#and yes i do have playlists for both. might drop some songs in the reblogs later | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bopbopstyles · 4 years ago

Text

6. Heartbeat

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.8k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK TO JOIN THE TAGLIST

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: welcome to the land of harry as a father aka the place of my death, i hope you enjoy your stay!

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Y/N had told Harry she’d pick him up from the airport, but now that she was parking in the arrivals lot, she was wondering if that was the wrong choice. She’d managed to keep her news a secret since she had found out, not wanting to tell Harry over the phone when he was halfway across the world, but it had been horrible. They had never kept secrets from each other, at least, not ones like this, and it was eating away at Y/N from the inside. She didn’t even know how she was going to tell him yet. There were speeches she had practiced, about how it wasn’t necessary for him to be around if he wasn’t interested, that she would do it on her own—but she didn’t know if she wanted to do it on her own? None of them had felt right though, and all of them had ended with her in a pile of tears on her bedroom floor. Her hormones were out of control lately, emotions on a rollercoaster that she was permanently strapped in for.

But she had promised Harry, and despite her fears of telling him her news, she was truly excited to see him. It had been over a month and a half and she was desperate to see his face in person, to touch his body and confirm that yes, he was in fact, real. So she got a move on, not wanting to make Harry wait for her and risk being sighted in the airport.

She bounced up and down on her toes in the arrivals hall, keys jingling in her hand as she waited to see him. He’d probably have sunglasses and a hoodie on, a few suitcases rolling behind him that she’d have to somehow find space for in her trunk. The prospect of him turning the corner had her heart leaping in her chest.

And then there he was, a black hoodie and black sunglasses, two suitcases pulled behind him, curls peeking out from the edge of his hoodie. No one seemed to have caught on as to who he was, so Y/N went for it—she did what she had always wanted people to do when she arrived places. She ran through the arrivals hall, launching herself at Harry.

His eyes met hers when she was a few paces away and his face lit up, lips turning up in a smile, dropping both of his suitcases and opening his arms for her to fly into. Which she did, full throttle, tossing herself into his arms, chuckling at the way he staggered back dramatically. Their faces met immediately, lips on one another for an innocent kiss, desperation too much for the moment.

“Hi,” he said when they pulled away, eyes glinting under the florescents. “What a nice surprise.”

“Thought I’d give it a shot,” she replied, hopping down and taking one of his suitcases from his hand. “Have a good flight?”

Intertwining his fingers with hers, they walked through the arrivals hall. People may have recognized him, but maybe out of kindness they stayed away, perhaps noticing the two young lovers caught up in one another. “Long, but I slept most of the way. Wanted to be all rested up for my girl,” he said with a wink.

Y/N gave him a playful bump with her hip and led him to her car in the arrivals lot, listening to him jabber about the other passengers in first class and how terrible the food was. He was ready for a home cooked meal, he told her, one that he had prepared, and Y/N was fully prepared for that reality, having already gone to the grocery store earlier that day.

They managed to squeeze his suitcases into her trunk and she took the wheel, letting him put on some music as she pulled out of the spot and navigated traffic out of the airport. “Feeling any better?” His question was innocent enough, but for Y/N it set off alarm bells in her head. Had he found out somehow? And then the underlying question that had been keeping her up at night since she had found out: what would he say?

“Bit,” she told him. “What do you want to do now that you’re home?” She asked, quickly turning the topic of conversation back to him, but he didn’t notice. He just yammered on about wanting to go for some hikes, go to their favorite restaurants, spend time with her catching up on the movies he had missed. Jeff was mentioned, the idea of having some friends over, and the prospect of having Jeff anywhere near them right now was an anxiety attack that Y/N had managed to hold off and was perfectly ready not to have anytime soon.

The topic switched to music, which Y/N was perfectly happy with, and she played him the Phoebe Bridgers album that she’d recently discovered. He gave her his analysis, unpacking her favorite songs in the car. Then he shared his new favorite songs, a collection of indie songs she’d never heard and the Top 40s he was loving. They analyzed them together, unpacking the elements she had grown up attuned to—the synths and the perfection of a good bridge.

Before she knew it, she was swinging into the driveway of Harry’s house, punching the garage door opener clipped to her sun visor. As she turned off the car she heard Harry sigh next to her, a wide smile on his face.

“Home sweet home,” he said, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek. “Now let’s get these suitcases inside so I can get in the shower and get all these airplane germs off of me.”

Together they brought his cases inside, locking the garage door behind them and turning off the security system. Harry praised her plant maintenance skills as they crested the stairs, pulling the heavy bags into his bedroom. He flopped down on the bed, arms outstretched for her to crawl into, which she did gladly. Upon feeling his arms close around her, she let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, a weight lifted off of her shoulders from a month and a half of being separated.

“Missed you so much,” he whispered into her hair, holding her close to his body. “So happy to be home with you.”

She lifted her head from his chest and swept her fingers across his jaw. “It wasn’t the same without you,” she told him. “No one being annoying while I try to watch TV.”

“Hey!” He said, tickling at her sides. “I’m perfectly wonderful. I just like lovin’ on you.”

Y/N snuggled into him and tried to let her fears from earlier subside. She’d tell him after they made dinner, let him settle in a bit. “Go shower, you smell like plane,” she said, mumbling against his hoodie. “Want me to start anything downstairs?”

He shook his head, rolling out from under her. “Would you put my wash in though?” His eyes batted at her, as if he was a kid begging for a candy bar.

She rolled her eyes, sliding off the bed. “Yes. All of it?”

He nodded. He’d gone through a lot of clothes, obviously. So she unzipped his suitcases, unpacking his clothes and separating out the colors, making two tall piles of all his things. She made a separate pile for all the bits that needed to be dry cleaned for him to drop off tomorrow while she was at work, and took the darks into the laundry room downstairs, starting a load. Upstairs, she heard the sound of the shower and Harry singing one of his songs like the menace he was. Her eyes fell to a bottle of wine on the counter that she had pulled out for him earlier, and she remembered that she, now, couldn’t drink.

Fuck being pregnant, she thought. All she wanted was a nice big glass of wine.

But she left it be and instead lit one of his favorite candles and turned on their playlist in the speakers, letting the sound fill the house. Before long, Harry was coming down in the stairs in sweats, hair wet and floppy on his head in the way she thought made him look so young and sweet, utterly cuddly and lovable.

“Cravin’ a good bowl of pasta and some veg, how ‘bout you?” He said, making his way into the kitchen. A glass from the cabinet was pulled down, sat next to the bottle of wine she had glanced at earlier, and a question over his shoulder. “Want some?”

“No,” she said calmly. “I’m okay. And yes to dinner, sounds lovely.”

His eyebrows furrowed at her answer, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled some veggies from the fridge and grabbed a cutting board, musing to her about how he wanted to get some new towels while he prepared their dinner. As he cooked, the thought of Harry as a dad crossed her mind. An evening like this, but a baby in the mix. It wouldn’t be so bad, she decided. He’d actually be probably amazing, actually. The only problem was that the perfect moments wouldn’t be all of the moments.

Their conversation flowed easily over dinner, Y/N’s belly full from the food and the laughter from Harry’s terrible jokes. She cleared away the plates and together they washed up, Harry bumping his hip into hers as he dried the dishes. With every moment that passed, the knot in her stomach tightened at the thought of having to tell him, of breaking his fantasy of what the next few years of his life might hold—of his entire life, really.

He refilled his glass of wine and together they made their way to the couch and when they sat, Harry pulled her into his arms, cuddling her close. This was the moment, she realized. It made her stumble, trying to find the right words to tell him this kind of earth-shattering news.

“Harry,” she said, voice cracking with nervousness. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Harry’s body tightened immediately—she could feel it happen against her. “What is it?”

She straightened up, pulling herself from his embrace. She needed space if she was going to do this, the ability to think properly, and being that close to Harry made it impossible. Did she just spit it out? No pretext, just tell him? This was the part she always stumbled on, how to phrase it. But, she thought, there probably wasn’t a handbook on how to tell your boyfriend this kind of news. Especially when it’s not planned.

“Love?” He prompted, worry written all over his face.

“I—fuck,” she said, stomach seizing in worry, “I’m…” She couldn’t get the words out, they were sticking in her throat and she couldn’t find them and she wanted to tell him but she was so fucking scared of what he would say.

Harry reached out, taking her hands in his, the hard calluses of his fingers brushing over her skin. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Whatever it is.”

Her eyes met his, and she just decided to go for it. No dancing around. “I’m pregnant.”

Harry’s eyes widened, whole body stilling. In his grip, her palms began to sweat, the nerves running through her body like a train. They just stared at each other, the news sinking in for Harry probably in the same way as it did for Y/N—the utter panic seizing him. The questions swirling around faster than he could process.

But he didn’t say anything. Just stared at her. And she didn’t know what the fuck that meant. “I know it’s a lot,” she said, the words rushing out, trying to fill the silence. “But we have options.” She used the same words as her doctor, she realized. “I’m still early enough to terminate if we wanted to, or we can do adoption, although I doubt Jeff would go for it, and I’m also happy to do it on my own.” The last one was the one that she’d given the most thought to, and she was actually okay with the idea. Having a child on her own, being a single mom. Wasn’t in the books, but it wasn’t a bad outcome. “I know you’re busy and just starting your solo career so a kid isn’t really great timing, so I can do it and you can like be in their life, I guess? Whatever you want—I’m not, I’m not expecting anything, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” The words came out like a freight train, barreling through the silence between them.

But Harry’s answer blew her straight out of the water. “You—on your own? Fuck no,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not doing that.”

“You—what?”

“Y/N,” he told her, squeezing her hands. “I’m not letting you raise my kid on your own.”

The words almost made it worse because she realized once he said them, she almost wanted him to say sure, raise it on your own. Because it would be easier. “Harry,” she said softly, slowly, trying to figure out how to say this, “I’m not sure if…I want you to do it with me.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” His words cut like ice, anger clear in his voice, hands wrenching from hers as if she was on fire.

“I don’t know if I want to raise a kid with you,” she said, trying to make it as plain as possible.

The hurt in his eyes burned her to her core. All the joy in his face gone, as if a cold wind had come by and slapped him in the face. And it pained her, but it was also the best thing for her. To be able to do it on her own terms, her own pace, her own place even. “Why?” When he spoke, it was broken, a whispered question.

She bit her lip, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. “My dad’s a musician. I know what it’s like to be a musician’s daughter and it fucking sucks most of the time. I saw it destroy my parents’ marriage, saw it destroy the marriages of my dad’s friends. I don’t want to put my kid through that,” she told him, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I want to be a good mom, and I don’t know think that means having you in the picture.”

Harry launched himself off of the couch, standing up with his back to her. All of a sudden, Y/N saw his shoulders shaking, the raspy sound of his cries, and she realized he was crying. She’d made him cry. Made him sob, from the sound of it. And it broke her into a million pieces, the remaining bit of her heart that she hadn’t ripped out the moment she had to tell him that she didn’t want him around for their child.

“Harry—“

“No,” he said, whirling around so she finally saw his face, the tears streaming down his face like waterfalls, red and puffy eyes. “You do not get to sit there and try and comfort me right now. You just told me that you don’t want me to be in my kid’s life!” His voice had reached a scream, the sound echoing in the room.

Y/N tucked her knees up to her chest. She knew it was going to be hard, but she didn’t expect it to be like this. Did she expected him to accept it, maybe? Be relieved? But from looking at Harry now, she didn’t know how she could’ve ever thought that. He looked devastated, utterly destroyed, as if the rug had been ripped out from under him. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice soft. “I just…”

“Y/N,” he said, struggling to stay measured, “obviously this is ultimately your decision. But I am the father, and more than anything, I’m your boyfriend. This isn’t like some one night stand—I’m—“ His voice broke, tumbling over the words. “I’m in love with you. And you’re having our baby. And I feel like you’ve completely shut me out from making any kind of decision. Like you just decided without even considering what I might want.”

“I prioritized myself,” she said, voice stern. “Because I have to carry this child for nine months. I will be there, every single day, for the rest of my life, raising this child. It will be me, Harry, not you, who will be the parent at every school function, helping with homework and dealing with nightmares. Because you will be gone half of the time. So I’m sorry if I had to put myself first, if that feels like I shut you out. But trust me when I say that I did consider what you might want.”

“But you decided that what you want is more important.”

“Not what I want,” Y/N corrected, “but what I need. What my child needs.”

“Our,” he said, cutting her off. “Our child. ’S not your child, it’s our child.”

His words stopped her dead in her tracks. He was so insistent, staring her straight in the eyes, not moving from where he stood. “Yes. Our child.”

With an exhale, Harry ran a hand through his hair, his rings glinting under the soft lights of the living room. “I understand your fears. I want you to know that. I’m fucking terrified too,” he said, a soft chuckle falling through the tension, “but I don’t plan on fucking off around the world and leaving you here to care for our child. Y/N, I want a family more than anything in the whole entire world. More than my career, more than everything.”

They’d never really had this conversation, she thought when he said those words. She knew he wanted kids, but she never knew where they ranked in his ambitions. How high up they actually were. She had assumed, she realized, that he would act the way so many others did. But Harry, he was different.

“I want to raise our child with you,” he continued, voice straining as the tears continued to fall down his cheeks. He brushed at them with the back of his hand and Y/N wished she could dry them for him. “I want to do this with you. If you don’t want me to, then I’ll respect that. But I’m not going to let you—our child—go without a fight.”

Y/N exhaled, his words hitting her like a ton of bricks. He wanted their child. He wanted to be a father, to raise a kid with her. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, no pause, intention clear in his tone. “Never been so sure in my life.”

“This isn’t something you get to go back on,” she reminded him. “Like, this is the rest of your life you’re committing to.”

“I know.” His voice was devoid of any doubt, just sureness, and it managed to chip away at the hard edge she’d been latching onto in an attempt to make the hardest choice of her life—pushing him away.

She looked down at her hands, the chipped blue nail polish there from Friday night when she’d been having a whole lot of deep thoughts about this conversation and the future. “Harry,” she said softly, “I’m terrified of this.”

A hand drifted through her hair and she looked up, seeing Harry crouching in front of her, eyes level with hers. “I know, baby.”

“I don’t know how to be a mom. I’m not ready.”

“Me either,” he said with a sad smile. “But we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

Slowly, she nodded and Harry exhaled, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, tears ripping through her again. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He gathered her in his arms without a second thought and Y/N folded into him, shame and regret leaking from her like a faucet. “I forgive you,” he said with a kiss to her temple. “Raising a kid with me is definitely not going to be the easiest thing in the world. That’s not your fault, and you wanting to do what’s best for our kid, even if it means me not being around? That shows how fierce of a mom you’re going to be.”

His words stirred something in her. Mom. She was going to be a mother. “You think so?”

“Going to be fucking incredible, baby.”

“You’re going to be a dad,” she whispered, looking into his green eyes, which were still red and puffy, but the sad look was replaced with one full of excitement, joy. “Gonna be a good one, too, I think.”

He smiled at her, cupping her cheek in his hand. “With you at my side, don’t know how I couldn’t be.”

Harry sat down in the pink plastic chairs, rubbing his hands on the his pants, and Y/N dropped into the seat next to him. Seeing Harry Styles in an OB/GYN clinic was quite possibly one of Y/N’s favorite things she’s ever seen. He was peeking at the women’s magazines, reading the articles about pregnancy intensely in a way that made her restrain from giggling. He even made conversation with the receptionist, asking her about her day and making sure that the appointment would be completely safe for the baby, which of course, it was.

When she made the appointment she asked to be scheduled at a time when no one else would be in the waiting room, and they managed to succeed, the seats completely empty when Harry and her walked in the door. They hadn’t decided how—or when—they wanted to announce her pregnancy or if they even wanted to. They were both deeply private people and the idea of blasting their personal lives on social media felt horrible, so they wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.

They also hadn’t told Jeff and the rest of Harry’s team yet. Harry told her he wanted to wait until he heard his child’s heartbeat, felt the reality of having a child, before he launched into that conversation with his management because it wouldn’t be an easy one. So the last thing they wanted was Jeff finding out Y/N was pregnant through paparazzi photos of them going into an OB/GYN clinic.

“Have you ever been to an OB/GYN clinic?” She asked him, propping her elbow up on the arm rest between them.

He snorted. “Why would I?”

“Dunno,” she said with a shrug. “Thought that might explain why you seem not to be overwhelmed with the amount of modeled vaginas and uteri around you.”

“That what those are?” He asked in mock surprise, pointing at the one next to them. “Well fuck. Just thought it was art.”

Y/N had to hide her face in his shoulder to keep from laughing too loudly, and when she poked her head up, Harry was looking down at her with a grin. “Glad you’re here,” she said, chin resting on his shoulder.

He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Me too, baby.”

“Gonna hear your other baby,” she said with a chuckle and Harry just looked like he had won the lottery. It was this reason that Y/N was becoming more and more okay with the idea of raising a child with Harry with every passing day. He was just so happy all the time—there was a new bounce in his step and he was utterly obsessed with picking out baby clothes. The morning after she had told him, she went downstairs to find him sat at the dining table, browsing some websites for baby clothes, selecting an entire wardrobe for his child to outfit them for their entire first year. Y/N had to physically hide his wallet and remove his computer from his vicinity to get him to stop.

Harry pulled her into his body and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You know I’ve always dreamed of doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Hearing my baby’s heartbeat.”

She kissed the exposed skin at the top his shirt at the base of his neck, hoping it would encapsulate the feeling of love radiating through her body because she truly didn’t have the words.

“Y/N?” She looked up and her OB/GYN, Dr. Crawford, stood in the doorway. Harry stood up immediately, the excitement flowing through him obvious to anyone with eyes. He held her hand as they walked down the fall to the exam room, not minding that her hand got a sweaty from the nerves. There was something mildly uncomfortable about Harry being with her at an office where she usually went to get her birth control and yearly exams, but Harry didn’t seem to mind at all. He somehow fit in, made her feel at ease, lessened the nerves with his silly jokes and tickles to her sides when she looked too intense.

“So,” Dr. Crawford said once they were settled in the exam room, Y/N on the table and Harry sat in the chair closest to her, knee bouncing up and down so fast Y/N had to lean over and stop him. “I got your results from Dr. Terrell—seems like you’re eight weeks along, now more like nine. I estimate conception was in mid September by that approximation.”

Y/N looked over at Harry, his eyes crinkling up at the edges, his thoughts probably the same as hers. “When you were home,” she said, the memory of their reunion strong. Of course it was then—she was so caught up in Harry being home she wouldn’t been surprised if she had missed a day of her pill altogether.

“And are you the father?” Dr. Crawford asked, pointing her ballpoint at Harry, a questionnaire attached to her clipboard.

“Yes,” they both said at the same time, Dr. Crawford giving them a warm smile.

He reached out a hand to Dr. Crawford as if she probably didn’t know who he was. Although maybe it was better if her OB/GYN didn’t know that the father was an international popstar? Y/N couldn’t really decide. “Harry,” he introduced himself, leaving his last name conveniently out.

“Pleasure,” she answered, shaking his hand. “Now, I’m assuming we want to meet your baby today?” Harry reached his hand over to hers, fingers interlinking as they both nodded. “Wonderful. Y/N can you lift your shirt for me?”

She rucked up the edge of her oversized t-shirt and Dr. Crawford brought over the same device Y/N had seen on TV—a transducer, her OB/GYN informed her as she lathered a cold gel over a section of her stomach. “Okay,” she said, pressing some buttons on the machine, “give me a second to find your little one.”

Harry’s eyes drifted to the screen, squeezing her hand as they both listened closely to try and hear their child’s heartbeat. The screen was grainy, lines and pockets that Y/N tried her best not to trick into believing was her child. Dr. Crawford moved the transducer around on Y/N’s lower abdomen, searching for the right spot. Panic seized Y/N the longer they waited for the heartbeat, questions swirling in her head—was there something wrong? Was the test wrong—was she not pregnant after all? Or worse—was there something wrong with their child?

And then, a solid thudding sound echoed in Y/N’s ears, and her vision immediately swam as tears welled in her eyes. It was her child, her baby, the little being she was carrying inside of her. She looked over to Harry, and he was full-on crying, wiping his nose on the hem of his sweatshirt as he stared at Y/N in awe.

Dr. Crawford suddenly sighed, and Y/N tore her eyes away from Harry to look up at the screen, where she could see, faintly, the outline of a fetus. “That’s our little Peanut,” Harry whispered to her, bowing his head so it rested on her shoulder, them both looking at the screen. “They’re real,” he said, his tears wetting her shirt and Y/N was crying as hard as him now, the sight of her child up on the screen jerking at every fiber of her body.

Peanut, Y/N thought to herself. Harry already had a nickname for their child.

“That’s them?” She asked Dr. Crawford, barely able to see the screen because of the tears.

“Yes,” her doctor replied, “that’s your baby."

Y/N turned and tugged at Harry’s face, suddenly feeling the overwhelming desire to kiss him, needing him to anchor her to the world and remind her that yes, this was real. His hands cupped her chin delicately, lips meeting. Their foreheads rested against one another’s as their tears flowed, the fact that they were actually going to be parents settling in.

“Can I—can I take a video?” Harry asked Dr. Crawford, looking back up at the doctor, pulling Y/N from their personal moment. “Want to be able to let my mum hear the heartbeat.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Let me turn up the sound.” She pressed a few buttons, and suddenly the thud of her child’s heartbeat was all Y/N could hear. She closed her eyes to the sound, letting it take root in her brain. Her hands drifted to where the transducer rested on her belly, careful not to get too close as she cupped her stomach. Perhaps it had been the anxiety over telling Harry, but she hadn’t really touched where her child was growing yet. The concept hadn’t really settled in—in fact, she had tried to avoid thinking about it because it stressed her out so much.

But now it was a reflex.

“I’ll take some pictures for you to keep,” Dr. Crawford said, pressing a button and shifting the transducer slightly. “I’ll go grab these for you,” she told them, “and then we can talk about what the next few weeks will hold.” She pulled the transducer off of Y/N’s belly, wiping off the gel, and then stepped out of the room giving the two emotional parents a moment alone.

“How is it,” Harry said, voice raw with emotion, “that I’m already so in love with them?”

Y/N pushed a strand of his hair off his forehead and wiped a tear from his cheek. “I know what you mean,” she whispered. “It’s so visceral. I can’t even explain it.”

He bent his head to hers, sighing as he shut his eyes against her skin. “I love you. I know this wasn’t the plan, but I’m so happy I don’t even know what to say.”

Her fingers swept at his neck, massaging his skin, knowing he loved the feeling. “I love you too, H.”

That night, they laid in Y/N’s bed, Harry having decided to stay for a few days while they processed everything, and stared at the photos Dr. Crawford had given them in the office. Y/N was curled up on Harry’s chest and he thought that he had truly never experienced a more perfect moment. The mother of his child curled into him, head on his chest, while they looked at the photo of their unborn child.

“Due in June,” Harry whispered. “They’re going to be a summer baby.”

“Thank god,” Y/N mumbled into his skin. “Between me in January and you in February, I truly don’t think I could handle one more Winter birthday.”

Harry laughed, her head bouncing on his vibrating chest. She managed to make every moment a little bit brighter, and feature he loved so deeply about her. Neither of them could be serious for too long, and it kept them laughing all the time, much to the annoyance of their friends when no one got their inside jokes.

He gazed at the photo of his child, his brain barely able to wrap around the fact. He had known for days, and yet he still woke up in the morning and forgot. When he saw Y/N he always remembered, but there was this second in the morning where he forgot and he hated it. He was going to be a father and he wanted to soak up every single second, revel in the reality that he was starting a family. And maybe it didn’t happen the way he would’ve planned it, but that didn’t make it any less special or exciting. Plus, his child with Y/N was going to have insanely good music taste.

The thought that he couldn’t get out of the back of his head was the fact that he was supposed to be going on tour in March. A world tour longer than the one he had just finished, from March to July with basically no breaks. As of right now, he wouldn’t even be in town for the birth of his child. And he wasn’t going to have ten days off to visit Y/N or see his mum. When he looked at his schedule earlier in the day, he had only found one substantial break—ten days in May, nestled between Japan and Argentina. That wasn’t how he wanted to do fatherhood—he wanted to see Y/N for every single second of the day, to see her belly grow and her body change, to talk to his child every night before bed as he had done last night, Y/N giggling above him. He wanted to be present, mentally and physically. He wanted to be there for the birth, at the utter bare minimum, and with the schedule he was going to miss that too.

He also knew that there was no way in hell he was going to be able to put on the kinds of shows he wanted, do the press he usually did, with a pregnant Y/N back in LA waiting for him. It wasn’t the world tour he wanted to put on, the kind of show he wanted to bring to the fans. Harry was a go big or go home kind of guy, and half-assed shows wasn’t going to cut it.

But he had no idea how to balance the two. How did he be the kind of father he wanted to be, but also the kind of musician he loved being? As much as he wanted to ask Y/N, he was scared she’d be frustrated, pointing out that this was exactly what she was afraid of. He needed a game plan before he could really talk to her about it, but that involved talking to Jeff, and he wanted to do that with Y/N there. He wanted Jeff to know that they were a family, and decisions that affected Harry were decisions that affected Y/N and their child.

So who did he talk to, then?

He didn’t have all that many friends with kids. And those he did have, most of them weren’t musicians—they were like James, people who worked in the same city as their family but traveled for work some. Not people whose entire careers were based around being gone for extended periods of time.

But, he realized, he had Adam. Adam, with multiple kids. Adam, a musician who toured—and had toured with Harry. He knew how Harry was, what kind of shows he needed to deliver, the demands of his particular brand of fame.

He glanced down at Y/N and saw her eyes were shut, arm still resting over his abdomen. Soft sighs fluttered from her lips, a sweet smile on her face—even in sleep, she was beautiful. Even more so, somehow. Harry leaned over and flicked off his light, resting the photo of his little Peanut on the bedside table so when they woke up in the morning, it was the first thing they’d see.

In the morning, Harry made Y/N pancakes and gave her a kiss goodbye before grabbing his phone, desperate to talk to someone about the thoughts raging through his head. He could barely sleep last night, the questions and scenarios like a bad movie rolling through his brain—what if he missed the birth? What if he missed the first kick? What if Y/N hated him for it, and made good on her original request—for him to not be in the picture? What if he missed out on the opportunity to be a dad?

That thought had him scrambling for Adam’s contact in his phone.

“Hello?”

Adam’s voice rang through the line and it eased an anxiety Harry had had weighing on him for days. “Hey man,” he said, settling into Y/N’s couch where was set up. “Need your advice on something.”

He heard a rustling, probably Adam sitting down and settling in for what he knew would be a long conversation, as were anytime Harry asked Adam for advice. “What’s up?”

“I need you to keep this a secret. Like, tell no one about this—literally not a soul knows except for you, me, and Y/N. Not even Jeff or my mum.”

Adam exhaled, probably understanding the gravity of it if Harry hadn’t even told Anne. He told Anne everything, which he had been told on multiple occasions was not the type of behavior common in 20-somethings men, but it was how he was. Maybe it was a product of leaving home early, or of the fact that his mum was truly his best friend. “You’re kind of freaking me out, mate.”

“You swear?”

“Of course—swear I won’t tell anyone. Not even Emi.”

Harry breathed in, then out, and then he just spilled it: “Y/N’s pregnant.”

Adam was quiet for a beat, and then, “Wow. How do you feel?”

That was the one question Harry could answer confidently. “I’m so happy that Y/N keeps telling me too stop smiling or she’s going to get me checked out,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you feel like that with Silver and Spike?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, “like my heart was going to pop out of my chest.”

That was exactly the feeling Harry had right now and hadn’t seemed to dissipate. “So, I’m happy right? So happy. But I’m also losing it—I told you about Y/N’s rule, the stuff we’ve worked through, all that. And now we’re going to have a baby. When she told me, she said she didn’t know if she wanted to raise a kid with me—because of my job.”

“Fuck.”

“I talked her back from there,” Harry explained, standing and beginning to pace, bare feet hitting her wood floors. “I told her how I wanted to be present, how it was more important than my career. But, now I actually have to make the decision, because we’ve got a tour scheduled until July and the baby’s due in June. And,” he added, “if I had it my way I would be here the whole time. I want to be here for all of her pregnancy—it’s my first kid, Adam.” His voice broke as he said those words, the reality of what this could become hitting him. “I need to experience that. And I have no idea what to do.”

Adam didn’t say anything, but Harry knew he was still there because he heard Silver talking in the background, Emi’s voice telling her to give Papa some space, which pulled on Harry’s heart. He wanted that so badly—to have someone call him Papa and crawl up his legs, demanding attention. “You haven’t talked to Jeff, yet, right?” Adam finally asked.

“No.”

“Good. Wait until you’ve got a plan of attack—you want to be really clear about what you want to do.”

Harry nodded, leaning onto Y/N kitchen island, eyes studying a crack in the countertop he hadn’t noticed before. “That was my thought too. ’S why I called you.”

“Well,” Adam said, “I’m not going to pretend like my situation was anything like yours. Completely different can of worms. But, I’ll say this—I understanding your desire to be there. I missed bits of it with Silver but got it all with Spike and it made me wish I had been there for all of it.”

“I don’t want cancel tour though,” Harry said, words heavy in his heart. The idea had him heartbroken—all of the disappointed fans? He couldn’t do that.

“No you don’t,” Adam agreed. “But your baby is due in June, so you’re going to have to cancel the US leg at the very least. You’re going to have to tour, at least for part of it. You’ll miss stuff, but that’s the way it works. There’s no way you could be around Y/N all day anyways—she’s got work, you’ve got work, you would miss things either way. But it’s different to be completely gone and it’s going to be brutal for both of you.”

“You’re really not helping,” Harry muttered, the panic resurfacing in his chest.

“Sorry,” Adam said, “I’m trying. Would Y/N go on tour with you?”

The thought flickered through Harry’s brain. It was an idea. One Y/N would probably put up a fuss about, not wanting to leave her office and friends. “Maybe for bits of it. But she works full-time and bloody loves her job. It would be hard for her to do fully remote, I think, especially halfway around the world.” “So that’s an option. As for cancelling the US dates, you can just reschedule them shows for later—maybe beginning of 2019.”

“I’m supposed to be recording then.” He’s got another album to write, after all. An album that had a strong feeling was going to be very different than anything he had done before.

“I—fuck. I mean, maybe you’ll just have to fully cut them, just do refunds.”

Harry sighed. It was, perhaps, the best he could do. Not nearly enough, but it might be all he could do. “Fans will never forgive me.”

“You’ll have to explain,” Adam reminded him. “If they know why, I don’t think they’ll hate you too much.”

He hoped not. He loved his fans and in a normal situation he would never cancel shows like this. But this wasn’t a normal circumstance. “I’ll have to talk to Jeff. He’s going to kill me.”

“Hey,” Adam said, voice softening, “he won’t. He’s going to be frustrated, sure, but not with you—more with all the people he’s going to have to call. But that’s his job, not yours. Your job is to be a great boyfriend, a great musician, and now, a great dad. Which you’re going to be. Promise.”

“Thank you,” he said, words catching in his throat. He didn’t even know he needed to hear someone other than Y/N say it until Adam did. “Needed to hear that.”

“Happy to remind you anytime,” Adam told him and Harry thought about how lucky he was to have friends like him around. “Now, I’ve got to go take Silver to a sleepover—call me if you want to talk more, though, okay? I’m around.”

“Thanks mate,” he said. “Say hi to everyone for me.”

“Harry says hi!” Adam called to his family, and Harry smiled at the yells of “HI HARRY!” that echoed through the phone. “They say hi. Talk later, man.”

“Bye,” Harry said, ending the call. He stood up straight, his hip resting against the island, and considered what Adam had said. She’d take some convincing, but Y/N might agree to go on tour with him. He didn’t know how good it would be for her to travel that much—he needed to get that checked out—but it was worth a shot. As far as canceling the shows, it would be painful, but he firmly believed it would be worth it.

He hadn’t lied to Y/N when he told her that her, their child, their life, was more important than anything. It was, which was why experiencing pregnancy with her was at the top of his list. He would do anything to be with her for it, whether he had to move tour dates or mountains—anything for her.

Motown was playing when she opened the door, the smell of something spicy hitting her nostrils immediately. Harry stood in her kitchen in her favorite apron, a towel over one shoulder and a glass of wine on the counter in front of him. He was cooking for her, dinner ready and waiting when she arrived home from work. The thought hit her like a ton of bricks: this was the life she had always dreamed of with her significant other. The simple moments of them making her dinner, of them taking care of her when she needed it most. And after today, she really needed it.

“Hi, baby,” Harry said, turning down the music so she could hear him. He wandered over to her as she slipped off her coat and shoes, arms winding around her. “How was your day?”

“Shitty,” she replied, pulling away from him. “Need to go change out of my clothes.”

“Sounds good. Dinner will be ready in ten.”

Y/N pulled off her clothes and replaced them with a soft sweatshirt and leggings, before making her way into the bathroom to take off her makeup. Eyes exhausted from staring at her computer all day, the words on the screen running together by the time she left her desk, she took out her contacts and slipped on her glasses instead, a sigh of relief leaving her body. Now she felt like she was home.

In the kitchen, Harry was plating up their food, a glass of water in a wine glass waiting for her that made her miss alcohol so much—not even in a way where she needed it, the concept of a nice glass of red wine just sounded utterly delectable.

“Made you salmon and a bunch of veg,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to her temple as she passed him in the narrow kitchen. “Was readin’ that book you have ‘bout pregnancy and saw how important it is to eat good.”

The thought of Harry sitting on her couch reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting brought a smile to her cheeks that she desperately needed after the day she had had. He had become a bit obsessed with fatherhood in the few days since she had told him the news, and each time he mentioned the new research he had been doing, it reminded her that the fears revolving through her brain all day might very well be misplaced. Maybe Harry would be able to be the kind of present father that she needed and Harry wanted to be.

“So,” he said, settling into the seat caddy-corner to her, their plates in front of them. “Tell me about this shitty day of yours.”

She took a bite of the salmon, giving him a thumbs up when he asked how it was. “Started with me having to run out of a meeting to vomit,” she began.

“Oh no,” he said, knowing full well how much she hated vomiting and how tired of it she was.

“Yep.” She cut into one of the roasted sweet potatoes, the question of how Harry learned to cook so well crossing her mind as she took a bite. “And then I got the call that the big deal I’ve been working on fell through—the company decided to go with another agency. I haven’t even presented our final plan yet—didn’t even have a chance to prove myself. I don’t even know how they made the choice, but to have done it without even seeing the final product sucks.”

Harry reached over and slipped his hand into her, giving it a tight squeeze. “’S not a reflection of your work, love.”

“I know,” she reassured him, “but it’s hard not to think it anyways.” She took a sip of her ice water, eyes falling to his red wine with longing. “But then one of the interns mentioned some trend on Instagram that I knew nothing about and it made me feel old. And then Jamie asked me if I wanted to get drinks after work and I had to make up an excuse and he looked so sad. So it was a shit day.”

The look on her face was so heartbreaking that Harry just wanted to squeeze it right out of her. So he took his hand and pressed his thumbs into her cheeks, squeezing them together, trying to make her giggle like she usually did when he did this. “You’re really, really fuckin’ cute, Y/N,” he told her and to his delight a blush fell over the tops of her cheeks. “And you’re also wicked brilliant. Anyone who thinks otherwise, or makes you feel like you’re not, is an idiot. And you are most definitely not old.” He turned his chair and pulled himself towards her so his knees were touching the side of her chair, allowing him to press a delicate kiss to the fabric covering her shoulder. “You hear me?”

She nodded, picking up her fork to resume her dinner. “Thank you, H.”

“For what?” He pushed a strand of her hair behind her shoulder so it didn’t get in her food when she took a bite.

“Picking me up,” she said, eyes meeting his. “You’re good at it.”

He pecks the tip of her nose, smiling when her face scrunches up at the action. “Easy to do when you’re so bloody wonderful.” With that, he scoots back to his place at the table, letting her eat in peace. He filled the conversation with jabber about his work for the day, his calls with his team and the interview he did for a radio station. When Y/N was like this, she wasn’t all that talkative, preferring instead to mull about in her head and process all of her thoughts, but when she was ready to chat she came out in full force.

That happened after dinner, when they were tucked up in her bed, both reading. Harry was working his way through a non-fiction book about World War II, doing Dunkirk having piqued an interest for him, and Y/N was reading a copy of the New Yorker that her dad had given her when she saw him last. Suddenly, she nudged his neck with her head, demanding his attention.

When he looked down at her, she was all doe-eyed and warm, her mind having finally gotten itself out of the spiral it was in. “Sorry I was in a mood,” she said. “Hormones are fucking with me.”

“S’okay, button,” he said, kissing her forehead gently. “Sorry I got you pregnant and got you hormonal in the first place.” He meant it as a joke, but Y/N stilled against him and he immediately knew that wasn’t how she heard it. “Joking, Y/N,” he told her. “I love that we’re havin’ a baby.”

She set down her magazine and propped herself up on her elbows, Harry dropping his book too so he could focus fully on her. “Are you sure, H? If you’re being serious, I understand, you know. You don’t have to pretend. I don’t want you to pretend just for my sake.”

Harry exhaled. “How many times do I have to tell you, baby? I’m so excited to be havin’ a family with you I can’t even contain it. Nearly blurted it out to Jeff today in excitement before I remembered what we agreed on.”

“You might need to tell me a couple more times,” she told him honestly. “For some reason, my brain is having trouble wrapping its head around the idea that you want to be doing this.”

“C’mere,” he said, opening his arms so she could fold into his body. “I’ll remind you whenever you need, okay? But please, Y/N, please believe the best in me. I love you, but sometimes the doubt you have in me breaks me.”

Her fingers crawl up his biceps, fingers trailing around the outline of the heart tattooed there. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” She pressed her chin into his chest, a soft smile bringing him to his knees for her. “I wanted to talk to you about something, and I’d like you to keep an open mind.”

Her fingers stopped tracing his tattoos and her eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?”

“I talked to Adam today,” he began. “I told him we were havin’ a baby.” Before she could berate him for breaking their promise, he forged on, because that wasn’t the part he wanted to talk to her about—he already knew she was frustrated with him for it. “I needed his advice on how to approach the 2018 tour. Whenever we talk to Jeff I need to have a plan before I walk into that room, and Adam’s my only friend who has kids and knows intimately how I tour.”

She considers his words before opening her mouth. “Was it helpful?”

“Mhm,” he murmured. “He had a couple suggestions, some which aren’t possible, some which are. The main one was that you join me for part of the tour. I know that you have work and you probably can’t do it, but I already have to cancel the entire US leg because it’s in June when little Peanut is due, so I probably can’t ask for other breaks. And I have no fucking idea what to do, Y/N.”

Y/N scrambled up, swinging a leg over Harry’s waist to brush the tears that were spilling from his eyes. His heart was beating so fast, the fear of what she would say eating him alive. “Hey, hey, I’m here, okay? We’re going to figure this out.” She was so calm, collected, the opposite from what he expected. “Can you breathe for me? I want to have this conversation, but I can’t do it if you’re crying, H.”

Harry gulped, trying to get his breathing under control. “I—yes. Okay.” He listened to her breathing, the sound of her heartbeat, letting it anchor him.

“Better?” He nodded, and she smoothed his hair back before speaking again. “So. Me going on tour with you?”

“Yeah. What do you think?”

She sighed, her fingers fiddling at the collar of his shirt. Without even thinking about it, Harry found himself curving his hands around her stomach, right where his baby was, the action having become an impulse in the recent days. “H, I can’t travel when I’m over 34 weeks pregnant.”

Harry let out a sharp exhale, the frustration evident in the way he hung his head. “Fuck.”

“Maybe…Maybe I could take off a few weeks at the beginning? I’ve got the vacation time saved up.”

His head perked up at her proposal, eyes wide. “Really?”

She nodded, hand coming up to grip the back of his neck, her fingers massaging into the base of his skull. “I want to make this work and if that means taking some time off so we can be together, that’s what it means.”

The prospect of her on tour with him, her and their baby on tour with him made his heart flutter, the images of her, wildly pregnant, hanging out in his dressing room before shows, watching from the wings while he performed. Her hands carding through his hair while he took naps backstage, them shagging in his hotel rooms, cuddling on airplanes and tour buses. “I like that idea,” he said, bending down so he could press a soft kiss to her abdomen. “Quite a lot.”

“I kind of like it too,” She murmured, giggling when Harry left a lingering smooch to her belly button. “I’m sorry, baby about having to cancel tour. Know that isn’t what you want to do.”

“Rather be here than anywhere else,” he said, nudging at her cheek with his nose. “Y/N, I want you to know, I would never have picked to tour right now if I would have known.”

“I know,” she murmured against his skin. They were cuddled up in each other, her arms around his neck, his face buried in her shoulder. Harry didn’t think the desire to be close to her like this would ever leave him. He just desperately loved being as close as possible, holding her, petting her skin, feeling her breath on his skin. “I know I put a lot of pressure on you and that’s not necessarily fair of me, but—“ “Hush,” Harry said, lifting his head so he could look at her. “You’re right to, okay? I want to be the best dad I can be, but you know how easily I get caught up in my work. Don’t want to do that. Just as I need to remind you how much I care, sometimes you may have to remind me that you’re my world. Can you keep doing that?”

She nodded, a soft press of her lips to his eyebrow that had him gripping her hips, the tenderness like fireworks in his brain. “What do you think Anne is going to say when we tell her?”

Harry chuckled, the panic in her voice evident. “She’s going to be so happy I bet she’ll cry. Been wantin’ a grandchild for ages now. What about your mom?”

“She’s going to have a conniption fit,” Y/N said with a laugh of her own. “But then she’s going to cry too.”

“No wonder we’re such softies,” Harry said, tickling at Y/N’s sides, the sound of her giggles in his ears making him smile.

She leaned back, squirming away from his hands. “Speak for yourself. I’m serious, not a softie.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry lifted his hands, smushing her cheeks together and peppering kisses all over her. “Say that again, baby. Dare you.”

“Fine!” She pulled his lips into a kiss that left him breathless, his desire for her never waving. “Love you, my big softie.”

“Love you too. Now let’s go to bed, gotta make sure Peanut gets his beauty sleep.”

Y/N rolled off of him and let him pull the duvet cover over their bodies, cuddling up next to him. “What about me?”

“Don’t need it,” he said with a swift kiss to her forehead. “Beautiful no matter how much sleep you get.”

He feel asleep with Y/N’s head on his chest, arm slung over his torso, and Harry wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. The girl he loved, a baby on the way, and a career he adored. He ran his fingers up her spine, watching the smile flutter onto her lips in her sleep, and let his eyes wander to her belly. You couldn’t tell that she was pregnant yet, but to Harry, knowing that she was carrying their child inside of her, she had never been more beautiful to him.

TAGLIST:

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo @detroitkiwis @meetmeinfleetwood @kakaym @harrystyles-concepts @harrymoncheri @berrynarrybanana @samjo1986

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 22ND @ NOON CST

#Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles dad

234 notes · View notes

girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 4 years ago

Text

tuesday again 1/12/21

sometimes, one must retreat into a big pile of fictional settings. i didn’t do that this week but it’s the thought that counts

don’t want to keep up with the rest of my bullshit/want to be alerted specifically for tuesdayposts? follow @tuesday-again , where i will reblog each week’s post Once to archive it.

also i forgot to drop the 2021 tuesday again no problem playlist last week so here it is now if you want to follow along throughout the year

listening exoflash, by fever the ghost feat lealani. this is some dreamy-surreal alt electronica? alt electropop? i have significant hearing loss (TM) and so i think i am missing out on some of the melodies in the base bc i have lost that frequency range. like i can feel my headphones pulse but i can’t hear anything

do i know what the song is about? not a fuckin clue. do i like the mouthfeel of the lyrics? yes! rhyming intonation/incantation off each other charms me, bc i am a simple woman with simple tastes. there’s a very deliberate, enunciated delivery that i enjoy, again bc of the hearing loss. i do think some of the lyrics on genius are wrong (i hear “crown your enemies” in the first line instead of “prawn your enemies” for example) but i can’t really. back that up with anything

youtube

reading y2k is back babey- this popular mechanics article is a good quick read of why a common fix back in ye olde 1999 is failing again. everything is a teetering pile of precariously balanced quick fixes relying on legacy code. i myself worked in COBOL more times than i want to think about in my undergrad career, often alongside the octogenarian profs who had written it. pop mech’s oral history of y2k is also extremely good.

the thing i came here to talk about is this autostraddle article on making a go-bag. it is more of a personal essay than a list of practical tips, but it does not fearmonger. this is the point of mutual aid: it is important it is to make sure the people and community around you are more resilient. mutual aid is not just running a cool decentralized thrift store so you can declutter, although that can be very helpful in many communities. if you are all better prepared for various flavors of disasters, your neighborhood or community or circle will come out of it better.

i’ve lived in hurricane zones almost my entire life, and i’ve had a go bag my entire life. i can see mine right now from my bed, i think they’re important things to have, and i would be happy to answer questions privately via ask or dm. the infographic above from the city of seattle is pretty decent- yours will probably be region-specific. new year, new check on all your safety measures. make sure your smoke alarm batteries and carbon monoxide batteries and go-bag are all topped up. test your fire extinguisher while you’re at it.

watching i was going to watch the first few eps of the new arsene lupin show on netflix and write a charming little thing about my personal history with detective stories, and then i had a less than ideal weekend. so i am making less work for myself and linking a food crime. i hate layered pasta dishes with a burning passion but i want to taste this. just to see. their faces at the end are SO good. thank u ms el-waylly

youtube

playing one of the most exciting arcs of early january is my dear acquaintance @believerindaydreams becoming a fallout blog. now that i am relegated to an underpowered laptop while i wrangle getting my desktop fixed, i am back in new vegas bc it’s a ten-year-old game, it runs on fuckin anything. i had a truly bizarre configuration of mods on this thing we’ll see how well it plays with (checks notes) ignoring whatever the fuck i was doing in the main storyline and fucking around in Big MT.

making ending big things makes me anxious. and i am really nowhere near finishing this! i still have a lot of time left with it! at least an hour weaving in all the thread ends i didn’t bother with the first time around, some unknown dozens of hours backstitching various details and outlining the blue frame, and then the whole washing/pressing/framing rigamarole that (counting drying time) will take up a full day. i started this last summer, put it aside for weeks at a time, and it’s been with me in a very real way through a lot of bullshit.

part of the bad adhd brain is having difficulty forming and maintaining new routines- when i no longer have this to fall back on as part of my crafting routine i uhhhhh don’t really know what i’ll do. i don’t really have another Big Project lined up.

unlike knitting, where i find the act soothing and i knit as more of a process thing as opposed to an end-product thing, embroidery is very much a “i want the end product very badly” thing. and i can only have so much cross stitch displayed in my home. besides the smaller glitch version of this sampler, which is literally almost done and needs perhaps another hour of finishing before it gets washed/pressed/framed, i don’t have anything really on the docket. i want my own version of the “wretched hive” star wars sampler i made my sister, and i have a small pillow in the fun chromatic aberration font planned, but both of those have fewer complicated color changes and shifts and should stitch up fairly quickly.

i dunno. might go back to traditional embroidery for a bit- there’s an old project where i need to rip out a bunch of satin stitch and redo it in long-and-short BUT i also need to buy a whole bunch of new thread for that. might sew some more patches on my jacket for if i ever go outside again. i’m trying to get through the backlog of half-finished projects with shit i already have rather than ordering a bunch of shiny new things bc uhhh money.

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

21 notes · View notes

izzy-b-hands · 5 years ago

Text

Running Away

Another bit of Modern AU, inspired by my own love of night drives that I haven’t gotten to take with anyone in years and miss desperately.

Made a playlist for this one, a combo of what I was listening to while writing as well as music that I think would fit in their playlist for one of these drives: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Zk6fxk6XUJiaejoIhJ54d?si=pVdaxoX3SSSc0LN1enTTpQ

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

Most nights it’s unspoken, save for a few words.

“Your car?”

“Sure. Snacks?”

“Got ‘em. Water?”

“Got it. Ready?”

“Yeah.”

They save it for nights when neither of them work, and when neither of them work the next day, so they don’t have to worry about a time crunch. That would ruin the flow of it completely.

It feels liquid and velvet (black with the smallest but shiniest rhinestones, just like the night sky), windows down so the cool summer air can flood the car, and it’s almost too cold but the goosebumps and shivers feel good, and make the hoodie he wears all the more comfortable.

He watches Eugene do the same, snuggling into the sweater he wears, one he stole from Snafu back when they first started dating. He’ll never ask for it back, but he wears it whenever Eugene has to travel for school or work, soaking in the scent of Eugene to tide him over till his boy is back home and in his arms.

Any music on is kept low, their playlists full of songs that don’t play so much as ooze, drift, slide from one into the other with beats that sit perfectly in the background, good to listen to but not intrusive on any conversation they might spark up.

A lot of times, there isn’t any, and that’s okay. Just the sound of the highway and the wind and everything they pass by. He focuses on the sounds and the odd and occasionally not so great scents that are all a part of the drives. It’s all sensations and feeling and nothing of what they both know awaits them back at home.

The worries. The fears. The responsibilities, big and small. The bills. The phone calls to make that neither of them want to make, but that they cheer-lead each other through. The sense of being trapped, because they can’t afford to move out of the city even though moving elsewhere and getting a small house or condo would be less of a waste of money than dropping it monthly on rent on the apartment, and how can they try and save for the wedding like this or put anything more than the few dollars they try to shove in savings each pay period and-

No. Stop. Not right now, not tonight. Tonight is about the velvet sky he swears he can feel under his fingertips just by looking at it as they go on down the highway, about the cookies Eugene baked earlier this week (sugar, “sweet like you” he told Snafu, and his lips tasted just like it, from his taste tests to ensure they were up to his personal par as a baker, “because I don’t feed my man bad cookies.”) sat in between them balanced on the cup-holders in a container Eugene’s mother had given them for their apartment-warming, about how free it feels to be out there so late at night and nobody knows who they are or where they are or why they are and who thought not having any answers or needing to answer to anybody would feel so good even if it’s only temporary.

And when they finally pull over for a quick break, at a truck stop with a bathroom that’s decently clean and a vending machine so they can get another few bottles of water because they never bring big enough reusable ones from home, they linger.

On the hood of the car, a blanket spread out over it, watching the stars together, knowing the second a cop pulls up (and one always does) they’ll have to tear it all down and get back on the road, answering ‘no trouble sir, just enjoying the night sir, yes we know the time sir, yes of course we’ll be on our way sir, of course we know that bad things can happen at night sir, we didn’t mean any harm sir,’ and it burns Snafu up to have to cater to some kid in a uniform that doesn’t fit him, who doesn’t know what real ‘trouble’ and trauma look like and wouldn’t be able to stomach it if he did, and if he did know he’d understand that sometimes the only cure for it is a taste of freedom and night air and your lover’s hand in yours while he points out the brightest stars that he likes the best, even though you both know there might be even more beautiful ones just hidden by the pollution of the nearby city lights, but it doesn’t matter because you can see the ones he points to and you tell him how if you could you’d buy him that star and when you both die that’s where you’ll go, to wait out the end of the universe together, all energy and left over soul burning in the coldness of space.

But being back on the road isn’t so bad, because another truck stop eventually presents itself and they can try again, and sometimes there’s enough time for Eugene to fall asleep against him, his nose cold against Snafu’s chest as he snuggles close, his fingers frozen so Snafu wraps them in his hands, pulls them under his hoodie to warm them, shivering at the touch more than the cold.

They take turns the rest of the night, pulling over as needed to swap seats, until the cookies and water are gone and they have to finally sit down and calculate where they are and if they can just turn around and head straight back or if they’ve taken enough random off and on ramps that they need to actually pay attention to how they get home.

If they’re particularly lucky, they can find a proper truck stop with all the amenities, a restaurant and gas station with a huge lot where trucks and cars are parked full of sleeping truckers and even some families in their campers that they never really know how to park decently.

But Snafu can forgive those people that, because it hardly matters those nights, because those are the nights they don’t drive home that early morning. Instead they put up the sun covers on the front windshield, make sure the doors are locked, and take the other extra blanket with them in the backseat that they’ve pushed down so there’s room to lay out and cuddle. The waking is always an extra rough sort of groggy, but it’s never a grumpy one, just the moment of remembering that they’re somewhere that’s nowhere to them, just another place to stop and rest, the name of which they’ll forget until they drive out another night and find it again.

If they can, they call in sick for the day after that. They don’t need the time to drive back, that they can do in the night, but it gives them just a little bit more time to extend the feeling of Free and Happy and Unconcerned With Everything and Anything, even once they’re back in their apartment and the Usual Bullshit starts to creep back into their minds, on claws that clack and keep them up at night.

But the extra day can keep it away for just a little longer, and he can hang onto that feeling when they’re back at their jobs, in the depths of the routine and boring and stable but unsatisfying.

It gets him by until the next drive, the next set of sweets (his turn this time, he wants to make beignets, though he’ll have to go careful on the powdered sugar, or bring them extra napkins and a change of clothes just in case), the next rush of cool night air and stars that in his mind he’s bought for Eugene already, and they shine just to make his boy smile, though that smile outshines them by miles.

And maybe this time they’ll remember the extra big water thermoses and bottles, bring a couple even.

Maybe this time they’ll be driving away for good, with all their shit packed up and the cat in her carrier in the backseat, on to somewhere new and beautiful that only knows them as a bunch of nobodies, that doesn’t care who they are or what they do, just lets them live.

They can only hope for that, someday.

Until then, he can work and bake and prepare for the next drive and buy a black velvet blanket as another extra for the backseat, so they can keep the night sky with them even while they sleep.

#text posts #LeeH writes #Sledgefu

22 notes · View notes

bucky-at-bedtime · 6 years ago

Text

Right Under My Nose | 2

Chapter Two: A Panic-inducing Position

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Background Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff)

Summary: When you lie to your mum about having a date to your brother’s wedding, things spiral swiftly and ridiculously. Suddenly, your thrust into fake-dating your best friend, and everything begins to change.

A/n: Look, it’s not my best writing (I feel like I rush through a few things but you’ll get the idea), and I can by no means claim this is a slow-burn fic, but I’m still having fun with it, and I hope you all do to!! Let me know what you think! Let me know what you’d like to see! I love hearing from all of you 💕

If you want to be tagged, have any questions or just want to chat, send me an ask!

Also if you want to be tagged in stuff you have to send an ask (or a message if you want) I can’t keep up with comments/reblogs!!

Chapter One || Masterlist

The two weeks leading up to Steve and Natasha’s wedding is a whirlwind. The first few days after you posted that picture, it was as if the world went completely insane––the shocked comments, the questioning calls, the random texts of ‘congratulations’––but, soon enough, it was brushed over and everyone seemed to accept your new relationship status.

“Thor texted me today,” Bucky started, late one night when the two of you were hanging out at your apartment, preparing for the wedding, “‘congratulations! I always knew there was something more between the two of you.’”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, throwing your head back against the couch, “do you know how many people have said something like that? It’s like nobody realises men and women can just be friends. I’ve known you my whole life! We’re practically siblings.”

He dropped down onto the couch beside you with a deep chuckle, passing you a fresh bottle of beer. “Exactly – it’d be so weird if we actually dated.”

“Can you imagine?” You laughed at the mere thought, taking another swig of beer.

“Hey, I’m a good boyfriend! You’ll see – we’re gonna be sharing a room for a whole week and acting like lovers.” he wiggled his eyebrows across at you, a smug grin on his lips. “I’m gonna be the best boyfriend.”

You shook your head at him, amused. “Speaking of – we probably need some groundrules, that’s what people do in these kinds of situations do, right?”

“Yeah but, it’s pretty obvious, right? Just don’t fall in love with each other.”

You raised your eyebrows and a huff of laughter left your lips. “Well then, easy-peasy.” You confirmed, nodding your head definitively.

“Easy,” he agreed, “Peasy.”

The rest of the two weeks, you spend attempting to help Steve and Nat organize and get everything prepared. For two weeks, their wedding is all you think about.

And then the week arrived.

Bucky appeared at your apartment early on the Monday morning, suitcase in hand, and the two of you drove to the resort. He had created a playlist of songs he knew you both liked and the two of you sung along (horribly) the entire drive, laughing when he tried to hit the high-notes and chatting lazily over the songs you hadn’t memorized.

You didn’t know it yet, but the drive would be your last moment of normality for the whole day.

When you arrive at the resort, there’s a gathering of guests in the lobby, all chatting happily and catching up. You and Bucky glance at each other.

“Well, I guess it starts here,” he murmurs, pulling into a park.

“You sure you wanna do this, Barnes?”

“It’s a bit late to pull out now, we’re already dating.” He puts the last word in air quotes and you shoot him a little glare. He laughs it off. “I’m sure, let’s do it.”

“Alright. Put on your best ‘we’re a happy couple’ smile and let’s get this over with.”

His hand slots into yours the moment you get out of the car, he almost has to drag you across the parking lot to the entrance and the madness begins.

The minute you enter the lobby, people pounce. Sam, who had been away for work the last few weeks, practically screams at the two of you for not notifying him of your ‘budding relationship’, your older cousin shook Bucky’s hand with vigor and told him ‘I always knew you’d end up together’, Wanda and Vision congratulated you with an excited ‘maybe the next wedding will be yours!’

You were over-heating. When had it gotten so hot? Everyone felt far too close and your hand was sweating against Bucky’s. He twisted his fingers out of yours and placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you through the lobby. It wasn’t much, but the small gesture was calming – comforting. You realise then, how glad you are that it’s Bucky you’re fake dating.

Then, all of a sudden, there was your mother. The moment she saw the two of you, too close together, a loud gasp escaped her lips. She rushed towards you, attacking both of you with hugs and kisses, a giant smile on her face.

“You Two! I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You should have seen me when I saw that cute little post – I almost had a heart attack, your dad had to check that I was still breathing!” she hit your arm gently as you tried to keep up with her rushed words. “And then I talked to Steve and he says it’s been going on for a while! Y’know, I’d always hoped with you two. There was always something there, but I didn’t want to push it and now–“

If one more person says that.

“Mum, mum calm down – let us breathe,” you chuckled, trying to dismiss the awkward tone in your voice. “We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a while… not get everyone’s hopes up.”

“Yes, yes, but now it’s out! Does that mean things are getting more serious? You’ve been like my third child all this time, are you two going to make that come true?”

Bucky feels you tense up beside him and glances across at you, taking in your stiff posture and alarmed frown. His hand glides up your back, a gentle gesture, and turns back to your mother, laughing amicably at her words.

“I don’t know, Sarah – it’s still pretty new, we’re just… rolling with it at the moment.”

“Oh of course, of course,” she brushes him off, squeezing his free hand, “oh, look at you two, you look exhausted. Why don’t you head up to your room? We’ll see you at dinner tonight with Nat and your brother, yes?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there,” you confirm with a half-smile. “Love you, mum. We’ll see you later.”

With that, you pull Bucky desperately through the mess of people and begin to look for your room.

“Are you okay?” Those are the first words out of Bucky’s mouth when you step through the door into your shared room. You hadn’t realised how outwardly tense you appeared, but when he asks if you’re okay, a shaky breath that escapes your throat as if it had been trapped there for days. A dry chuckle leaves your lips.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he continues, “I actually think our acting skills are pretty good, we almost convinced me that we’re in love”, he joked, attempting to pull a laugh from you.

“Yeah, we were great,” you mumbled, “very convincing.”

It was silent for a moment as you moved restlessly through the room. Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“So, what’s wrong?” he sighed.

You were quiet for a moment, but then he steps towards you and his fingers brush against your arm and it’s all it takes for you to start speaking.

“Somehow, when preparing for this wedding and this… this lie, I didn’t think about the fact that my family loves you.” You step away from him and rake your hands through your hair and squeeze your eyes shut, releasing the stress you had been hiding all day. “Did you hear my mum? She’s already planning our wedding and Steve’s hasn’t even happened yet. She thinks you’re going to be her son-in-law.”

Your eyes widened in realization and you flopped down onto the bed, frowning deeply at yourself. “I’m gonna break her heart,” you state, your tone matter-of-fact. “It might kill her. The minute I tell her we aren’t together, my mother is gonna die. I’m killing my mother.”

“Woah woah woah,” there was as light chuckle in his voice. You lifted your head, outraged that he could be amused by your current situation. His face softened when he saw the true panic in your eyes. “Doll, it’s okay. You aren’t going to kill your mother.”

You scoff and let your heavy head fall back onto the mattress, throwing an arm over your face, anxiousness bubbling in your chest.

“I’m already like a son to her, I always have been – so what if it never becomes ‘real’?” he continues, gently lifting your arm from your face and pulling you up so that you’re sitting facing him. “We’re still going to be friends after this all blows over. Your mum won’t be losing her true favourite child––me––and she will never know that we lied. None of them will – they all seem to think we belong together.”

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for a response from you. You give him a nod. It’s enough.

“Besides,” a smirk appears on his face once he knows you’ve calmed down a bit, “we’re far too deep in the lie now to take it all back – did you hear me today? I am so romantic. I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

He watches as your face breaks into a smile at his words and feels relief flood through him like a crashing wave. He couldn’t handle this week if you were going to spend the whole time in a bubble of anxiety, and luckily for him, he knew just how to pull you out of it.

“Okay, okay,” you chuckle lightly, “no need to get cocky, it’s not like you have skilled competition in that department.”

You stood up from the bed, crouching down by your suitcase as you spoke. “I’m gonna have a shower, calm down a bit. You want to get room service for lunch?”

He watches you sort through your bag, pull out a towel and toiletries before standing up to look at him. He can’t help but think about how much fun he had with you today – making up stories and sharing secret, amused glances. He was glad that whilst Natasha and Steve were busy with wedding stuff, the two of you had your own thing to make this week fun.

He nods lamely in response, eyes trailing after you as you disappear into the bathroom. With a shake of his head, he reaches for the phone to call room service, brushing away the flutter of emotion in his chest with a frown.

It’s just you.

Later, you find yourself walking into the hotel restaurant with Bucky, hand-in-hand, attempting to prepare yourself to lie to your parents for the next few hours. Bucky squeezed your hand gently when he saw your parents, Steve, and Nat waiting at a nearby table, attempting to send you some confidence.

“We can do this,” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, no doubt a gesture that looks very intimate to your parents. You squeezed his hand back and shot him a thankful smile.

“I see you two have bitten the bullet,” your dad stood up from the table with a cheery smile on his lips, opening his arms for a hug.

“Hi dad,” you smiled, stepping into his arms.

“Sick of her yet Barnes?” he directed his question over your head.

“I could never.” He smiled and you stepped back from your dad, letting Bucky intertwine his fingers with yours once again.

“Correct answer.” Your dad extended his hand to shake Bucky’s. “You take care of my girl, James. She’s special.”

You move away from the two men (blatantly talking about you) to hug your mum, missing the moment when Bucky says, his voice low and tender, “She sure is.”

Moments later, you were all seated at a table, chatting about the wedding, yours and Bucky’s relationship and home. His arm is thrown over your shoulder casually, and your hand naturally falls onto his leg, despite the fact that your parents can’t see that. He leans over to you occasionally, checking up on you with a quiet ‘all good?’ or ‘see? This is easy,’ and you smile when he does.

Nat catches your eye the third or fourth time he does that, and she smirks at you in that way that makes it seem like she knows something you don’t. She mumbles something to Steve and they both chuckle, but you brush it off as them being in love.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” Bucky excuses himself at some point after dessert. He squeezes your shoulder gently before brushing past you and disappearing around the corner.

You can feel your mother’s eyes on you.

“So, things are going well with Bucky?” she asks, and you already know where this is going. You try to catch Steve’s eye but he’s looking for a waiter so he can get the bill.

“Uh, yeah – we’re having fun.”

“Do you think he might be the one?”

“Mum!” Steve finally finds it in himself to intervene.

“I’m just asking, honey – I asked you the same thing with Nat.”

“Yeah, after I’d been dating her for a year. Give ‘em a chance to feel this out, you know what they’re both like.”

Now it’s your turn to stare incredulously at Steve. “Sorry, what am I like?”

He throws his head back, immediately regretting his choice of words. “I- I just mean that you and Buck have never been very good at… expressing your feelings.”

“Okay, I get it,” your mum interrupts, knowing when you and Steve are about to have an argument, “I won’t ask any more questions about your future with Bucky. I’m not trying to pressure you sweetheart, I just want to see you happy.”

“I am happy,” you murmur, staring down at your plate. “We’re happy,” you quickly correct, eyes coming up to scan the room for the man in question.

He rounds the corner then, running his hand through his hair and sends you a grin. On his way over he stops a waiter, asking politely for the bill since Steve had never gotten anyone’s attention.

When he comes back with the bill, your dad takes it from him at your mum’s command and Bucky stretches a hand out to you. “Shall we?” he asks, and you couldn’t have stood up any faster.

“It was great to see you again,” he directs towards you parents, shaking your father’s hand and leaning forward to kiss your mother’s cheek. “See ya tomorrow, Stevie, Nat.”

You say your own goodbyes, and then link your fingers back with his, and the two of you walk out of the restaurant.

The chatter fades behind you as you walk through the halls of the resort, and his fingers slip from yours.

“So, how’d I do?” he asks, a cheeky smile on his lips, “do I have their approval? Would your dad say yes if I asked for your hand in marriage?”

A laugh escapes your lips and you gently hit his shoulder. “Pretty sure he would’ve before tonight.”

“That settles it then,” Bucky confirms. He stops walking and suddenly one of his arms is behind you and one under the crook of your knees. He lifts you off the ground, bridal style, and more laughter bubbles in your throat as he begins to race towards the elevator.

“We shall be married at dawn! The town will rejoice!” he dissolves into laughter too, running through the elevator’s open doors. You reach out and press the number you need. Both of you are still laughing as the elevator doors close, and you gasp out, “okay, you can put me down now, Prince Charming.”

“Don’t I have to carry you over the threshold?”

“That would be after we’re married.”

He shrugs as much as he can while he carries you and the elevator dings, signaling that you’ve reached your level.

“Almost there anyway – I’m committing to this bit.”

You laugh again, because it’s Bucky, and he knows how to make you laugh.

He carries you all the way to your door, directs you to get the room key from his pocket and then plops you down on the bed once you’re inside. Somehow, in a matter of moments, he’s managed to make you forget anything that was said at dinner.

DID YA LIKE IT??

FIC TAGS:

@rumoured-whispers @thatonehumanbeing05 @trashpanda-barnes @extra-terrestrialxx @godisavalkyrie @stan-by-me @rosegoldlilacs @loki-lover-2018 @nearly-whitches @just-a-social-casualty-1 @jbb-bucky0310 @riddle-me-bliss @cant-decide-at-this-moment @buckyinantarctica @pandalandalopalis @lokissoul @chuuulip@feelmyroarrrr @regulusirius @booksmarvelandfanfic @shamelessbookaddict @just-add-butter @banana-batman @annoyingpoetrycollectionme @bloodyproudpotterhead @wellfucksorrymum @mybabe-buckybarnes @jitterbuck @fuckmestan @wrdro @xivexbrokenxbonesxforxyoux @marvel-fan-queen @awesomelittlebabydragon @luminous-lillies @captainamericasbeard @marvelous-avengers @anamcg317 @tiredofsatansbullshit @void-imaginations @everythingbooknerd @natashasnight @thesaltyduchess @akamaiden

PERMANENT TAGS:

@desibarnes @slytherinrising @fratboievans @teawithbucky @lukeyasheycalymikey @feelmyroarrrr @verycoolveryunique @booksmarvelandfanfic @thisismysecrethappyplace @untimelyideasforstories @driftingtonystark @strawberrybucky @theglowstickofdestiny @the-wayward-robot @xxloki81xx @gravewalkerray @winters-beauty @cant-decide-at-this-moment @averyrogers83 @just-add-butter @shelteredheart @laneygthememequeen @awkwardfangirl2014 @bibibucky @marvelfluff @his-paradox @infj-slytherclaw @bucky-smiles @chameerah @wonderless-screwup @magnitude101999 @tatertot1097 @breezy1415 @logan8546 @miscellaneoustoasts @javapeach @moroiboy @silverbvcky @laurfangirl424 @sarcasticallysarah @wildefire @dewy-biitch @dark-night-sky-99 @dixonsbugaboo @itsbuckysworld @some-person-somewhere @hothornymetalkinkygirl @parkeroffline @bornfortherainydays @avengers-r-us @srgtsprout

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky fic #fluff #bucky barnes x you #fake dating #au

567 notes · View notes

fucking-zawa-sensei · 7 years ago

Text

My FanFic Masterlist:

My fanfic tab is a little messy with reblogs, so I’ve compiled all of my fics into this masterlist, with small summaries for each. Click the titles to be taken to the post.

Search “fanfic masterlist” on my blog to find this post easily. I will continue to update it as I post more fics.

Thanks for following and reading my fics. I am so incredibly happy I decided to make this blog and write for the BNHA fandom. This has been such a fun experience. Thank you to everyone who was here from the start, too. I love you all.

As a reminder, you can also find all of my writing under the “My Fanfiction” tab on my blog. Most of it is also on AO3 (Say_Jay).

Fics:

After Effects - Takes place after chapter 159 of the manga. Hurt/comfort from both Aizawa and Yamada. Aizawa deals with this guilt over the incidents withthe precepts and Yamada deals with his fears of losing the one he loves.

After Hours - Aizawa and Yamada both work late on Fridays, but unlike most nights, their schedules sync up, and they get to come home together. They unwind from their work and indulge in some cuddles. This is super fluffy.

Don’t Kid Yourself - Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]My multichapter angst fic, completed 9/9 chapters. It’s a very painful, slow burn that’s honestly hard to describe. Through much struggle and many confused feelings, Aizawa and Yamada figure out what love is.

Shots Fired - I forgot to rate this one, but it’s Mature for Violence (I am not kidding, take this seriously). This is another hurt/comfort fic. I can’t get into the details without giving away the twist.

Chilly Afternoon - At some point I discovered I needed to stop hurting Aizawa and Yamada. So I made them a nice little coffee date in the snow. Pure fluff. It’s a short read.

Soft - Short, sweet, fluff. Tumblr exclusive. This one is only a few hundred words.

Ice It - Yamada takes a beating doing some hero work and heads to Aizawa’s to get patched up. Aizawa takes care of him and Yamada lets a confession slip.

Drop the Beat - They’ve been on the hero scene for a few years, but have lost touch. Aizawa follows a lead on a villain to a shady bar and is surprised to find a certain unforgettable blond doing a DJ side gig. Aizawa and Yamada team up to take down the villain. Everything doesn’t quite go as planned. This the most action-intensive fic I’ve written.

Overworked - Aizawa is the last person that should be trying to convince someone to take a break and get some sleep, but Yamada’s been pushing himself too hard and someone has to do it. This is domestic fluff.

Bask - Aizawa and Yamada share a sweet, fluffy date in the park.

Oblivious - High school fic, Yamada’s parents gave him up as a baby and now he’s throwing a party at the children’s home he lives at. Aizawa is helplessly oblivious to the whole situation, but comes out to support his friend and learn a little.

Hold me Closer - A short drabble. Yamada has a nightmare and Aizawa holds him through it.

Warmth - A thank you fic for reaching 800 followers. This follows Aizawa and Yamada through a sweet Saturday, from morning to night, spending time together, and generally being so damn cute it will rot your teeth.

A Hero’s Work - A short drabble, Aizawa’s POV, reflecting after a particularly trying battle with a group of villains.

Not Without Trying - Chapters: [1] A three chapter fic where Aizawa and Yamada adopt Eri.

Painted Hearts - Shouta loves his mom. She picks him up from school and runs her fingers through his hair and every day they paint beautiful pictures together. Until they don’t.

Black Tie - EXPLICIT, Yamada receives a prestigious award for his radio show, and in a rather unprecedented turn of events, Aizawa doesn’t put up a fight when his husband requests he tag along to the black tie ceremony. Yamada doesn’t put a fight when Aizawa quickly yanks said black tie off when they get home.

Prove Me Wrong - Short angst drabble

Matchmaker - Over the months Aizawa had been training him, it was impossible for Shinsou not to notice how often Yamada would show up to pick Aizawa up after their sessions. It was even more impossible not to notice the way the tired, reserved man never once told the blond to stop draping himself over his shoulders or laughing in his ear. If Shinsou didn’t know any better, he’d say Aizawa liked Yamada. Actually, that just might be the case.Shinsou reports this and an idea to get the two teachers to notice the other’s feelings to his newfound friend, Midoriya. Kayama overhears their conversation and offers her help. Class 1-A plays matchmaker.

Room for me? - Short drabble. Mic wants to take a nap with Aizawa in the staff room. Fluff.

Take Your Time - Drabble. Yamada needs some time and Aizawa is there to help.

On Patrol - EXPLICIT, Hizashi suggests they make an easy, early weekday patrol more interesting with a vibrator. This leads to some hot and heavy sex in an alley.

These Days Come and Go - Written for the prompt “Date Night” for ersaermicweek2018. Shouta has had a rough week and Hizashi decides to plan the perfect day to help him relax, but things don’t go as planned.

Break Me, Baby - EXPLICIT, Bottom Mic. They’d been at this for at least an hour now. Hizashi was beyond well prepped, this wasn’t necessary, but he’d asked to be brought to the edge and when Shouta had asked are you sure? Hizashi had responded with Yes, and when I get there, drag me over it.

Shatterproof - Chapters: [1] [2] [3] Ongoing multi-chapter fic co-written with @aizawashovta full of emotional angst and healing. Shouta and Hizashi deal with their insecurities and helping each other overcome them.

I Need Time - Drabble. Mic lies to Aizawa. Will probably continue this into a larger story at some point.

Soaring - Drabble. Shouta and Hizashi share a moment in the park, studying birds.

100 Ways to Say I Love You - An ongoing collection of 100 fics, each one a different way Aizawa and Yamada show their love to one another in more than just words. Co-written with @aizawashovta

Before You Go - Shouta’s latest case requires some undercover work in another district, pulling him away from Hizashi for a lengthy amount of time. As the days grow closer to Shouta’s departure, Hizashi struggles to let go.

Temper - A short drabble in which Hizashi loses his temper and Shouta does his best to support him through it.

Don’t do the Dew - A fun, sort of silly short fic in which Hizashi makes a disastrous breakfast and bears with the consequences.

Support - Short fic, in which Hizashi deals with some trauma after being captured and Shouta comforts him.

Kittens and Tea - Drabble. They were supposed to go on a date to a tea shop, but Shouta spots a fluffy little kitten waiting for a home.

Rainy Day - Drabble. Shouta and Hizashi cuddle together on a rainy day.

Play me a Song, DJ - Drabble. Shouta helps Hizashi build a playlist for his radio show.

Credit - Drabble. Shouta and Hizashi bicker over whether a student should get credit on a test. Things get a little angsty.

No Rest While You’re Away - Aizawa is captured and tortured and the only thing keeping him going is Hizashi.

I Will Be Your Hands - Small fic. Post - USJ, Shouta can’t use his hands, but Hizashi is there to support him.

How it is - Small fic. Hizashi breaks a table.

More than This - Chapters: [1] Angsty mutual pining fic, in which both Hizashi and Shouta want more than sex from the other, but are having a lot of trouble figuring that out. Lots of jealousy. Slow burn. Lots of pain. Eventual happy ending.

Drowned Out - Drabble. Very angsty. Major Character death.

Riptide - Chapters: [1][2] Mermaid AU - Hizashi is a siren and Shouta is a ship captain. “Hizashi had been stunning since the first moment he laid eyes on him, lazing against the small cluster of rocks out in the open waves, but there’s something different about him now. Shouta’s heart feels like it skips, thrown across a pond, skidding across the surface before finally breaking the tension, dropping down into the depths.”

Burned - Hizashi’s speaker is decimated, his neck no better, and the stiff back of the hospital waiting room chairs aren’t doing Shouta’s nerves any favors either.

Relief - Sequel to burned, in which Hizashi comes home from the hospital and Shouta helps take care of him.

Fever - Takes place in the same story line as Burned and Relief, a short ficlet in which Hizashi gets a fever.

Dango - Hizashi finally gets his dango. Takes place in the same story line as Burned and Relief.

It’s Been a While - Continuation of the Burned story line. Hizashi’s speaker is repaired.

Run - Small ficlet from the casino au story I’ll be working on. Hizash is a genius card counter and Aizawa is his body guard.

Separate - Sad, 500 word drabble, in which Shouta ends up alone.

Can We Keep Him? - 1st place raffle prize. A 5k fic about Hizashi and Shouta fostering kittens in their spare time. Super fluffy.

Witch/Wizard au:

Here are the little ficlets/posts building on the witch au I’ve yet to really start the full fic for yet. A brief explanation of the general au. A little ficlet of Hizashi coming home from travel. Some info on All Might’s place in the au. Hizashi hatching a dragon egg. And then check out @bethhankel ‘s blog for some amazing art! Her art and talking to her about this au were what made me start writing it, so definitely go check that out!

Passing - Part of the above Witch/Wizard AU. It’s short and angsty. Hizashi loses a dragon.

Revenge - Part of the above Witch/Wizard AU, occurring after Passing, where Hizashi struggles with his grief.

Sting - A short ficlet in which Shouta deals with the nerve damage caused after USJ.

#fanfiction #erasermic fanfiction #masterlist #fanfic masterlist #maizawa fanfiction #maizawa #erasermic #aizawa shouta #present mic #yamada hizashi #eraserhead #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #aizawa shouta/yamada hizashi #aizawa

322 notes · View notes

bughead-fic-request · 7 years ago

Text

I would like to thank @leaalda for making these amazing banners.

This is an effort to spread the word about all fan fiction writers in our little fandom. If you would like to be featured or nominate a writer, please contact me. Please reblog this post if you can and check out some of reflectivemuse (@i-am-the-fire57) work!

1. First things first, if someone wanted to read your stories where can they find them.

You can find my fics under the name reflectivemuse at AO3. I'll also post excerpts on Tumblr as @i-am-the-fire57.

2. Tell us a little about yourself.

I'm Rochelle, from Seattle, WA. Thirty years old, ace, bipolar, and Asperger's. Getting into reading and writing helped me understand real life social cues and communication better, but unless its blatant sarcastic humor can sometimes get lost in translation.

3. What do you never leave home without?

Phone, headphones, keys, and wallet that holds a bus pass and various cards together.

4. Are you an early bird or a night owl?

I'm kind of both - I stay up late-ish but wind up awake between six and seven am anyway.

5. If you could live in any fictional world, which one would you choose and why?

Percy Jackson's world, hands down. The mortality rate is a lot lower than other fictional realms I'm obsessed with, and there's still plenty of humor on the road to danger.

6. Who is the most famous person you’ve ever met.

None really yet - I've talked to YA authors Maggie Stiefvater and Cassandra Clare at book signings. I joked with Maggie about turning her first book Lament into a stage musical, and then with Cassie about how an alternate title for The Infernal Devices should be Downworld Abbey because of the proximity to the Downton Abbey time period - (she joked back that if she had her way Matthew Crawley would have been turned into a vampire)

7. What are some of your favorite movies/TV?

Supernatural, 12 Monkeys, Stargate SG-1, Humans, Riverdale, Nikita, Parks and Rec...I love musicals like 1776, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, Grease, and Phantom of the Opera. The Captain America movies, especially Civil War. And, a curveball to my tastes - Runaway Jury.

8. What are some of your favorite bands/musicians?

I like various forms of metal - symphonic like Nightwish/Within Temptation, alternative such as Halestorm (I got my tumblr username from one of their songs.) I survived high school on punk-pop music, going to Green Day/Jimmy Eat World concerts. For pop, I eat up anything by Ryan Star.

9. Favorite Books?

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier

The Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R. Martin

I'm decidedly a YA leaning writer and Maggie Stievater's The Scorpio Races along with Cassandra Clare's The Infernal Devices are some of the most beautiful books I've ever read.

10. Favorite Food?

Random things - challah bread, milkshakes, pad thai. I went to Hawaii once and got a taste for guava jelly. Nothing too interesting.

11. Biggest pet peeve?

Weird guys on the bus who want me to take my headphones off so that they can awkwardly hit on me. Also, guys who hit on me.

12. What did you want to be when you were little? What do you want to be now?

I wanted to be a Disney animator when I was three - hot off of seeing The Little Mermaid, I guess. My mom drew one rough doodle of Ariel and I kept asking for more until she told me to try it myself. I lasted two years of animation courses in college before deciding to focus more on the writing aspect of storytelling.

13. What are your biggest fears? Do you have any strange fears?

Oh, boy. Clowns (My mom dressed my room up in them when I was little) Bees! If a wasp is zooming within like ten feet of me, whether I'm at an outdoor restaurant or surrounded by a gazillion people, I move. I'm afraid of heights, and drowning, and the general feeling of weightlessness. And grasshoppers - awhile back I had a dream I was being chased by a giant grasshopper that everyone else kept calling the coolest thing ever.

14. When you are on your deathbed, what would be the one you’d regret not doing?

Travelling. I've done so much in my mind but so little IRL. I've never felt connected to my home country the way I do when I look at a calendar image of Ireland or listen to European folk music.

Okay… lets talk about your writing!

15. Which is your favorite of the fics you've written for the Bughead fandom?

Quiet Mercy - Struggling with mental illness, I wrote this thinking 'what I wouldn't give to have friends that step up the way the Riverdale gang is for Betty.'

16. Which was the hardest to write, in terms of plot?

For plot, that's South Side Story, only because there's so much other stuff going on - from the musical to the shady legal dealings to Bughead pretending they're strangers, plus more stuff I haven't even gotten to yet.

17. How do you come up with the ideas for you fic(s)? Do you people watch? Listen to music? Get inspired by TV/movies?

I watch the show. I actually come up with ideas while I'm watching the show - then I go over in my head where I can get more inspiration from. For Quiet Mercy I played around with elements of Legion (real vs not real Lenny), and for South Side Story I delved in Grease.

18. What kind of music are you using to write?

It depends on the story - for Quiet Mercy, I have a Spotify playlist full of angsty folk/rock. In honor of its inspiration roots, I'm using a lot of throwback artists from the sixties and seventies to write South Side Story. I'm using lines from those songs at the top of every chapter.

19. Least favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

I can't say I'm too crazy about everything from South Side Story, chapter 2: Pure. Mostly because I wanted things to be much tougher for Betty at South Side High, and I think I might have copped out and given her some cool friends too quickly.

20. Favorite plot point/chapter/moment you’ve written?

For South Side Story, it was when Betty took on the stoners that had stolen her car. I felt like that was the first time I'd ever been able to write her as the clever badass I've always seen her to be. For Quiet Mercy, I want to say it's the love scene, but in reality it's a much smaller scene that happens earlier on, when Betty drops in on Jughead's foster family during dinner. I thrive on tension, I guess.

21. Favorite character to write?

So, in any world, I love to write the characters that do interesting things but express themselves quietly - basically Jughead. I also invented a transgender character who is fast becoming the most fun to use for deadpan - Sonny Chan.

22. Favorite line or lines of dialogue that you've written?

I have lots!

QUIET MERCY

Veronica: How about someone with no blue-collar marketable skills for Career Day and nothing equipped to help the people around me who are falling apart? I might as well sign up to be a professional pine tree!

Archie: Hey man, what's been going on?

Jughead: Ah, you know. Homework. Serpent side projects. I think my foster family has a Stepford cult.

SOUTH SIDE STORY

Sonny: I don't know about you guys, but this looks like at least a three year prison sentence. Maybe four - do you have any fireworks?

Jughead: I want you to put the top up so that I can touch you without looking over our shoulders. Betty: Smell that? I think someone left their bong in here.

23. Best comment/review you’ve ever received?

Honestly, my Bughead fics are pretty light in comments. I've written fics for other fandoms though, and it really got me through some dark times whenever someone said they'd been staying up just to see if I'd update.

24. How do you handle bad reviews or comments?

I've never gotten any of those...the worst for me is no comments, because then it kind of feels like no one cares, you know?

25. If you could change anything in any of your stories, what would it be?

I'd lighten it up. I've been so serious lately, I have no clue how to laugh anymore.

26. What is your favorite story you’ve ever written? Any fandom?

The biggest one I ever did was for Humans - I took a girl and handful of conscious robots and sent them across Europe with only audiobooks, a Wicked sing-along, and a dog to keep them occupied while they saved the world. I still read it every so often and wonder who was hijacking my body while it was being made.

27. What are you reading right now? Both fan fiction and general fiction?

Not reading too much now...I can never read and write at the same time. But Don't Drink the (Maple) Water by @christah88 is a freakin' pot of gold. (And yes 'pot' was referred to with appropriately ironic humor.)

28. Do you have an advice for writers that want to get into this fandom but might be scared?

Go for it! Plenty of nice people around - I'm pretty sure that anyone here in general doesn't sign up just to say 'stay away from me.' We're all looking to make friends, and there are plenty of ways to do that. Also I'm pretty new to this fandom myself - I just binged on Riverdale a couple of weeks ago. My inbox is practically empty, I'd love to change that. Thanks for reading!

#bughead author spotlight #fan fiction #fan fiction writers #ao3 #Bughead #bughead fanfiction #betty cooper #jughead jones #quiet mercy #south side story #reflectivemuse #riverdale #jughead x betty #betty x jughead

64 notes · View notes

thelastifntdragonrider · 7 years ago

Text

HI! I’m putting all of the things i’ve been tagged in from the past couple of weeks that i haven’t answered yet bc i’m working hard on an admission portfolio for university and i really want to get into Sheridan, so yep lots of work and lots of art. i am also working on the HTTYD fandom reading (please sign up) and the next chapters of J’Imagine and No Cannon Shall Sink This Ship. Anyways, onto the tagged:

get to know me meme: tagged by @animalsarepeople2 thank youuuu!

nicknames: Kei / Keiko *i explain this in a question down there somewhere

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Libra

MBTI Type: INFJ

Height: 163cm

Time: 17:07 (by the time I finished all of these it’s 18:36)

Birthday: February 25

Favourite Bands: Beatles, Young Rising Sons, Clean Bandits, Lovelyz, Infinite

Favourite Solo Artists: Ailee, Ed Sheeran

Song Stuck in My Head: 1cm by Lovelyz

Last Movie Watched: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Johnny Depp

Last Show Watched: I just binge watched Stranger Things

When I created my blog: July 15, 2013/June 27, 2017

What I post about: httyd, animated movies, animation

Last thing I Googled: information about Sheridan and character rotation

Other blogs I have: my main blog @tokkeiko

Following: 100, though I want to find more good blogs, any recs anyone?

Followers: in total from both blogs, 200 or something

Favourite colour: Green

Average hours of sleep: 8-ish

Lucky number: 7

Instruments: piano, oboe

What I’m wearing: jeans and my current favourite sweater which is grey with gold spots

Number of blankets: I need to remember to find another one bc my room is freezing when I wake up in the morning

Dream Job: story artist at Disney

Dream trip: i just want to get out of my city rn

Favourite food: i’m just hungry rn, give me anything, but favourite food, among others, is salted caramel truffle blizzard from the good old DQ (#lovemydq)

Music ask, tagged by @yv-sketches THANKS!!!!

10 songs that you are listening to right now;

my current favourite playlist is called Shut Up and Dance:

“Elle Me Dit” Mika

“Red Balloon” Charli XCX

“Dancing in the Dark” Rihanna

“Shut Up and Dance” Walk the Moon

“Red and Gold” Young Rising Sons

“Can’t Stop the Feeling” Justin Timberlake

“Better When I’m Dancing” Meghan Trainor

“I Bet My Life” Imagine Dragons

“Into a Fantasy” Alexander Rybak

“Get Back Up Again” Anna Kendrick

Tag Game, taggged by @thepurplewriter333 ty friend-o!

Nicknames: Keiko/Kei/Spirit/Sweet Potato

Gender: Female

Star Sign; Pisces

Height: 163cm

Sexuality: probably straight

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff!!!

Favourite animals: uhhhh... orcas probably

Average hours spent sleeping: 8 i think, i’m not bothering with math rn

Dogs or cats: KITTY, all of my sibilings have a significant other and all of their significant others’ have cats and why can’t I have a s/o with a cat???

number of blankets sleeping: during the winter, aka now already, two

Dream trip: geeeeetttt meeeee ouuuuttt offf thissss citttyyyyy

Dream job: Story artist at Disney

when I made this account: June 27. 2017

why I made this account: bc i wanted a place to reblog all of the httyd stuff without loosing followers on my other blog

# of followers: like 47, I think? I recently got more. follow me i am cool person

92 statements, tagged by @thepurplewriter333 thanks for the double tag!

Last:

Drink: Tim Hortons’ Double Double (got to stay caffeinatedddddddd)

Phone Call: Home to get a ride home

Text message: Friend to go hang out later

Song You Listened To: Shooting Star by Lovelyz

Time You Cried: uhhhhhhhh... oh, like a month ago, it was a bad week and then I watched Home and my emotions were already out of wack so I basically sobbed near the end

Have you:

Dated someone twice: Nope

Kissed someone and regretted it: Nope, i’m boring

Been cheated on: nope

Lost someone special: nope

Been depressed: i feel like it’s hard to be a university student and not get depressed

Gotten drunk and thrown up: i am a boring party person and yeah, no i haven’t

List 3 favourite colours:

Green

Blue

Gold

In the last year have you:

made new friends: Yeahhhh

fallen out of love: nopppeee...?

Laughed until you cried: like every other day

Found someone was talking about you: in a good way; nope. In a bad way: yeah too many times

found out who your friends are: yeahhhhhh

kissed someone on your FB list: okay someday, i’ll have more interesting answers

General:

how many FB friends do you know IRL: 99% of them

Do you have any pets: nope

Do you want to change your name: i recently thought about dropping my middle name, but like it has significance to my parents so probably won’t happen and my middle name doesn’t do anything so idk

what did you do for your last birthday: Keep in mind that I turned 18: my friends and I went to Build-A-Bear and they got me a Build-A-Bear Toothless.

What time do you wake up: my alarms on early days are 7:00, 7:05, 7:15, 7:25, 7:35, 7:45, 8:00. I naturally wake up at 9-ish

What were you doing at midnight last night: Sleeping :D

Name something you can’t wait for: to (hopefully) get accepted into Sheridan and start a new adventure out there.

When was the last time you saw your mom: she’s in the kitchen with me

what is one thing you wish you could change in your life: i wish that I could’ve figured out what I wanted to do with life so that I could’ve started Sheridan this year

What are you listening to right now: Sheridan portfolio reviews, tips, etc. (Starting to see a pattern here?)

Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: friend’s dad. he’s a cool dad.

Something that is getting on your nerves: when people are packing up their stuff before the professor is finished talking in the last 5 minutes of class. URGH stop moving ppl this stuff is important

Most visited website: FB, YT, tumblr

Mole(s): couple

Mark(s): I have freckles (might be moles) on each cheek under both eyes.

Childhood dream: when you’re a kid, you’re really only exposed to teacher, doctor, police man and whatever your parents are. I think I defaulted to an artist when adults asked.

Hair colour: black, I have silver hairs though, they stick out on the black hair a lot

long or short hair: I always grow my hair out and then cut off 12 inches to donate to cancer wigs

Do you have a crush on someone: not currently, though i had a crush on a guy for like 5 years, so even now, 5 years later, I get happy when I think about him

Piercings: no, i really think a conch piercing would be nice though

Blood type: ... A I think, i’ve never gotten tested, but according to genetics, I should be an A

Nicknames: my full name is Keiko, but everyone called me Kei as a kid, but during high school, I started introducing myself as Keiko, so some people call me Kei, some people call me Keiko, one of them is a nickname, depending on which way you think about it,

Relationship Status: Egg salad.

Zodiac: Pisces

Pronouns: She/her

Favourite TV show: Friends

Right or left handed: Right, but recently I’ve been trying to teach myself to draw with my left hand

Surgery: Wisdom teeth

Hair dyed a different colour: nope, but I think I might try a ombre some day

Sports: ballet since I was 4ish, ballet is a sport, come fight me on it if you dare

Vacation: a lot of camping when I was younger, I’ve been to Japan twice, and then places across Canada

Pair of trainers: are we talking about trainers as in shoes? bc then ankle high all black vans.

More General:

Eating: this is taking so long I stopped and had supper between these sections

Drinking: Double Double (Tim’s coffee, two creams, two sugars), gotta stay AWaaaaaaaaaaKE

I’m about to: draw character designs or go out to coffee shop to study with friends

Want: to get into Sheridan so so so so so badly

Get married: I’m still single, want to put my career first, so yep not for a little while

Career: i’m a cake decorator rn, see my cakes on my insta @tanakeiart

Hugs or Kisses: hUG mE

Lips or eyes: Eyes, (though I am supper bad at making eye contact)

Shorter or taller: would be nice to be slightly taller...

Older or younger: like to date or something? I think high school rule is a good rule, but rn looking at niners mAN they are tiny

Nice arms or stomach: arms to hug meeeeee

Sensitive or loud: i think I would need a loud person to compliment me

Hook up or relationship: relationship bc you have a standing plus one to everything and rn being single I have to text like 5 friends to find someone to go with me to something

Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

Have you ever:

kissed a stranger: Nope

Drank hard liquor: I only have like four months until my 19th so like i’ll go drinking then

Lost Glasses/contact lenses: funny story: family and i were in Japan and we were at Kinkaku-ji and then i realize that one of my eyes have gone fuzzy, so thinking that there is something on the lens, i take my glasses off and my lens had fallen out of the frame. my family literally crawled around trying to find my lost lens, we did find it, but we couldn’t find a small screw that would hold the lens in. my dad fixed it with a twist tie.

turned someone down: nobody likes me so nobody has asked me so i have never turned someone down

broken someone’s heart: no

had your heart broken: yeah, by a friend. It is shATTERing

been arrested: not even a parking ticket in my name

cried when someone died: no, i am some kind of emotionless egg

fallen for a friend: my heart easily leaps and often trips falls and gets lost

Do you believe in:

yourself: yes, I believe that I can get in, I believe that I can be what I want to be.

Miracles: I believe in karma more than miracles

Love at first sight: yes, but not in the way that media portrays it

Santa claus: nah

Kiss on the first date: this is weirdly phrased.

other:

current best friend name: becky

Eye colour: brown

Favourite movie: the other day i was procrastinating and made an official list of favourite movies, which still has a lot of ties: 1/2: httyd 1/2, 3/4: moana, big hero 6, 5/6/7: wreck it ralph, tangled, rise of the guardians, 8/9/10: back to the future 1-3

wow that took a lot of time, but thanks for tagging me! I’m tagging @thepurplewriter333 @yv-sketches and @animalsarepeople2 on the ones that you didn’t tag me in! also tagging @katlikespie @crazilexa and @fading-shadows for whichever one/s you want to do!

#long post #but i really didn't want to make four seperate posts #replies #keiko talks to thin air

1 note · View note

snowdice · 4 years ago

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 8]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 2, 3, and what I have of Chapter 4 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

My stomach decided to be mean to me for no reason, but I still want to try to get some stuff done. Might get suddenly distracted though so fair warning if I randomly stop posting/answering asks.

Chapter 2

The morning was just as torturous as Janus had expected it would be. He chewed through another pop-tart, this time bothering to actually check and see that it was a cinnamon-sugar one and drank three cups of caffeinated orange juice. Then, he waved his hand through the air and selected the 1st saved location on his device. He popped up directly behind his desk where he’d been standing the night morning before.

Someone, probably Remus, had shut his integrator down. He swiped a finger across the power button, and it flickered back on, scrolling through its morning start up routine.

The machine scanned through all of the data in the three main system it was connected to and sorted all information into things that concerned him, could concern him, and did not before then sorting the first two categories into order of importance. As it did, he set up his screen reader so he would hopefully not start the day with more of a migraine than he already had. It took about 3 seconds for everything to turn on and settle.

Sitting down in his desk, he dismissed the notification that Remus had finished and submitted the report from their mission the day before.

A mission had been scheduled for him today, and the details were in his inbox. A piece time travel technology had been accidently dropped by an archology student in the 1890s during a trip. It was an earlier model of emergency time travel given to time travels that would dump them back into the Registration Office in the year they originated. It wasn’t extremely dangerous, but could pose some problems, especially if someone who didn’t know what it was activated it.

Surveillance agents had tracked it down and found that it had been picked up by a local and sold. Though no one from that time had known what it was, they had identified that it was made out of a precious metal and it had been crafted into an expensive necklace. Janus and Remus were supposed to retrieve it today. It had been pinpointed that the most opportune time for the extraction was 1923 during a masquerade ball held by those who had bought the necklace.

It was a fairly low stakes mission. He wasn’t set to leave for another couple of hours, so he clicked through the rest of the important notifications and then set off to meet his missions coordinator, Rhi, in her office.

Rhi and Janus got along fairly well. She was a well put together woman who took her job incredibly seriously. It was fair as her job was to organize all information and materials from every other department and make sure the agents she was assigned to got and understood all of it. A mistake from her could lead to an agent’s death or something far worse.

This, of course, made her relationship with Remus… interesting to say the least. Janus could never place whether they were nemesis, frenemies, or mortal enemies, and he doubted he would ever know.

“Okay, but it’s the 1920s America,” Remus was already in her office arguing when Janus arrived. “There were so many gangsters! I could be a gangster. I would make a fantastic gangster! Just give me a gun, a snazzy suit with a white hat, and a buttload of alcohol. I will be running Chicago with Al Capone in five minutes.”

“Al Capone didn’t become a crime boss until 1925 and you are going to 1923,” Rhi said, sounding bored, “you aren’t going to Chicago, and as I have already stated, your cover is already decided.”

“But-”

“It is nonnegotiable, Agent Clockson,” she said firmly. Remus pouted, but seemingly accepted his fate.

“May I come in?” Janus asked.

“Please do,” Rhi said. “You have been to the 1920s before, correct?” she asked Janus.

“Yes ma’am.”

She tapped the screen on her desk in response. “In the last two years?”

“About two months ago,” he responded. She tapped something else.

“Any blacks, reds, or yellows?” she asked.

“All green.”

“Great. Do you need a refresher course on basic cultural or linguistic procedures?”

“No.”

She pushed one more thing and then swiped the check-in document over to him. He glanced at the report stating he’d had no incidents of any level the last time he visited the 1920s and had opted out of the optional refresher course, and then pressed his finger against the screen to sign it with his fingerprint.

The document returned to her side of the desk automatically. “Okay,” she said swiping another document from her left over to be in front of her. She twisted her wrist to copy it and slide copies to Janus and Remus. “Here are exact details on the time, place, and event you are going to, as well as details about your cover.” Janus scrolled through his quickly. It wasn’t as detailed as some he’d had considering this was a brief in-and-out missing, but he still took care to memorize everything on the page.

As he and Remus read through their things, Rhi got to her feet and turned to the storage compartments behind her desk.

She grabbed out two packages and when they’d both signed that they’d read and understood the paperwork, she slid them across the desk to them. “These have everything you need,” she said. “Clothes, money, and an invitation to the party you’re off to attend. You are to get changed now, have a last check in with costuming to make sure everything is in order, and then report to decontamination in 23 minutes. Your set to leave in 38 minutes. Any questions?”

“How much-?” Remus started.

“None, agent,” Rhi said.

“But-”

“No alcohol,” Rhi said. “It is the prohibition era in the United States anyway.”

“Like there’s not going to be alcohol at the rich people party,” Remus said sullenly.

She pressed her lips together. “It is an in-and-out mission,” she said to both of them, and then turned to glare at Remus. “Do not get arrested.”

“I don’t know,” Remus said joyfully. “I think I still have room for a 1920s mug shot on my wall.”

“Behave,” she said, “or I’ll report you for the cat you smuggled in from the 1800s.”

“You’d never,” Remus said. “You enjoy the cute pictures of Diesel Fuel I send you every day too much, and you know it!”

“Just… don’t get arrested.” She turned to Janus. “Don’t let him get arrested.”

“I’ll do my best,” Janus promised, standing. “Now come on, Remus, we need to get changed.”

“You just want to see me naked,” Remus replied with a wink, but he did stand.

“If I see you naked one more time in my life Remus, my eyeballs will fall out of their sockets,” Janus said, waving to Rhi as he pulled Remus out of the door.

“Kinky.”

Janus’s eyeballs almost did fall out right then and there with how hard he rolled them.

They got changed quickly, Remus complaining and saying if he couldn’t dress like a gangster, he should at least be allowed to wear a flapper dress. Janus had long ago learned to ignore his ramblings. He did seem enthused about the included mask for the masquerade. It was a silver fox shaped mask with green accents that reminded Janus of the Egyptian God Anubis.

Janus’s own mask on the other hand, was only designed to take up the left half of his face. It was mostly golden with a black swirled design. Attached to the side there was a plume of golden tipped white feathers. He had to give it to the costuming department, they did have good taste.

Once they were both dressed, they were poked and prodded by one of the costumers to make sure everything was accurate, fit right, and had been put on correctly.

After that, they went to the decontamination area to have themselves and everything they were taking with them sterilized so they didn’t accidently take any pathogens to the 1920s. They also received an oral vaccination to be sure they didn’t pick up anything from the 1920s and bring it back.

Then they were ready to go. The correct time-space coordinates had already been sent to their timepieces. With a push of a button, they were off.

Inciting Incident

Chapter 3

Janus and Remus both appeared at the same moment a couple of feet apart in what looked like the inside of a garden shed. There was already a man waiting for them a few feet away. “Sup babes,” Remy said, just like he always did. The T-Agent looked their costumes up and down and whistled. “Now that,” he said, “almost makes me want to be one of you time jockeys.”

“They wouldn’t let me have a gun or a canister of moonshine,” Remus pouted.

Remy snorted. “Sorry, babes, but that makes my job a lot easier. If I’ve gotta fish you outta the 1920s criminal justice system, I’d rather it not be because you shot someone on accident ‘cause you don’t know how to use the safety.”

Remus groaned dramatically. “Everyone is lame.”

Remy just shook his head. “Meet back here when you’ve got the necklace,” he said. “Don’t make a move until after 11:05pm and before 11:17. That’s your window.”

“We know,” Janus said. “See you then.”

“Have fun at the party boys,” Remy said and then lowered his shades to look at Remus, “but not too much fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Remus, already towing Janus out of the garden shed. The way had been specifically cleared for them, so they met no other people before they’d rounded the house the party was taking place and had gotten onto the driveway in front of the house.

Without missing a beat, they strolled up to the front of the house, just as a car pulled into the end of the driveway. Janus rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, a man who was clearly the butler answered the door. They handed over their invitation, and the man immediately let them in.

The party had already started when they slipped into the medium sized ballroom that had been decked out in streamers and other decorations. Janus’s nose immediately wanted to scrunch as the smell of sweat from all the dancing already going on as well as the too strong perfume meant to cover that stench wafted over him. It was by far not the worst smelling time period, but he was pretty sure some people still weren’t aware deodorant had been recently invented.

He checked his time piece which had been disguised as a fancy wristwatch for this trip. “Okay,” he said. “We have about two hours before we need to make our move. We should…”

Remus’s attention was already being dragged away by a young man who seemed to be providing guests with food. “I’m going to go ‘mingle’,” he said, winking.

“No!” Janus hissed. “Re- Richard! No!”

Yet, he was already disappearing into the horde of stinky bodies, likely to go scandalize a bunch of rich folks, and leaving Janus alone. Janus mumbled a curse under his breath that he was sure no one around him would understand even if they could make it out.

Unsure what to do with himself, he wandered over towards where the live musicians were playing jazz music, being sure to keep out of the way of the dancers. He was edging around the makeshift dancefloor, when one of said dancers must have misstepped and knocked into another one. The second man stumbled right towards Janus, arms pinwheeling. Janus reached out on instinct to catch the man as he fell.

There was a moment where the two of them just stared at each other, surprise evident on the other man’s face. He was wearing a mask that just covered the area around his eyes and the top of his nose, revealing a smattering of freckles across his cheeks that Janus imagined extended to his nose.

The mask was a light blue velvet with a flower stuck on the side near his right ear, and a trail of curled golden ribbon bobbed down around his chin. The party continued on around them, a blur of movement and sound.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked.

The man blinked up at him and then tilted his head slightly to the side as though confused, before a smile slowly grew on his face. “Oh, I’m fine Dove.”

“Dove?” Janus asked.

He giggled. “You have dove feathers on your mask,” he explained, reaching up a hand to touch one. His finger brushed the tip of Janus’s ear, “and I don’t know what else I am supposed to call you.”

“My name is Lee,” he automatically lied.

“Is it?” he asked, sounding amused. “Doesn’t seem to fit you well. I like Dove better.”

“Oh?” asked Janus. “And what’s your name so I can not call you that?”

The man chuckled. “Call me Pat.”

“Hello Pat,” Janus said.

“I thought you didn’t want to call me by my name.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hmmm,” Pat said, finger tracing idly across Janus’s forearm which was when Janus realized with a start that he was still holding the man in his arms. He quickly went to release him, which Pat allowed with clear amusement.

Yet, instead of completely stepping away, Pat grabbed Janus’s arm. “What are you doing all the way over here by the way?” he asked. “Don’t you want to dance.”

“Oh,” Janus hesitated. “I don’t really dance.” Or at least not in the way the people around him were. He’d had basic training for this style, but it had been a while and he was a bit rusty.

“Everyone dances Dove,” Pat claimed. “At least if they know the steps and have the right partner.”

“But I don’t know the steps,” Janus said with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed. “Well, I know the dance pretty well by this point,” Pat said. “Why don’t I teach you how it goes.”

He was agreeing with the soft beseeching tone before he even realized it. Pat pulled him into the middle of the throng of people. He seemed to think, bopping his head to the music playing for a moment, before looking back at Janus. “Heard of James Johnson?”

Janus inclined his head.

“Well, have you heard his new song? Because there’s a dance that goes with it.”

He took a few steps away from Janus and started to dance. Despite his claim to know the steps, he wasn’t particularly good, but he made up for any loss of rhythm with pure enthusiasm.

Janus found himself smiling at the man, and after a few moments, joined in with the dance. Despite his lack of practice, he ended up having a better natural rhythm than Pat. Pat didn’t seem to mind that he was being outperformed, however. On the contrary, he giggled at himself the couple of times he stumbled.

When he fell into Janus’s arms for the second time that night, Janus decided he’d probably had enough dancing for the moment and pulled him off to the side to get something to drink and cool down a bit.

He watched the man take a snack and some punch from one of servers and thank him happily before turning back to Janus. Pat was easily able to keep Janus’s attention as they chatted. He was bubbly and soft, and Janus found himself enchanted as they talked.

He was explaining the steps of a different dance, a couples one. “Knowing how to perform the tango will entrance any girl you want,” Pat said, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. “Assuming you’re that type of fella.”

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked.

Pat leaned in a bit closer. Not too much, but enough that he was definitely in Janus’s space. “A different type of fella,” he said simply, before smiling and leaning back.

Janus let out a shaky exhale and took a sip of punch. He glanced over at Pat. “Tell me about yourself, Pat,” he said.

Pat hummed in contemplation. “Well, I went to France recently.”

“You did?”

“Oui, c'était amusant, mais j'ai eu des ennuis”

“What kind of trouble?” Janus asked curiously.

“Oh, the kind with a pretty boy and crepes that were way too sweet. Anyway,” he continued. “Other than that, I mostly help out my friend. He’s an inventor.”

“And how do you help him.”

He shrugged, “Running errands mostly, and making sure he gets enough sleep, because otherwise he gets distracted and forgets. And you?”

“I’m a banker,” he said, remembering his cover, but felt compelled to add, “but I like to travel as well.”

“You do look the type?”

“And how is that?”

Pat shrugged. “I can always tell a wandering spirt from the masses, and you are easy to spot.” Pat looked at him then with a secret smile on his face, and Janus felt suddenly known, like the man in front of him had known him for years even though they’d only just met. Looking at him then, he wanted suddenly for that to be fact and not a flight of fancy.

He was brought firmly back to reality in the next moment. “Lee,” a pointed and familiar voice said. Janus’s head snapped up to see Remus, staring at him. He tapped his wrist. Janus glanced at his own wrist: 10:58pm. He just barely managed not to curse.

“I,” he said looking up at Pat. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“That’s okay,” Pat said easily. “It is getting rather late.”

“Yes,” Janus agreed. “Well… goodbye.”

Pat, titled his head, a half smile on his face. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Janus nodded, and turned away from him towards Remus. He didn’t look back as they excited the ballroom. They snuck into a small side closet for coats that wasn’t being used as it was summer.

“So,” Remus said when the door closed behind them.

“Don’t,” warned Janus.

“I’m not one to judge,” Remus said.

“Shut up.” He glanced at his watch. It was 11:02. “We’ll go in 5.”

“I have to give it to you. He was very cute.”

“We’re not talking about it.”

Remus just laughed joyfully, and Janus did his best to halt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

At 11:07, well into their window, they slipped back out of the closet, and towards the stairs as the party raged on.

Despite how Remus usually never shut up, he was able to be quiet when it counted. They snuck to the master bedroom of the home’s owners in silence. The door was already wide open by the time they got there, and Janus didn’t think anything of it. At least, he didn’t until they entered the bedroom, and there was someone already there.

He turned from the dresser he’d been standing in front of to face them, sending Janus the same smile he had down in the ballroom. Janus and Remus both froze. “Sorry, sweetie,” Pat said. “Were you here for this too?” he held up the necklace they’d been sent for. He closed his fist around the charm made out of time travel tech.

“What?” Janus said.

Pat giggled and winked. “Unfortunately, I need it a bit more than you at the moment. So, I’m gonna have to go.” Janus stepped forward, not really sure what he was intending to do, but Pat just smiled. “See you some other time, my Turtle Dove.” With a snap of his fingers and loud crack, he disappeared. The mask he’d been wearing fluttered to the ground.

Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

“Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

“Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

5238

“I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

5356

“Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

“But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

6168

“I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

#study break stories #not writing

23 notes · View notes