#you seem like a person who would enjoy my quiche

[itsquakey]

Q&A Time!

I haven't done a Q&A in a while so let's bang out some asks from the askbox and answer them.

Without really saying much, things have kinda gotten better, but I am def in a hole right now from multiple pretty saddening things happening to me all within a month. I'm having a lot of issues drawing but I don't think it's burnout-more likely I'm just a sad lump. I'm sure I'll improve though once the year finishes us.

Kind of...I plan to make either a epilogue for Revenge of Pike Knight or an entirely different comic about his process of letting go but also forgiving himself for her actions. He never goes back to being sweet bandana waddle dee but she does manage to loosen up as time goes on.

Mago gets stripped of any and all power that the average doomer doesn't have. So yea. He's a little guy you could punt like a football.

It's honestly really hard to say what my favorite food is, as I am someone who struggles with food (I blame it on the fact I almost died of starvation as a toddler and it ruined my entire digestive system but who knows it could be crappy genetics too). However here are some foods I enjoy that people may like! (Recipe Links are in the names)

Banoffee Pie: I usually like it without the bananas though, they are too soft texture-wise for me so it's really more Toffee Pie. Just remember if you are making the toffee from scratch that it is basically like making a bomb and you HAVE to make sure timing is correct otherwise pressure will build and either you will die or your kitchen will get a nice brown coat of sugar-paint (Personal experience here).

Chocolate Souffle: I always have this for my birthday so it's a fond treat. It IS a souffle though, so it's very hard to make if you do not have the experience.

Quiche: I love quiche, it's something that is eggy but also a pie and I can eat it any time of the day. I usually like just cheese in it but meats and some small greens are also good.

And finally- Zucchini Brownies (Or just walnut brownies): Which I actually haven't had in a while but man am I craving them. They sound weird but you can't taste the zucchini and it brings a nice dampness to the brownie.

When Powehi was little his sisters loved to tease him even though he would give little to no reaction. They seemed to have a decent relationship as children but I would not be surprised if Powehi doesn't really like his sisters a whole lot when he's an adult. They're still as annoying as before but now they act more like their father (a pet peeve of his). However they are still his sisters at the end of the day, so he puts up with them.

Since I don't know if I have the post up anymore- ANY FANART OR INTERPRETATIONS/INSPIRATION OF MY WORK IS OKAY. If it is fanart or is heavily based off my work all I need is name credit or an @/. If you @/ me, there's a very high likelihood I will see it and reblog it!

As someone who worked with various animals including tarantulas for a while- I love them. I love their fuzz and their little claws and paw pads and the fact they're chill (but at the same time very anxious) little dudes. I think they get a bad rap but they're nice.

If I remember correctly, the death of Meta Knight comic was originally artist trolling. Yes, I made the comic to purposefully get a reaction from you all and laugh evilly while you cried over his death. However that comic is the backbone of Nextgen and I'm glad I made it.

Yes, I will get to that art eventually. I'm just taking my time for reasons. I will/am also uploading art that is old but was never released on my account. Eventually once all the old art is posted new art will start up again.

Meta works his way up the ladder to become a Reaper. Not really spoilers but his design will be brought back soon. But yes, he can still see his friends with the help of Morpho. Also Galaxia shattered in the death comic, so she's long gone as well but returns to Meta in the afterlife at some point.

Dedede ain't dead yet! He's still kicking. Meta would have to meet him in the mortal realm as a little buggy.

Yes, however I highly doubt I will ever cover them in Nextgen, so it's up to fan interpretation at the end of the day.

Yes he does, he takes the form of a beetle much like Morpho takes the form of a butterfly in the mortal realm and gets to visit his friends when he can.

Apologies, but only my girlfriend can hug me : )

I imagine if the situation calls for it he does use his tongue. However he mainly chooses the sword and his fabric arms.

In Nextgen I like to imagine Kirby's copy abilities change as they grow up instead of someone upgrading them for him, hence why they look different when he uses copy abilities.

Powehi has always had some of Marx's powers and grew up with them normally. However as he gets older he begins to really not like them because it makes him different in a way others may be intimidated by.

In Nextgen Chilly and Magolor never got nor will get married. They're off again on again exes because it is way funnier that way and honestly aligns with the one manga more.

Magolor and Chilly met during the events of Star Allies, and their relationship/personalities are kinda based off that manga in a minor way.

Arthur showed up out of nowhere on Castle Dedede's entrance and ever since then Kirby has taken care of him.

In a surprising turn of events, no. The waddle dee from Kirby 64 in Nextgen is actually Bandana's/Pike's older brother who is the sole reason Bandana/Pike went down the path she did. The stories that were told about the adventure and the heroes his older brother worked with got her to be inspired enough to actually work alongside Dedede and later Kirby and the others.

Because that belt buckle is the last remaining piece of who he used to be. His robes are gone along with everything else but that buckle. He is now nude.

All Noddies are biologically and magically tied to the Dream Fountain which is the thing that gives them their dreams and tiredness. The only way Castella can have nightmares is if there's some kind of tampering with the Dream Fountain that effects it negatively.

I don't think canon Bandana would enjoy the fact I assassinated his character for some plot lmao. But for the sake of the funny just imagine them interacting like that one sonic and shadow clip from Sonic Adventure 2.

The cycle of matter only affects Dark and Light matter/ anything in between that. Matter like that usually will never see a reaper in their life because their souls almost never make it to the afterlife and instead are in a constant cycle of reincarnation, hence the name. Meta Knight was merely lucky enough to have Morpho break the rules for him just like how Necrodeus broke the rules for him when he was Gala and took his soul to the afterlife. Normally living things are taken by reapers to the afterlife when they die though. While non-matter characters like Dedede, Magolor, Marx, Pike, etc will be able to have a one way ticket to the afterlife, I'm keeping it vague for Kirby as not to spoil future ideas.

That's all for now! I'll be answering more asks in the future don't worry.

[prussiacide]

nations who are good cooks

ok, i got a lot of ideas about this one too

romano: starting with the obvious. when he was living in america and working for alfred (seems like the interwar period?) he cooked for him along with being essentially a personal maid. and ofc its only natural that the representative of southern italy would be an amazing cook. in my human aus, i usually have romano either starting a restaurant or working as a chef, and in nation aus, i would imagine food is one of the areas he is never lazy in. if romano was at one point the representative of naples, than pizza would be a specialty of his (and he would have some STRONG feelings on all the different incarnations of pizza in america and arounf the world), along with pasta with seafood in it and dishes with salami. overall romano is def one of the best cooks out of all characters

antonio: ok, basically if spamano had kids their children would be blessed with amazing food no matter which parents cooking. antonio’s favorite part of cooking is watching others enjoy it. he loves having big dinners with his friends, like romano, ned, bel, francis, gilbert, and watching their reactions, seeing just how much they enjoy it. he’s kinda like when ur grandma coaxes u eat more even when ur full. and of course, olive oil is used heavily, perhaps even excessively, in all of his recipes. whenever romano asks him for a recipe for one of his dishes, antonio always refuses to give up the ‘secret ingredient,’ and everytime romano accurately guesses it’s (surprise!) olive oil

francis: i mean, he’s in the gastronomy or gastronomics or whatever they call it club in the hetalia academy episodes. and french cuisine is some of the most famous and delicious in the world. im not talking about the stupid little five-bite-and-ur-done french dishes they have at fancy restaurants, no, when francis cooks, it’s hearty, delicious, and filling. he’s especially skilled at making soups (even arthur cant deny that his french onion soup is absolutely amazing), quiches, and ratatouille, lots of so-called peasant dishes that will leave you full for hours and will make u feel warm and satisfied

sadik: yet another member of the gastronomy club in the hetalia academy episodes, sadik cooks very frequently in his free time (he’s another character who i often make a chef in my human aus). turkish cuisine, much like turkish culture, is influenced by a variety of different sources, like european, middle eastern, and asian, so i imagine that sadik is adept at cooking foods of different cultures around the world, and likes to incorporate flavors he considers ‘exotic’ into his dishes

yao: yao is shown to immediately want to care for people around him who are sick (such as immediately running to care for kiku when he has a cold) and i imagine him cooking for others is a big part of that natural instinct to care for those around him. now, im unfortunately only familiar with westernized chinese cuisine (which i hc that bc of yao’s appreciation of china towns and chinese diaspora around the world he would still enjoy westernized chinese food), so i cant really comment on specific authentic dishes, but think of warm soups and light snacks. those are his specialities. 

tolys: i imagine that in soviet times, ivan had tolys doing a million things at once, including being a personal assisstant/secretary, cleaning the house, and cooking. i dont think tolys would love cooking or consider it a hobby, rather something that needs to be done bc people need to eat, but after years of cooking for the other bloc nations, he’s grown pretty good at making a variety of eastern european dishes, like russian pelmeni, polish pierogi, lithuanian beet soup, or ukrainian borscht, whatever ingredients he could get his hands on and whatever he could do to make the other bloc nations feel at home

gilbert: i only include gilbert bc i feel like although he wouldn’t be an amazing cook, he would be adept at throwing together an edible meal from found ingredients and anything he can get his hands on. the mans been a warrior/soldier his whole life, armys are not generally famous for their cuisine, so i bet over the centuries he’s become good at improving meals with found ingredients. he could make a decent meal out of some shit he found in the wilderness. i also bet hes amazing at making one specific dish—not sure what it is yet, still have to pick one — but just one specific food he can make on special occasions and everyone is blown away that ‘wow! gilbert can cook?’

[thedisneychef]

How to Make Chef Mickey's Breakfast Pizza: A Delicious Recipe

I’ve heard a lot about the breakfast pizza at Chef Mickey’s… Next to Mickey Waffles and Dole Whips, the breakfast pizza is one of the most talked about “must have” foods at Walt Disney World. While certainly most commonly attached to Chef Mickey’s, I can say that I’ve also seen it in various forms at Tusker House, Crystal Palace, and other breakfast buffets. More Delicious Recipes You Will Love: - Barbecue Pulled Pork – Kona Cafe - Canadian Cheddar Cheese Soup – Le Cellier - Canton Beef – Nine Dragons That said, I can’t say I’ve ever tried it… I don’t know, I like eggs (but they’re not my favorite) and I enjoy pizza, but something about it just didn’t seem to pair well. Clearly, I didn’t get what the fascination was and I was OK with that. My son, however, talks about when he went to Chef Mickey’s and had breakfast pizza with the same enthusiasm that people reserved for when they met The Beatles. There were three things he could share about his trip… He went to Animal Kingdom Lodge, he saw lots of animals, and he had breakfast pizza with Mickey at Chef Mickey’s. Could he remember what rides he did? Nope. Did he remember which parks he saw? Nope. The characters he saw?  Kind of. Where he ate? To listen to him talk, it was Chef Mickey’s and breakfast pizza the whole trip. Considering how wild he was about the pizza and that yesterday was the first day of school (we start after labor day in our area… Don’t be too jealous, we go to school until about July), I figured it’d be a nice treat for him. This really was a “the kids will like it, just make it” recipe.  Even my husband was kind of “yeah, I’ll try it” but overall not to excited to eat it. I realized that this wasn’t exactly what I thought it was as I was putting it together. It’s more of a really thin, cheesy quiche than scrambled eggs baked with cheese on a pizza crust, which is what I thought it was. Putting it together was super easy and fast (big plus) and it didn’t create a lot of dishes (super big plus). When I served it, the kids went nuts! I didn’t get half as much fanfare for doing a full Thanksgiving dinner as I did for this pizza. Everybody had at least 2 slices… Obviously this means this passes the kid test with flying colors.  It also got the thumbs up from my husband who also had more than just a couple slices. After eating it, I have to say that I’ve judged breakfast pizza wrong for all these years. It’s actually really, really good!  You can really taste the different cheeses and there is an undertone of quiche-like eggyness to it that’s not dominating or overwhelming. Personally, I think copious amounts of bacon or sausage would make this the perfect meal (isn’t that how it’s served at Tusker House?  I think it is, actually), but it’s really good just with the cheese and eggs. Something fast, kid-pleasing, and easy to put together? For sure my dinner table will be seeing this meal again. Conclusion After putting it to the test, we can confidently say that Chef Mickey's Breakfast Pizza is a delicious and unique dish that is perfect for breakfast or brunch. This pizza is topped with a blend of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and cheese, making it a perfect combination of savory breakfast flavors. The crust is perfectly crispy and chewy, adding a perfect texture to the dish. Whether you're a fan of pizza or simply looking for a fun and delicious breakfast option, the Chef Mickey's Breakfast Pizza is definitely worth a try. Additionally, the restaurant, located in Disney's Contemporary Resort, offers a fun and lively atmosphere, making it a perfect spot to start your day at the Walt Disney World Resort. So, if you're planning a visit to Walt Disney World Resort, be sure to add Chef Mickey's and their Breakfast Pizza to your list of must-try dining experiences. In addition to the delicious food and recipes, Disney World is also known for its unique dining experiences, such as character dining and themed restaurants. Whether you want to have breakfast with Mickey Mouse, dine in a replica of a sci-fi drive-in theater at Hollywood Studios, or enjoy a meal with an ocean view at the Coral Reef Restaurant in Epcot, there's something for everyone. And with the help of Recipes Today and the How to Make category, you can even recreate some of these magical dining experiences in your own home. So why not start planning your next Disney-inspired meal or dining experience today? Read the full article

[shiro-0197]

Hiii good evening/night :>

AHH that's a shame, but I hope you will be able to have breakfast with her soon :) yeah haha, having the window open is really nice.

Ahhh that's understandable then :> for school clubs, every form has to send a representative for a position, so I suppose that's their way of getting us to socialize with our under and upperclassmen. xD yes, no doubt about it. Shame we don't go to the same school 🤷😔

AHH I'm sorry to hear that, you're not a bitch at all for prioritising your mental health and wellbeing, I'd encourage you to do so too, after all, any friendship should be based on mutual trust and respect, and I'm glad you're feeling much better now, you deserve to. My friend apparently started developing feelings for me, and I had a boyfriend at the time, so that was the reason why he just abruptly cut ties. I suppose it must've been hard on him which is why I don't resent him.

I really hope to be able to visit her!! She's moving really far, i'll need a plane to go to the state where she's going, but I hope I'll be able to go at least once. I'll definitely say bye for you :) and don't worry about her not knowing who you are, she's bound to find out about the amazing friend I've made recently, right? 💖

Aww Shiro, thank you for saying all that. I know it hasn't been long, but I want it to. I want to be your friend for a really long time because you're precious to me and I never want to lose you, so I hope I do this right, and make you as happy as you make me :)

yes!! Delicious indeed. Also, just a short question, but besides that nickname you have based on your real name, do you have any that aren't? Like, my friend calls me "kechil" because it means "tiny/small" in Malay, and I was just curious if you had any like that xD (but yeah, she called me that when we first met and I was shorter than her, but I'm as tall as her now so I should really ask her to change it 😎)

Love you,

—Ari

Hey hey!! Good evening to you too!!

Ohh, positions, responsibilities, that sounds so difficult😩 Our club activities would probably be like "hey guys" "*silence*" "ok" cuz that's how it all happens every single time. But yours sounds fun!! And it is indeed a shame, I'd love to be your schoolmate:(((

I guess you're right, but still I feel bad, and with the messages their friend sent me a while ago I felt even worse about that, though it still feels like the right decision. I'm just hoping they'll move on, they have a good partner. I'm sure they'll be fine, I wasnt the best option (for them, I mean)

Ah I guess that's fair. He should've brought up that topic, at least, but I guess that's in the past now, eh? At least I'm glad to hear you've moved on<3

Hahah, true true, shes also amazing so I'd love to hear from you about her more:D

Me too, i really hope we'll be by each other's side for decades, you're such a wonderful person<3 I've been having troubles with making friends for sooo long I honestly feel blessed whenever a new person starts talking to me, especially when they find me special🥺💗 I'm really happy that you're here, I love you

Ahhh, not really! The only nicknames I've had are Penis Flytrap which was an inside joke around me and the friend I cut my connections with hehe~ I have a Shiro based nickname though, it's Rocchan! Kuro (the lil guy I match my name with, my friend and underling, my SON) came up with that cus hes a weeb😝 He also called me Rotak once (which is a mash between Ro and Kotak, which means dick from kazakh, I hate this little brat sometimes istg), but that's about it!!

Also that's such a cute nickname, it's almost like Tirkish's "kuchuk" which also means small:D ohh that's so nice you've grown!! I've been stuck the same size for like 10 months💀

[hyenahunt]

Saga - Prologue

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Characters: Jun, Hiyori

Proofreading: hyenahunt

Translation: kotofucius

Hiyori: No, it’s already too late. I’ve grown a little too fond of you by now, after all.

Location: Reimei Academy Dorm (Hiyori & Jun’s Room)

Time: Spring, at Reimei Academy’s student dorms

Jun: ’Scuse me~

Hiyori: Wow, what an ordinary way to arrive!

I had hoped to see you trip over or lose yourself in a panic-- at least your efforts would have entertained me in relieving me from boredom!

That would’ve been a fine weather!

But that’s no matter. Welcome, Jun-kun! To the place where as Eve, you and I will be living under the same roof for one year... To our glorious Garden of Eden!

Allow me to celebrate this moment! Welcome~☆ (pops a confetti popper)

Jun: Really, what’s up with this level of excitement... Ever the chatterbox, huh, Senpai?

Hiyori: Aaah, no, no! We’ll be living together, so we might as well be family. Rather than calling me senpai as though we’re strangers, use my first name instead! Nicknames are welcome, too...☆

Jun: Nah, there’s no way I can do that, y’know? Dunno about other places, but Reimei’s real strict about social hierarchy.

I’ll get an earful just for acting rude to my seniors, and it’ll affect my evaluation.

Hiyori: Ahaha! You’ve already gained the status that should release you from such worries, though?

The moment you partnered with me, Tomoe Hiyori - you rose to stand at the top of Reimei Academy.

Such troublesome rules should now be free for you to change as you please ♪

Jun: I'll pass, rules aren’t there for us to change. It’s not like I’m having such a hard time, anyway...

Changing up the standard of appraisal means there’s a chance I might get labelled an underachiever all over again, which would only send me right back to the bottom of hell, yeah?

So the wiser choice is to keep things as they are, and swallow down even the most bitter parts to nourish myself.

Anything wrong with what I’m saying?

Hiyori: Nuh-uh. That underdog mentality beaten to your core isn’t to my taste, but I do believe it’s fine for there to be people who think like you.

Jun: That’s some way to put it... As a rich boy sitting on a throne prepared for him from birth, what would you even know about my feelings~?

Hiyori: ...Oh, is that how I seem to you?

Well, no matter! You’ll have to forgive me for making you stand around while we were talking. For now, you should put your things away and take a seat!

I’ve prepared some delicious tea and quiches, so I hope you’ll go ahead and enjoy them ♪

Jun: Ah, thank you for the trouble... Is eating inside the dorms really okay, though?

Hiyori: Well, it isn’t recommended!

But like rental housing, they’ll overlook what we do as long as we don’t break anything or leave the room in need of new wallpaper!

Despite everything, Reimei Academy has rather lax rules.

Jun: I wonder ‘bout that... Well, I guess it’s no different from how people won’t give a second glance to the gravel and grass of a sidewalk.

They never expected much from us to begin with so they’re not gonna even bother scolding us -- that’s what it is, right?

Hiyori: Ahaha. You have quite a warped way of seeing things, don’t you.

Jun: Hmph. More like you’re just as direct as a ray of sunlight~?

Are we gonna be fine with such opposing personalities? Won’t we have trouble being in sync?

You can still change your mind, y’know, Senpai~?

Hiyori: No, it’s already too late. I’ve grown a little too fond of you by now, after all.

Jun: Well, thanks. ...Is it okay to put up a poster on the wall?

Hiyori: Pardon? Ah, I’m not sure... I suppose it is?

I may be just repeating myself, but I believe you can do anything that isn’t considered property damage?

In fact, I would be surprised if they scolded us for something as slight as putting up a poster. This isn’t a strict missionary school, after all...

Well, you may want to take care not to leave holes from thumb tacks and such.

Jun: Gotcha. I brought poster tape with me, so I should be good on that front.

Jun: ...What? Couldja stop staring at me like that? It’s kinda unsettling me, y’know~?

Hiyori: Sorry, sorry. Perhaps that was rude of me.

I’ve had this room for myself all this time, paying twice the rent, so I find it curious to have someone else in my private space.

You don’t seem like a fanboy, either, Jun-kun, so you putting up a poster was a little unexpected.

Ah, sharing a living space with somebody is an experience that truly opens your eyes; abundant with discoveries and excitement ♪

Jun: Mmm~ I’m really not a fanboy, though. Might be weird to say this about myself, but I’ve got no hobbies nor anything that really moves me~ But this poster is special.

I’ve had it in my room since I was little, so I can’t get a good night’s sleep unless I look at it.

It’s, y’know, what’s it called... there’s a psychological term for it... severity blanket?

Hiyori: I don’t think it was severity.

But I suppose everyone has something like that. Or rather... having many of such items makes it a lot easier to breathe, yes?

I hope that I, Eve, and Eden... can eventually become a home that may comfort you in the same way.

I won’t ask you to love us just yet, but I hope we can grow to be a calming presence for you to be around with.

...Still, what is that poster? I’m intrigued - but I can’t see it with you in the way, Jun-kun.

No need to be shy, go ahead and show me! I won’t laugh at you, even if it’s a poster of pretty anime girls! Mark my words ♪

Jun: Nice to know my roommate’s so understanding~ I’m not hiding it or anything-- wanna see?

Here you go... It’s a signed poster of an idol; typical stuff, really.

Hiyori: An idol? Hmm, that’s a natural item for a student of an idol training school to have, actually.

But... whose poster is that? You should have put up Eve’s poster instead -- I myself like to appreciate my own goods daily ♪

Jun: Nah, only a guy who loves himself way too much would put up a poster of himself, right?

Hiyori: Why, is that bad?

Jun: Huh!? Uh, no, it’s not.

Anyway, you really have no idea about the guy in this poster~? To be fair, he was from an older generation.

Hiyori: Mm~... No, I do believe I’ve seen that face before. Who was it again... Hmm~m? I don’t forget things easily, though.

Jun: Senpai, you were from Yumenosaki, right?

Then of course you’d be more familiar with that person’s current self, rather than his old idol persona.

His name is Sagami Jin. ...He's the guy who killed my old man.

✦✦✦✦✦

✦ all ✦ next →

[emiewritesthings]

the story of our life (2) - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

part one

masterlist

series summary: in which jay finds an old video camera and him and y/n decide to document their life as it progresses

a/n: this is about a year too late, but i finally got around to writing a part two to this, i was overwhelmed by the support last time. hope you enjoy :)

31st december 2013

if there was one thing that y/n hated, it was making small talk with a bunch of her neighbours. she knew how mean that sounded, but it was the truth. it was the way they worded their questions to serve both as jabs for informations with a hint of an insult, whilst covering it up with the largest fake smile that they could muster up. it was something mrs franklin, the 45 year old, mother of 4 had gotten well practised at, as y/n had the displeasure of finding out.

"so, how's the job hunt going? i know after you dropped out of university it must have been quite a struggle to keep afloat? isn't that why you are still living here with your mom?" she sneered, as she sipped innocently on the cheap bottle of wine y/n's mom had personally assigned just for her consumption. y/n had to restrain herself from slapping the glass clean out of her hand as she remembered what her mother had instilled in her for the last week in preparation for this exact moment.

"oops, i think i hear my mom calling. enjoy your night, yeah?" she stay posed, as she flashed one more faux smile before striding away from the living room and into the kitchen where she grabbed whatever was closest and downed it as quick as she could, frowning at the permanent numbness that hollowed out her entire body.

her head was ringing from the chatter that filled the house, and that would most likely continue until the new year had been welcomed in. the laughter and smiles that were being thrown around didn't sit right with y/n, for what was another year if it was just going to be like the last two. her life had imploded in her hands leaving nothing but a body behind that had no choice but to survive.

"y/n!" someone called out from the other room, however before they had a chance to find her, y/n grabbed two beers from the fridge and shimmied out the back door. the sudden fan of cold december air on her face made her entire chest burn, but y/n liked it, at least it broke the monotony. even if it was just for a couple minutes.

avoiding eye contacts with everyone she passed, y/n found herself rounding her own house until she was stood in the driveway of the neighbouring one. a small smile etching itself on her face as her eyes were met with the old, rotten porch swing that was missing the woman that would be doing her crossword or simply sipping on a cup of coffee no matter the hour. a shiver ran down the woman's back, realising there would not be another moment that she got to see that again.

the house had stayed the same even after all these years, the same paint was chipping away and the wood door was still damaged from where a football had hit it repeatedly during the early years of their sons' lives. however unlike the busy chaos that had once been habituated in the abode, no lights could be seen, no life. just a dull darkness that highlighted how the house she once had known, the family, couldn't be any more different.

pushing past the knot in her stomach, y/n approached the gate to the back garden that was slightly ajar. as she investigated further, a small smile etched itself upon her lips as she was met with two white plastic garden chairs, in one sat pat halstead, whilst the other remained empty.

"well, well, i thought your mother would have chained you to your seat to stop you from pulling a fast one." pat teased, as his eyes strayed away from the dark sky to inspect the woman. patting the seat besides him, the twenty something year old collapsed down into it, before handing one of the cans over to the man, receiving a whispered 'thank you'.

"she got distracted by the mini quiches like an hour ago and i haven't seen her since. couldn't stay there much longer, celia and claire were debating whose husband was the biggest deadbeat." she sighed, as the pair clinked their cans together before they took a longing sip of the liquid, and slipped further down the slightly cracked plastic. her eyes were drawn upwards into the pre-midnight bleakness. however where the winter clouds usually suffocated it, there was a small breaking where two stars shone proudly above them.

"beautiful aren't they?" pat pointed out, clearly confirming y/n's thoughts that the two stars had been the same thing that had caught his interest when she first arrived. running a hand over the wiry beard he had grown over the last two years, his eyes began to water. "uh, sometimes i like to think it's liz and your old man up there, sure she would be chatting his ear off about you and your brother. as well as watching over our jay wherever he may be."

y/n was taken off guard by the older man's comments, but she tried to contain it. in the years she had known pat halstead, it was extremely rare that he voiced his honest opinion about anything. or at least one that wasn't followed by a sarcastic grumble or insult. but to talk about his wife and his son, as well as his best friend, with such emotion brought tears to y/n's eyes.

"you haven't heard from him have you?" she asked in a whisper, not knowing if she truly wanted the answer. the last communication she had with the youngest halstead had been throughout the last period of his mother's life until a little after the funeral, however after not receiving a reply once again and her life on a down spiral she surrendered.

"no, no i haven't," however y/n couldn't help notice that something didn't seem right. maybe it was the way that he shuffled in his chair, refusing to pull his eyes away from the sky to meet her own sad ones. however before she got the chance to confront him, he brought himself to his feet. "wait one moment, i have something for you." watching as he disappeared back into the house, y/n tried to figure out what was going on with him? maybe he wasn't sleeping again? it had been the same for months after the funeral, but she thought he was healing just slightly. she really hoped he had been.

a couple moments later, pat reemerged this time the thing he held in his hands had stolen every inch of y/n's focus. the metal lump that held a thousand memories was being cradled, similar to the way she had been holding it when he had handed it to pat. the sound of his wife's voice in the last clip was something that pat had severed for the last year and a half. it was the thing he would fall asleep to and the thing he would play when he woke up. his liz was still alive in the camera, she was still his liz.

"i thought- i thought you-." y/n couldn't muster up a single thought to vocalise as she was passed the camera. her eyes ran over each dint, scratch, stain that had been acquired over the years. every memory she severed had the image of the red flashing light in it, and yet the person in those videos was someone she no longer recognised.

"this is your life, and i know it feels like it's over, but you have so much to live for and if these videos don't show you that then i don't know what else will." in a rush of uncontrollable emotion, pat wrapped his arms around the daughter he never had and held her as she let out a quiet sob, unsure how to feel.

returning to their seats, pat held y/n's hand as they sat for what felt like days watching the sky deepen. as pat seemed to pray to the heavens that his liz was alright, y/n let her mind run ablaze with unresolved thoughts and emotions as she watched video after video.

it was moments before 2014 came along when her phone let out a painful shrill in search of attention. letting out a small groan, she pulled it from her back pocket, pausing the prom video to answer.

"hello?" she answered.

"y/n where are you? come on, the countdowns about to begin!" her mother yelled clearly unable to hear herself. sighing, looking over to pat who seemed to be hiding something in his eyes, she agreed before hanging up the phone.

"it's not too late for you to come with me you know..." she fluttered her eyes in a humorous attempt at convincing him. the deep chuckle that arose from pat's chest spoke enough for her to work out what was coming next.

"as much as i would love to chit chat with celia and clare over a mini quiche, i'm gonna have to decline." pushing herself off the chair, she leaned over to kiss his cheek softly, pulling away to see the small smile.

"happy new year, pat."

"happy new year, y/n."

--

the moment she reappeared in her house, she was pretty much been jostled around. somehow the camera that she had walked in with had disappeared from her gasp, and she had made her way to her mother's sight closest to the tv as the countdown clock appeared on the screen. the way her mother smiled at her was slightly unnerving, she knew the woman better than anyone in this world, and just like pat, she was hiding something.

"ten!" they began to chant.

"nine!"

"eight!"

"seven!" a drink was pushed into her hands, which she concerningly took without hesitation. she wasn't even sure who gave it her, but a drink was exactly what she needed right now.

"six!"

"five!"

"four!"

"three!"

"two!"

"one!" suddenly the tv screen was a picturesque screen of fireworks exploding around the country before the whole room erupted in a cheer.

"happy new year!" suddenly everyone was locking lips with their loved ones, friends and whoever was closest to them. however y/n tried to step back, and disappear into the crowd offering a couple of smiles until suddenly she hit something, or someone.

"shit, i'm sorry." she immediately gasped as the drink she was holding splashed against the dress she was wearing, however when she turned to look at her victim her mouth dried out.

there, stood in her living room was jay halstead, in the same uniform that she had last seen him stood in on her doorstep the day he left. what felt like the whole world silencing was actually just everyone in the room turning to look at the pair of them, smiling as they watched the reunion of the couple that never was. however they neither jay or y/n could pull there eyes away from their counterpart.

for a moment they were 17 again, teenagers that didn't know a thing about the world whilst experiencing it together. but this was different, for they were older now. jay's face was more mature, with stumble around his jaw that made him look more in his twenties. y/n's hair was much longer and ever so slightly darker, but jay remembered how the winter did that to her.

"hi." jay smiled, reaching forward to move stands of her hair behind her ears to avoid it from covering up those eyes that were far more fragmented than they had been before. but then again y/n saw the exact same distortion in his own, like half a heart that was on the edge of collapsing.

but at the sound of his voice, y/n fell face first into reality. she remembered every unanswered letter, the loss of hope when she laid in bed completely alone wondering if he was even still alive. she recalled the nights she would sleep on the hospital chair besides his dying mother praying to every god out there that he would be brought back in time to to say goodbye. but it didn't happen, she was left in a void and she didn't know if she would ever be able to get out.

"i-i need to go." she suddenly mumbled, quickly brushing past the army ranger and through the crowd. the awkward, confrontational silence that remained in the room was already enough to tip her over the edge, which only worsened when she saw the red flashing light. stood on the stairs filming the whole debacle was her little brother, who wasn't so little anymore. noticing the shift in mood, he awkwardly lowered it and offered her a sad smile, before she escaped out the door.

what are you doing, she thought, you finally get him back and you are trying to create distance between you two? that was just one of the many nags that bounced off each memory relaying in her mind. so this was what was wrong with pat, he must of known. he knew what was planned, and he said nothing. y/n couldn't blame him, there was no one in this city that would have predicted that she would just walk out like that, well maybe one but he had only just rejoined her life so she couldn't be sure.

her feet lead her to where her heart wanted to be, she cursed herself out for being so stupid as to wear a dress and not grab a jacket during her whole walk out. but the bite of the wind wore off the more blocks that passed until she reached the old creaky gate.

pushing against the metal, even in the pitch black she knew her way. the amount of times she had ended up late at night in this very place gave her that advantage. as she approached the engraved slab that she had helped pat pay for, a sob raked through her body.

"god i wish you could be here right now," crouching down, she leaned forward to run her cold fingertips over the 'ELIZABETH HALSTEAD' scripture. mrs halstead always knew what to say, in any situation. jay and y/n used to blame it on the abundance of dr phil episodes she had watched over the years. yet there was a depth to her words that made your problem feel shared rather than suffocating. "although i'm sure you would be cursing me out right about now for being such an idiot." she thought out loud, remembering what the woman had said when she had told her about the kiss she had shared with the older's son.

she had joked about how it took long enough and what she was going to wear to their wedding, neither of them considering the possibility that she wouldn't get chance for her theory to prosper.

"if that's true, then she must despise me right now." the sudden introduction to the deep voice nearly produced a scream from the woman that turned to see jay staring longingly at the gravestone. just as he brought his eyes to her's, she quickly turned back around, running her hands over her face wondering if he would disappear and all of this would have just been a dream. only it wasn't it was something much more chaotic, filled with resentment, love and the unknown.

"your mom loved you and will more than anything, i don't think she could despise you if she tired," she hummed through a sigh, as jay took a seat besides her. similar to how she had, he leaned forward to run his fingertips over the softened stone, muttering something that he hoped only his mother would hear.

"i really fucked up, y/n/n," hearing the crack rip through his voice, had y/n's head snapping over to him as his shoulders shook slightly as he wrestled with his sadness. "i wasn't here when she needed me most, i wasn't here when you needed me most. she was dying and i wasn't even there to tell her i loved her, what kind of son am i?" the torment that was present in jay's eyes as he turned to look at the only woman that was on the earth to love him ate at y/n's soul, as she found herself wrapping her arms around him, comforting him like he did after the death of her father.

"you a son that made his mother unconditionally proud. she never stopped telling one everyone at hospital about her boys." swiping tears away from under his eyes, ignorant to her own that burnt a trail down her skin.

"i'm not the same guy that left 5 years ago, what i've seen, what i've done-," jay let out a deep breath trying not to fall into the a box of memories he wish he could set alight and never have to face ever again. thankfully the feeling of y/n's fingers tracing nothing in particular against his back grounded him, reminding him that he had been reunited with his home, with his family, with his first and only love. "i got out of there, but that doesn't mean that the war in my mind isn't still on going."

y/n wished she had the answer, a solution, something to help him but she just didn't know what to say. instead she pulled him in tighter, feeling every tip in the think material of the uniform. a uniform that wasn't the jay she knew, but the jay that the army had created, but she knew underneath the camo was still the boy that held her when she feared the lightening outside, or the teenager that broke bryson ellis' nose after he spread rumours about their brief romantic encounter. he was her saviour, he always had been.

"your letters, i did get them. got each one of them in my bag, used to read them before i went to bed. i tried writing back, but i couldn't think of anything to say. i couldn't make anything better and i didn't want you to worry, but i realise that i only made everything worse. i'm just so sorry." pulling away, now it was jay's turn to hold her. in fact he pulled her so close that she was practically in his lap, embracing his body heat with open arms.

"everything's changed, jay," she mumbled, her forehead resting on his chest as she spoke softly. "your mom's gone, your dad's lost, and- and then you and me. last time we saw each other we kissed, we kissed. i- just, i don't know what's happening but i can't stop it." for a moment they both sat there, taking in just how much had changed since they had last been y/n and jay not y/n and jay.

with much care, jay placed his hands around her jay prompting her to look at him. the intense look in his eyes didn't falter for a minute, as he admired the swirls of colour in her's.

"i have been in love with you my entire life, and that is one thing that will never change." declaring his love for y/n y/l/n had always been something jay fantasised about, even as he was stood in a war zone, however never had he imagined it would be in a grave yard nearly an hour into the new year as they fought against the frost. but then again, he didn't care where he was in the world as long as he was by the side of his girl, his love, his y/n.

in a rash moment of euphoria, y/n grabbed his face and pushed his lips against his as if making her own statement to the universe. every ounce of her own soul fuelled itself into something so powerful that was out of the pair's hands. as jay moved his lips against her own, the meaning burnt their insides until they had no choice but to pull away to catch their breath.

with their foreheads touching, for the first time in what felt like 5 years a genuine grin was mirrored on the pairs lips.

"i'm in love with you too." y/n breathed out ruggedly, clearly catching jay by suprised as his eyes widened before the smile on his face got wider.

"wait really?" those had been the words he had wished to hear for every birthday since he was 11, now hearing them made everything a little more brighter. his heart was bumping so quickly, y/n could feel it against her own, yet she said nothing, too caught up in the moment.

"i think it was ignorant of me to think i wasn't years ago. you are it for me, jay halstead." she smiled leaning forward to press another kiss on his lips, this time though it felt as though she was putting the final period on the end of a chapter that neither of them wanted to experience again. for this was a new beginning, the beginning of the story of their lives, together.

[wevegottogetaway]

Thanks fo’ saving my ass tonight

I got so much going on with uni, but I couldn’t resist. If you too are queen/king of procrastinating uni work, you have my deepest support! Hope you enjoyed x

TW: none (except fool language)

Part 2    -    Part 3*

Office parties have never been y/n’s cup of tea, the idea of enjoying yourself in the very place people usually count down the hours before they can leave, is rather ludicrous in her humble opinion. Alas as the boss’ personal assistant, she not only had to plan and organize the whole shebang but her presence was also required, supervision purposes and all that. The only solace sweetening the deal for her was that she’d be in charge of the catering too, and y/n learnt very early on that good food and greater booze could make any boring work function at least tolerable.

Now that the festivities are in full swing, conversation flowing almost as heartily as the champagne in the guests’ eager mouths, y/n thinks she did quite well. The vast open space of the office is decorated with taste, the music set at the perfect level as to not overpower the boring chitchat bouncing off its walls, and to her greatest delight, the catering company she hired has truly outdone themselves. All in all, everybody seems to be having a grand time, and y/n decides that’s reason enough to officially relieve herself of her supervisor’s duties.

As she scans over the assortment of canapés, mini-quiches, crudités and other mouth-watering ambrosias, y/n fails to notice the tall figure casually approaching her. She’s in the midst of pondering whether she should try the humous or a cream cheese and salmon toast first, mouth salivating and stomach growling in appetite, when a raspy voice interrupts her inner battle, "I see m’not the only one who’s here just fo’ the food".

Her eyes pop off the delicious hors d’oeuvres to the sight gracing them next and she doesn’t know which is the most appetizing. Because standing a few feet from her is Harry, vibrant smile and pretty dimples on show, as he leans over the verrines platter to pick the best-looking one. He’s wearing an olympic blue floral suit on top of a scandalously unbuttoned transparent shirt, a bold number that would grant anyone else looks of surprise and confusion but looked absolutely divine on his broad frame. Besides, after two years working at the office, everyone had gotten used to his unconventional fashion choices by now.

Y/n quirks an eyebrow in curiosity as she dips a cucumber stick in a bowl of humous, before quipping, "not a big fan of these things?"

Harry lets out a small chuckle in a ‘no kidding’ way, and attaches his emerald eyes to hers, "they’re kind of a drag, if m’bein’ honest."

She smiles at his admission, realizing they both share an aversion for mundanities, "I know right. Like, why party here where everyone has to be on their best behavior when we could be down at the bar without the boss gallivanting around?" she cries out in exasperation and not for the first time, Harry thinks she’s quite possibly the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His smile widens the tiniest bit at her passionate rant, "my thoughts exactly. Do we even know what we’re supposed to celebrate?" The question makes her laugh, she wouldn’t have known either if not for her involvement in the affair, "well as the person behind this all drag," she give him a pointed look at his jeering choice of word, "it would be weird if I didn’t."

Harry’s face falls at the possibility of having offended her, but his uneasiness quickly dissipates when she starts laughing at him. "M’sorry, that came out wrong," he tells her before letting out a giggle of his own and y/n revels in the moment. The idea of interacting with him beyond the usual ‘here’s the presentation for today’s conference’ or ‘do you have the quarterly report ready’ is rather intoxicating for her already feeble nerves. "Don’t worry, I take no offense, I’m just as bored as you are," she reassures him with a smile, "the party is for a new potential investor, something about wooing them with some ‘corporate fun’. S’a load of bullshit if you ask me".

Harry nods at the explanation unimpressed, his boss’ intentions being the least of his worries. Aside from being the classic douche every manager typically insists on being, the guy has always made his distaste about him pretty clear, so Harry would rather focus on more interesting things. Like how beautiful y/n looks right now, her hair tied up in a loose bun at the top of her head, leaving a few strands to fall around her face. "You look amazing, by the way," he brings himself to say, though he thinks his compliment doesn’t even do her justice.

Y/n looks down at her own outfit then: a knee-length red dress composed of a skater skirt and a backless top that only holds with a couple pressure buttons clasped behind her neck. Her cheeks warm up to match the color of her apparel, betraying the timidity she’s always fallen victim of whenever he happened to be in her vicinity. Y/n’s never been one to shy away from her feelings or trip over her own words when facing her crushes, but there is something about Harry that teleports her right back to her sheepish 13 year-old teenage self. Also, she’s not too keen on office romances and the drama that usually ensues so she’s always made sure to stifle her blossoming attraction and keep their relation work-appropriate. Surely that must account for most of her awkwardness, doesn’t it?

Her eyes trail back to his face and her response comes in a shy euphemism, "thank you, you clean up quite nicely yourself." It’s enough to quirk Harry’s lips in a bashful smile, their  complexion evidently on edge as they tread uncharted territories. Professionalism has always regimented their interactions with kind but polite rigidness, neither of them quite inclined to cross that invisible line, but tonight seems to challenge that.

Tonight, Harry is resolute in his infatuation, no longer inhibited from social construct but driven by a quest for knowledge; anything that will help him decipher her carefully shielded crux. Tonight, he endeavors to scrape the edges of her rough diamond to expose the gem encapsulated inside, peel back the stoic layers of her exterior to find her unapologetic and intrinsic nature. Tonight, he is thirsty for secrets and confidential disclosures, and he won’t leave until he’s drained it all out of her. Unless she tells him to fuck off, obviously.

Harry keeps the conversation going as he browns the buffet for a new delicacy to snack on, "so, what would you be doing if you didn’t have to be here?" He wants to know everything, the present and the past, the good and the bad, the superficial and the substance, the messy and the orderly, but he figures he should start by what she likes to do in her own time. The things that loosen her up after a tense week at work, the things that will make her eyes shine with passion as she relates them back to his curious mind.

The question reaches her ears as she takes a sip of her drink, "mmm," she smiles around her glass before placing it back on the table, "-that’s easy. Playing pool with the gang at Gibson’s." Her answer spills without hesitation, a heap of follow-up questions already brewing up in Harry’s brain, but the foreign name is what beckons his attention first, "Gibson’s?" he echoes with a faint rumple pulling the skin between his eyes. Is that the name of a friend? A boyfriend? Out of all the questions he’s contemplated, y/n’s relationship status never crossed his mind. He’s always assumed her to be a single woman, the evidence of a significant other never present in her language and demeanor.

A wave of relief washes over him at her elaboration, "it’s a bar couple blocks from my place. It’s been my friends and I’s HQ ever since we all met." The sentiment has her eyes sparkle at the remembrance of all the happy memories the place hosted, and Harry stores the information in his mental list of all y/n’s soft spots.

"Sounds rad, so you play pool?" he inquires with enthusiasm. He’s been knows to play a game or two in his youth, though it’s been a hot minute since he’s felt the weight of the cue in his hands as he sinks ball after ball in their respective pockets. He remembers the elation of it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at each successful strike, and his heart flutters at the thought of ever sharing a game with her; she seems like the competitive type in the most entertaining way possible. Before his thoughts can spiral into much filthier realms, like bending her over the table mid-game when his own skills prevail and she turns into a sore-loser, y/n’s voice rings him back to reality.

"Uh uh, correction," her expression suddenly turns in false seriousness before she proves him right about her competing tendencies, "I win at pool." Her eyes are so full of confidence, a spice of mischief sparkling in their corner, she would have no difficulty persuading anyone of anything that passes the threshold of her mouth. Harry certainly doesn’t doubt her mastery of the bar game, but it doesn’t stop him from challenging her in a slightly elevated pitch, "oh is that so?"

Y/n only grins at the banter, not at all fazed by his taunting remark, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." She reaches for another snack, not taking her come-hither look off his handsome face, and Harry revels in her flirtatious advances, a smug smile taking possession of his lips as he surfs of the same wave of seduction. "Is that a challenge?" he philanders back, fueling the sensual back-and-forth they seem to have embarked upon.

"Not much of a challenge if I know I’ll win," y/n replies with cheek, her self-assurance once again burgeoning like sexy wildflowers sprouting from the ground underneath Harry’s feet, wrapping around his ankle and growing along his body to twine around his spellbound heart. He absolutely loves her unfaltering aplomb, finds it undoubtably sexy but he can’t let her know that just yet.

"Cocky."

"Confident."

They both chuckle at their repartee, enjoying this ping-pong of quick-witted banter they’ve never found in anybody else before. It’s like their intellects were meant to collide in galvanizing forces, the encounter of two fiery psychs too brilliant to one up the other.

Harry is mesmerized by their connection, if he knew sparks would fire this bright, he would have made a move ages ago. "Fuck, you’re something else," he shakes his head in incredulity before confessing, "definitely not what I expected."

Y/n’s chest tingles at his comment, a rivulet of liquid glee leaking through her arteries to pump her heart and her ego full of bliss, "Oh so you expected something, did you?" She punctuates her teasing with a thousand-watts power smirk, and Harry finds it strikingly alluring.

Not about to let her have the upper hand however, a burst of smugness crosses his features as he boomerangs her earlier allurement back to her, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." It earns him a deep jazzy laugh rooted in her tummy and a tinge of pride swirling in his own. He wants to pry laugh after laugh from her belly until her last giggle, only relenting once the muscles in her chest are aching from unbridled joy.

Y/n sighs in content before taking a bite out of a mini-tartlet as she considers how to proceed in this much too flirty conversation. "So what would you be doing tonight, if not for this stupid party?" she returns his first question before realizing,  "-wait a sec, what are you doing here if you hate these things so much? My presence was mandatory but yours isn’t."

"I’ll have you know I was coerced into coming too," he quips back in a fake defensive tone, hand pressing to his chest, "Mike from accounting begged me to tag along, he just broke up with his girlfriend so I didn’t have the heart to tell him no." The selfishness of the gesture softens her heart in a goo of adoration, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Softie."

"Chivalrous."

His comeback has her giggle, a rejoinder already tiptoeing at the edge of her lips, "see, who’s cocky now?" Her eyes are full of jest and lightness, somehow taking the weight of the party off his shoulders. Turns out, food and booze are not the only remedies for boring work functions, y/n’s company is just as effective if not more, and that’s with the guarantee of a hangover-less comes next morning. Harry is truly happy he decided to make an appearance tonight, a sentiment he definitely didn’t foresee for the night. The realization has him faintly shaking his head in amazement, his lips letting out another whispered "something else" softly enough that it doesn’t quite reach her already inflated ears.

"So did you have any plans tonight?" She reiterates the question not wanting to ever stop talking with him.

There are probably a hundred exciting plans he could have conjured up to come off half as intriguing as she seems to be, but instead he decides to go the honest route, "nah, I would have probably crash on my couch, this week’s been pretty hectic." His truth is confirmed by the faded blackness tinting the skin below his eyes, a proof of hard work and long hours under the heedlessness of a greedy superior. Y/n knows it all too well, having had firsthand experience with her boss’ jackassery. That’s why she directly inquires, "boss giving you trouble?"

Part of Harry is eager to steer the conversation back to more pleasant waters but he guesses talking a little bit about work was inevitable at some point, especially since they both share palpable distaste for their superior. "The maniac keeps giving me last minute reports like I’m expected to work all night along on his bullshit projects," he explains dejectedly before running his hand through his luscious curls in sign of frustration. "Barely finished in time fo’ the party tonight, I had to slip in his office to put the file on his desk, that fucker had already left."

Y/n listens attentively, her chest tightening in empathy at the recollection of his misfortune. She’s very familiar with the embittering feeling that comes with working your ass for someone that barely registers your efforts and dishes the office hours before you can even dream of clocking off. She’s faced the same scenario time and time again, including tonight, when she’d come up to lock the boss’ office hours after he left to get pampered for the party. She barely got time to make the double commute to and from her place, much less spend hours getting dolled up. She does remember the odd file on her boss’ desk though, "oh I was wondering what that blue folder was about, he never usually leave unattended paperwork on his desk."

Harry starts nodding in confirmation before stopping dead, eyes widened in distress, "wait, did you just say blue?" he asks in urgency.

Y/n frowns at his sudden agitation, her mind reeling to try and visualize the state of the surroundings she left several hours ago. She’s pretty positive she saw a blue binder laying there, not that she knows the ramifications of that simple fact, "yes I think so, why?"

The dire nature of the situation becomes painfully obvious as Harry’s face turns into a mess of  dread and panic, "oh shit, oh fuck, no no no," the words keep tumbling from his mouth in a ramble of nerves. "So stupid, m’so fucked" he keeps muttering self-admonition in quiet anger, hands griping at the root of his hair.

Concern is starting to fester in y/n’s guts as she takes in his disheveled state, "Harry, Jesus, take a breath, tell me what’s going on," she steps closer to him, one hand softly holding at his biceps as she tries to connect their gazes.

Once his eyes plug into hers, pupils blown out in turmoil, he finally calms down enough to word  out his mishap, "s’not the right file on his desk, I only use red binders for the reports." Spinning around out of her hold to shout his stress back to the wall in a loud "fuck!", Harry’s mind is caught up in a swirl of possible excuses to give to his boss, all sounding more ridiculous than the other. He can’t think of way to fix his mistake and escape the inevitable berating coming his way comes morning.

Fortunately for him, y/n is not about to let this happen, "it’s okay, we’ll fix this," she encourages. "What’s on his desk right now?"

Harry looks back at her then, not totally convinced that this all mayhem is salvageable. His boss is never going to tolerate this minor negligence, especially once he finds out the irrelevant material mistakenly slipped amongst his work. "My 14 year-old niece’s english project" the answer comes out as a question, a hint of self-deprecating humor lacing through his words. "Bloody hell, he’s gon’ have my head fo’ that one."

Harry is adamant in his doom, but if anything, y/n is not a quitter. "No he’s not. He hasn’t seen it yet, right? You said he was already gone when you brought the file."

He takes a long breath, "I suppose not."

"Guess it’s a good thing I have the keys to his office then, yeah?" She smiles proudly as a beacon of hope shines on his conflicted face. The forest green of his eyes seems to breath back to life in an endearing revival, effectively tugging at y/n’s heart’s merciful strings.

"Fuck, you’d do that fo’ me?" his shoulders loosen up in relief, the tension slowly simmering down to a gentle buzz, as he envisages the possibility of an illicit break-in. Well, as illicit as it may be, considering they have the keys. Still, best they don’t get caught snooping in the boss’ office, for both of their sake.

"Of course, silly. No questions asked," y/n answers with a smile, and her willingness to put herself in potential trouble, warms Harry’s heart from inside out.

"Y/n, you’re an angel, a life savior," he grabs her shoulders in each of his hands, his gratitude painted all over his soft traits. "Fuck, I could kiss you right now." The words fly out of his mouth without him realizing their significance after spending the last ten minutes coming onto her. And well, y/n isn’t too opposed to the idea either, and she thinks she might hold him to that promise in retribution for her saving grace when the time and space works better in their favor. "Alright Casanova, let’s get your ass out of this mess," she grabs her purse form the table and takes his hand to guide him through the cluster of people milling around the office space, eventually reaching the row of elevators across the room.

As they stand waiting for their lift to come, Harry starts fidgeting with nervous energy, feeling like a kid who’s about to get caught trying to steal straight from the cookie jar. "Shit, alright, we have to be discrete if we want to pull this off," he tells her, not taking his eyes off the room in case someone would look at them and read their plan straight off their guilty-looking faces.

"Says the guy in the flashy suit," y/n immediately counters, in an attempt to revive the playfulness of their synergy. The night was going swimmingly before the whole ordeal, and she’s convinced this foxy little adventure can only add to the appeal of an evening full of surprises.

Harry’s indignation at her dig teeters from his pouty lips, "hey! It’s not that bad." She giggles at his poor rebuttal, and as the doors of the elevator open, they quickly take a few steps inside.

"Harry, that suit is so loud, it could break the sound barrier," y/n teases as she eyes the crowd of people frivolously chatting away, while waiting for the door to close back.

"Thought I cleaned up nicely," he cheekily throws back her words from earlier, letting them resonate within the small confines of the elevator as they make their way up to their boss’ office.

She turns to face him then, a smile spreading on her supple lips, "don’t get me wrong, you look wonderful, just nowhere near decent for a secret spy mission."

Her words have him beaming back at her in a second, his mind fixated on her compliment rather than how impractical it is that his clothes are flashier than the Queen’s; in his defense, neither are y/n’s. "Damn, just got upgraded from nice to wonderful, this night is actually turning around," he chirps as the door open to the deserted hallway of the top floor.

"Alright, more action and less flirting, Styles," y/n playfully chides him. "Go get the right file, while I open his door, we should be quick in case he decides to bring the tour and his special guest up here." She sends him off with a tilt of her chin in what she knows to be the direction of his office, and Harry complies with ease and starts backtracking a few doors down, "yes ma’am."

While he’s gone to fetch the correct document from his office, y/n rummages through her purse to find the key of her boss’ office and unlock the door. Once she’s inside, she makes her way around the imposing mahogany desk commanding the space, and finds the imposter file sitting innocently on the polished wood. For pure curiosity’s sake, she starts leafing through its contents and lets a small chuckle as she takes in the endearing work of a young aspiring writer.

Her reading is interrupted by Harry’s hurried strides when he joins her in the room. "Here’s the damn report," he flings the folder on the desk next to his niece’s, red clashing with blue, mocking him for his slight negligence. As he absorbs the sight of y/n’s face engrossed in the teenage’s fiction, he moves slowly behind her, getting a glimpse at his niece’s whimsical words over her shoulder, before his eyes settle on the bare skin of her back.

Y/n welcomes his sudden proximity, has stranding on end as she feels the soft puffs of his breaths against her neck. "Your niece is quite the writer, does she always come to you for advice?"

She ignores the shivers running down her spine, and gulps when Harry’s voice greets her ears in a deep quiet hoarse, closer than she excepted, "usually, yeah. I was the one who got her into writing, so it’s kinda become our thing, I guess."

She smiles at his softness, "that’s really sweet," and draws in a long breath in a vain attempt to calm her jitters. She can almost feel his presence on her skin though they’re technically not touching, her fingertips tingling in anticipation.  

Another frisson travels through her when he responds with a low "mhm," his nose slightly grazing behind her ear, taking in her beguiling fragrance. Jasmine and vanilla, fresh and soft, exciting and comforting at the same time; it suits her perfectly.

"Harry-" she doesn’t know what to follow the whisper of his name with. Careful? Not here? Please don’t stop? At this point, she wants nothing more than to succumb to his affections, regardless of their improper whereabouts.

Harry brushes the back of his index down the smooth skin of her back in a featherlike caress, "thanks fo’ saving my ass, tonight," he murmurs into her ear, before laying a small kiss behind it.

Y/n is exulting under his tender ministrations, her eyes closed to enhance the feeling of his touch. "Anytime," she breathes out as her head tilts backward, a hand coming behind his neck in a silent plea not to let go, and Harry smiles against her skin at her receptiveness, goosebumps of his own blossoming across his body.

His next words are out of his mouth before he can think, "mmm, I owe you a big one," his playful persona resurfacing now that the situation was handled. They snort in unison at the double-entendre, and Harry slides his free arm around her waist to bring her closer to his chest in silent remittance. Y/n doesn’t mind though, she kinda likes this boyish side of him, but she can’t let him know that just yet.

"Gross."

"Hilarious."

Their ping-pong of wisecrack is back despite the tension permeating the air. It’s the kind that speeds heartbeats and moistens palms in lustful anticipation, the kind that curtails people’s breath as their lungs fill up with voluptuous aphrodisia. "Will you let me kiss you? Show you all my gratitude? I really wanna have a taste, love," he pleads for her permission, and y/n is too consumed by desire to deny him, "have it."

In one swift move, he spins around and latches his eager lips onto her. Passion ensues, hands roaming all over each other to find the perfect hold; the back of a neck, the lapels of a suit jacket, a few strands of hair, the curve of an exposed ribcage, it’s all intoxicating but there is always more to explore. Their tongues are caught up in a heated tango of their own, swirling around each other to quench the thirst of passion, licking their lustful way around their mouths.

At one point, Y/n finds herself pressed against her boss’ desk, one leg around Harry’s waist as he attaches his hips to hers in a heated embrace that leaves them breathless upon parting. He rests his forehead against her temple as they both process the intimate exchange, not ready to burst out of this fairy bubble. "Fuck, been waiting to do that for a while," he exhales with a smile, still incredulous at the evening’s proceedings, and the girl nestled in his arms.

"Same," she agrees and gently cups his face to bring his eyes back to hers, barely believing the adoration and warmth swimming within his lovely olive irises.

Harry’s heart feels like a ticking bomb about to implode, the sweet taste of her lips already providing him with a fix he didn’t know he was addicted to. "One more," he demands against her mouth before diving into another searing kiss. This time his hands explore more meticulously, scavenging for other soft spots to add on to his mental list. The dimples in her back right above the curve of her ass seem to rival the area at her side right below the swell of her breast, but Harry is pretty sure he’ll find more sensitive spots in the near future. Hopefully.

Once again, the need for oxygen compels them to part way, but neither of them make a move to separate their tangled limbs. Y/n is reveling in the moment she’s been daydreaming about for months, "so good," she keeps whispering sweet nothing against his lips while rubbing her nose against the bridge of his.

Harry clears his throat as he regains his bearings, realizing that there are still very much in the middle of their boss’ office, a place they are not supposed to be in, doing stuff they’re not supposed to be doing. At least not here. "Let’s get outta here, yeah?" he brushes a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, "you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and I’ll tend to yours once we’re back at my place, what’dya say?"

And well, how can one say no to that?

➪ Masterlist

[pan-fangirl-345]

Prompt List!

You all seemed to enjoy having a prompt list, so this one is always going to be open, and you can ask me for almost any character from any fandom, as long as I write for them. If you are unsure of a character, please ask me about it! And read the my blog rules for the love of all things holy.

As always, when requesting, give me any specific details of the scenario you want, such as specific troupe, the character, whether you want a dating scenario or a get together scenario. I am also willing to write platonic relationships such as a manager x platonic team relationship kind of thing.

And, again, as always, I retain the right to decline any scenario that I think is inappropriate or that makes me uncomfortable, since this is a blog for my benefit, it just happens to be open to the public.

That being said, I love hearing from all of you, so please feel free to reach out and I'll get to them as fast as I can!

If you want to turn back, now would be the time to do it.

I wish you could’ve stayed.

You’ve really gotten yourself into a mess now, haven’t you darling? Was I not enough trouble for you?

What the fuck? It’s three in the fucking morning? Why are you calling me?

Wow, isn’t this a blast from the past.

You look as beautiful as the day I met you.

Fuck you, alright? I didn’t ask to fall in love with you.

If I could take it all back I would.

'I love you!' 'Liar.'

You intrigue me.

Nope! You said it! No take backs!

That is a terrible, horrible, foolish, incredibly stupid idea. Let’s do it!

Well, look at this, it’s not every day I have an angel in my bed.

I can’t have a crisis! My schedule is already full!

Please tell me you aren’t actually thinking about doing that.

My cupcake, my angel, the diamond of my life, the apple of my eye, I love you, but why are you like this?

I love you more than the game.

Don’t say things that you don’t mean my love.

I don’t want my boyfriend arrested for murder!

C’mon baby, just let me get a few swings in. No one talks to you like that.

You’re like a pack of rabid dogs.

'You love me and you know it!' 'Yeah, I do.' 'Wait, what?'

It looks good on you my love, everything looks good on you.

You didn’t have to get me this.

Fuck this, I’m gonna tell him.

You’re a nerd.

You’re so perfect.

You’re my soulmate, holy shit.

Tell me what’s got you down so I can make it better.

This entire friend group has one brain cell, and we never have it.

' You're in love with her/him, aren't you?'

'I never stood a chance, did I?' 'That's the thing, you did, once upon a time.'

'How much of that did you hear?'

'Do you remember the promise we made when we were kids?' 'How could I forget? You never shut up about it during middle school.' 'I broke that promise.'

'If karma doesn't come around and hit you in the face, I will, so shut the hell up, please, for the love of god!'

'Pretty people make me nervous.' 'Because we're attractive?' 'No, because normally it's the pretty people that want something from me. So what do you want?'

Dance with me. Dance with me and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist. Please?

'You can't keep ignoring me. We have to talk about this at some point. Seriously, you can't keep pretending like I'm not here.' 'Watch me.'

'I need you to lie to me.' 'What?' 'Lie to me, please.' 'I love you.'

'You know that I don't want anyone else right? Just you.' 'You can't promise me that.'

'If you don't want this, you have to walk away right now.' 'Why is that?' 'Because if I kiss you now, I won't be able to get over you.' 'Who says you had to?'

You were so brave today baby, so brave.

'This isn't some romantic comedy (character of your choice)! I'm not the girl/guy/person that gets the guy in the end!' 'Why not? Why can't I be the end game love interest?' 'Because you can't love me like that! It's not possible!' 'Why can't I decide that for myself?'

'This is so cliche. I hate cliches.' 'Like those little pie things?' 'Not a quiche, a cliche.' 'What are those again?' '*pained sigh*'

'Oh my god, what are you doing?' 'Will you marry me?'

'Why are you looking at me like that?' 'You look like you're in a music video.' 'Is that a compliment? No, seriously, I can't tell.'

How mad would you be if I got in a fight today?

So, when's the wedding? Am I invited?

Never have I ever kissed (character).

Do you like it? I wanted to try something new.

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (2/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Thank you guys for reading the first part of this! I cannot say enough how much I appreciate all of you and how glad I am little things like this bring you guys joy! Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over these words. ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: One | Two 

-/-

“Emma, the couple at table two wants to talk to you, and the woman at table seven has a complaint about the quiche. Something about there being eggs in them.”

Emma groans and closes her laptop to look at Ashley, one of the new waitresses she hired this summer. She’s good, courteous, and she’s always here on time. Emma is going to hate to lose her for a few weeks when she has her baby, but come hell or high water, the girl is getting maternity leave even if Emma can’t manage more than three weeks without the owner getting involved and likely trying to fire all of them. She deserves months more than that, but Emma can’t change the system.

It’s a shit system, especially for moms.

“They don’t want eggs…in their quiche? Are you serious?”

“She’s vegan and claims she’s been misled.”

Emma rolls her eyes and stands from her chair. She pulls her jean shorts down, the frayed edges covering just a little more thigh, and unties the bottom of her button-down. She probably needs to start dressing up more for this job, but she can’t be bothered. She managed to wear her Blue Dog Tavern polo last week, so that seems like enough effort. “We have symbols on the menu to indicate dietary restrictions, but this isn’t really a restaurant for dietary restrictions beyond one or two items. I’ll deal with it. Thanks, Ashley.”

It’s Sunday morning, which is their second busiest time after Friday and Saturday nights, and the Blue Dog is packed. It’s all hands on deck this morning, but Emma was hoping to get some scheduling and produce ordering done in her office during it. But this is a restaurant, so of course there’s never any time for a breather when she needs it the most. She’ll finish all that later, she guesses, because she has a feeling neither of these conversations are going to be a short one.

And she’s right about that. The woman hating on the quiche pitches a fit and demands her money back before threatening to sue the place and, quite frankly, threatening to cut off Emma’s legs, and Emma has to resolve that without losing her cool when all she wants to do is punch jerks like that straight across the jaw. Then the couple at table two asks her to run through every item on the menu and whether or not everything is organically sourced.

They serve fried mac and cheese balls at ten in the morning and have kitschy, slightly tacky artwork nailed onto the darkly stained wood. If you eat outside on the patio, you get a nice view of people taking off a little more than they should while sunbathing on the surrounding beaches and docked boats. There’s also the occasional ferry that drives by and blows a loud horn that tourists seem to get a kick out of. Do they really think everything is organically sourced?

God, sometimes she really hates tourists.

This is a nice place, though. It’s not somewhere you go for fine dining, but their brunch is divine, it’s got a good atmosphere, and the new bartenders she’s hired this summer make better drinks than you can get at any reasonably priced bar in a ten-mile radius. She likes this little part of the island, and even though she hates tourists, they do fund her entire life. So maybe she hates them a little less than usual when the paychecks roll in.

Today is not a day where the paycheck is rolling in.

Emma notices some of the tables are a little slow, so she picks up the slack, getting drinks and refills and checking on meals. It keeps her on her feet for most of the morning and through the lunch rush, but when it’s over, she collapses on a stool at the end of the bar.

“Chip, can you get me a coffee?” she asks without looking up. “I don’t care what milk or creamer you put in it as long as you don’t bring it to me black. Though, I think I need the caffeine so badly that I’d drink it. I don’t know why I agreed to work the late dinner shift at The Oaks last night. I’m exhausted.”

When she doesn’t get a response, she looks up for Chip. He’s nowhere to be seen, and when she checks her phone schedule, she realizes it’s his break time. Of course it is.

“Lass, I don’t believe the barkeep is here anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s his break, but I can help you. What’s your poison?”

“The coffee you’re having.”

Emma nods and turns to look at the man talking to her, and if she wasn’t so tired, she would have recognized the voice a hell of a lot faster than she did. A lot of different accents pass through this place, but he’s the first British one in awhile. Also the first one to show up in her backyard. Or the Fishers’ backyard, technically, but she’s been renting it for long enough for it to feel like her own even if she’s changed very little of the furniture and decorations outside her bedroom.

Killian. She thinks that was his name. Honestly, she’s surprised she remembers anything because she was in such a rush to get to work that she didn’t have time to deal with all the people at her house. But he was unexpected and attractive – she’s not blind to attractive men no matter what Ruby and Mary Margaret think – and he threw her off for a minute. He looked familiar, but she has no idea why. There’s no way she would have met him before.

But she also doesn’t care. She’s got a gut feeling that she needs to watch out for him, that there’s something that’s not right, and him being at her job is proving that to her. What are the odds that he’d wander in a few days after meeting her when she’s pretty sure he’s never been here before?

Then again, maybe that’s why he’s familiar. It’s June. A lot of people come through here, and she’s not going to remember all their faces. Sometimes she does, though, in the back of her mind where vague, slightly blurry memories reside.

“Sure thing,” Emma sighs, standing from the stool. “Do you have a server?”

“Aye. Heather, I believe, but…”

“But she’s on her phone.” Emma shakes her head. “My boss’s niece. Not much I can do about it, but I’ll get you your coffee, a water, and take your order right away.”

He nods, going back to his own phone, and Emma takes that as her cue to get behind the bar and start making some coffee. She doesn’t usually work this machine, so it takes her a minute to get it right all while she feels Killian staring at her.

“Do you need any suggestions on the menu?” Emma asks as the coffee percolates.

“How are the salads?”

“I prefer things with more calories, but they’re good. Our vegetables are fresh, and I personally enjoy the strawberry poppyseed with chicken, but I know not everyone loves fruit in salads.” He hums behind her as his mug fills, and she grabs some milk from the fridge under the sink, turning to show him. “Milk okay?”

“It’s perfect, Swan.” She raises her brows, which he mirrors, until he cocks his head forward and his lips form an obnoxious little smirk. “On the nametag, love.”

“Now, what did I say about being your love?”

“That you’re not.”

“Exactly.” She finishes making his coffee and hands it over. He’s a customer, she reminds herself. She’s got to try to be a little bit nicer than she wants to be. “So, the salad? If you’re looking more toward the healthy options with protein, the grilled chicken breast on its own is fantastic. You get two sides, which you can find at the bottom of the menu.”

He nods and looks at the menu for half a second before looking up. “The salad would be great. Thank you.”

He picks up his mug, pointing it toward her, and Emma takes it as a dismissal so she can put his order in, and hopefully she can get Heather to do her damn job and serve him for the rest of the meal. She doesn’t like that he knows where she lives and works, and even though she doesn’t think Ariel and Eric spend time with shady people, something about him gives her weird vibes.

His face just looks so damn familiar, and usually she’s really good remembering faces. Huh.

And Emma is usually right about these things. He’s likely nothing more than a rich man looking for a break from life by renting out a large house on the island. He’ll spend a week or two, maybe a month depending on his work situation, here, sleep with as many women as he can, and then he’ll go, never thinking of Martha’s Vineyard again. And she’s pretty sure Ariel does something having to do with high-powered people over in London, so he fits the profile. God, she must have seen him before with Ariel or something. That has to be it.

But for now, he’s a customer, and since Heather seems to be completely checked out, Emma guesses she’s going to have to deal with him. After this morning, he won’t be the worst person she has to deal with all day, and since she’s working at The Oaks tonight, she imagines being treated like shit then will outshine all of this.

Why the hell did she decide to pick up so many shifts at The Oaks? It’s a stuffy country club where tips reflecting the price of the meal aren’t even guaranteed, but it’s extra money with a flexible schedule. She’s doing okay on the money front right now, though, and if she were sane, she’d take some time off and relax, maybe enjoy the beach or any of the hundreds of good restaurants around here.

She is obviously not sane.

-/-

“Oh my God,” Emma grumbles as she strips out of her jean shorts, kicking them to the ground before unbuttoning her shirt. “I’m so tired of people.”

“I’m people,” Ruby says. “Nice bra, by the way. The girls look great.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she does glance down at her boobs and hike them up a bit. They do look great today. “Shut up.” Emma picks up the black dress she has to wear at the country club and slips it over her shoulders. “You know I’m not tired of you.”

“That’s because you’ve barely seen me.”

“Busy. I’m busy. I work way too much. Speaking of that, why the hell aren’t you at work?”

Ruby stands from her couch and grabs her name tag from the end table. “I’m in between shifts. Granny’s in charge downstairs. I have a five-second commute to work, unlike you. Why are you changing here again?”

“Don’t want to run into any of the people at my house.” Emma smooths her dress and turns to Ruby’s mirror to reapply lipstick and put on some mascara. She’s got to wash her hair tomorrow. It’s hanging by on a thread today, if that thread is a little greasy and has a hell of a lot of dry shampoo in it. “But don’t worry, tomorrow, I will be out of your hair as they will soon be out of mine.”

“You know I’m always fine with you being in my business. Mary Margaret and David are coming here for dinner tonight. Any chance you can slip away?”

Emma finishes another coat of mascara. “Can’t. Working until past closing and then heading straight home to sleep in my house of strangers.”

Ruby laughs, carefree as always, and for a moment, the jealousy stings. Ruby has plenty of her own shit going on, but she always handles it with such ease. She’s the most carefree person Emma has ever met, and Emma can’t imagine living like that without way too much alcohol in her system.

“I told you that you could stay with me this week. Have I ever said it’s batshit crazy that they come to visit and are okay with you still staying there? Because that is batshit crazy.”

Emma shrugs and pulls back to take in her appearance. This is as good as it’s going to get. She doesn’t think she’ll be using her looks to get her any tips tonight, which is a crying shame since that’s half the reason she took this job in the first place. She knows exactly how to charm some of the older men into giving her more money by flirting a little, and she’s not ashamed that she has to give away her dignity to do it. She had to hire a dinner-shift manager at the Blue Dog because she was doing the work of two people with the pay of one. Now she’s doing the work of five people with the pay and of one and half people, so obviously she’s winning at life.

“I’m never there, and they seem like good people. I think they’re just glad I actually maintain the place and am slowly but surely getting through some of the renovations.” Emma looks at her hair again and ties it up in a ponytail with the elastic from her wrist. “Any way you can make me a grilled cheese to go?”

“Only if you agree to go to a bar with all of us sometime in the next month.”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever you want.”

God, she hopes Ruby doesn’t remember this conversation. The last thing she wants to do right now is go out with her friends and then end up sitting alone as they all make out with their partners and leave without telling Emma goodbye.

Actually, the last thing she wants to do is go to work again today, but here she goes.

-/-

Emma quietly turns the key in her front door. She saw that the kitchen light was still on from the street, and while the Fishers likely just forgot to turn it off, she doesn’t want to run the risk of seeing them tonight. It’s their last night here, so she only has to make it through one or two more awkward conversations before she has the house to herself. It’ll be just her and the creaky floors. She can collapse on the couch in her dress instead of having to walk all the way up the stairs and make it to her bedroom like a responsible adult.

In another world, Emma would like to own a house like this. It’s charming. That’s the best way to describe it. It’s two floors, three bedrooms, has bay windows and built-in bookshelves, and the cabinets in the kitchen are a light green. She likes that it’s not cookie cutter white all the way around like some of the nicer houses around here. It has character, and though there are a few things she’d change beyond the needed repairs she does for the Fishers, it’s got good bones. Plus, the location is fantastic, and the backyard is spacious. It allows Emma to spend time in the sun without being stuck on a crowded beach or near a busy dock.

But this is not another world, and Emma could never afford a house this close to the coastline. She’s got no idea why she still lives here. Well, that’s not true, she knows exactly why she still lives here, and it’d be possible for her to pick up and move inland toward Boston. She just…she can’t. She’s been here for ten years after leaving her last foster home in Brockton, and it’s been a comfortable reprieve. She’s got her friends and her job(s), and even though she’s got years of hospitality experience, there’s no guarantee someone like her with a GED can get a job this well-paying and accommodating somewhere else. Plus, her housing is almost free, and she really can’t pass that up.

It all comes back to the house, which she’s dreading going into now no matter how much she wants to collapse onto her bed.

(Or the couch. She really misses the couch. It’s the best for napping.)

Emma steps inside, avoiding the places that make the floor groan, but it’s impossible to dodge them all. She tenses, then hurries across the living room toward the stairs, only turning to the opening to the kitchen at the last minute.

“Holy fuck,” Emma gasps, dropping her purse. It hits the ground in a gentle thud, her keys spilling out and clacking along the floor.

“Didn’t mean to scare you there, Swan.”

Emma’s breath hitches as she realizes who it is sitting at her kitchen table.

Killian…whatever his last name is. She’s got no clue and doesn’t care to ask. What she does want to know is why he’s sitting here alone at two in the morning like a fucking serial killer.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He takes a sip of his drink, coffee she thinks from the smell, and leans back in the chair, the front legs tipping up with him. “Getting sober so I can drive home. Had two drinks with dinner, and it appears I’ve become a bit of a lightweight.”

“Don’t drink much then? I thought all you Brits liked going to the pub.”

He laughs, smile bright against the black of his stubble despite her poor attempt at his accent. “We do, but not so much me anymore. Trying to cut back.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She leans down to pick up her bag, grabbing her keys and tossing them back in. “I also get that we have Uber here. You might want to try that the next time you have a little too much to drink. You look like a murderer sitting in my kitchen like this.”

“It was two glasses of rum, nothing excessive. Wishing Ariel and Eric well before they leave in the morning.” He leans forward, the chair landing on all four legs, and downs the rest of his mug. “I don’t make a habit of drinking too much.”

“I don’t care what you do in your personal time. Just don’t make a mess in my house…or your friends’ house, I guess. And sleep on the couch if you want. There are blankets in the basket.”

She doesn’t know why she’s offering him the couch. She should be making him leave. Her heart is still leaping out of her chest from him scaring her, and even though this has been her home for years, she technically can’t ask him to leave. In reality, Ariel has probably offered him the couch already.

What a long day.

She wants it to be over.

“That’s surprisingly kind of you.”

Emma’s step falters, and while she was turning away from the man, she decides to turn back and narrow her eyes. What the hell is that supposed to mean? “I guess I’m full of surprises for men who don’t know me.”

“Just who are you then, Swan?” he asks, standing from the chair and putting his mug in the sink, turning the faucet on while never losing eye contact.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

A shiver runs down Emma’s spine, but she ignores it and walks up the stairs. This is a weird week, one she doesn’t want to repeat, and the last thing she needs is to spend too much time with a man who thinks he can charm his way into anything with a few smooth words and a smile. She’s been around enough men like that in her lifetime, but it doesn’t matter with him. Tomorrow, he’ll be gone with Eric and Ariel, and she’ll be back to being able to walk around her house without pants whenever she wants.

Tomorrow, this weird as hell week will be over, and she’ll be back to normal…mostly.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion​ @dramioneswan​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​

[bitletsanddrabbles]

“English” Breakfast In America

Still working on my write up from my stay at Thornwood Castle, but I thought I would amuse all of my friends on the other side of the pond on typing up a quick bit on what we ate while we were there. You see, you have to provide your own food and since this was a ‘placeholder’ holiday for our trip to the UK - postponed twice now, thank you Covid19, just wear your damn mask already, I wanna see the isles damnit! - my parents decided to make it as British as possible.

To be fair, they didn’t do too badly. There is a lovely little import store/deli near their place called the British Pantry (sandwiched between the Three Lion’s restaurant and the Three Lion’s pub, also very Themed) that they hit up for baked goods, and World Market is a reliable source of more nibbly type bits.

They were even nice enough to give the folks a 4 bag sampler of Twining’s Lemon Ginger, which I appreciated. (One of the few disappointments of Thornwood was the tea selection. Two bags of Lipton Decaf per room? I know we’re a coffee country, and The Starbucks State, but c’mon! I expected at least Bigalow English Breakfast! ...thank goodness I thought to bring my own...)

We ate on the way down Wednesday, so we had four meals at Thornwood. Breakfast on Thursday consisted of some very nice personal quiche from the pantry, available in ham and cheese or spinach. They looked so dang picturesque in the morning light that I actually took a picture. See?

Isn’t that pretty? ...then I ate it.

Lunch was steak and mushroom pie (or a curry chicken pasty, but none of us ate that one), crackers with various condiments (cream cheese, hummus, or deviled ham), or chicken wings. To make everything as British as possible, along with the BBQ wings, they got salt and vinegar wings. Desert was a selection of tarts and individual pies from the Pantry. I devoured one of the steak and mushrooms and an apple and blackberry pie.

I did not take pictures.

Dinner was the rest of the steak and mushroom pie, or, in my case, the curry chicken pasty. It was tasty, but not what I’d go to the Pantry for. Bakewell tart for desert.

Didn’t take a picture of that either.

Then there was breakfast Friday.

Wait for it.

Ready?

Okay, here we go:

AHEM! In the bag we have scones. That statement will confuse the Yanks in the audience, but, yes, those are scones. Then we have Hobnobs, Pim’s, Biscoff with chocolate (I didn’t know these existed?!?), under that is a thing of Walker’s shortbread, and boiled puds - both chocolate and spotted dick. The tea is just there for decoration.

...

These are all standard breakfast fair in the UK right? RIGHT?!?

...

Yeah, didn’t think so.

Anyway - assessment!

Scones: Tasty! Could have used some butter or cream or something, but hands down the most actually breakfast-y food on offer.

Hobmobs: Oatmeal biscuits. A bit dry, but otherwise enjoyable. While the texture was different, the taste was quite similar to Graham crackers, so if you’re in the UK and want to try a S’more variant, skip the digestives and use these. They’re closer.

Pim’s: Spongey biscuit with a thin layer of jam (raspberry in this case) and topped with chocolate. I’d encountered these before and, most generously, did not devour the entire sleeve myself.

Biscoff w/Chocolate: I actually filled up before I tried these, but having had plain Biscoff, I remain skeptical of the chocolate. It just doesn’t seem like it would add anything, and possibly detract. ....dang it, now i want Biscoff.

Walker’s Shortbread: I’m not sure we actually opened these! Doesn’t matter, though. It’s tasty, it will get eaten. It’s just that we’d all had it before. Repeatedly. In fact Costco sized tins make a fairly regular appearance at family Christmas parties. Only in America would Walker’s Shortbread be seasonal! *cue eye roll*

Boiled Puds: I am not a raisin fan, so I passed on the spotted dick. My step-mother had one and quite enjoyed it. I had a chocolate and found it amazingly tasty, if too rich to finish! My Dad, who polished off the last three bites, quite agreed. Would absolutely do it again, only I’d want some milk or whipped cream or something to cut the “HI THERE I’M CHOCOLATE HOW ARE YOU?!?!” ....possibly the least breakfasty of the options...

[ceilingfan5]

10, 16, 18!! mistaken identity, musician, stubbornness

Kravitz isn’t very good at being famous. It makes him tired. He’s mostly interested in music and having a good time, and while being rich makes those things much easier, the fame comes with a certain obstacle, and that’s...fans. Kravitz doesn’t really understand his fans. He plays music for himself, for his own interests, and it’s always sort of surprised him that people were into that sort of thing. Everything has always been secondary to just enjoying the music. 

So when it comes to events with people, Kravitz is always a little out of his element. The tabloids love to joke about him, and how awkward he can be in interviews, especially when they surprise him. He doesn’t go on a lot of dates, which is an endless source of speculation. So his PR agent sets him up with someone for this red carpet event. She texts him to say she’ll send a picture and his profile, but Kravitz’s phone beeps with low battery and he rolls his eyes and stuffs it in his suit pocket. Oops. Whatever. He’ll figure it out. 

He checks his appearance in the elevator’s mirrored walls and practices his blinding smile. Perfect. Not even a little constipated looking. He’ll do fine. And then he steps out, and walks out of the apartment, thanking the doorman, and he looks at the meeting place for his date. There’s no one there, which is a frown-worthy offence. He checks his watch, but he’s painfully on time. He doesn’t just want to stand around like a goobus, and he gets even itchier as the limo pulls up. It’ll wait for him, of course, but he doesn’t want to make the driver wait. 

After a painful minute and a half, one of the most beautiful men Kravitz has ever seen walks toward him. He’s wearing an interesting outfit for a red carpet, but maybe he’s just eccentric. Hell, for all Kravitz knows, gold leggings, purple shorts, and three shawls could be in right now. The loads of tangled jewelry probably is, for sure. Kravitz smiles and steps in front of him so he doesn’t miss him, and the man jumps and does that usual double take people do when they see someone as famous, whether he likes it or not, as Kravitz. 

“Are you my date?” 

This man looks him up and down, and a slow grin spreads on his face. 

“I sure am!”

The limo ride is nice and smooth, although his date, who calls himself Taako, seems excited by every little thing about it. He takes a lot of selfies. Maybe he’s just an excitable person, but in Kravitz’s opinion, if you’ve seen one limo, you’ve seen ‘em all. Taako is interested in fashion and cooking and travel, and he has gorgeous, glittering eyes, and the heels on his boots could be confiscated at the airport. He also does most of the talking, which immediately makes Kravitz fond of him. They step onto the red carpet arm in arm, blinded by paparazzi, and together they steer one another into the event. 

“So, Taako, what are you famous for?” Kravitz says, taking two flutes of champagne and thanking a waiter. 

“Uh, oh, me? My thing? Me?” Taako says with a bizarre giggle that makes cartoon hearts burst in Kravitz’s peripheral vision. “I’m, uh, I’m on TV.”

“Very nice, very nice. I’m a musician.”

“I know,” Taako says, with a bit of a dreamy sigh. “I have all your albums.”

“That’s good to hear.” Kravitz smiles. “My last date wasn’t interested in my music at all, and then I had nothing to talk about. He was some kind of business mogul, I think.”

“That’s a real shame.”

They get hors d'oeuvres and Taako makes Kravitz choke with laughter on a huge shrimp, which he almost spits at a minor Kardashian, and Taako pounds him on the back to make sure there aren’t any other crustaceans in his windpipe.

“Oh fuck, I almost killed Kravitz,” he says, eyes wide. “Your fans would eat me alive.”

“I’m sure your fans would bail you out of jail pending trial,” Kravitz croaks, and they both start laughing again, even though Taako keeps screwing up his lips in this weird expression Kravitz doesn’t understand when he mentions his fans. Maybe he isn’t comfortable being famous either! Wouldn’t that be a dream!

Kravitz introduces Taako to all of the famous faces he can tie to names, and they all make the same sort of dim expression and squint at Taako, asking what he’s from. 

“He’s from TV, obviously,” Kravitz says, after at least the fifth time, getting annoyed. 

“Yeah, obviously,” Taako says with a snort, and they go get more tiny quiches to share. They take a selfie by the big, gorgeous lit up fountain and Taako immediately has to post it on twitter. 

“I don’t really understand Twitter,” Kravitz says, wishing he could be home playing guitar in his pajamas. 

“Good thing you don’t,” Taako says, looking pale, and they start to hear notifications from around the room. The other celebrities start whispering and looking at them, which Kravitz does not care for at all. 

“Is it true you’re dating a nobody?” A stray paprazzo shoves a microphone in Kravitz’s face. Kravitz wrinkles his nose, wondering who let the slime into the actual party. 

“I wouldn’t say dating, yet- wait, what do you mean? Taako’s famous. He’s on TV.”

“Is that true?”

“Of course it is! Why would he lie? Get out of my face and stop bothering my date!”

More swarm, and Kravitz makes an executive decision. He grabs Taako’s wrist and runs. They carve their way through the party and through to the preparations for the next event, startling black-tied workers and people with walkie-talkies. Kravitz, panting, doesn’t stop until they’re in the bathroom together, the door slamming shut behind him. Taako looks at him, and looks at their reflection, and laughs, dissolving into helpless, hysteric giggles. 

“I can’t believe this is real,” Taako mumbles, pushing his bangs out of his face. 

“I’m so sorry about all of that,” Kravitz says. “They have no respect.” 

“No, I should be, you know, sorry, probably,” Taako says. “I’m, uh, I’m not actually- I don’t actually have a TV show. Yet, I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not a celebrity, Kravitz.”

Kravitz frowns stubbornly. 

“Of course you are. My PR agent set you up with me.”

“Nah, dog, I was just walking by, and you noticed me.” Taako laughs and sighs, leaning against the wall. “I can’t believe I met you.”

“Well.” Kravitz puts his hands on his hips. “Well. Uh. Hm.”

“Yeah, That about sums it up.”

“Well, Taako. I think. You make a better celebrity than the celebrities I actually know. And I’ve had a great time with you this evening. So...maybe you want to stick around?”

Taako tilts his head like he’s trying to invent a new kind of calculus for birds. 

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why should I be? You weren’t boring, and I made the mistake. This one’s on me.” 

A slow grin spreads across Taako’s face. 

“Well, if you’re down, I’m down. Let’s go rattle Hollywood.” 

“Only if you don’t try to kill me again.”

They laugh, and they leave the bathroom together, and they face the paparazzi together, and they get tipsy and eat too many hors d'oeuvres together, and when Kravitz gets in trouble with his PR agent for standing up his real date, Taako kisses him on the mouth and makes him forget all about it. All in all, one of the best events Kravitz has been to in years.

[thedisneychef]

How to Make Chef Mickey's Breakfast Pizza: A Delicious Recipe

I’ve heard a lot about the breakfast pizza at Chef Mickey’s… Next to Mickey Waffles and Dole Whips, the breakfast pizza is one of the most talked about “must have” foods at Walt Disney World. While certainly most commonly attached to Chef Mickey’s, I can say that I’ve also seen it in various forms at Tusker House, Crystal Palace, and other breakfast buffets. More Delicious Recipes You Will Love: - Barbecue Pulled Pork – Kona Cafe - Canadian Cheddar Cheese Soup – Le Cellier - Canton Beef – Nine Dragons That said, I can’t say I’ve ever tried it… I don’t know, I like eggs (but they’re not my favorite) and I enjoy pizza, but something about it just didn’t seem to pair well. Clearly, I didn’t get what the fascination was and I was OK with that. My son, however, talks about when he went to Chef Mickey’s and had breakfast pizza with the same enthusiasm that people reserved for when they met The Beatles. There were three things he could share about his trip… He went to Animal Kingdom Lodge, he saw lots of animals, and he had breakfast pizza with Mickey at Chef Mickey’s. Could he remember what rides he did? Nope. Did he remember which parks he saw? Nope. The characters he saw?  Kind of. Where he ate? To listen to him talk, it was Chef Mickey’s and breakfast pizza the whole trip. Considering how wild he was about the pizza and that yesterday was the first day of school (we start after labor day in our area… Don’t be too jealous, we go to school until about July), I figured it’d be a nice treat for him. This really was a “the kids will like it, just make it” recipe.  Even my husband was kind of “yeah, I’ll try it” but overall not to excited to eat it. I realized that this wasn’t exactly what I thought it was as I was putting it together. It’s more of a really thin, cheesy quiche than scrambled eggs baked with cheese on a pizza crust, which is what I thought it was. Putting it together was super easy and fast (big plus) and it didn’t create a lot of dishes (super big plus). When I served it, the kids went nuts! I didn’t get half as much fanfare for doing a full Thanksgiving dinner as I did for this pizza. Everybody had at least 2 slices… Obviously this means this passes the kid test with flying colors.  It also got the thumbs up from my husband who also had more than just a couple slices. After eating it, I have to say that I’ve judged breakfast pizza wrong for all these years. It’s actually really, really good!  You can really taste the different cheeses and there is an undertone of quiche-like eggyness to it that’s not dominating or overwhelming. Personally, I think copious amounts of bacon or sausage would make this the perfect meal (isn’t that how it’s served at Tusker House?  I think it is, actually), but it’s really good just with the cheese and eggs. Something fast, kid-pleasing, and easy to put together? For sure my dinner table will be seeing this meal again. Conclusion After putting it to the test, we can confidently say that Chef Mickey's Breakfast Pizza is a delicious and unique dish that is perfect for breakfast or brunch. This pizza is topped with a blend of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and cheese, making it a perfect combination of savory breakfast flavors. The crust is perfectly crispy and chewy, adding a perfect texture to the dish. Whether you're a fan of pizza or simply looking for a fun and delicious breakfast option, the Chef Mickey's Breakfast Pizza is definitely worth a try. Additionally, the restaurant, located in Disney's Contemporary Resort, offers a fun and lively atmosphere, making it a perfect spot to start your day at the Walt Disney World Resort. So, if you're planning a visit to Walt Disney World Resort, be sure to add Chef Mickey's and their Breakfast Pizza to your list of must-try dining experiences. In addition to the delicious food and recipes, Disney World is also known for its unique dining experiences, such as character dining and themed restaurants. Whether you want to have breakfast with Mickey Mouse, dine in a replica of a sci-fi drive-in theater at Hollywood Studios, or enjoy a meal with an ocean view at the Coral Reef Restaurant in Epcot, there's something for everyone. And with the help of Recipes Today and the How to Make category, you can even recreate some of these magical dining experiences in your own home. So why not start planning your next Disney-inspired meal or dining experience today? Read the full article

[victoria-daydreams]

Something’s Gotta Give

Chapter Three: Tea for Two

AN: Honestly, I should be asleep as I post this chapter, but if I delay this any longer I think I might rip my hair out (not really). If there are any mistakes, I’m sorry, it’s 3am and I’m bleary eyed. Anyways, thank you to everyone who has supported this story! I really didn’t think anyone would enjoy it but myself.

Chapter Four: A Frightful Dinner

Summary: What should’ve been a fun and simple dinner between Livia and Booker takes a dark turn when she discovers a startling secret about him.

Having a cup of tea with each other became a weekly ritual for Booker and I.

And from tea, sometimes we swap over to coffee, where I discovered that Booker makes the best coffee known to man. He always made my cup of coffee sweet, rich, creamy, and added a dash of cinnamon to top it off. It's so perfect, I'll never look at coffee served in cafes the same anymore. Regardless of the beverage we were drinking, Booker and I always made sure to bring food for our little get-togethers. When its my turn to bring the food, I usually buy pastries like eclairs, macrons, pain au chocolat, etc. I couldn't help myself, I've got quite the sweet tooth which Booker commented on clearly amused once he noticed the trend. While Booker opted to bring sandwiches and quiches, which were a lot healthier than my choices.

At first, our little “tea parties”, as I liked to call them always took place in my apartment, but as the weeks passed and Booker grew more and more comfortable with me, he invited me to his apartment for the first time for a cup of coffee. To my surprise, when I entered Booker's apartment, it was not shrouded in darkness like I previously believed, the space was actually well lit.

Unless, he had the lights on and blinds opened for my benefit.

But you know what, I wasn't going to complain about it. The mere fact that Booker felt he could trust me by letting me into his personal space brought me indescribable joy. Each week over tea or coffee, a new subject was discussed. One week it's about books, the next about traveling, the following about daily life, and so on. Truly, it was a very gratifying experience to see how our relationship had blossomed. Not too long ago it felt like I had to pull teeth to get Booker to speak to me or I had to decipher his body language to determine if he was even comfortable speaking to me.

But now, conversations between us flowed naturally.

However, I have noticed that other things have changed between Booker and I. Well, at least for me it has. As of late, I would feel my heart start racing and beat like thunder whenever I would spend time with him. I would find myself studying Booker's features instead of listening to what was coming out his mouth. My eyes would move from down his nose, across his cheeks, around his jaw line, and at his lips. Heat would always flush my face and down to my neck when Booker called my name to snap me out of my daydream.

I couldn't help it, from the jump I said the man was handsome, but I didn't think I would catch feelings for him.

It certainly didn't help that our hands would innocently brush against each other when doing simple tasks, for example, doing the dishes together. Or the way he would lightly place his hand on my mid-back to usher me into his apartment after we've came back from the market. I always felt like I was set aflame every time Booker and I made contact with each other. I began to wonder if Booker had caught onto my growing feelings for him, he hadn't said anything or treated me differently. But, at times I would feel Booker's gaze linger on me when he was supposed to be reading, like the time when I was detangling my hair or when I was drawing in my sketchpad.

There's also the fact that Booker brought me flowers one day when we were having tea. They were roses, yellow roses to be specific. He told me the roses reminded him of me because of their warmth. And don't get me wrong, I damn near gushed over the beautiful, sun-colored bouquet of roses because I hadn't received such a gift in god knows when, but I also had mixed feelings about the flowers. Yellow roses symbolize friendship and I was left wondering one single question.

Did Booker just politely friend zone me?

~~~x~~~

"When I invited you over for dinner I was hoping you would actually help me make it," Booker quipped, looking over his shoulder.

I chuckled a little, "Hmm," I hummed, as popped the last bit of cracker that had fromage fort spread across it. "It seemed like you had everything under control," I replied, a smile on my face.

If someone had told me that by the end of this day I would be having dinner with Booker, I would tell them they were crazy, hell I might even laughed at them. Having a cup of tea with Booker is one thing, but to eat dinner together, it's different, more intimate. When Booker invited me over, I had just finished putting away groceries and was about to make dinner myself, but in stepped Booker. It was quite adorable when he asked to have dinner with him, in my opinion. He was clearly nervous, he stumbled over his words a few times. Whether it was because Booker is still a slightly reserved man, which meant doing this was uncharted territory for him or it was the possibility that he also had feelings for me was unclear.

I hoped for the latter.

"Do I now?" Booker asked, turning around and folding his arms across his chest.

My grin widened, "Undoubtedly," I said, with a laugh.

Feeling a bit of cheese on the corner of my mouth, I took my thumb and wiped it off before placing the speck of cheese onto my lips. Booker's eyes darted down to my lips and I had to force myself to keep a straight face as I felt a slight increase in my heart beat from Booker’s lingering gaze.

"Maybe it was just involuntary," I thought.

I picked up my wine glass, "But since you're begging me so much, I guess I have no choice but to help," I joked, standing up from the kitchen chair and taking a sip of the dry wine.

Booker faced the counter again, "Your kindness knows no bounds Livia," he deadpanned, resuming his work on slicing the mushrooms up.

I walked up to him and placed my hand on the back of shoulder, at first his body tensed before his muscles relaxed.

"What would you like me to do Chef Booker?" I questioned, my lips curving into a smile.

He rolled his eyes at the title, but still a smirk made its way onto his face, "Can you chop the broccoli please?" he asked, motioning to the vegetable to the side of him.

"Gladly," I replied, removing my hand from him and placing my glass down.

I moved over to the sink and turned the faucet on, pumping soap into my hands I placed them underneath the warm water, giving them a good scrub. Drying my hands on a towel placed on the sink, I took my place next to Booker and began chopping the stalk of broccoli.

"In the month and a half that I've known you, I've noticed a difference in you,” I stated, still cutting the broccoli up.

Booker glanced over at me, "Like what?" he asked curiously, dumping the mushrooms into a pan on the stove.

"Well for one, you don't look so haggard," I commented, placing my knife down and picking up the cutting board.

"Haggard?" Booker repeated, breathing out a laugh. "Wow, Livia," he chuckled, taking the board from my hands and tipping the broccoli into in the pan as well.

"Wait, let me finish!" I said, laughing myself now. "There's a glow to your skin. I can sense a newfound joy in you, an emotion that you believed would never return," I continued, and from the corner of my eyes I saw Booker still. "And your eyes," I breathed, shaking my head. "Your eyes always conveyed to me of a man who lives in silent misery. Your eyes would say what your mouth would not," I explained, my voice taking on a softer tone. "But now, I can see a small shine, a little glimmer twinkling in your eyes," I finished, turning my head slightly to look at Booker, who seemed to be stock still.

Silence swept over the small room, apart from the sounds of the vegetables in the pan sizzling and the wind outside softly rustling the colorful leaves on the trees. My heart began hammering in my chest, the elongated silence from Booker made me nervous. God, I hope I didn't say anything that offended him.

I cleared my throat and brushed the bangs of my hair away from eyes, "I don't know, maybe I've been reading too many of those poems you suggested," I guessed, chuckling while shaking my head.

A warm, rough hand covered the top of mine and my head snapped up to look at Booker.

"I guess, it's kind of hard to remain gloomy when you have a neighbor that is the personification of a ray of sunshine, annoyingly persistent as she may be," Booker teased, looking down at me with sincereness in his eyes and a small smile gracing his lips.

I playful bumped his arm with my own, "You love it though," I teased back, sticking my chin out.

"I do," he agreed softly, stroking his thumb back and forth across my hand.

The gesture sent shivers down my spine and goosebumps raised on my arms. Booker's exquisite blue eyes were locked with my rich brown orbs. The proximity between us was making it hard to breathe, all Booker had to do was lean his head down a little further and—let me not get ahead of myself.

"More wine?" I squeaked out, trying to regain my breath subtlety.

Booker smirked, almost as if he knew the effect he had on me, "I would love some," he answered, giving my hand a squeeze before removing it to work on the garlic bulbs.

I turned around, a grin on my face as I held my hand against my chest. I made my way back over to kitchen table, a slight spring in my step, to where a bottle of unopened wine was located. Grabbing the corkscrew, I jammed it into the top of the bottle and began twisting the knob a few times until the familiar and gratifying loud pop of a wine bottle being uncorked echoed throughout the room. It startled me, but at the same time a satisfied smile grew on my face until I heard Booker swear loudly behind me. Immediately, I placed the bottle down and turned around to see little red droplets dripping from Booker's fingers and onto the floor.

"Oh my god Booker!" I exclaimed, rushing to his side.

"It's nothing Livia!" he insisted, cradling his bloody hand as he moved towards the sink.

"Nothing?" I repeated, disbelief clear in my face. I moved in front of him and grabbed his wrist to show him the severity of his wound. "Booker, your palm is split wide open!" I pointed out, my tone turning frantic "We need to go to the hospital!" I stated, releasing his wrist and turning around to grab the towel from the sink.

"Livia-"

"Here!" I began, spinning back around to face Booker. "Use the towel to...." I instructed, but slowly trailed off as my eyes widened at what I was witnessing.

My breath began to quicken, becoming shallow as I watched the skin on Booker's palm draw itself back together. The towel fell limply from my hand and onto the floor with a soft thud. Slowly, I raised my hand and covered my mouth in horror as I watched tendon by tendon mend itself, and at that moment I felt my stomach lurch and a strong wave of nausea hit, forcing me to place a hand on my stomach in order to calm it down. The deep laceration on Booker's palm inexplicably became a mere scratch before the scratch itself simply disappeared.

As if Booker never injured himself in the first place.

"What the hell!" I whispered, my eyes still glued to Booker's his hand. The image of his palm knitting itself back together flashed in my mind, making me slightly gag. I lifted my eyes to Booker's who's face had gone ashen and was contorted with unease. "What the hell was that?" I asked, my voice once again not above a whisper, but the panic laced through the question couldn't be clearer.

"Livia, I can explain," Booker stated slowly, reaching his bloody hand out to me and taking a small step in my direction.

My eyes slightly widened again and I recoiled backwards, my back running into the cupboard. I tightly gripped the counter as I watched Booker's shoulders deflate like a balloon losing air, hurt was evident in his eyes at my reaction to him and a sad frown formed on his face. The silence was deafening in Booker's apartment, the only thing I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. I slid my body along the cupboard, reaching down to snatch my coat from the chair that was next to it.

"I-I need t-to go," I announced shakily, avoiding Booker's stare.

Hurriedly, I moved to the door and made haste of the lock on the door, nearly yanking the door of its hinges as I left.

"Livia, wait!" Booker called, and I thought I heard movement behind me. "Please!" He pleaded.

My hands fumbled around in my coat pocket for my keys, but finally managing to grab them. I nearly sprinted towards my door even though it was only a short distance away. My hands trembled as I inserted the key into my door and jerked the key hard, twisting the doorknob and pushing my door open. I entered my apartment straight away and as I went to shut the door I paused, glancing at the apartment door across from me. Out of nowhere, the sound of glass shattering across the hall made me jump back, causing the door to slam shut louder than I intended it to. I slid the deadbolt lock into place and did the same with the bottom lock, leaning my forehead against the door, closing my eyes.

I flipped around with my back against the door, slowly I slid down the door and covered my face with my hands.

"What the fuck did I just see unfold in Booker's apartment?"

Chapter Five: Avoidance

[elles-writing]

When The Worlds Collide - VI

Kili x reader

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for not posting my own works in like two weeks or so. It was rough for my mental health and school was kicking my ass and I was not in a mood for doing many things, so now I hope you will like this long chapter!! It’s not really about the main plot, just some fluffy moments to enjoy. Also, it was my birthday 23rd September and it’s finally autumn!! I also don’t really know when am I going to draw, because like I said, I was not doing mentally well, but I think I could give it a shot in a next few days, because I’m on my autumn break, finally! I’ve been finishing a cake w my mom in past hour or so and I created a moon on it and waves in Gogh’s paintings style, I’ll show you a photo of it in next part.

gif not mine

gif not mine

gif not mine (inspo for the bun and cooking scene)

Also, I’m not sure in which year in modern world this shall be oriented, but songs I’ve been thinking of (aka you playing these to them):

Spanish: Volar – Alvaro Soler, also We Don’t Speak Americano

French: Amour Plastique – VIDEOCLUB, La Vie En Rose – Edith Piaf

Korean: Sweat, Blood & Tears – BTS (because I don’t know almost any Japanese songs, but I like this one and some other songs in Korean)

Vegetable pie – quiche (I’ve had a pumpkin one in a cafe and it was real good)

Warnings: fluff

tags: @moony-artnstuff​ @whenputtingpentopaper​

One of the fun things while having this group around was that they would constantly look around some rooms in your house and tell you how pretty it was, even if you haven't been tidying and cleaning it in two weeks at least. They also loved to explore your library and spended countless hours by reading the books. You've decided to introduce them to human culture. Only the basic things, really.

"So, here, the race of Men has developed into a different coultures and languages all over the world. Can you guess, for example, how many languages is here?" Kili didn't even thought about his answer.

"Well, you have one common language, so I guess just one, maybe two or three," He said with proud confident smile, changing in his typical cheeky grin as he winked at you. You chuckled and shook your head. Balin looked up from his book.

"There must be more. What about five, or ten?" You looked over others.

"Any other answer? C'mon, try out some number." You felt like a teacher in a class of many different students.

"Thirty languages, that could be," said Legolas calmly.

"Well, this is much bigger world, but it can't be that much. I guess twenty." Bard was thinking aloud.

"So, how is it, lass?" Fili asked and you couldn't help to cover a smile that was forming on your face.

"Well, actually, it's much more than that," you said. You've heard Gandalf to chuckle.

"It's over six thousand languages." Kili's eyes widened and his jaw fell down, Fili did pretty similar face. Most of them looked at you as if you'd told them you personally know Smaug and he's your best friend. And that dragons are the biggest cuddly softies.

"Bold of you to assume that whole population in this world speaks one language or a few dozens of them," you jokily murmed to yourself. Of course, elvish ears have picked that up. Thranduil looked at you with his icy glare.

„How does they sound, then?“ You pulled out your phone and opened YouTube.

„Well, this is a language called Spanish,“ You‘ve played one song in Spanish and all of them were listening to it, deeply in thought. You’ve noticed some dwarves trying to catch the lyrics, and when the song ended, you looked over them.

„This was Spanish, it’s one of the most largely-spoken languages all over the world. It can be slightely different, it depends on where you go. Then, there is another language, and it’s called French. It’s also called the ‚language of love‘, because it sounds softly and even as some sort of charm or magic.“ You looked to the elves.

„I think you may like it, it sounds a bit as an elvish in a way,“ You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to offend them. They looked more interested in what you were about to play to them.

„This song is in French, but it’s a sad song. It’s also quite old, but I think it’s quite a good example, because it’s well-known, so,“ you left the sentence unfinished and played La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf, then one more modern song in French so they’d get the idea. When it ended, you’ve spoken again.

„Well, then there are much different languages. This one is Korean,“ you said and played a song, around fourty seconds.

„What were they saying? It’s all so different!“ You’ve heard Fili and smirked.

„You haven’t heard Russian, Fili.“ Kili sat closer to you, just as a puppy needy for attention.

„They are all so different!“ He threw his hands into air. You smiled.

„Oh yeah, they are. But it’s better to know at least two languages, to get higher chances of getting a job. The more languages you know, the more likely will people want you to work for them.“ Bard piped up.

„How can you learn them? Some of them sound way too difficult to learn, that Korean for example, how would you learned that?“ You looked over to your library.

„Oh well, you can go to some classes and learn the language here, or you can learn them by yourself. There are many textbooks you can use for learning grammar, and you can use books in your target language to help you to learn the vocabulary. Or you can watch movies in that language, listen to a songs, read articles instead of books, text or call with somebody who speaks that language...there are plenty of ways to do so, there is probably even more of them. Also, depends on the language and the person. Some people learn easier when they’ll learn the basic grammar first, someone needs to learn the pronounciation first, and so on.“ You finished talking and they were staring at you, surprised.

„How many languages do you know, if I may ask?“ Balin looked curiously down at you, sitting with crossed legs on the floor with Kili sitting next to you. You’ve thought about his question.

„Well, I’m fluent in two languages, and I’m learning another one. It’s a great way to relieve stress and it’s really fun thing to do, even though sometimes you have to learn to write completely different letters.“ You showed them Koren, Japanese and Russian letters, and they couldn’t believe their eyes.

A few minutes later

Fili sat down to the other side, so you were seated between them and they could look on your phone and into your book about Korea and Japan.

„How can you write that? How can you read that? It’s impossible! It all sounds the same!“ Kili and Fili cried out when Google Translate pronounciation have proved them wrong after another attempt of reading the languages.

„Every language has it’s own rhytm and you have to really listen to it, so you will recognize the words. If you don’t know the languages, it does sound close. Maybe we could try out some French and Spanish, what do you think?“ You said after seeing the elves being annoyed that they could not pronounce it, but not complaining as the dwarf brothers.

But oh boy, French and Spanish, that was another challenge. Even if not that big, but still.

„How do you do that with your mouth?!“ Kili asked you, looking as unhappy, flustrated puppy whom you took it’s ball and refused to give it back (or throw it).

„There are some rules for something called grammar and pronounciation, which you are purposely ignoring and then you complain you don’t understand how to do it!“ You said and rolled your eyes.

„You always tell me it’s wrong!“

„Because it is! You are pronouncing it wrong! It’s leviOUsa, not levioSAAA-!“ You stopped and then you started laughing. Kili furrowed his eyebrows.

„What, what are you laughing about? What is so funny? Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?!“ Kili looked at you, lying on your back on the floor, tears from laugh sparkling in your eyes.

„I sound-I sound just like a Hermione! It’s not LevioSAA-“ You started laughing again and they all looked at you worried.

„Shall we be concerned?“ Fili asked and you shook your head.

„No, no, it’s okay, I just-“ You looked at Kili and tried to not to laugh again.

„I’m okay, it’s okay.“ You breathed in and out, slowly, closing your eyes. You didn’t noticed how most of them looked at each other. As if they’d ended up with some crazy person.

You spoken.

„Okay, I think that was enough of languages for today. I know you have Khuzdul, Elvish and common language in Middle-Earth, but here is much more. Human culture in here has been developing for thounsands of years on many different places, so that’s why.“ You said and got up to your laptop to find some pictures of a certain places. They all came closer.

„Well, this is Rome, in Italy. Then, we have Paris, in France, now some Scandinavian countries. This is Stockholm, Sweden. Then, there is London, Great Britain. Now, this is Los Angeles and New York, that’s both in United States. This is in Japan and this is in Australia.“ You showed them well-known places all over the world and especially Europe, since you assumed it was the closest to Middle-Earth style of living.

After a while, you’ve decided to make some dinner. It wasn’t too much left, and you knew you’d have to go shopping soon, but you didn’t wanted to stress yourself about leaving some fictional characters alone in your house for an hour. No. You prepared a recipe and ingredients and started making dough and left them in living room with another pile of books. They especially loved classics, because they had similar language to what they were using, but they liked even more modern books. You didn’t even counted the time you were thanking yourself for collecting books and being a bookworm. And being a „public library“, as you and your friend would say.

Meanwhile, Kili looked up from his book to Fili, whom was reading one book series and seemed to like it, but now his brows was furrowed as if trying to solve some problem that came up. He quietly closed it and noticed you weren’t here with them, so he‘ve decided to find you and maybe talk with you about the book he was currently reading.

The first place, where he’ve decided to take a look to, was kitchen. He stood in the doorway, more to the side so you wouldn’t noticed him right away, but you seemed to be deeply in thought and mentally far away.

You were making a dough, with your hair up in a messy bun, your apron had quite a lot of flour on it, some flour ended up on your face and especially on your cheeks and up to elbows your hands were covered in it, even in your hair was a flour, but you didn’t seemed to mind it here. Next to you, there was a bowl of some cutted vegetables and a smaller bowl of cheese and a few eggs, some spices and herbs.

He didn’t noticed when you‘ve looked up as his memory flew back to his mother back in their old home in Middle-Earth in the kitchen cooking and his and Fili’s failed attempts they called cooking. They were much better at cooking from mud and twiggs than from real food. He imagined his mother and you in that kitchen and that you’d both tell him to get out from the kitchen and he’d sneak in afterwards to steal some piece of pie or cookies or sweet pasteries to prepare for you and him a picnic under the stars...

„Are you going to stand here and stare at me while I’m cooking?“ You placed your hands on your hips and a smile was dancing across your face. Kili’s head snapped and his cheeks blushed.

„I, uh, I wanted to talk with you about this book, I think it’s a good one.“ You came back to your dough and started working on it, again.

„Well, what books is it?“ You looked at the book he was holding.

"Oh, so The Picture of Dorian Gray. How do you like it so far?“ Kili looked at the book in his hands as if it could answer instead of him. He didn’t wanted to embarrass himself in front of you.

„Well, I...uh...it’s-it’s interesting and-“ You softly chuckled and his head snapped up.

„You can sit by the table rather than to stand in the doorway, Kee. Or you can help me out.“ You clapped your hands and big cloud of flour appeared in the air. A cheeky grin found a way to his face.

„Oh, so you would risk cooking with me, miss Y/N?“ You grinned back at him.

„Well, maybe. And still, you can sit down and talk about the book, I’ll listen to you.“ You said and a soft chuckle escaped your lips when you’ve seen how eager he was to sit near you, somebody whom was ready to listen to him.

„Tell me what you honestly think of that book, Kili. I won’t get offended or anything.“ You smiled at him and you’ve seen his eyes to shine as he spoke and when you were talking about all the characters and the storyline from different points of view, but that didn’t lasted long, because...food.

„What are you cooking?“ Kili asked curiously as he’ve checked the dough you were doing, the vegetables, spices and herbs.

„I’m baking a pie with vegetables and cheese, Kee.“ He scrunched his face and furrowed eyebrows.

„Why would you bake it with vegetables? Pies are sweet, aren’t they?“ He looked up at you with his questioning soft brown eyes and you’ve melted once again. You sighed and started explaining.

„Well, they are, but this type of pie is made with vegetables and cheese and eggs. It tastes good, I promise. It’s something like a pizza, but...well, it’s just a bit different, but good too!“ You said and he nodded, remembering that you baked a pizza a few days ago. Then he was standing next to you, looking sleepishly down at it.

„Put your hair out of the way, Kili, or they will end up in it. And that would not be good.“ You said, pulled out a hair-tie from the pocket of your apron, and created a messy bun out of his hair. You’ve realized that touching someone’s hair is (well, at least in the movies and books) intimate for dwarves, so you felt your face to heat up in embarrassement. You realized that it was probably true when Kili was suddenly stiff and his ears became red.

„Oh, I didn’t realized, I’m sorry-“ He cutted you off.

„It’s okay,“ You noticed he was sleepishly looking at you, but there was a twinkle in his eyes telling you he was not mad at you. (As if he could be possibly actually mad at somebody, you thought.) You shyly looked away.

„I, uh, wanna help me out?“ You looked down at floor, suddenly too embarrassed to look at him, so you didn’t noticed how his eyes widened in surprise.

„Y-you would let me to cook?!“ His voice came out as high-pitched and you glanced at him. His eyes were set on you, he was clearly surprised and excited.

„I will keep an eye on you, but yes, at some point I will.“ You said a bit hesitantely. He looked a bit concerned, but excitement overtook him. You handed him an apron. Yours was dark blue with little stars on it, this one was creamy with brown fabric around the edges. You helped him to put it on and stepped a bit away, hands on your hips and slightely narrowed eyes.

„Yeah, that’s good. But we need to do something with your bangs,“ You said and pulled out a few hair clips and bobby pins in more sizes from pocket of your apron. You went through them and then slightely nodded, chose a few of them and the rest gave back. You looked up to Kili.

„This will help to hold all of your hair out of your face,“ you said and he took them and suspiciously glanced at them. You sighed and rolled playfully your eyes. You took one of your pocket, took a strand of hair that escaped to your bun and inhaled.

„That’s how to do it. It’s not like it will bite you.“ You said, clasped the strand to it’s place, placing your hands on your hips and rising your eyebrow. He grinned and winked at you.

„Okay, let’s get the pie done!“ You quickly said, trying to cover your rising blush.

You broke the eggs into the bowl with vegetables and let Kili to put the herbs into it, but you added spices and heavy cream into it.

„Now, mix it-carefully, so it won’t end up on the floor and stay in the bowl-and then carefully pour it onto the dough,“ you motioned to the prepared dough on pie dish. Kili, when he calmed down (which almost didn’t happened, he seemed to be excited somebody trusted him enough to let him to kitchen to do something else than just eat, drink or sneak in for food), was a quick learner. You placed the pie to oven and let it to bake. You leaned against the counter and with a huff you wiped off your forehead.

„I think it’s time to get cleaned up,“ you sighed, your eyes falling shut. Kili nodded, but it seemed something on your face cought his attention. He came closer, he was close enough for you to see his soft gaze filled with concern and his brows slightely scrunched, him being concentrated.

„You have...a bit of flour left here...“ he said and his thumb runned across your cheek. You slighely flinched on that sudden contact. Your eyes met his and you’ve seen in his gaze he was thinking about something. His touch was sending shivers down your spine. You slightely opened your mouth, but closed it again, not wanting to ruin the moment. His eyes had a sparks in them, but he looked more nervous than cheeky and confident this time.

You couldn’t help but looked quickly on his lips and back to his eyes. It was only you two now, as if the whole world disappeared. You were holding your breath, nervous what was about to happen.

„I-,“ Kili whispered and you felt his breath on your lips. He was looking deep into your e/c eyes, thinking about how beautiful they were and how close he was. He could kiss you, your lips were just a few inches away, and he’d lie if he said he have never, at least once thought about how it would felt like to kiss you, at least once, since he met you.

„Kili, where are you?!“ You both flinched, quickly parted and looked away. You’ve heard Kili groaning as his older brother appeared in the doorway.

„You need to read this series Kee-wait-“ he slightely frowned, looking at his brother more properly.

„You were...cooking?“ You nervously smiled.

„Uhm, yeah, I was making a dinner and, uhm, Kili was helping me out,“ You said.

„Kili, you can go clean up, I will clean here a bit,“ You didn’t gave him a place for an answer when you pushed him to go to Fili. When a door fell after them, you sat down on the floor and thought about that moment you almost kissed. And then Fili came in, you thought and groaned. He was definetely keeping an eye on his brother.

[beanfic]

Sweet Sixteen

Pairing: IronDad! X Stark!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None (i’m pretty sure?) ((oh wait I think there is a singular swear word))

Summary: you’ve been begging your dad to make you a suit, and for your 16th birthday you finally receive one.

Author’s note: My first marvel fic!! I love reading stark!reader fics, so I decided to write one! I hope you guys enjoy it :)

You had been asking your Dad to design you a suit for the longest time, probably since you had turned 10. Obviously, a suit was too dangerous for a 10 year old and there was no reason for you to have one, but you envied the way your Mom and Dad were able to fly around the city.

Once you started training in self-defense, your wishes of receiving a suit grew exponentially. You wished for it every birthday, it was on every single Christmas list, and any time you would see Peter Parker in his suit you would rage with jealousy.

“He’s the same age as me!” you would whine to your Dad. He would always shush you, and remind you that Peter had powers and it was his job to protect the neighborhood. There was no reason for you to have a suit. You tried to argue that you also needed it for protection, and what if the aliens came back to earth and the Avengers needed a plus-one? Your Dad would not listen. He just argued that he would never put you in that situation, and that was the end of the story. 

Most people wish for a car for their sixteenth birthday, but not you. When your Dad asks you what you wanted, you handed him a piece of paper that was titled ‘Birthday List’. There was only one thing written there. “suit”. 

*********************************

“Goodmorning, Y/N,” your Mom greets you as you bound down the stairs and shuffle into the kitchen. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” you mumble, still half asleep. You rub your eyes as you feel a pair of arms wrap you up in a hug. 

“There they are!” You were now being picked up and spun around, the room becoming swirls of color and your stomach was objecting. “You’re sixteen!” 

“Dad! Put me down!” you squirm in his hands and he set you down gently. You almost topple over from the dizziness, but his hand catches you. 

“Sorry, but I can’t believe you are sixteen! You know, when I was sixteen I was-”

“Do I smell bacon?” you interrupt your Dad, not wanting to hear one of his childhood stories. 

“I made bacon quiches!” your mom opens the oven to check on them, and the smell makes your mouth water.

“My favorite!”

“Exactly! Do you want any coffee?” she asks and you nod. 

“I can get it,” you walk over to the coffee pot and pour yourself a cup with just enough room for some hemp milk creamer. 

“How does it feel to be sixteen?” your Dad asks, also grabbing a cup of coffee. 

“It feels the same,” you shrug. You realize you were so distracted by your Mom and Dad that you didn’t even realize the decorations in the living room. There were clear balloons which were filled with confetti decorating the walls, along with gold streamers and two very large ones shaped like the numbers 1 and 6. 

“Do you like the decorations? Sam helped me with them all night!” your Dad says after noticing your staring.

“The balloons could spell out 61,” you giggle. “Maybe they are for you, old man.”

“Excuse me? What? I am nowhere near that age!” He gets defensive.

“It’s a joke, Dad.” You laugh at how flustered he gets. You look back around at the room and notice a singular present on the coffee table. “Is that for me?”

“No, it’s for the other person in the house who is turning sixteen. Yes, it’s for you!” your Dad teases. 

“Can I open it now?” you ask with wide eyes. You watch your Dad slowly look over at Pepper, asking for confirmation and she responds with a slight nod and smile. 

“Go ahead!” he claps his hands together.

You walk over to the box, which was perfectly square and was a pretty average size. You shake it, and you hear something small rattle inside. Slowly, you unwrap the red and gold paper and open the lid of the box. Inside was another wrapped box, but smaller. 

“You guys did not do that stupid joke,” you groan as you continue opening the gift, revealing yet another wrapped box, but even smaller. You glare over at your parents who were smirking as they watched you. Carefully, you peel off the paper and you honestly were expecting another box but instead, you are met with a small keychain.

“No way,” you gasp. You pick up the keychain and eye the silver key attached to it.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Maybe,” your Dad chuckles.

“You got me a car?” you shout. You stand up and run to the elevator.

“Hold up,” you Dad stops you. “Follow me.” 

“Aren’t we going to the garage?” you ask, confused. 

“Follow me I said!” he was already walking down the stairs to the floor below which was where his lab was located. 

“To your lab?” you ask, catching up to your Dad who was practically speed walking. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“I think those keys might go to something in there,” he says softly, punching in his code. You peer around his shoulder into the huge lab and see a large silver safe, like the ones he keeps his special suits in. 

“Dad,” you whisper. Your brain was running a hundred miles a minute, and your heart rate was through the roof.

“There’s a code on there, but I think using the key would be more special. Go ahead!” his hand squeezes your shoulder and you slowly walk towards the silver safe. You look at the touchpad where you enter your personal ID code, next to it,  a small keyhole. Gently sliding the key in and turning it, the door to the safe opens with a whoosh. 

“Holy shit,” you gawk at the platinum silver and red suit in front of you. It was smaller than your Dad’s and you knew instantly that your birthday wish had been granted. 

“Do you like it?” he smirks, taking in your excitement. Your jaw was still wide open and you couldn’t stop hopping in place.

“This can’t be for real! Dad, are you serious? It’s mine!?”

“Yes! It’s all yours!” 

“Oh my god!” you shriek. You feel like running around with all the excitement and energy that was bubbling inside you. 

“I take it that they liked it?” Pepper’s voice rings from the doorway.

“Yes! A million times yes! Thank you so much guys!” you throw your arms around your Dad, wrapping him up in a hug.

“Anything for you,” he whispers. You release him and give Pepper a hug as well. 

“Don’t thank me! This was all your Dad. He has been working on this suit for the past six months!”

“Six months?” your eyes widen.

“Why do you think you haven’t been allowed down in my lab?”

“I don’t know, top-secret Avenger stuff? I just can’t believe it! Can I try it on?” 

Your Dad chuckles, “Yes, but first let me explain what it does, okay? It’s not a suit made for fighting, it’s a suit made for protection. So, while yes, you can go out flying and enjoy it, you need to be responsible. Okay?”

You nod, “Yes!” You walk over to the suit and take a better look at it. It was almost exactly like your Dad’s, but instead of red and gold, it was mostly silver with some red embellishments. 

“FRIDAY is hooked up to it as well, and it can fly just like mine and Pep’s.”

“Does it have laser beams?” you ask.

“No, there’s no reason for it to have laser beams.”

“But what if-”

“No, Y/N, no what if’s. If you are not responsible for the suit, then it will be taken away from you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you nod. You so badly want to try it on. 

“We will have to teach you how to fly in it, it’s more difficult than you would think.”

“It looks easy when you do it,” you giggle.

“You should have seen me the first time I tried it, I literally flew all over my old garage.”

“I’ll be safe!” you plead. “I want to try it on and fly!” You grab your hands together and look up at your Dad with puppy-dog eyes.

“Okay, so here are these,” your Dad hands you two bracelets. They resemble the ones he used to wear. “I didn’t think you would want to insert machinery into your arms and these are much safer.”

“Can’t I just step into it?” you ask.

“You don’t want to feel what it’s like to have it form around you?” 

“It seems nerve wracking,” you confess.

“I’ll be right here, I promise it will be okay.” Your Dad snaps the bracelets on your arms and presses a few buttons on them. “Okay, so tell FRIDAY to activate Sweet 16.”

“You named it Sweet 16?” you roll your eyes.

“It’s fitting!” he chuckles.

“FRIDAY?” you call out. “Activate Sweet 16.” A whirring sound forms behind you and you watch as the suit starts to move. 

“Keep your arms out!” your Dad informs you and you do as he says. You brace yourself for impact as you see the pieces start to move, but they softly mold themselves to your body. First, the arm and leg pieces, making you shiver as the cold material touches your bare skin. You were still in your pajamas. 

The chest piece was a little more rough, causing you to back up a bit.  All that was left was the helmet. You look over at your Dad who had his arm wrapped around Pepper. He was smiling softly as he watched you transform right in front of him. 

“Dad?” you mumble as you prepare for the helmet.

“It’s okay!” you hear but you close your eyes as you see the helmet coming towards you. It is slow and gentle, the opposite of what you were expecting, and when you open your eyes you are welcomed with FRIDAY”s voice.

“Welcome to your suit,” her voice chimes in your ears. You look over at your parents, and Pepper had tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you ask your Mom, and she just shakes her head.

“You’re just all grown up!” 

“You’re embarrassing,” you mumble underneath your breath. You glance over at your Dad, who was still smiling. 

“Well, how does it feel?”

“It’s cold in here,” you laugh. 

“Tell FRIDAY to turn on the heater.”

“There’s a heater?” you gasp. “FRIDAY, turn on the heater!” Instantly, a warmth surrounds your body.

“Nice, huh?”

“Mmm,” you hum in agreement. You turn your head and it isn’t as heavy as you were expecting. Every time you had seen your Dad walk in his suit, it seemed like it weighed at least 80 pounds on him, but in fact it wasn’t that much at all. 

“Want to learn to fly?” your Dad questions and you nod. 

“Here?” 

“Ha, no, not unless you want a repeat of what happened to me. Let’s go to the gym.” Your Dad follows Pepper out of his Lab and towards the elevator, and you shuffle behind. The clank of the metal against the floor was loud, and you try to take quieter steps.

“At least there is no way of you sneaking out in this,” Pepper teases.

“Mom!” 

“It’s a joke, Y/N.” She turns around and flashes you a smile. You were used to her looking down at you since she was a few inches taller, but now she was looking up at your suit. It was odd.

As you ride in the elevator, you keep glancing around and watching what FRIDAY had to tell you via the screen. You were able to check on your vitals, as well as other individuals’ vitals, and it was just fascinating. It was a lot like a pair of Stark Glasses that your Dad had given you for Christmas last year, but way more advanced. 

Once you arrive in the gym, you begin to sweat from the nerves of learning how to finally fly, but also because the heater was almost too hot. You tell FRIDAY to turn the heater off as you watch your dad give a short tutorial of everything the suit can do. You wish yours had all the weapons his did, but you understand why yours wasn’t equipped with deadly rockets when you were only 16.

“The rockets come from the feet and hands, and they are much more powerful than you will first expect. To hover, you need barely any propulsion. Think as if you were going to touch something very fragile, you just need to be cautious and in control,” your Dad explains. You watch in awe as he hovers a few feet above the ground, the whirring of the rockets ringing in your ears. You have seen him fly many times before, but it always interested you. 

“Ready to try?” Pepper asks. You could tell she was nervous, probably because she had to deal with your Dad learning all of this for the first time. She says that he is the reason why she started to go gray early.

“I guess.”

“Don’t be nervous.” Your Dad lands softly and opens his mask so his face is visible. He puts his hand on the shoulder of your suit. “You can do this.”

“I can do this,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You close your mask and get prepared to raise off the ground slightly, but your Dad was correct with how much more powerful it was because you shot you straight up into the air, making you yelp. 

“See? Powerful! Now try to hover!” your dad shouts up at you. You focus on lowering the power of the rockets, and surprisingly it works. You start to descend a bit and hover above the ground like your Dad was.

“Whoah,” you sigh to yourself.

“Nice!” Your Dad gives you a thumbs up. “Now try using more power to move around!” 

“Okay.” You put a little more force and you thrust forward a bit, but as you start to practice moving you quickly get the hang of it. In about ten minutes you were able to land, take off, and fly in a circle throughout the gym.

“You’re doing so much better than I was expecting!” your Dad gives you a high five as you land and reveal your face, which was dripping with sweat. 

“It’s tiring trying to figure out exactly how much power to use.”

“You’ll get used to it, want to go fly outside now?” he raises his left eyebrow.

“Tony, is that a good idea? They just learned how to fly!” Pepper interrupts, she was always super protective of you.

“Mom,”you groan. “I can do it!”

She purses her lips as she gazes back and forth between you and Tony. “Alright, but please be safe. I don’t want to have to put on a suit and come find you two all jumbled together in the middle of nowhere.”

“You can trust me, love,” Tony walks over and places a kiss on her forehead. “I will never let anything bad happen to them, or you. I promise.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

“Ew,” you pretend to gag as you watch your parents kiss in front of you. “Can we go now?”

Your father laughs, “Yes, grab my hand and once you get used to the feeling of flying with a heavier amount of power, then you can let go and just follow me across the city, alright?”

“Yes, sir!” You grab a hold of his suit with yours, metal fingers intertwined. The skylight of the gym opens up to reveal an opening to the sky. You mentally and physically prepare yourself for the jolt, and before you know it you are flying up in the sky following your Dad. 

It was mesmerizing. The blue sky and clouds are now underneath you as your Dad pulls you higher and higher until he looks back at you. He nods and lets go of your hand, and you start to fall a little, but quickly thrust your rockets and follow behind him. 

He starts to go lower, back towards the city, and you notice how tiny the people look, just like ants. Your Dad is twisting and turning between the trees, and you follow him closely, making sure to avoid the obstacles. He even does a little spin to show off, and you just giggle in your suit.

“How are you doing?” his voice breaks through the intercom in the suit.

“This is so fun!”

“Exactly! We should head home now though, once you get about 20 feet above the ground, make sure to loosen up on the rockets or you will crash into the house.”

“Okay,” you answer shakily. You only had practiced landing from about 10 feet from the ground, definitely not from about 50 feet which was where you were about now. You follow your Dad’s instructions, and when you receive the signal to slow down, you do so and even though your landing could have definitely been softer, you still avoid a crash. 

“I’m so proud of you!” your Dad calls out. His mask raises and you can see the look of pure excitement on his face. 

“Thank you, Dad. For everything. This is the best birthday ever.” You wrap your metal arms around your Dad as you try to hug him.

“I never thought I would hug my own kid while we both wear suits,” he chuckles.

“Can I have a fancy name like ironman? Can I be like the majestic 26?”

“Majestic 26?”

“Yeah, because Iron has the atomic number 26!”

“I think we can come up with something, we can do some brainstorming later on! Let’s go have some lunch.”

“Sounds good, Dad. Thank you so much again.”

“Of course, I’m glad you had a good sixteenth birthday. I love you infinitely.”

“I love you too, Dad. Infinitely.”

[yafaemi]

Layers to a Lady

one: outside layer

[Name:] Amandine du Aubrieault.

[Hair Style & Style:] Gray-black, with darker streaks. And no, my hair is not dyed. My hair has not always been mid-shoulder length, as well. It was incredibly long when I was a child. Mostly by my mother’s preference.

[Eye Color:] Violet. Though, I’ve been told my eyes can be mistaken as black in dark enough lighting. I personally doubt it, yet I don’t see any reason to confirm it for myself.

[Height:] Rather average for an Elezen, I believe. Perhaps an ilm or two difference?

[Style:] Fancy, I suppose. I’ve never considered what I call my style. It’s rather hard to mistake that I lean towards the finer things in life, regardless. Or magely? I’ve heard a friend of mine use that term to describe it. (Though that... isn’t a word. Not that she cared. Believe me, I told her such. On multiple occasions.)

[Best Physical Feature:] Hmm... I’ve always been fond of my eyes. At the risk of sounding vain, they’re a wonderful color.

two: inner layer

[Fears:] Being left without control over my life. I value my autonomy far more than I do any laws, though I have a rather funny way of showing it. My greatest fear in this world would be to wake up one day, and realize that all it was all an illusion.

[Guilty Pleasure:] ...This information is staying here, yes? I’d rather not have... any unexpected second parties finding this. The first I thought of was cheesy theatre performances. Whether cheesy for the lack of quality, or just the nature of the show itself, there’s something delightful about it.

[Biggest Pet Peeve:] Those who willfully cling to their ignorance. In my mind, there is no individual weaker than that. Walk with your eyes open, lest they are forced open by another, crueler hand.

[Ambition for the Future:] Long term, or short-term? One is far more personal than the other-- not that I’ll be specifying which is which. Decide between the two if you’d like. For the long-term, I simply intend to live as I’d like, and become a far more skilled mage. For the short-term-- which... really, considering the circumstances, is not half as short as the word suggests... I plan to avenge the death of a friend.

three: thoughts

[First Thought When Waking Up:] The first things I usually ask when I’m awake enough to think coherently is what time it is, or if Oliver is awake first. Usually, if he is, then I can expect there to be hot chocolate in the kitchen. He makes enough of it in the mornings to supply one mug to each soul in Ishgard.

[What You Think About the Most:] Hm. I’m not quite sure, frankly. Though, I suppose it would likely be my friends, whatever book I happen to be reading at the time, or musing about Ishgard’s progress and where it will go in the future.

[What You Think About Before Bed:] Whatever I was doing before going to bed. More often than not, it’s the events of an evening stroll through Ishgard, prior conversations in the day, whatever I happened to be reading, or-- if it was my turn to put wood into the fireplace for the night-- whether or not I actually remembered to do it.

[Your Best Quality Is:] My inquisitiveness. I enjoy exploring ideas, and learning about them. If there is more to learn about something, then I will be there to discover it.

four: what’s better

[Single or Group Dates?] Quite frankly, I hardly have any interest in romance. Yet, if I were to go on a date, I would be more intent on learning about my partner than spending time with friends. Which... really, is a long way of saying single.

[To be Loved or to be Respected?] In a twist that I find rather interesting, I would say loved. Had you asked me some few moons ago, my answer more than likely would have been different. My friends are a terrible influence in the best way possible.  

[Beauty or Brains?] Brains. They will get your farther than looks. At least in my experience. I did not become a skillful mage because of my enchanting physique, I’ll have you know.

[Cats or Dogs?] Cats. Dogs are undoubtedly adorable, yet I hardly have the energy it would take to care for one.

four: do you...

[Lie?] I doubt there’s a soul in the world who hasn’t lied before. Who knows, I may very well be lying about every single one of these responses. (I’m not, rest assured.)

[Believe in Yourself?] Why would I not? While there have been times that I was uncertain of my skills, I’ve always believed myself more than capable of going onwards with whatever is in my way.

[Believe in Love?] Of course I do. There is evidence of it everywhere, after all, when you know where to look. So an old friend would like to say, at least. Though I hope you don’t just mean romantic love. To think only of romantic love when someone says ‘love’ is narrow-minded, at the best of times.

[Want Someone?] Not particularly. I’m quite happy being single, as of now. Who knows. It may change, though I highly doubt that for now. My friends are more than enough.

six: have you ever...

[Been on Stage?] Hm. That depends what you count as a stage? I have, technically, done performances before. On a makeshift stage, at least. I would prefer this stay here, as well. As a child, my mother was quite insistent that I choose some manner of instrument to learn. I decided to tell her that I was interested in learning to sing. My own little way of rebellion, that... didn’t quite go as I had planned. Thus began my rather short-lived career, singing Halonic verses by my family’s requests.

[Done Drugs?] No, and I have no intention of doing so. My mother would rise from her grave the very second she even heard me consider it. Of that I have no doubts.

[Changed Yourself to Fit In Somewhere?] Not particularly. Perhaps as a child, once or twice, in an attempt to fit in with the other children. Yet in my adult years, I can’t think of a time I’ve done so.

seven: favorite

[Favorite Color:] I have a small handful of favorites, though the one I most often think of first is purple. It’s also the color I seem to wear the most often, as well.

[Favorite Food:] This may be a rather strange choice-- yet one I’ve always been fond of is quiche. My mother used to make quite a lot of it. It’s more of out of nostalgia than any real fondness, really.

[Favorite Game:] I’ve never been much for games, in recent years. I usually prefer reading to pass my time. Though, watching Aurora grow increasingly more bewildered as Oliver beat her at Triple Triad without a single clue as to what he was doing was the most invested I’ve ever been into any game since childhood. So, I suppose if I were to list a favorite, it would be that string of games, that night.

eight: age

[When Your Next Birthday Will Be:] Well, seeing as though it’s my nameday today, I suspect it will be in exactly a year from today.

[How Old Will You Be?] I will be turning 26. Halone, that feels strange to say. 

[Age You Lost Your Virginity:] I will make a note not to tell you when it does happen. 

[Does Age Matter?] That, frankly, depends. You wouldn’t put a child on the battlefield. ...Hopefully. In a situation such as that, I should certainly hope age matters.

nine: in a partner

[Best Personality:] Someone who is not afraid of what may lie beyond the horizon, who refuses to shy away from what they find. In whatever sense that may be. It’s an invaluable trait to have, I think. Other than that, I’m not entirely sure what to add. I’ve not put half as much thought into ‘my type’ as others might. 

[Best Eye Color:] Whatever color my partner’s eyes are. I would think that those are the eyes I would find the most enchanting. 

[Best Hair Color:] Generally the same as the prior answer. 

[Best Thing to do With a Partner:] Long, peaceful strolls in the evening, talking about whatever comes to mind. I find such times the best while getting to know each other. Though that may depend on if your partner is the type of person to enjoy them. 

ten: finish the sentence

[I Love...] My friends. As infuriating as they can be at times, I would not give them up for the world. They have changed my life for the better. 

[I Feel...] Quite relaxed, as of now. It’s been a lovely day thus far. 

[I Hide...] A good many things. My secrets are called that for a reason, after all. I am not wont to reveal them without good reason.  

[I Miss...] A departed friend. There have been recent developments that I think she would have been ecstatic to witness for herself, yet the chance was taken from her.  

[I Wish...] Well, I suppose it would be far too simple to say I wish said friend would return. So... hmm. To end on a humorous note, I wish Oliver would stop attempting to burn down our house whenever he cooks something. I am literally capable of producing fire with magic, and somehow he manages to set fire to whatever it is he makes without the use of it. I have to physically restrain myself from asking him to teach me the secrets of his pyromancy, at times. (I doubt he would tell me, regardless. If nothing else, I would just get a pout in response.) 

tagged by: @eligos-venator​ (thank you by the way :O) 

tagging: @nekun-uul​ and whoever would like to join! :D