasping as Louis leans in to bite the sensitive skin just under Harry’s jaw, a favourite spot of Harry’s. “Could you, y’know, in French?”

“Could I what, H?” Louis asks, peppering kisses underneath Harry’s jaw and trailing them up to his lips.

“Dirty talk,” Harry says in an exhale.

Or, Louis dirty talks in French. Kind of.

Baby Honey by nikogda (8k) 

“Lou, did you see these little baby tea boxes I found yesterday?” He tossed one towards Louis and watched as it thumped Louis in the head. Louis groaned and reached for the little box, rolling it around in his hands, “If you’re about to make a joke about me. I strongly suggest you don’t.” Harry frowned and bounced his tea bag in the water watching the liquid darken, “M’ not! I just thought the babytea boxes were cute.” Louis’ eyes narrowed and he looked at the tiny boxes, and back at Harry. Harry watched, he could see the wheels turning inside of Louis’ mind. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Louis looked at the box once more and back at Harry — or… After four years of Marriage, Harry discovers he is expecting. He could go home and hand the ultrasound photo to his amazing husband, Louis. Or… he could have some fun with this. Only Louis catching on to all the hints Harry is dropping.

Or is he?

baby, you and i are undeniable by graceana (8k)

call me home and i will build a throne by queenmcgonagall (13k)

Candle to Keep Out the Night by standintherain16 (14k)

Can’t Keep This Beating Heart At Bay by myownspark (10k)

Court-Ordered by kikikryslee (11k)

Draw by dolce_picante (8k)

Dust Off Your Highest Hopes by marie24 (4k)

Ever Since by letsjustsee (11k) 

everything i can arrange, every part of me you change by tomorrows (10k)

Fall with Style by crimsontheory (14k) 

Louis doesn’t get out too much due to his shyness. The only two friends he has he met online and they both live miles and miles away. Then along comes a cute bartender that completely flips Louis’ life upside down.

Far Afield by QuickedWeen (11k)

Harry Styles is a witch who owns the best flower shop in Manchester. Lottie Tomlinson is planning her wedding, and brings her brother along to her first appointment. Both men have been having a bad day and sparks fly.

Give Me One Excuse by green_feelings (10k)

give you my fever by beautlouis (11k)

glitter and helium by starseas (10k)

Go Out for Adventure, Come Home for Love by myownspark (9k) 

Four years of iconic moments that inspire tattoos and promises. Fic inspired by the song “Spaces” which includes the lyric “forgetting every single promise we ever made.” Five promises, plus one extra just for fun (because how can you hear Harry say he’s good at falling asleep in front of the fire and not write about it? Honestly).

Happy Birthday by sleepingalone (3k)

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by hilourry (5k)

His. by SS98 (7k)

Hold On To The Words You Spoke (Anchored Down In The Throat) by justletmegohome (14k)

Huggin’, Kissin’, Holdin’ Each Other Tight. by kotabear24 (5k)

I Don’t Want You To Leave, Will You Hold My Hand by roughvoiced (3k)

I roll and I roll, ‘til I change my luck by lightofathousandstars (8k)

(I Will Run Into) The Hurricane by cherrystreet (12k)

If You Build Yourself a Myth by pukeandcry (13k)

infinitely all for me by swallowsmateforlife (11k)

It all comes out in the wash by Conscious_ramblings (3k)

it starts and it never fades away by scagnetism (5k)

It’s Hard to Say It, Time to Say It by kikikryslee (11k) 

Harry sighed. “We have a lot of clothes in stock, sir-” “Please don’t call me ‘sir,’” the guy said. “I’m only twenty-six.” “OK, then. We have a lot of clothes in stock, dude, so finding something else in your size won’t be a problem if it means you’ll buy something. What are you? Like, an extra small?” The guy actually had the nerve to look offended. Harry resisted laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m a medium!” “In what?” Harry asked, looking the guy over. “Children’s?” — Or, the one where Louis is an annoying customer who won’t leave Harry’s shop on time, and Harry is counting down the seconds until Louis leaves. Until a chance encounter at a concert, and suddenly, Harry really doesn’t want Louis to leave.

Just a Fine and Fancy Ramble by throughthedark (14k)

like an animal (i wanna feel you from the inside) by bottomlinsons (grimgrace) (4k)

like how your hands feel me up and down by ballsdeepinjesus (8k)

Like to Keep You Laughing by kikikryslee (13k)

Little White Lies by xxSterre (13k)

love with every stranger, the stranger the better by leighbot (9k)

make me feel like i am breathing by crybaby (3k)

make the wait worth your while by karamelised (8k)

No Chance At All by lululawrence (5k)

oh baby baby, the reason i breathe is you by ballsdeepinjesus (9k)

One Day, Maybe Next Week by kikikryslee (6k) 

Louis was staring at him, expecting a response, and Harry was supposed to be the one coming up with that response, and he was so not prepared, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Where were you? You weren’t on the bus for a few days.” Louis raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Uh… Sorry, I just- Um, sort of noticed that maybe you weren’t on the bus since last week. Not that I watch for when you’re on the bus or anything. That would be weird. Obviously, you have your own schedule, and I have mine. I just saw that you weren’t here, so I wondered what you were doing, or if something bad happened, like you got kidnapped or something. God, that sounded creepy. I promise I’m not threatening your life or something. Jesus, just stop me. If you have pepper spray, I would totally understand if you got me in the eyes right now.” Louis had his lips pressed together at this point, holding back a laugh. Harry really didn’t blame him for that. — Or, the one where Harry just really wants to talk to Louis. And when he finally does, everything he says just comes out wrong.

One Shines Brighter by afirethatcannotdie (12k) 

“Hi, baby. You doing anything fun today?” Harry shrugs. “Dunno. Thought I’d see how I was feeling before making any plans.” “You wanna get married?” Louis asks. Harry’s face breaks into a smile, and he nods. Louis’ lips are just brushing Harry’s when Gemma appears in the hallway. “You two are in so much trouble.” Harry’s wedding was never supposed to be the happiest day of his life. No, that was going to be the day after, when he finally got to start his marriage. Unfortunately his family (and Louis) have other ideas.

Featuring a pair of moms who only want the best for their kids, meddling sisters with too much time on their hands, and a groom who gets caught up in the fairytale.

our love is bitter (but I really like the taste) by brightbluelou (10k)

Patience by Star55 (6k)

pick my petals off (make my heart explode) by orphan_account (7k)

Power Inside by whoknows (6k)

put you on repeat, play you everywhere i go by eversincewefellapart (8k)

put your faith in my stomach by hilourry (10k)

Reckless Serenade by boyfrombradford (11k)

rest your heavy heart by orphan_account (5k)

Rippling of Electricity by sleepingalone (3k)

So Kiss Me by embro (5k)

Sound Like a Song by allwaswell16 (14k) 

In high school, Louis Tomlinson lit up Harry’s world like nobody else, even if Harry did most of his pining from the safety of his tightly knit circle of friends. Ten years later, Harry is ready to make some changes. He’s tired of having so many regrets and not taking charge of his life, and he still hasn’t forgotten how brightly Louis shines. He’s about to get a long awaited second chance.

Or the one where Harry helps out at a farmer’s market and gives Louis free vegetables.

spice up your life by bottomlinsons (grimgrace) (10k)

Spin Me Like A Record by zarah5 (9k)

Stuck In The Middle With You by green_feelings (11k)

Sun-kissed Hurricane, Perfect Storm by iwillpaintasongforlou (8k)

Sweeter Than Strings by polkadotpeacoat (11k)

take me for what i am (who i was meant to be) by howlouvely (8k)

take my hand (and lead me home) by tumsa (13k)

take your time rolling up your sleeves by aniloquent (5k)

Tell Me What You Want by stylinsoncity (11k)

The Art of the Giants by asphodelknox (11k) 

Louis is dancing away from an old relationship when he meets Harry at a bookstore in the busy streets of Seattle. Harry is just a bookstore owner hoping his handsome weekly visitor could become something more.

the beast you made of me by Ashtarok (5k)

through the wire by Awriterwrites (11k)

trusting things beyond mistake by sarcasticfluentry (10k)

Two Sugars, No Cream by loveyoulou (orphan_account) (8k)

Unbelievable sights, indescribable feelings by serenityandtea (9k)

we can meet again somewhere by LSFOREVER (9k)

We Will Find Our Way by supernope (10k)

yes, you make my life worthwhile by tomorrows (10k)

You Knocked Me Off The Ground From The Start by sinkingtothebottomofthesea (13k)

You See The Sky I Can’t See by LiveLaughLoveLarry (14k)

Your Silhouette Over Me by Lis (domesticharry) (7k)

Last edited: March 19, 2018 

Done here? Go back to my Recommended Fics →

[ulrichtech-blog]

Hey It’s Gonna Be Okay || Emory&Kaleb

TAGGING → Kaleb Ulrich, Emory Sinclair @emory-sinclair

LOCATION → Emory’s Apartment

TIME FRAME → Tuesday December 13th, Night

WARNINGS → Sex Talk, Safe Sex 

NOTES → Kaleb goes over to Emory’s after getting tested that day for food and a movie. 

Emory had completed all of his chores for the day. He had nothing planned for the afternoon, and wasn't in the mood to turn in. He knew didn't have to be back at the base until later the next day, and he wasn't in the mood to chance trying to sleep only to wake up screaming. Then proceed to try and drown out his dreams with drinking. Emory walked over to his kitchen counter and picked up his phone. He opened his messages and sent a text to the last person he'd spoken to "You doing anything tonight?" he wrote.

Kaleb had finally settled in his apartment, getting ready to relax and just watch some television or more so listen while he was playing on his 3DS. It was emotionally draining all day. From being nervous on taking the test, to taking Jaron to his appointment then having to explain to Simone. He just wanted to relax at this point. His phone buzzed while playing Pokemon, he hit pause on the game as he saw the message from Emory. Smiling immediately. "No, I'm not. What's up?" He replied back

Emory didn't have to wait long for a reply. One that worked in his favor. "Thought you might want to do something together? Go out? Stay in?" he typed out. Emory had no preference for what they did, since he found he enjoyed Kaleb's company either way.

Kaleb read the following text once it came in and the thought of hanging together was great but he didn't want to go out at all. "Lets stay in, I can bring over a movie this time. Since The Proposal didn't work out. You like Dane Cook?" Kaleb replied as he was already shutting down his DS and then getting up to grab the movie he had in mind. He enjoyed his time with Emory, very much so. But then the thought of the events today rang in his ears. He would have to tell Emory what his day was like and also worry on the male's health as well.

Emory saw the typing bubble pop up on his screen and waited for the rely to come through. His phone chimed in his hand, as the text appeared on his screen. Emory was perfectly fine with staying in. "Sure, we can," he quickly replied. Emory tried to think who Dane Cook was, but chose to go with his brains first instinct. "Would you judge me if I said no?" He made his way over towards his fridge.

Kaleb didn't want to change from his sweatpants or his Star Wars Christmas sweater so he slipped on some shoes and made way with the movie in hand. Going to the elevator and taking the ride up to Emory's floor. "Slightly haha" he replied only to add in another little text after that. "I mean, he's not the best but he had a good rom com in his prime time"

Emory was standing in front of his open fridge. He contemplated whether or not he should put on a shirt as the cool air from the fridge had the hair on his chest slightly standing. However, he knew Kaleb had already seen him naked and he was plenty comfortable in just sweats. Emory went back to trying to decide what he wanted to eat when he received another text. He was getting ready to reply when another followed. "I honestly don't know many of their names. I just watch them. It's sort of an army thing." He reached in the fridge and pulled out a few things. Placing them on the counter. "Have you eaten?"

Kaleb hated how slow the elevator was taking. But going from the first to the fourteenth floor was a bit of a stretch. Seeing the box for Emory's text pop up on his phone again, he nodded to himself. "What is an Army thing? Going shirtless all the time?" Kaleb typed out the reply with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. From the follow up one, he was about to add in his next one when the ding of the elevator alarmed him he had made it. Soon the doors opened and he stepped out. Walking over to Emory's door and instead of knocking just texting "I haven't eaten all day. Now open the door" Sending it with that wide smile emoji attached to it.

Emory had put a few slices of bread in his toaster and was cutting into and avocado, when his phone chimed again. He picked up the phone and laughed. He didn't think he had a habit of going shirtless, but maybe he did or maybe it was Kaleb's wishful thinking. Either way he was getting a shirtless Emory. Before he could respond he received another text demanding he open the door. Emory walked over to the door and opened it wide for Kaleb to walk in. "You forgot to say please," he teased, "But I'll forgive you. Oh and don't mistake my lack of a shirt as an answer to your question. I meant romcoms are an army thing."

Kaleb waited for the door to open, only to be greeted by Emory who ironically wasn't a shirt. But that was totally fine with Kaleb. He had seen much more of the man before and he didn't mind looking at all. Pulling his lip in a pout, he then said "Please?" only to laugh lightly as he stepped into Emory's apartment. Soon taking off his shoes and leaving them near the door. "U-huh. So you not having a shirt on is just a coincidence?" Kaleb seemed to question further but shrugged at it as he showed the movie. Employee of the Month. "But that's interesting, they play romcoms for the army. Is it to balance out all that goes on around you or just they just show off whatever movies they have?" He asked, really interested in what goes on for Emory and his life.

Emory smiled back at Kaleb as he closed the door. "It would seem so," he replied to Kaleb's question on his lack of clothing. Emory took a look at the movie and did not recognize it. He shrugged his shoulders as he made his way back over to the kitchen. Emory popped a slice of smoked salmon in his mouth before speaking. "The army doesn't show them. I mean they do have plenty of movies we can rent depending on what base you're at, but most of the guys tend to choose or request them. I'd suppose the former. Really most guys like it because it requires no thinking at all when we're off duty." Emory slide the bowl of pecans he poured out over towards Kaleb.

Kaleb would classify the movie as a rom com, it definitely had the comedy down with Dane Cook as a star, but it also had it's cheesy romance in the end and for Kaleb to like it. It had to be good. Seeing as Emory slid the bowl of pecans to him, he took a couple in hand and started eating one by one. "Got it, so it's more to just get lost in the movie and not think." He nodded to Emory. Chewing slowly on the pecan as he watched the man make the food. "I bet you get this a lot, but thank you. For serving our country and being ten times braver than us that stick around here."

Emory took the now toasted pieces of bread out of the toaster and placed them on a cutting board. He lightly drizzled olive oil on eat piece. "Exactly." He placed several slices of smoked salmon on each piece of toast followed by the avocado he cut. "You would be correct, especially when I'm in uniform. I'd normally say you're welcome, but you're my friend." Emory looked at Kaleb directly. "You never need to thank me. I joined for selfish reasons, and stayed for selfish reasons. The first of those being my twin." He reached looked back down and placed pecans from the bag on top along with feta cheese. "I'm no braver than the next guy."

Kaleb's eyes went from the food to Emory's face as he heard him say he didn't need to thank him. It was puzzling for Kaleb but he was still going to thank him. "Whatever reasons you did it for, you still went in, readying yourself for all the worst possibly scenarios. I think that is really brave" Kaleb told Emory with a soft smile to match up his tone. "You have a twin? One of you is already a handful. But two?" He chuckled as he questioned Emory

Emory dropped the part of the conversation involving him joining the army by not responding to it. "If you're still hungry. I have Digiorno in the freezer." He slid a plate with what he'd just prepared over towards Kaleb. "Not that kind of twin. We're fraternal. He looks more like our elder brother in my opinion. And neither one of them like guys, so yeah."

Kaleb watched the plate slide and held his hand to catch it. Soon to pick up the toast and take a bite out of it. Finishing it before speaking. "Oh no, this is good. Thank you though." He replied politely to Emory. "Ah, gotcha." Nodding his head. "My older brother is not into guys either. At least I don't think. I haven't seen him in years and as for my sister I don't know who she finds attractive. I would say I'm the only gay one out of the family" Kaleb joked about himself

Emory leaned against the counter and took to eating his plate as he listened. "You're not close with your family?" he asked curiously.

Kaleb reached for a napkin as he heard the question. "Well I'm close with my siblings. My sister lives in the building but after getting out of high school we kind of drifted apart." Kaleb explained as he cleared his throat. Family was always a tough subject to talk about

Emory nodded his head. "Who's your sister?" He walked over to the fridge and grabbed a decanter. "Want anything?" he pointed to the number of drinks he had inside. "You don't have to talk about your family if you don't want to." He poured himself a water and what Kaleb requested then walked back over to the counter. " I'm close to my family, and sometimes I don't like talking about them. And I know not everyone is the same..."

Kaleb smiled just thinking of his sister. "Her name is Julianne. She's been out doing some modeling. She does it to get money for college at the moment, she's going for her nursing degree" Kaleb looked over to Emory as he went to the fridge. Kaleb soon answered the question. "Water is fine." Nodding as he continued to eat. "I love my siblings and lets just say, we've been through some rough times. New York maybe my hometown, but Denver feels more like home" Kaleb shrugged off the topic of family. "Where are you from?"

Emory placed Kaleb's water in front of him. Emory smiled as he listened to Kaleb speak of his sister. He drank from his own before answering. "A small town in Tennessee called Centerville."

Kaleb took the water with a polite smile. Drinking a little as he listened to where he was from. "Centerville? It wouldn't happen to be in the center of Tennessee would it?" He then made a funny face as the temptation of saying a bad pick up line was there. "You know.. you're the only TEN I see!" Kaleb chuckled

Emory placed his head down on the counter. The fact his body shook was the only indicator that gave away that he was laughing. He look up at Kaleb with s stupid smile. "Shut up," he joked. "Where did you get your sense of humor?"

Kaleb had to put his food back on the plate before he tried taking another bite. He was in fits of laughter himself and seeing he got a laugh out of Emory only made his smile grow more. "Would you believe me if I said from memes? And also googling bad pick up lines?" He said as he chuckled. "You like them though! Right? I mean I know they are bad, but they could work? I know I'm terrible at flirting, but it's my way of being me.."

Emory nodded his head. "I would believe you." He finished the remaining bit of his food. Looking up directly into Kaleb's eyes, "I like you just the way you are Kaleb. Seriously. Your jokes and all. I'd hate if it you ever tried to be anyone but yourself."

Kaleb went back to his food so he could finish it and as he did, he covered the plate with the napkin he used. Soon making eye contact with those sweet gray orbs. Leaning in, his smile was soft as he responded to Emory. "That means a lot to hear. For a while I thought I had to perfect because I was uncomfortable in my own skin."

Emory listened to Kaleb's response. He couldn't relate to the other man's sentiment entirely, having never not been comfortable in his own skin. Confidence was something he'd always had, something his parents instilled in him. However, his mind as of late wasn't in the best of places, which made him uncomfortable sometimes with his own thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking his words through carefully. "Perfection is unattainable when held to someone else's standards, but perfection also has a malleable definition if you forget the outside world and only focus on what works for you. I mean there's only on person's thoughts we have to live with our whole lives, and that's our own," Emory shrugged his shoulders, then smirked at his thought that followed. "I hope you're not uncomfortable in you skin now, because I happen to like it."

Kaleb couldn't help but think over what mistakes he's made, what he has done and seeming to be this bad person in his head all because he wanted to be perfect. How he felt when he first came out and was discovering this new side of his sexuality was game changing but now he was okay with everything. He was happy being himself and when hearing Emory paraphrase about the definition of perfection, it struck to his heart. Nodding to Emory with that smile still attached. "Well normally I focus on everyone's thoughts but my own, but you're right. Perfection is unattainable. I'm more comfortable now then I was before. I think I have you to thank for that."

Emory quirked a brow at the man. "Me? Why's that?"

Kaleb bit his bottom lip. “Well not just you, there have been other guys I’ve been with. However now I don’t feel like I have to be the best gay guy out there. Or be great at dating, know the history of musicals, Broadway, and know about all the struggles with being gay.” He clarified, even explained a little how his journey was in Kaleb’s mind. “I can still be my dorky, pun loving self and just be with someone I like. Have someone I can talk to, which I would say you’re a great friend.” Kaleb smiled awkwardly. “And very good in bed too”

Emory nodded his head as he listened to Kaleb. He smiled when the man said he'd considered him a great friend, followed by a chortle when he comment on his skills in bed. "Well if we are talking about stereotypical gay guys, I fail completely. My idea of a good time shooting, drinking, killing animals, and hiking. Not to mention sex. In fact, I actually never came out to my family. My twin was the one who blurted out at the kitchen table, when my mom was talking about who I should take to an event, that I liked guys. To which my dad turned to my brother with the most dead-ass serious face and said in the heaviest Scottish accent, 'We already know. Now shut up and eat your food, cause no one was talking to you.'"Emory tried to imitate his dad's voice and hand gestures. He had a smile on his face. "I don't think my brother realized then that for me I didn't care what was under the skirt, or in that case kilt, just the person. My parents though they didn't care as long as we were happy and doing right." Emory looked Kaleb in the eye and smiled. "I'm happy you've gotten a better hold of what it means to be you, and that I could help in any way. Just know I'm still happy to help even if its under the covers." He winked.

Kaleb stood straight and moved to take his plate and Emory's to the kitchen sink. Just so he could be doing something and also move closer to the man. Now on the same side of the kitchen counter, Kaleb listened to Emory relive his moment of 'coming out' which made Kaleb laugh lightly. Crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter, his eyes met with Emory's once again. "You are so lucky to have great parents" Kaleb had muttered out accidentally. He normally kept his thoughts to himself and when it came to family and parents, he didn't have that. He didn't have a supporting mother and he didn't know his father. None of the siblings knew their fathers. "Someone had hinted to my sister that I was seeing this guy. He lives in the building, but-um I was seeing him and I was so nervous telling her and all she said was as long as you are happy, I'm happy for you. I have yet to tell my brother. He lives in South Caroline." Seeing the wink, Kaleb nudged Emory playfully. "I'm all for the help under the covers" Winking back as he rubbed his bottom lip. "But.. not tonight or at least a couple of days from now."

Emory was about to ask what Kaleb meant by him being lucky regarding his parents. However the man continued with what he was saying. Not want to be rude Emory kept his mouth shut, but put the thought filed away in his brain for later. He listened to the male describe his coming out. Though he wasn't happy it wasn't under Kaleb's terms, he was happy to know that his sister took it well and could only hope his brother would do the same. Emory shifted his weight as he leaned against the counter to better face where Kaleb has moved. His head cocked to the side when Kaleb informed him there wouldn't be the possibility of the two men getting intimate in the near future. "Is there a reason I'm being put on sex time out?" he asked as he wondered if he had missed something. "I mean I'm perfectly fine with you not wanting to, but did I do something wrong?"

Kaleb had slightly dropped his jaw when Emory questioned the not having sex part. "Oh no no no, you didn't do anything wrong. You are great, no matter what, some of the best sex I've had. What I should say is um..." Kaleb rambled off before he could even get to the point. "You didn't do anything wrong it's me. And before I start talking about anything else, you get checked right? Like you get tested and cleared? From any STD's. If not you probably... well not probably but I would definitely suggest you do." Kaleb mentioned as he scratched the back of his head nervously.

Emory's brows furrowed more at Kaleb's rambling. He couldn't even acknowledge the compliment to his skills in bed because he was far more focused on what had the other man going on in such and anxious manner. "I get tested every three months. I'm not one for surprises or not knowing, not to mention my health is a job requirement. Not to mention, I always use a condom. Why?" Emory still had a perplexed look on his face.

Kaleb always got nervous and when he did, he would fidget with his hands. Ramble off and try to stir away from the problem but this was a big issue. Health and the idea of what the results were from the tests scared him. It scared him to think that he was harming other people. "Right, well that's good but maybe get checked again? like now maybe? Or when was the last time you got tested? I'm just saying because I mean, well a while back I may have been unprotected and I've never been tested. But I went this morning with a friend and I don't get the results until another three days so I'm just worried for your well being."

Emory closed the gap between him and Kaleb by taking a few steps closer to the man. He reached out and grabbed his hands, and just held them in his own in a calming manner. "Kaleb," his voice was calm and collected as he said the word. He paused making sure he had the other man's attention before continuing, "I'm happy you decided to get tested. Its a good practice to have. But what's got you so worried? You sound scared."

Kaleb inhaled slowly to try and calm himself. Bowing his head so he wouldn't look at Emory at first. Feeling him take Kaleb's hands in, he soon looked back to Emory, his eyes locked in with his. "I am scared. It's like first time nerves." he spoke softly shaking his head. "But I'm also worried that if something does come back on me. That I may have ruined someone else's health. I would hate myself if you or anyone else got something because I was stupid. I would feel really terrible." He would definitely feel terrible and the guilt of that would do nothing but eat at Kaleb even more. No matter what, he would think of other's well being over his own any day and he knew that was his flaw.

Emory gave him a reassuring smile. "Hey, hey. It's going to be fine. You're going to be fine. I doubt you have anything, but if you do it'll be curable or treatable. And I'l be here for you either way. You're fine Kaleb. And if I've got something, well I'm to blame for that not you. I could have asked you if you're clean before we slept together. But I'm sure you're overreacting. It's easy to freak out about these things."

Kaleb's gaze went to Emory's smile, his own lips turning into a smile from the reassuring words. "You will?" He asked as he squeezed Emory's hand. Hearing he would be there for Kaleb even with how the outcome was meant a lot to him. "I would still blame me though, I mean I didn't even get tested until now and I slept with that guy like four months ago" Thinking back to at the party with Jaron when they had hooked up. "This is me being calm compared to when I was talking to Spencer about her getting tested. Trust me." He said with a soft chuckle.

"Of course. You're my friend. I've got your six," he confirmed. Emory listened to how'd he'd still blame himself along with the comment about speaking with Spencer. He shrugged his shoulders. "We're all entitled to our moments." Emory let go of Kaleb hand giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You told Spencer? How'd she take it? Is there anything else I need to know that sparked this sudden interest in getting tested?"

Kaleb felt like he could breathe normally again. All the nerves were settling down and he felt better now. "Yea well I did sleep with Spencer too so I wanted to make sure she was okay. She's clean by the way" He laughed as he responded to Emory's question. "Well it wasn't really interest. I was told by another friend that the guy I was with four months ago didn't wear condoms. Like at all. And he was my first time with a guy."

Emory nodded his head. "That's reckless. And irresponsible. I'm sorry your first didn't put more care in with you. You deserve it."

"Well no I wouldn't say he didn't put care in me. In fact it's quite the opposite, he ended up catching feelings for me and I was catching feelings for someone else. But I didn't do anything with the other person, so that caused a fight between me and the guy I slept with. Then we ended up hooking up at the White Hotels during a party" Talking about the whole situation with what happened with Jaron seemed like something off a soap opera. How did he even manage to get through that he wasn't sure? "But the next day after we hooked up, the guy packed his stuff and moved out. Because of me, which made me feel super guilty. So during that time of feeling guilty I was still trying to find myself and then I ended up messing around with people, seeing people. But he's back now and sure it was awkward at first but I'm just hoping our friendship can still be there" Kaleb spoke finally taking a breathe out of all that he just said. "In shorter terms, I probably should say, it's complicated but I've moved on.”

Emory blinked at Kaleb's lengthy reply. It took a moment for him to react. "I just meant in the fact that he wasn't responsible with you sexually. But um.... ok." Emory wasn't sure how else to respond to that monologue.

Kaleb could feel his face get red from what all he said and probably making it awkward now. Though most of the time, it was just Kaleb making himself feel awkward. "Oh right yea.. um yea. Let's just ignore I said all of that. How about that movie?"

Emory started to snicker, which eventually turned into a full out laugh. He wiped the few tears that had formed in his eyes. "Yeah, let's watch a movie."

[biofunmy]

The New Spiritual Consumerism – The New York Times

How did you spend your summer vacation? I spent mine in a dissociative fugue of materialist excess, lying prone on my couch and watching all four seasons of “Queer Eye,” the Netflix makeover show reboot. Once an hour, I briefly regained consciousness to feverishly click the “next episode” button so that I wouldn’t have to wait five seconds for it to play automatically. Even when I closed my laptop, the theme song played on endless loop as Jonathan Van Ness vogued through my subconscious. The show is a triumph of consumer spectacle, and now it has consumed me, too.

Every episode is the same. Five queer experts in various aesthetic practices conspire to make over some helpless individual. Tan France (fashion) teaches him to tuck the front of his shirt into his pants; Bobby Berk (design) paints his walls black and plants a fiddle-leaf fig; Antoni Porowski (food) shows him how to cut an avocado; Jonathan Van Ness (grooming) shouts personal affirmations while shaping his beard; and Karamo Brown (“culture”) stages some kind of trust-building exercise that doubles as an amateur therapy session. Then, they retreat to a chic loft, pass around celebratory cocktails and watch a video of their subject attempting to maintain his new and superior lifestyle. The makeover squad cries, and if you are human, you cry too.

Because “Queer Eye” is not just a makeover. As its gurus lead the men (and occasionally, women) in dabbing on eye cream, selecting West Elm furniture, preparing squid-ink risotto and acquiring gym memberships, they are building the metaphorical framework for an internal transformation. Their salves penetrate the skin barrier to soothe loneliness, anxiety, depression, grief, low self-esteem, absentee parenting and hoarding tendencies. The makeover is styled as an almost spiritual conversion. It’s the meaning of life as divined through upgraded consumer choices.

Just a few years ago, American culture was embracing its surface delights with a nihilistic zeal. Its reality queens were the Kardashians, a family that became rich and famous through branding its own wealth and fame. “Generation Wealth,” Lauren Greenfield’s 2018 documentary on American excess, captured portraits of people who crave luxury, beauty and cash as ends in and of themselves. Donald Trump, the king of 1980s extravagance, was elected president.

But lately American materialism is debuting a new look. Shopping, decorating, grooming and sculpting are now jumping with meaning. And a purchase need not have any explicit social byproduct — the materials eco-friendly, or the proceeds donated to charity — to be weighted with significance. Pampering itself has taken on a spiritual urgency.

Practitioners of this new style often locate its intellectual underpinnings in the work of Audre Lorde. But when Lorde wrote, in her 1988 essay “A Burst of Light,” that “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare,” she was speaking in the context of managing her liver cancer — and doing it as a black lesbian whose health and well-being were not prioritized in America.

Now the ethos of “self-care” has infiltrated every consumer category. The logic of GOOP, Gwyneth Paltrow’s luxury brand that sells skin serums infused with the branding of intuition, karma and healing, is being reproduced on an enormous scale.

Women’s shoes, bras, razors, tampons and exclusive private clubs are stamped with the language of empowerment. SoulCycle and Equinox conceive of exercise as not just a lifestyle but a closely held identity, which backfired when some members were aggrieved by the news that the chairman of the brands’ parent company is a financial supporter of President Trump. Therapy memes imagine mental health professionals prescribing consumerist fixes, which are then repurposed by beauty brands. Even Kim Kardashian West is pivoting to the soul: Her latest project is launching a celebrity church with her husband, Kanye West.

And through the cleaning guru Marie Kondo, who also became a Netflix personality this year, even tidying objects can be considered a spiritual calling. Her work suggests that objects don’t just make us feel good — objects feel things, too. She writes of old books that must be woken up with a brush of the fingertips and socks that sigh with relief at being properly folded.

“Queer Eye” has further elevated material comforts into an almost political stance. When the reboot of the original — which ran on Bravo from 2003 to 2007, as “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” — debuted last year, Netflix announced that it intended to “make America fabulous again” by sending its crew deep into the red states to “turn them pink.” By preaching self-care to the men of Middle America — it has so far plucked its makeover subjects from Georgia, Missouri and Kansas — the show would heal the nation itself through the power of stuff.

Is “Queer Eye” a political show? In a sense, yes. Van Ness, the show’s profoundly magnetic grooming expert, rocks a signature look of a Jesus beard, mermaid hair, painted nails and high-heeled booties. His fashion and grooming choices have an obvious political valence; he recently came out as non-binary. When he makes over some straight dude, it is as if he is imbuing the process with his own transgressive identity, even if he’s grooming the guy into a standard-issue cool dad.

Anyway, it’s wonderful to watch. In contrast, the original “Queer Eye” no longer goes down so easy. The show’s exclusive focus on providing men with physical upgrades now plays as cynical. The Fab Five ridicule their marks as much as they help them. More than a decade before same-sex marriage would be legalized across the United States, these five out gay men were quite obviously punching up.

But in the new version, the power dynamic has flipped. The difference between the Fab Five and their charges is no longer chiefly one of sexual orientation or gender identity. (This “Queer Eye” also provides makeovers to gay men and to women.) The clear but unspoken distinction is a class one.

The “Queer Eye” cast may come from humble beginnings, but they now reside in coastal cultural centers and hold fulfilling and lucrative jobs. Their makeover subjects are lower- and middle-class people who are, though it is rarely put this way, struggling financially. This “Queer Eye” handles them gently. As Van Ness puts it in one episode: “We’re nonjudgmental queens.”

It’s a little bit curious that as our political discourse is concerned with economic inequality — and the soaring costs of health care, education and homes — the cultural conversation is fixated on the healing powers of luxury items. What does it mean, that materialism is now so meaningful? “Generation Wealth” posits that extreme spending is a symptom of a civilization in decline. Americans may not have what they need, but at least they can get what they want, even if it’s on credit.

The writer and performer Amanda-Faye Jimenez recently posted a meme to Instagram of a child swinging blithely on the playground as a fire rages in the forest behind him. The forest is tagged: “My personal life and career.” The child: “The skincare routine.”

Material comforts are comforting: cooking a nice and interesting meal; living in a tidy and beautiful space; soothing tired eyes with a cool mask. And money helps you get money: The subjects of “Queer Eye” are typically made over in a standard professional style, as if they are being retrofitted for the work force. Surreptitiously, “Queer Eye” provides vacation time, too: Its subjects somehow receive a week off from work to focus on themselves.

The trouble is that when “Queer Eye” offers these comforts, the show implies that its subjects have previously lacked them because of some personal failure. They have been insufficiently confident, skilled, self-aware, dedicated or emotionally vulnerable. The spiritual conversion of the show occurs when the subject pledges a personal commitment to maintaining a new lifestyle going forward. But what these people need is not a new perspective. They need money, and they need time, which is money.

“Queer Eye” offers a kind of simulation of wealth redistribution. But every time the Fab Five retreats from the scene, I imagine the freshly-painted homes slowly falling into disrepair, the beards growing shaggy again, the refrigerators emptying.

In the fourth season, which dropped last month, the team makes over a single dad from Kansas City who is known as “the cat suit guy” because he wears feline print onesies to local sporting events. By the end, he gets a new corporate casual wardrobe, and a pop-up support network for his depression — he struggled to discuss it with anyone until the cast of “Queer Eye” broke through his shell.

As they prepare to leave, he tells them that he really needs them to stay in touch. “You’ve got to check on me,” he says. Absolutely, one of them says: “On Instagram.”

Sahred From Source link Arts

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[biofunmy]

The New Spiritual Consumerism – The New York Times

How did you spend your summer vacation? I spent mine in a dissociative fugue of materialist excess, lying prone on my couch and watching all four seasons of “Queer Eye,” the Netflix makeover show reboot. Once an hour, I briefly regained consciousness to feverishly click the “next episode” button so that I wouldn’t have to wait five seconds for it to play automatically. Even when I closed my laptop, the theme song played on endless loop as Jonathan Van Ness vogued through my subconscious. The show is a triumph of consumer spectacle, and now it has consumed me, too.

Every episode is the same. Five queer experts in various aesthetic practices conspire to make over some helpless individual. Tan France (fashion) teaches him to tuck the front of his shirt into his pants; Bobby Berk (design) paints his walls black and plants a fiddle-leaf fig; Antoni Porowski (food) shows him how to cut an avocado; Jonathan Van Ness (grooming) shouts personal affirmations while shaping his beard; and Karamo Brown (“culture”) stages some kind of trust-building exercise that doubles as an amateur therapy session. Then, they retreat to a chic loft, pass around celebratory cocktails and watch a video of their subject attempting to maintain his new and superior lifestyle. The makeover squad cries, and if you are human, you cry too.

Because “Queer Eye” is not just a makeover. As its gurus lead the men (and occasionally, women) in dabbing on eye cream, selecting West Elm furniture, preparing squid-ink risotto and acquiring gym memberships, they are building the metaphorical framework for an internal transformation. Their salves penetrate the skin barrier to soothe loneliness, anxiety, depression, grief, low self-esteem, absentee parenting and hoarding tendencies. The makeover is styled as an almost spiritual conversion. It’s the meaning of life as divined through upgraded consumer choices.

Just a few years ago, American culture was embracing its surface delights with a nihilistic zeal. Its reality queens were the Kardashians, a family that became rich and famous through branding its own wealth and fame. “Generation Wealth,” Lauren Greenfield’s 2018 documentary on American excess, captured portraits of people who crave luxury, beauty and cash as ends in and of themselves. Donald Trump, the king of 1980s extravagance, was elected president.

But lately American materialism is debuting a new look. Shopping, decorating, grooming and sculpting are now jumping with meaning. And a purchase need not have any explicit social byproduct — the materials eco-friendly, or the proceeds donated to charity — to be weighted with significance. Pampering itself has taken on a spiritual urgency.

Practitioners of this new style often locate its intellectual underpinnings in the work of Audre Lorde. But when Lorde wrote, in her 1988 essay “A Burst of Light,” that “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare,” she was speaking in the context of managing her liver cancer — and doing it as a black lesbian whose health and well-being were not prioritized in America.

Now the ethos of “self-care” has infiltrated every consumer category. The logic of GOOP, Gwyneth Paltrow’s luxury brand that sells skin serums infused with the branding of intuition, karma and healing, is being reproduced on an enormous scale.

Women’s shoes, bras, razors, tampons and exclusive private clubs are stamped with the language of empowerment. SoulCycle and Equinox conceive of exercise as not just a lifestyle but a closely held identity, which backfired when some members were aggrieved by the news that the chairman of the brands’ parent company is a financial supporter of President Trump. Therapy memes imagine mental health professionals prescribing consumerist fixes, which are then repurposed by beauty brands. Even Kim Kardashian West is pivoting to the soul: Her latest project is launching a celebrity church with her husband, Kanye West.

And through the cleaning guru Marie Kondo, who also became a Netflix personality this year, even tidying objects can be considered a spiritual calling. Her work suggests that objects don’t just make us feel good — objects feel things, too. She writes of old books that must be woken up with a brush of the fingertips and socks that sigh with relief at being properly folded.

“Queer Eye” has further elevated material comforts into an almost political stance. When the reboot of the original — which ran on Bravo from 2003 to 2007, as “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” — debuted last year, Netflix announced that it intended to “make America fabulous again” by sending its crew deep into the red states to “turn them pink.” By preaching self-care to the men of Middle America — it has so far plucked its makeover subjects from Georgia, Missouri and Kansas — the show would heal the nation itself through the power of stuff.

Is “Queer Eye” a political show? In a sense, yes. Van Ness, the show’s profoundly magnetic grooming expert, rocks a signature look of a Jesus beard, mermaid hair, painted nails and high-heeled booties. His fashion and grooming choices have an obvious political valence; he recently came out as non-binary. When he makes over some straight dude, it is as if he is imbuing the process with his own transgressive identity, even if he’s grooming the guy into a standard-issue cool dad.

Anyway, it’s wonderful to watch. In contrast, the original “Queer Eye” no longer goes down so easy. The show’s exclusive focus on providing men with physical upgrades now plays as cynical. The Fab Five ridicule their marks as much as they help them. More than a decade before same-sex marriage would be legalized across the United States, these five out gay men were quite obviously punching up.

But in the new version, the power dynamic has flipped. The difference between the Fab Five and their charges is no longer chiefly one of sexual orientation or gender identity. (This “Queer Eye” also provides makeovers to gay men and to women.) The clear but unspoken distinction is a class one.

The “Queer Eye” cast may come from humble beginnings, but they now reside in coastal cultural centers and hold fulfilling and lucrative jobs. Their makeover subjects are lower- and middle-class people who are, though it is rarely put this way, struggling financially. This “Queer Eye” handles them gently. As Van Ness puts it in one episode: “We’re nonjudgmental queens.”

It’s a little bit curious that as our political discourse is concerned with economic inequality — and the soaring costs of health care, education and homes — the cultural conversation is fixated on the healing powers of luxury items. What does it mean, that materialism is now so meaningful? “Generation Wealth” posits that extreme spending is a symptom of a civilization in decline. Americans may not have what they need, but at least they can get what they want, even if it’s on credit.

The writer and performer Amanda-Faye Jimenez recently posted a meme to Instagram of a child swinging blithely on the playground as a fire rages in the forest behind him. The forest is tagged: “My personal life and career.” The child: “The skincare routine.”

Material comforts are comforting: cooking a nice and interesting meal; living in a tidy and beautiful space; soothing tired eyes with a cool mask. And money helps you get money: The subjects of “Queer Eye” are typically made over in a standard professional style, as if they are being retrofitted for the work force. Surreptitiously, “Queer Eye” provides vacation time, too: Its subjects somehow receive a week off from work to focus on themselves.

The trouble is that when “Queer Eye” offers these comforts, the show implies that its subjects have previously lacked them because of some personal failure. They have been insufficiently confident, skilled, self-aware, dedicated or emotionally vulnerable. The spiritual conversion of the show occurs when the subject pledges a personal commitment to maintaining a new lifestyle going forward. But what these people need is not a new perspective. They need money, and they need time, which is money.

“Queer Eye” offers a kind of simulation of wealth redistribution. But every time the Fab Five retreats from the scene, I imagine the freshly-painted homes slowly falling into disrepair, the beards growing shaggy again, the refrigerators emptying.

In the fourth season, which dropped last month, the team makes over a single dad from Kansas City who is known as “the cat suit guy” because he wears feline print onesies to local sporting events. By the end, he gets a new corporate casual wardrobe, and a pop-up support network for his depression — he struggled to discuss it with anyone until the cast of “Queer Eye” broke through his shell.

As they prepare to leave, he tells them that he really needs them to stay in touch. “You’ve got to check on me,” he says. Absolutely, one of them says: “On Instagram.”

Sahred From Source link Arts

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