#in the heights fic

[collecting-stories]

Pablo Neruda - Usnavi de la Vega

Request: no

Summary: reader has a crush on Usnavi and invites him to dinner. Just a bunch of fluff really.

A/N: I don't even know for sure how long this has been in my notes. Literally found it the other day and figured it was high time to finish it and post it here. Even if no one really cares about In the Heights anymore.

Broadway Masterlist

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

The sight behind the counter shouldn’t have been a surprising one. It was more common than not that you would find Marco here, chin just level with the counter despite the stool that Usnavi let him stand on. He thought the bodega was the coolest place on earth and frequently told the owner that when he was Sonny’s age, he too would work there.  

His Spider-Man bike was chained up outside, evidence that he’d ridden straight here after school despite your constant reminders that he needed to come home first.  

“Someday I’m gonna report you as a missing child…they’re gonna think Usnavi kidnapped you.” You remarked, the bell jangling as the door shut behind you. The fan set up in the corner blew passed you as it oscillated, trying to keep the store cool in the early heat of June. You took quick stock of what you could see, noting the absence of any adult supervising your seven-year-old. “Speaking of, where is Usnavi?” 

“The cooler broke again,” Marco replied. The thud of his small feet hitting the floor echoed in the space and he came around the counter to hug you, “I got a gold star on my story about Puerto Rico,” he mentioned, pulling away to go retrieve the paper that had already been pinned up to the bulletin board behind the counter. No doubt Usnavi’s doing.  

“Wow, that’s so great baby,” you took the papers that were stapled together, looking over the story that he’d recited to you three times that morning. “You’re like a little Pablo Neruda.”  

“Who?” Marco took the papers back, hanging them in their rightful place once more. A couple of his drawings accompanied the story. Once Usnavi had even hung a spelling test up so everyone could see it. You appreciated the sweetness, the willingness to help whenever you needed it, having someone around that your son could rely on, but it didn’t stop the occasional pang of something indescribable in your chest. You didn’t want Marco to get his hopes up…god knows you kept waiting for something you were sure wasn’t going to happen. Despite Carla constantly insisting that Usnavi had feelings for you.  

“Yeah, feelings of friendship. Feelings of ‘look at this poor pathetic girl I’ve known my whole life, still can’t make it out, got a kid now cause she was too stupid to see when her boyfriend was lying to her.” 

“Trust me, the only thing Usnavi’s thinking with when you come in the store is-“ 

“Oh god Carla!” 

But you couldn’t help feeling more than a little hopeful everytime you saw one of Marco’s tests or drawings hanging up, as if Usnavi was just as proud as you were. As if Marco had a dad (or at least a father figure) who actually cared about him.  

“Pablo Neruda wrote love poems,” Usnavi’s voice sounded from behind you. “He’s your mama’s favorite.”  

You turned to look at him and he winked as if the two of you were co-conspirators. Like you were in on the same secret and it made your heart pick up speed just a little bit.  

“Who else is gonna write me love poems?” You managed to say, rather proud that you’d even mustered a sentence together.  

The smile didn’t leave Usnavi’s face, even after you turned back to Marco and told him to get his stuff together so you could go home. While you were used to the moaning and protesting that usually accompanied this request you were rather taken aback when Marco hopped off the stool without question and started gathering his school supplies off the counter.  

“Can Usnavi come over for dinner? He said Sonny’ll be here soon to help and that means he wouldn’t have to hang around too…can he?” Marco asked, eagerly, looking to Usnavi, “do you wanna come over for dinner?” 

“You’re going to abuela’s for dinner, remember?” It was Wednesday and Wednesday meant dinner with your ex’s mom.  

“Well, then you and Usnavi can have dinner.” He suggested, toothy smile (minus a noticeable one in the front).  

You thought about saying that you were more than positive Usnavi had better things to do than come over to your place and eat dinner with you but your mouth worked before your brain could intervene and suddenly you heard yourself saying, “what’d you say? Wanna have dinner with me?” to Usnavi.  

Maybe it was the heat or the work trying to fix the cooler that had him flushed but you swore he looked almost nervous when he nodded his head, like the offer was too good to be true. “Yeah, definitely.”  

Usnavi wasn’t one to get his hopes up. Benny constantly swore that you were basically in love, (“you’re practically raising Marco together, now if you could just get together”), but Usnavi didn’t want to take the chance and look like a fool. Not to mention, he liked Marco a lot and he didn’t want you to think he had some ulterior motive for being nice to your son. He wasn’t expecting you to want to be with him and he didn’t want you to think he was.  

You told him seven o’clock and he got there at 6:45, standing at the bottom of the stoop and contemplating the flowers he’d brought. You didn’t say it was date or even imply that this was anything more than you offering a meal while Marco was at his abuela’s. Maybe you just didn’t feel like eating alone. Or maybe you felt bad because Marco had offered dinner and you didn’t want to be rude. Maybe the flowers were overkill, maybe you were allergic.  

“You stand outside all night, you’re never gonna get a chance,” Daniela teased as she walked passed him, bumping her hip against his playfully.  

“We’re just having dinner,” Usnavi didn’t bother to ask how Daniela already knew about the dinner. No doubt everyone in Washington Heights knew about dinner.  

“Yeah?” She plucked a flower out of the bunch, “hoping for dessert?”  

Usnavi choked on his reply, swallowing down the last bout of nerves and heading up to the door before Daniela could continue teasing him. You were on the second floor, the black and white tiled hallway was missing a piece right beside your door and when you complained the landlord told you there was nothing he could do. Now a large pot sat over it with monstera growing next to a welcome mat that you changed out for the seasons. It was getting close to valentines and the mat had red and pink X’s and O’s.  

The green door was cracked open, a “come on in” gesture that Usnavi had encounter a few times before when he’d offered to keep Marco while you worked and then walked the boy home at the end of the night. He rarely saw you without your son and it occurred to him as he pushed the door open that this would be the first time he was at your place without the seven year old buffer leading the conversations.  

“Uh, hey, the door was open,” Usnavi offered as he walked in, shut the door behind him, and walked further into your apartment. He was still holding the flowers, down by his side, their petals directed at the hardwood floor.  

“Hey,” you moved away from the frying pan to give him a hug, laughing gently at the sight of the bouquet. “Are those for me?”  

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he apologized, whipping them up so fast a few petals fell off. “Daniela stole one, actually.”  

“Well they’re beautiful, thank you.” You took the bouquet from him and Usnavi watched you move around the small kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water and arranging the flowers. He thought about something Abuela Claudia had told him years ago about knowing when he was in love and he turned away, looking around the rest of the small space as if he’d never been in it before.  

“Sonny didn’t mind watching the store I hope,” you mentioned, looking for something to say. It felt different without Marco there. Not the sort of different that made it awkward, despite you grasping for something to say, but the sort of different that felt like talking and having dinner were the furthest things from your mind. The sort of different that had you thinking Daniela and Carla and everyone else in the Heights that had an opinion on it was right.  

“As long as I bring him back something,” he replied. He’d made it to the bookcase near the front door, looking through all the books at eye level first. Pablo Neruda caught his eye and he took the book down, skimming through the pages.  

“Whatca got there?” You asked, coming over to look around his shoulder at the book he was holding in his hands. 

Usnavi tilted his head to look back toward you, “estás aquí. Oh, no te escapes," he began, reciting the poem as you stood there listening, dinner forgotten. His voice was smooth, the way it always was but somehow different too. Sweeter, like honey.  

That different sort of feeling that you were trying not to fall into settled over you as you listened to him read. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and when he finally reached the end of the poem and he looked over at you, the fall you were trying to avoid suddenly crashed over you.  

“...quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos,” he recited, eyes meeting yours.  

“¿Es así?” You were only just barely aware of Usnavi placing the book back on the shelf, the thin volume of poems falling to the floor from its haphazard placement. He turned into your space, kissing you without hesitation.  

Benny always said he was too slow, that he overthought all of his actions before he did them, and that what he needed to do was just act. It wasn’t advice he ever actually took. Usnavi just wasn’t the kind of person who acted on impulse. And then all of the sudden he was holding your face in his hands and kissing you in your living room. Impulsive, absolutely. When you finally pulled away, only to catch your breath, Usnavi smiled. That irresistibly boyish smile that always gave you butterflies. “Dinner?” He asked, only to avoid any more impulsive acts like telling you he loved you.  

“Dinner can wait.”  

- 

The door to the apartment slammed open and Marco came through, kicking his shoes off as he called out, “Mama! Mama!”  

Behind him, the door shut, his grandma stepping into the kitchen and looking suspiciously over the food that was left on the counter, still in the pan though the oven was off. The door to your bedroom was open and before Marco could make it that far you appeared in the hall, holding a zippered sweatshirt closed, semi-nervous smile on your face.  

“Hey baby, how was dinner?” You asked, hovering near the door of your room. 

“Abuela made dulce de leche! I brought you a piece!” He held the tupperware out toward you proudly, “Is Usnavi still here?”  

“Uh, he’s...he’s in the...” you floundered, trying to think of something to say. He was very much still there, on the other side of the open door, pulling his clothes on as fast as possible.  

“Why don’t we put this in the fridge Marco,” your ex’s mother suggested, taking the tupperware back from you and putting her arm around your son’s shoulders, “wait for your mama and this Usnavi to join us.” 

If you didn’t know you’d hear an earful from her about almost getting caught by your son, you would have thanked her for intervening when she did. Instead you just ducked back in your room, closing the door so you could change quickly, clocking Usnavi standing there with a massive grin on his face.  

“Don’t smile at me like that,” you whispered. An empty warning, really.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, grin still in place.  

“Come on, I still owe you dinner.” You held the bedroom door open for him to go out first, “and now we’ve got dessert too.” 

Usnavi stopped in the doorway to kiss you, “I’ve already had mine.” When you smacked his arm he only laughed and continued into the kitchen, Marco’s excited greeting putting a smile on your face as you walked into the kitchen after him.  

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

The poem Usnavi reads is Pablo Neruda's Everyday You Play .

Translations:

estás aquí. Oh, no te escapes - you are here. Oh you do not run away

quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos - I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees

¿Es así? - is that so? / it's like that?

[earnmysong]

FIRST LINES FIRST

the fantastic and unfathomably talented @firstdegreefangirl tapped me to list the first lines of my ten most recent fics. thank you muchly, darling! all who might wish to partake as well, feel free!

no one plan, no one stand (to be free) | “Listen. If Liz and Rosa could punch holes in their bodies at seven to keep a family tradition on track, Annie could watch one movie from the nineties at the same age, with me, to get ours going.”

something inside me's changed (so much younger yesterday) | The day after Fez proposes, Lexi decides she needs a tattoo.

take me in (hold me so) | Lexi considers her bicycle to be the most reliable entity in her life.

even doubt can be delicious | Keeley hops onto her counter just shy of the prescribed minimum limit, eager to show Roy how much her spot of self-care has reduced her resemblance to that craggy volcano lady Te Ka - in fact, she’ll likely start sprouting a replacement for her metaphorical flower crown any second - and assure him that she hadn’t really intended for her blast radius to be quite so massive. 

keep spinning us into something new | Over years of covering closings at the Crashdown, creating a collection of comforting fantasies after cries that never entirely cleanse or deliver the perfect amount of exhaustion, and negotiating with finicky formulas that only yield reliable data if they come in contact with moonlight, life teaches Liz how to manage with minimal rest. 

what it is i see (wonder if i'll always be with you) | “This totally isn’t what you think it is,” Lucy blurts hurriedly, swift denial presenting the most decisive method of shutting down any invasive lines of investigation. 

what’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing (what do you think we might see) | The entire barrio - even total strangers they meet leaving restaurants while the other diners walk in, and random customers at the bodega who wonder where the subway maps are or if they're allowed to use the ATM with out-of-state debit cards - tells Vanessa and Usnavi that they deserve a final chance to let loose before the baby arrives. 

who'd have thought that love could be so caffeinated | Usnavi watches Vanessa lean to peer into the cup he’s got ready for her.

with hope in your heart (you'll never walk alone) | Lucy’s stomach has been rivaling the Pacific at high tide for the past few hours and, about a block ago, she’d experienced an extremely vivid vision of drowning the dashboard of her and Jackson’s shop in whatever’s clearly demanding to be released from her body. 

won’t you pick the pieces up (don’t let me keep on walking on broken glass) | There’s a story here, there’s always a story.

[sinfulpatata]

meeting your past self be like:

yllz: midget.

mxy!wwx: virgin.

lwj, being smothered by tits: mn.

[captainmaxatx]

5’3” Logan: My boyfriend is too tall for me to kiss him on the lips. What should I do?

Wade: punch me in the stomach and kiss me when I keel over!

Wade: Stab me!

Wade: kick me in the shin! Tackle me!

Vanessa: just ask him to lean down?!

[somerandomdudelmao]

I hadn't planned on doing anything more complicated than a sketch, but here we are…

[skipporeity]

"bnha manga" ? whats that? cmon get up, the shinsou deku training friendship arc is premiering!!

WAAAH

[lesbicosmos]

no thoughts, just palasaki and their height difference<33

(yeah i know there's not actually that much of a difference its just because of niko's boots but shhhh)

[pencilofawesomeness]

All the HSR I know is second-hand, but @therosefrontier 's long oneshot fic, live for tomorrow (let the past dissolve like sand), is living in my brain and gripping me by the throat so obviously I had to make a reaction meme for how that Sunset Savana homecoming was going to go.

Rip Neji and, and probably the rest of the palace staff and maybe Farena, for the absolute heart attack they're going to get when Leona "makes pretending like he doesn't have a heart an olympic sport" Kingscholar comes home with a traumatized kid. Anyway I can't wait for Dan Heng to be loved and fed well and exposed to sunlight, etc etc. Luckily for him I imagine Neji will immediately start the care routines while strangling Leona when Dan Heng isn't looking.

Bonus Neji Vision:

[calmlb]

hc that Dazai made a point of calling Chuuya small when they met because Dazai was used to being the small one.

like, finally there was someone shorter than him. because let’s be real, Dazai was barely taller than Chuuya in Fifteen.

i think people forget how small Dazai was too— not just in height, but also in weight. He was underweight in Dark Era, but in Fifteen & even at present he's barely within the healthy weight range for his height. he was constantly described as a twig in Fifteen, and almost every time he's introduced in the light novels he's called lanky, slender, etc.

[sunatsubu]

smitten reporter has no chance against the flirtations of brucie wayne

[comradekarin]

bringing this old shot back to the TL and like,,,, how is it that this one shot has more chemistry and intensity than most canon atla ships,,, GIMME BOTH BRYKES NECK !!!!!!

[paunchsalazar]

drew these while reading this sylvix fic by legendaerie

[likesdoodling]

So. I read a really cool fic recently called The Harrowing by Chthonion which I would highly highly recommend-

I absolutely love it so much-

:D:D

I'm gonna go with how my sister recommended it to me, since that was what got me excited about it-

Imagine~ Sauron trying to be a good person. And having a very hard time of it because he has these things... I've heard they're called 'feelings'... Anyway. He's finding it a bit hard to deal with, but long story short, think Sauron getting a second chance and go from there.

And if you have read it-

Then you probably know exactly which moments I'm referencing here, but just in case,

No. 1 is Finrod, just before Annatar is about to have his first full on emotional breakdown, and the No.2 is Maedhros saying thank you. Which is fairly obvious. But still.

I love this fic so much!!!

(this is definitely not the last fanart I'm gonna do from this. Chapter 39 has some amazing moments that I am so gonna draw when I next have time~)

[relic-seeker]

lemmquirrel doodle dump 3

[gaywarcriminals]

@danmeichael gave me jiuyuan vampire brainworms

Shen Yuan walked into the living room to find Shen Qingqiu flipping through Shen Yuan’s phone for the third time that week. Shen Yuan stormed over to snatch it out of his uninvited guest’s hands; but Shen Qingqiu didn’t budge, his grip immovable.

“I told you to get your own phone!"

“Don’t take that tone with me, Yuan-er.”

Shen Yuan tried to channel some of his newly acquired strength as he pulled at the device, but Shen Qingqiu was far older, and accordingly, far stronger.

“You can’t take my things!” Shen Qingqiu raised a single eyebrow, watching as Shen Yuan failed to retrieve the phone. Can’t I? his expression seemed to ask. Shen Yuan flushed— in indignant anger, of course. “You—“

“Someone has to keep track of your communications.” Shen Qingqiu interrupted him smoothly. Shen Yuan was so taken aback at how easily Shen Qingqiu admitted this that he was shocked still, hand hands loosening around the phone. Shen Qingqiu took advantage of his lapse to slide the phone into his tailored pants pocket. “You’ve been giving so much leeway to unsavory beasts.”

“Says the monster.” Shen Yuan was almost embarrassed how petulant his tone came out.

Shen Qingqiu rose from his seat, making the 15cm gap in their heights feel even greater with his looming posture. “And now Yuan-er is one too.” He reached out to rub his thumb over the bite mark on Shen Yuan’s throat, hidden under the collar of his shirt. Shen Yuan shivered. 

“I’m not the same—“

“No. Yuan-er is much softer. Weaker.” Shen Qingqiu’s hand rose to grip Shen Yuan’s jaw and wrench it to the side, exposing the long column of smooth, cold skin. “So he should remember when to roll over and bear his throat to placate the bigger monster.” 

Shen Yuan didn’t see Shen Qingqiu move, but suddenly, a hand hand pulled back Shen Yuan’s shirt and Shen Qingqiu’s teeth were sinking back into that external mark, piercing his skin for no reason besides Shen Qingqiu’s pleasure. Shen Yuan gasped. His knees buckled. Shen Qingqiu wrapped and arm around him, pulling Shen Yuan close to his lithe body of cold, coiled steel. Every point of contact between them seemed to tingle, and Shen Yuan tipped his head slightly further back of his own volition, submitting before his sire. 

[toruro]

sweet balcony sex with husband!mingyu as you watch the sunrise together!!!

what a view

pairing. k. mingyu x reader tags. smut, semi public

“oh my god,” you breath out, head falling to metal bar of the balcony railing. “oh my god,” you repeat again when you feel your husband’s cock batter against that one spot that has your back arching into his touch.

"quiet," mingyu hisses, using one hand to clamp over your mouth as you let out yet another obscene moan. "wouldn't want people wakin' up to see you being fucked out on this balcony," he warns, and the coarse language shoots pleasure straight down to your core.

"m-mingyu-ha—mingyu," you manage out through his hand, gripping the bar as tightly as you can when you bring up your head to look over the scene of the ocean in front of you.

the sky was painted a pretty purple when mingyu woke you up to eat you out against the sheets, the hues turning slightly orange when he dragged you out of bed to bend you over the balcony railing and proceed to fuck you into the next dimension.

now, he's whispering into your neck to look up at the sunrise, and see how beautiful it is, to take in the moment, as if you can manage to think about anything else other than his cock filling you up.

"feels so good gyu," you gasp out when his hand snakes his way down in front of you and rubs roughly at your clit with a chuckle.

"you like that? my pretty wife likes this? wants to put on a show for the whole damn resort?" he grunts, slamming into you harder. the sounds you're both making are down right filthy and anyone walking on the ground below might be able to tell what was going on, even if there is still a shirt over your head.

"yeah gyu," you nod along dumbly. "love this, love you."

mingyu grins at the confession, although, it isn't like he doesn't already know. glancing down at your fingers—knuckles white from gripping so tightly—he catches the beautiful glint of the rising sun flicker off of your engagement ring and fuck—his eyes roll to the back of his head, cock burying deeper inside of you.

swiping a tongue over his lips as he watches your body jerk with every slam of his hips, something warm bubbles up inside of him as both of you near your impending orgasms.

"love you," he finally grunts out, punctuating his words with sharp and erratic thrusts. "so. fuckin'. much."

eyes flickering between you and the sunrise over the ocean, mingyu knows in this moment that you're just as crazy for him as he is for you, and that is all that he needs.