#not just sleeping in har car which she is doing anyways—

[eddiekye]

somebody really should take eddie camping

[dear-ao3]

look we all sing and praise phineas and ferb until the cows come home (and rightly so) but we are all absolutely sleeping on fetch with ruff ruffman.

the opening of season four is so entirely unhinged. his evil identical twin brother steals all his belongings (including his assistant chet the mouse) and sells them online for some reason and he has no more fancy pants so he can’t take the poodle next door charlene to the poodle ball and he gets a fax saying he’s fired but it’s signed as “ha ha” which his assistant supervisor blossom pepperdoodle von yum yum says is most likely just a joke but no ruff thinks that it’s from harriet hackensack who just bought their tv station and hates dogs so he decides that he is going to go to australia where she is to get his job back so his grandma buys him back his computer (and chet) from his evil brother and then blossom hands him a book that she wrote about converting your dog house into a car or submarine running in alternative fuel so they decide to harness the power of chinese food (oil) to convert the dog house which ends up looking like a chicken car and go to australia but they didn’t build a submarine so it starts to sink until they use a bunch of pineapples in a net to make the ship float then they encounter ruffs ancestor who’s a spoof on blackbeard and they escape attack because ruff tells him to go on his website on pbskids and play science games and then they discover that auditions for season 4 contestants were actually today and ruffs usual dog murray resigned and replaced himself with hank who is a bulldog so hank has to audition 3000 kids to be contestants on fetch then they accidentally eat the pineapple floating their ship and crash land on an island and it turns out it’s poodle island which is like alcatraz for dogs and they arrest ruff because they mistake him for his evil identical twin brother scruff and he escapes though a tunnel scruff dug after finding notes scruff wrote about hitting banks hard and then they finally make it to australia where ruff dresses as a cat and goes to talk to harriet it gets stuck in the cat costume and harriet kicks him out after hiring blossom who comes back and tells ruff that harriet hates dogs because a dog named murray stole her sled named rosebud when she was a child and that murray was ruffs old employee and ruff still has the sled but then it brakes and he gets a call from his nephew glen saying that he will give him his lugeing sled if he enters the world lugeing competition dressed as a troll and then he gets a call from his great uncle mcruffmantosh saying that he can’t because one of his ancestors a thousand years got in a fight with a norwegian ice fairy and cursed all rugfmans who get on a sled but ruff decides to do it anyway and names the sled the rosebud 2 and plans to dedicate his win to harriet so he can get his job back but surprise scruff his evil brother is also at the competition and reveals that he sold ruffs stuff to pay for luge training so he could break the norwegian ice fairy curse and they team up and come in dead last place but make history as the first ever canine luge team and harriet is very moved by their performance and ruff asks her for his job back and she says she never fired him so the whole throng was a joke the whole time fabricated by ruffs nemesis spot spotnick who bought ruffs fancy pants to take charlene the poodle next door to the poodle ball but ruffs pants are so fancy that they have a self destruct button and he destructs them and embarrasses spot and then they announce the contestants on the show. like. who pitched that.

(it’s all on youtube)

[fiveapocalypse]

for the kid five and parent siblings thing:

could you do something about one of the siblings (maybe klaus?) taking five shopping! i think it’d be a very chaotic experience 😌

Allison is normally the grocer in the family for many reasons. For one, Klaus would buy everything he landed his eyes on, Ben (sparrow) was a bit too angry with people even if they deserved it, Diego was a great grocer but he tended to be busy at times, Luther was also good at shopping and wouldn’t mind doing it but sometimes he wasn’t home, and Viktor was usually doing a lesson or had already shopped and Allison didn’t want to force it on him again. Everyone did their part in the house after all. This meant, however, that she was the one shopping with Five.

Normally, when one of the siblings shopped with Five, they came back ranting about the whole trip. Allison didn’t see what the problem was. Five wouldn’t be THAT bad to shop with. He was always saying he was grown. How annoying and chaotic could it be?

Unfortunately, as she’s going to find out, it was actually going to be a little bit different than what she imagined.

For one, Five ACTUALLY needed one of those child harnesses. Turns out he has a habit of just walking away from you without warning and scaring both himself AND you once he falls out of auto-pilot and realizes he’s alone. For two, he was like a kid in a candy store. He often grabbed stuff out of the blue, trying to see what they were, tossing them in the cart absentmindedly. It’s a habit, she knows, from his apocalypse days where he grabbed anything he could, stuffing it inside his wagon and dragging it along the wasteland’s streets. This, however, was NOT the apocalypse and Allison had to put back a million cans (exaggeration, maybe) of food and other items, explaining to a very slightly out of it Five (Luther had dumped their brother on her when he was STILL sleeping which, in hindsight, was probably not a good idea when five woke up in the car nearly screaming and was still not awake enough to realize he was in the real world) that this wasn’t the apocalypse, he didn’t need to get all this food, it wouldn’t go bad and would still be there when they went shopping again.

None of these actions were bad, however, and Allison didn’t mind being her brother’s keeper. It taught her how to be more patient, anyway.

Every few minutes, Five would grab her wrist, fingers sliding across her pulse.

Every few minutes, he’d sidle up close to her, and mumble that she was warm, and that was funny, because dead people aren’t warm.

Every few minutes, Allison noticed Five grabbing her hand, letting her hold his, squeezing it.

Shopping was good. Great even. It was a little sad, and it was a little hard to manage, but Allison loved it. She loved hanging out with her siblings, enjoyed spending time together with a brother she never knew after the age of thirteen, was happily—

“Oh my god, Five, get DOWN!”

Or well, she WAS, until her pint sized brother was climbing the shelves and was now on the top row, legs dangling from the ledge, the very SHARP ledge, the harness leash that lead from his body to her hand was hanging limply in the air because Allison assumed that, since Five started holding her hand, he wouldn’t go wander off.

She was wrong.

Five frowned at her, standing up on his two feet. He peered down, then took a step back and shook his head until he looked like a bobble head.

Allison’s stomach twisted at the reminder.

Five hated heights. Something to do about their father, and training, and rooftops. He might have gotten over the fear in the apocalypse, because he HAD to, but he’s tired, and in a body that hasn’t gone through the even worse effects of the apocalypse (the doctor says he has asthma, that his skin is sensitive, as if it had been burned, that his eyesight has deteriorated, that his hearing is a bit off, that he can’t walk too well, run too fast, somehow his leg broke a few times? He had to stave off an infection? Cut off his own fingers? Allison didn’t want to hear more), and now he doesn’t want to get down the shelf he climbed because it was much too high and he was terrified of using his powers out of the mindset that he would disappear all over again.

Allison breathed.

Held her arms out.

“Hey… hey, I need you to use your powers, okay? Just your teleporting. Nothing else. You can do that. You’ve always been good at that.”

Five gives her a look. As if to say he’s NEVER been good at that. The evidence is his body, the apocalypse, Allison keeps telling him to, because if she doesn’t, Five will stay up there, shaking like a leaf because he’s under the air vents, and close to screaming his head off. He still looks like he’s half asleep.

But, he does curl his hands into fists, uncurls them quickly when he sees flickering blue light.

“Just teleporting.”

Five blinks at her.

“You can do that. Remember when you kept teleporting in front of us during training? The race exercise.”

His face scrunches up. His hands glow blue.

“You don’t have to think about it. Not too much at least. Just—it’s a bit like picturing where you wanna go, right? And just—telling your body to take you there.”

A few seconds of silence go by, and then a whoosh that startled Allison enough that she almost didn’t catch Five who practically latched onto her like a koala. Right. She’s warm. Like a living, breathing, human.

“You’re okay,” she mumbles, because Five is still in the apocalypse, and those shelves he climbed were probably broken buildings and hazardous rubble, and Allison was probably just a figment of his imagination, telling him to use his powers, to get out of this situation before he died there, cold and lonely.

“You’re okay, I promise.”

Hehe oops you asked for chaotic and I just gave you sadness.

[artificial-milkshake]

Chapter 3: The young man with a beauty mark and red hair

Yooo finally you get to meet Baki. Hehehe.

hAah

________________________

After the dream, you realized that you weren't just getting revenge for yourself, but also your mother and all the others that your father had hurt. You weren't really sure of your self, but somehow that sad dream had boosted your confidence. "Alright, lemme get up Sugar." You spoke softly to your dog who had her head on your lap. She looked up at you with a her big brown eyes as if to plead with you no to move but she moved her head anyway and you gave her a pat on the head. You got up and decided to head out for a walk with Sugar deciding to lay around, opting to not go with you. You smile a little to yourself and give her a peck on the nose before heading out.

| Time skip to the day of the trip |

"Beep…Beeep…Beeeeep…" You open your eyes waking up to your phone alarm ringing in your ear. You immediately go to shut it off, not wanting to hear it anymore because you wanted to sleep in a little longer, but before you can do that Sugar is on you. She laps at your face with her tongue attempting to wake you up and succeeding in her attempt, you push her off of you. "I'm up! I'm up!" You say in protest as she attempts to begin her assault again, with a little triumphant bark she hops off the bed. You get up and out of bed to begin getting ready for your trip. You look over the checklist on your nightstand before getting freshend up and going down stairs to make some food.

Once you are done with everything you hear a knock on the door and open it to find a woman in a black dress and glasses on. "My name is Claudia, I will be taking care of your house while you are away on your trip to Japan." She speaks introducing herself with a small polite bow. "Oh. Hello. I'm Y/N, but you already knew that. Anyway I'll give you a quick tour and I'll be off on my trip." You respond with a small bow as well. You lead the older woman into the house and show her around, you introduce her to Sugar as well. "If you don't mind me asking, what breed of dog is she?" Claudia asks from behind you as you put Sugar into the dog crate in the car and grab a pair of sunglasses that were sitting ontop of the crate. "She is a pure bred Tosa Inu." You respond with a hint of pride in your voice, since the dog breed is considered rare. Claudia nods in response staring at you with a bit of suspicion, you catch this and let out an audible sigh of annoyance. "If you think I'm taking my dog to Japan just to fight, you are poorly mistaken. She is my everything, I would never do anything like that to her." You tell her, your aura suddenly changing from welcoming and friendly to downright hostile. You crush the sunglasses you were holding in your hand, the pieces making noises as they hit the ground. The older woman makes an audible noise of alarm and quickly apologizes. You smile then apologize in return, chalking it up to being nervous about traveling, you hand Claudia a spare set of keys to the house and you're on your way to the airport.

| Time skip to when you get to the airport and board the plane. It's roughly around 13 hours of flight time so I won't go into details, but typical annoying children on plain stereotypes and yada yada yada….|

As soon as the plane lands in Narita Airport, which is the closest aitport to Tokyo, you stretch and let out a loud yawn. Once you disembark the plan you go and find the luggage area and animal drop off spot. When you have your baggage and Sugar secured in her harness and leash, you enter the mian part of the airport plaza. You go down a flight of escalators and from the top you spot a man with a sign with your name on it. Once you reach the bottom you approach the man who politely bows when you reach him, he has a black suit on with a green tie. You bow back in return as Sugar proceeds to sniff him, he leans down to pet her the asks you to follow him. You nod to him in response, he grabs your bags for you then leads you out of the plaza, to a black car. The driver greets you and Sugar as you enter the backs seat. The other man enters the car and asks for the papers. You reach into your bag that you had kept with you and hand him the papers. The man asks you to answer some questions and you agree, in return you ask some as well. After a few minutes of driving you reach your destination, one of the many residential wards in Tokyo. You pass by a large high school and a few minutes later the car stops at a nice looking home. The house itself is modern looking with two stories and a small lawn. You exit the car with Sugar who happily wags her tail at the smell of other dogs in the area. The man with the green tie steps out of the car and leads you inside of the the house, handing you the keys as well as a Japanese to English dictionary. He shows you around the house as the driver takes your bags from the trunk and brings them inside. You thank both of the men profusely once they begin to leave.

| Time skip to around a week later once you get comfortable around the house and the residential area of where you are staying, as well as the Tokyo Dome/around that area |

Around four in the morning you wake up with a sudden jolt, a sharp pain exploding throughout your entire body. "Oh fuck." You groan as you get up from out of bed, heading to the bathroom you take your suppression pills. As you are heading to the bathroom you see Sugar walking towards you, she barks at you once and you know immediately that she needs to go out. "Hold on Sugar." You say to her with a wince as the pain spreads throughout your entire body, you immediately grab your medicine and take it. Once it starts to kick in a little, you throw on some F/C sweats and take Sugar out for a walk. You head down a dark alleyway and let Sugar off of her leash to go explore, she immediately takes off running into a certain direction. You run after her and you loose sight of her, you try and take a sniff of the air but the suppression pills have dulled your senses. You stumble into another dead end in the alleyway way when you you hear a yelp of pain from over the brick wall.

Your entire body freezes when the sound is made again, but in a more desperate tone. The effects of the suppression pills haven't fully kicked in yet, and the sound could be heard yet again which makes your blood boil as the smell of blood, Sugar's blood, wafts over the large brick wall. Your chest tightens up as anger seeps from every pore of your skin. You take a few steps back as your senses heighten some due to the phase of the moon. You run at the wall and leap over it in one bound, your eyes lock onto the situation that is happening. Sugar is fighting off an older Tosa inu that is covered in scars. The other dog had given her a few cuts and she was bleeding as was itself from a deep bite wound in it's shoulder. Once your feet hit the ground, you put yourself between the two large dogs to stop them from fighting. The other dog lunges forward at you but Sugar manages to get past you and slams into the other dog, knocking it away from you. "Knock it off Musashi." You hear from the left of you, immediately you look up to see a young man with a beauty mark and red hair. The dog in question gets up and wags his tail at the young man and meandering towards him. You stifle back a scoff of distain at the stranger and promptly call your own dog over. "Sugar, come here." You command as your dog meanders over towards you and sits in front of you. "You should really keep your dog on a leash," says the young man in a tired voice. "Your stupid dog could've ended up killing my dog." He finishes the sentence with a long yawn, but before he could close his mouth you lunged at him.

You bite down on his shoulder, yet before you can cause any significant damage he lands a punch to your gut. You stagger backwards from the blow, but before you could retaliate, you throw up. Vomit spews from your open mouth as you hurl up everything you had eaten, including a half digested pill of your suppression medication. Before you even realize what you had thrown up, your body begins to erupt in pain. You let out a primal cry as every nerve in your body is set on fire. You quickly try to pick up the half digested pill, but you cannot see through your tears that your body was producing. "No! Dammit! No!" You shout in anger, it was too late, you were going to turn. "Fuuuu-" You're words are cut short as the stranger with the beauty mark and red hair leans down to look at you. Your body begins to grow larger, Sugar nudges against you in an attempt to calm you, but to no avail. You were turning and this young man was about to be in a whole lot of pain.

[crackinwise]

I need to vent because I'm afraid I just ruined multiple lives. If anyone reads thru this, please give reassurance or advice.

Backstory: My mom has had in her head that she wants another dog. I'm busy taking care of all the pets, but my eldest dog needs a lot of attention. Whatever, I humored her. Said if the right dog came about then fate would decide. While looking one night, she found a Chihuahua that was cute so she inquired and quickly found out the dog already had a potential new owner. Oh well, right?

Well, a week later I'm bored and going thru the petfinder site and I see the dog is listed again. I knew my mom wanted to try, so I applied for her. Again thinking if it's meant to be, it'll happen, and if not, oh well. I got approved and they set up an appointment for us to meet the dog that's been staying with a foster family. I think it's fine: we're just going to look and see. If the dog doesn't click with us or there's a sign against it, we'll just apologize and wish the dog the best.

More recent backstory: I did not sleep all night out of anxiety and coughing fits, and my period is due tomorrow. My mind wasn't functioning the best and still isn't.

My assumption was the foster family would drop the dog off at the shelter and an employee would put us in a room alone to decide. That's not what happened today. The family was there when we arrived, waiting. The dog immediately wouldn't stop barking at us. I felt resigned this was a bad sign. Unbothered, the foster dad led us to a room set up for pet meetings. Cool, okay.

Barking continued. The foster family sat there with us, not leaving. The dog, used to them and their safety, naturally kept to them. Finally, they said they'd leave us alone. After a few minutes and a butt scratch, the dog warmed up to us. Licked us, jumped on us, etc. My ESA dog, Reeses, was neutral towards the new dog, which was better than fighting but also not the instant playful bond I hoped for as a sign.

Too soon, the foster family came back in. I didn't get to tell my mom in private about my doubts. But my mom was falling in love with the dog anyway, so any negativity from me would make me feel like I was denying her happiness. The fosters asked the big "What do you think," question. I nervously said "I don't know..." and looked at my mom. My mom was confident she liked the dog, but then placed the Entire. Decision. On. Me. It was suddenly my sole call, in front of the foster family.

I wanted to ask if my mom and we could talk it over alone, but right then an employee walks in to inform us they'll be closing for the day in 20min. Dafuq?! Yeah, it's a Saturday, but it's only noon! I felt trapped. Cornered. I faked being happy and confident the entire time we paid and exchanged numbers. The shelter took our picture as an adoption well done, and thank God my mask was on bc I'm not sure how steady my smile was. The only good thing is the foster family didn't look reluctant or tearful to leave the dog, so I'm now only 5% worried I took the dog from a home that wanted her to be family. It still bothers me, but there's bigger fears right now.

Anyway, we got in the car and I kept internally freaking out. My bro seemed excited for us. My mom felt more sure the longer the car ride home went. My ESA dog, Reeses, ...sulked. She was fine with visiting a strange dog but it had kicked in that dog was coming home with us. There was a tad bit jealous growling when the dog wanted my lap, but she's my ESA for a reason and in Job Mode as long as her harness is on. As soon as we got home, my cat ran in fear, clearly unhappy. She later hissed.

So now I'm terrified my actions have ruined things for everybody. Reeses isn't happy, the cat isn't happy. I now have extra work along with my elderly dementia dog. But if I decide to take the new dog back to fix things for my other pets, am I ruining her happiness? Does she believe she found a new home and would be heartbroken if we rejected her? Would she always wonder what happened or what she did wrong? Would my mom ever forgive me for getting her hopes up?

So, uh, I broke down crying and got these thoughts down. Took a xanax too. Maybe I should just sleep. Reset myself. I have a thing about projecting sadness/abandonment onto animals that makes me spiral into some trauma response I never nailed down. I'm a mess.

[insipid-drivel]

Penny’s new harness is here! She’s settled in and bonded with my cat, Nimue, so much that she’s officially adopted and in training! Welcome to your forever home, Penny!

She has a snazzy new pink collar with her name and address custom engraved on it coming in the mail, too, but she just loves her new harness, and it arrived right in time for her date with the vet to be spayed. The family vet has taken a look at her and concluded she’s very much a Red Heeler and a bit younger than previously supposed, so he’s been taking his time in going over her bloodwork and DNA to check on some breed-specific drug intolerances before they expose her to any heavy medications when she goes in to be spayed, boostered, and microchipped next week. Red Heelers were bred down between Australian Cattle Dogs and wild Dingoes, and good lord can you tell Penny has some dingo in her when she’s glowering at a stranger that’s come near her bestie:

Penny has bonded so totally with my other baby girl, Nimue, that the choice to classify Penny as a foster pet in my house has pretty much been taken out of my hands! It’s also been several weeks of sustained searching for previous owners, and she hasn’t been claimed or inquired after. My 65-year-old mother loves her as a companion and guardian when she’s gardening and working outside (which Penny makes her feel safe enough to do alone with her and her elderly doxie safe from intruders), and Penny has come to recognize when my autistic brother has had a very hard day at work and is in a state of overload, and so she runs to him and literally hugs him when he needs to have a good cry. 

Penny and Nimue love each other so much that they spend every waking moment playing, cuddling, and grooming each other, and can’t stand to sleep separately at night anymore. Both become extremely distraught if they find that the other isn’t within sight when they wake up and cry until they find each other. As a registered fosterer, I can’t in good conscience separate them. They’ve bonded to the point that it would be psychologically traumatic to both of them to separate them, and having them both cuddling with me at bedtime is too great to give up anyway. It’s kibble-powered serotonin, man.

To be sure Penny isn’t missing someone, I’ve taken her on multiple special sessions using an extremely long lunge line to see if she has any interest in running away or searching for someone, including taking her in the car to where she was previously found to see if she knows her way back (she hated going back there and wouldn’t get out of the car at all). She’s never cried or behaved indoors in a way that suggests she misses where she came from, but the tests outside proved it: Penny won’t bother leaving the boundaries of our yard even though we don’t have a fence to physically stop her, comes when called if she gets loose, and even goes to the front door on her own when she hears “Penny, go inside!” When she feels free to roam, her first priority is to go to the exterior of our secure catio (pictured above; it’s been secured as completely safe from poisonous plants, predators, parasites, and escape attempts and can only be accessed from inside) and watch over her my family and, most of all, her best friend Nimue. 

The best part? The two are almost the exact same age (around 1 y/o) and healthy. They’re in for many, many years of happiness together. 

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 4

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @justine-en @iwillstaywiththemforever @weirdgirlfromtx @edlothia-baby @soul-end @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy

Author's Note: Some of y'all didn't tag so see if that's something on your end. Enjoy the angst and cliffhanger! -Thorne

Wally didn’t come into the coffee shop for almost two whole months after their fight—not that she blamed him—she was still vaguely upset with his harsh words. But she had to admit that she’d gotten used to his warm presence every morning, and not seeing him messed her up more than she thought it would. More often than not, she found herself absentmindedly staring at the door, waiting for him to walk in with that stupid grin on his face and proceed to boast and recall whatever exciting exploits he and his friends had accomplished earlier. It hurt not to see or hear him, and she realized that Wally had become the greatest friend she’d ever had.

Barry still came in though, and if he knew who she really was, he didn’t say anything because he still acted like he always did. So, even if Wally were still angry with her, at least he’d kept his word and not said anything to anyone about her identity. Which if she were honest, tasted bitter when she thought about the price she paid for his silence—his friendship.

It was getting colder again, which meant a lot more people were coming and going from the shop, so at least she could take her mind off her feelings for at least a few hours. Until she got home, and all she was left with were them and a whole lot of silence to think about them with. Sometimes she thought about calling Wally, at least to hear his voice. Hell, even if their last words to one another were frigid, she missed the interaction. She’d give anything to hear him, even taking another round of cold snipes and trades.

She heaved a sigh and wiped down the last few tables of the evening rush, smiling politely at the people who were still sitting at tables or so across. Today had been hectic and there’d been no let up of customers until the last hour of the shift. She’d never thought they’d run out of coffee, but it came close to that a couple hours ago.

The bell above the door chimed and with her back turned to the entrance, she didn’t see who came in, but with another barista at the counter ready to take the final orders of the evening, she didn’t particularly care. All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed. Sleep until hell froze over. That, or until her feet stopped hurting—whichever came first. She let out a quiet laugh that made her chest ache—Wally would’ve found that absolutely hilarious and probably shot back about how if anyone had the right to complain about their feet hurting, it would be him. God, she really missed Wally.

“Melisandre,” someone called quietly, and she glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening when she saw the familiar red head behind her.

Speak and the Devil will appear.

“Wally,” she breathed, voice thick with shock, and before she could stop herself, she was throwing her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

He returned her hug in fold. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who missed this,” he quipped.

She huffed a laugh and pulled away. “Believe it or not, it doesn’t feel right when you don’t come around.” Her eyes narrowed almost sadly. “I’ve missed seeing you, Wally.”

“Same here,” he replied, then glanced at the clock above the espresso machines. “Are you almost off? I want to take you somewhere.”

Nodding, she took a look at her watch. “I get off in about ten minutes. Can you wait that long, or will you perish from boredom?”

“I think I can survive ten minutes, Melisandre,” he retorted and collapsed into one of the booths. “Hurry though, I don’t want to be late.”

She rolled her eyes and deadpanned, “Wally, I can’t speed time up. That’s not how that works.”

“Works for me.” He proudly stated.

“I wonder why?” she retorted sarcastically, then gave him a smile before wandering off to clean the last tables.

***

Despite the fact that Wally could run anywhere he wanted in less than a second, he still owned a vehicle and that was downright baffling in her opinion.

“Dick got it for me.” He suddenly said, shifting the car into drive and she blinked internally wincing at the mention of her brother.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know you didn’t, (Y/N). But you were thinking it.”

“Uh huh,” she doubted and crossed her arms over her chest. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“Knowing you? Probably food, I know you like to ea—” he dissolved into laughter when she reached over and shoved at his side.

“No, I don’t you ass.”

“Really? Because I distinctly remember the time I took a fry off your basket and you looked at me like I’d killed your favorite dog.” (Y/N) glared at him and he pointed at her. “Yeah, that’s the look right there.”

“I don’t like sharing my food,” she said. “You should’ve known better.” Her eyes drifted to the windshield. “So, where are we going?”

“S.T.A.R. labs.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow and stared at him. “Really? S.T.A.R. labs? What’s there?”

Wally shrugged. “Wanted to show you a bit of what it’s like to be me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean you came to see me after all this time and the first thing we’re doing is going to a lab so you can show my what you do?”

His gaze momentarily darted to hers. “Is that a problem?”

“I dunno, I just figured we’d go eat a diner somewhere and apologize to each other.”

“Are you sorry?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Are you sorry? For all of the last three years?”

“Not particularly,” she griped, and he shrugged again.

“Then I’m not sorry for what we said to each other that night.” he let out a sigh. “But I’m willing to let it go, because I’d rather us just have a disagreement than lose what our friendship over it.” he looked at her. “What do you say?”

(Y/N) stared at him for a long moment, then she sighed and nodded. “…Yeah, I agree.”

Wally smiled. “Good.” He turned the wheel and pulled into the parking lot of the lab. “But there is food there for us, so you’ll be satiated anyways.”

“Hardy har har. Shut up, Wallace West,” she shot back, climbing out of the car. Her eyes traveled up the tall building. “Wow, this place is huge, isn’t it?”

She felt him stand next to her. “Yeah. Did you know they had to replace the glass windows a whole bunch of times because Barry and I kept shattering them when we’d run up ‘em?”

(Y/N) blinked, unsurprisingly stating, “No, I did not. But I can see that happening.”

He started towards the doors, leaving her to follow and soon they were stepping into an elevator. She watched him hit the rooftop button and she looked at him.

“If you’re showing me what you do, why are we going to the roof? Shouldn’t we be going to some laboratory inside?”

Wally chuckled. “Patience, young padawan.” He ignored her rolling eyes. “Food first.”

“Oh, dinner in the moonlight? Well, aren’t you just the romantic.” (Y/N) cocked her elbow on his shoulder and grinned. “Don’t tell me you fell in love with me all that time we spent away from each other?”

This time, he was rolling his eyes. “Hardly, (Y/N). I just figured you’d want a nice evening where you weren’t staring at your bland kitchen walls.”

She scoffed and pulled away from him. “Look, I’d paint and hang shit up but the landlord wouldn’t be happy.”

“Since when do you care about making people happy? You’re typically a ‘I’m going to make someone unhappy’ type of person.” Her eyes shifted to his and he waved a hand. “Not what you’re thinking about—I was talking about the coffee shop.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, then she hummed. “There’s nothing more fun than telling someone I’m going to get the manager and then do my magic little spin and cheerfully greet, ‘Hi, I’m the manager’.” She grinned. “Does wonders to see Karen’s little head explode.”

Wally chuckled and the elevator dinged. The doors split open, and they walked out onto the rooftop. Surprisingly, the roof was enclosed and lighted, giving her perfect vision and when her eyes fell on them, her heart seemed to stop in her chest, and her feet to a halt.

They stood from the table they’d been sitting at and with her heart hammering against her ribcage, she immediately spun on her heel, intent to flee back into the elevator, only to come chest to chest with Wally, who wrapped his arms around her waist—effectively keeping her in place.

Her feet were still moving on their own accord and she shoved against his chest, trying to get back to the lift. “Wally, move.”

“No, (Y/N),” he murmured, and she could feel her breath starting to come in and out in panicked spurts.

“Wally, please, I’m begging you, move.” She stared up at him and plead, “Please don’t make me do this. I’ll do anything, just please let me leave.”

His evergreen eyes were narrowed in pity, but there was a firmness that rested within that pity and he shook his head. “I can’t let you leave, (Y/N).”

“Wally, please,” she begged, arms starting to go limp against his chest, the tears flooding her vision. “Don’t make me do this.”

“You’ve gotta stop running, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her, and she rested her cheek against his chest. “I hate you…so much.”

“I know,” he murmured.

“You’re a liar and I hate you.”

Wally sighed. “I know you do.”

(Y/N)’s face contorted in anger despite her pain. “I should’ve left the night we fought. I knew you wouldn’t be capable of keeping it from him. From any of them,” she sneered and suddenly pulled away from his grip, eyes flashing with rage.

“This wasn’t your right to tell!” she shouted at him and shoved him in the chest. Wally didn’t budge an inch and she shoved him again. “God, I was so naïve to assume you’d keep your fucking mouth shut! That’s one thing you’re not capable of doing!”

She growled and turned from him, running her hands over her face. “Three years of relative peace shot straight down the fucking drain,” she shot him a teary glower. “All because of you and your big bleeding heart for your best friend.”

Wally frowned. “I’m doing what I think is best, (Y/N).”

“Forcing me to meet them isn’t what’s best, Wally! I didn’t want to be found! I didn’t want to be associated with them again!” she snarled and in an instance her anger cooled, her shoulders drooping as she lamented, “…This wasn’t a decision you should’ve made. This was never your right to decide. For me…or for them.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t,” he agreed. “But if you weren’t going to draw the line in the sand, I was.”

(Y/N) met his gaze and held it for a long moment, then she turned her attention to the four men who were standing in front of the table, their expressions a mixture of regret, anger, and relief.

She let out a long sigh and reached up to rub at her temples. “Let me guess, I’m not allowed to leave until we’ve had our picture-perfect reunion scene?”

Wally nodded. “The elevator is sadly,” his hand shot backwards and with a sharp crackle of lightning, the light went out. “out of order.”

(Y/N) shook her head in disappointment at him then declared, “The next time I run, I’m settling in a city that has no superheroes.”

“Good plan,” he quipped. “But I don’t think there’ll be anymore running.”

She got up in his face and hissed, “Then you underestimate my feelings regarding the brothers and father before me.”

[egcdeath]

first impressions

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader 

summary: [request] “hmm prompts... Ransom introducing you (a total opposite of him) to his family for the first time, or a Thrombey wedding! if you feel like it” i like where your brain is at anon! but why not a little bit of both? ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: pretty fluffy, some angst, toxic family dynamics

author’s note: this has been super lightly edited so pls forgive any mistakes <3 click here if you’d like to be added to my taglist & all reblogs are super appreciated!

You felt slightly out of place driving through the neighborhood of your youth in the passenger seat of Ransom’s beloved Beamer. Thinking of how your parents would react to your boyfriend, let alone his lifestyle of excess, made your heart rate increase, and you shuffled a bit in your seat unconsciously as a result of your nerves. As if he were reading your thoughts, Ransom set a steady hand on your knee and gave it a tiny reassuring squeeze before parking in front of the curb ahead of your home. 

Nervously exiting the vehicle, you watched wordlessly as Ransom grabbed your overnight bags from the trunk, and hauled them over his shoulders. Still saying nothing, you reached out and grabbed Ransom’s hand, constricting his circulation as you strolled up to your door, and rang your own doorbell.

When your mother whipped open the door and offered you an excited grin, you finally were able to let out the breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“Goose!” your mother cheered, squeezing the life out of you while you snuck a glance at Ransom who seemed rather amused by the childhood pet name. “And who’s this?” she asked, pulling away from you and looking him up and down.

“I’m Ransom, your daughter’s boyfriend,” he announced with confidence, offering your mom friendly smile, before glancing back over at you and raising his brows the slightest bit. 

“Finally putting a face to the name, then. I’ve heard all about you from this one. Come on in,” she gestured for the two of you to enter. “Y/N can show you to her room, and dinner will be ready in about a half hour,” with that, your mother was off, and you were once again alone with Ransom.

You showed him up to your room, where he set down the bags and flopped down onto your bright pink duvet.

“Goose, huh?” he questioned, rolling on the hyperfeminine twin mattress. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before sitting down next to the headboard of the bed.

“Do you think she liked me?” Ransom asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Did you tell her good things about me?”

“Since when do you care about what other people think of you?” you giggled a bit, and planted your fingers in Ransom’s hair. 

“I care because…” he thought for a moment, calculating just how honest he wanted to be. “I care because this is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and I want my future parents-in-law to like me.”

“We’ve been together for like, a year, Ran. But I applaud your commitment to me,” you massaged his scalp as you spoke, and ignored the butterflies floating throughout your torso at his mention of marriage. 

“Well? Do you think she likes me?” he asked once again. 

“Mmm, I like when you care about things,” you pressed a little peck to his forehead, and hovered a bit over his face. “She said like, 20 words to you, max. But after dinner I’m sure they’ll like you. At least I hope they will.”

Ransom playfully swatted at you. “How comforting. Wait, stay right there,” he reached up and held the hand that was massaging his scalp in place. 

——

By the time dinner came around, you seemed to have switched emotions with your partner, as you were feeling much more relaxed, and Ransom on the other hand, was not.

He kept a hand on your knee under the table in what seemed like a grounding technique, squeezing every now and then while your father plated your meals.

“So, how did you two meet?” your father questioned, sitting down beside your mom.

“We met while we were volunteering at the Humane Society together,” you gushed, glancing over at your partner who was nervously sipping his water, then back at your parents. “He always seemed so pissed in the beginning. I mean, the amount of times I saw him growling obscenities while tugging on harnesses, or playing the most unenthusiastic games of fetch I’d ever seen in my life is astounding,” you laughed softly, and looked over at Ransom once again as if you were cueing him to speak.

“Yeah, I really didn’t like it there at first. Not really a dog guy, but my grandad said it was community service or no allowance, and I was not interested in the latter,” he chuckled awkwardly and received confused expressions from your parents, which granted you an SOS squeeze on the knee. 

“Um, anyway, one day we were closing, and I went into the last cat suite, and there grumpy old Ransom was, cuddling with Garfield, you know, the old cat with the three legs, and it was literally the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Especially ‘cause Garfield is so hard to please,'' you paused to take a bite of the food in front of you. “We started talking more after that, then he asked me out, and of course I said yes. I guess the rest is history.”

“Aw, Goose, that’s so cute!” your mom cooed, but the moment didn’t last too long. 

“What do you do for work, Ransom?” Your dad asked, tilting his beer at the man. 

“I’m currently in between jobs. But, uh, I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work.” 

Your father nodded wordlessly and paused for a second. “Volunteering get you a Beamer?”

“Dad!” You interrupted in a yelp, “please.” You frowned as you looked between the men. 

“Y/N, it’s fine. It’s a good question, but I got it as a gift a few years back. And, you know, my family’s comfortable.”

Before your father could respond, your mom popped in to save the conversation. “No money talk at the table, please. Tell me more about your relationship,” she gave both of you a sympathetic look. 

——

After that, dinner went on without much of a hitch, and you agreed upon doing the dishes with your mother while your father and boyfriend prepared a little fire outside.

“He seems sweet,” she commented after a long period of silence. 

“I’m glad you think so. He was really worried about you not liking him, and honestly, I was too,” you rinsed the last glass before setting it in your dishwasher.

“I just want you to be careful, okay? When you have that much money, people do strange things, or say things they don’t mean and expect you to just take it. He seems like a good boy, but just don’t let your guard completely down. The last breakup you went through-“

“Stop, I get it,” you sighed softly. 

“This doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I just don’t want to see you that hurt again,” she gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Let’s go stop your dad from catching a murder charge,” she beckoned you to follow her out to the backyard, where your boyfriend and dad were… laughing together? If you weren’t so relieved, it’d almost be off-putting. 

The rest of the night went alarmingly well, Ransom finding a way to bond with both of your parents after an awkward first half of the evening. As the two of you crawled into your tiny bed and spooned while drifting off to sleep, Ransom slurred a tired ‘I think they liked me,’ into your ear. 

From that point on, Ransom’s position within your family only became better. For the first time, he was welcomed into a familial environment that wasn’t more toxic than a Chernobyl cooling tower, and Ransom was loving it. After suggesting to spend that year’s Thanksgiving at your parents’ home, spending the holidays with the L/N family became a frequent occurrence for the two of you. 

Though you occasionally wondered why you were four years into a relationship with the man, and still hadn’t met his family, which to your understanding, was rather large, you had better things to concern yourself with. You understood and respected that Ransom’s relationship with his own family wasn't the best, from the little that he shared with you, but occasionally curiosity often got the best of you.

Yet, things seemed to shift after your engagement. In the midst of dress fittings and cake tastings, Ransom had decided that it was finally time for you to meet the rest of the Thrombey clan, and that there was no better time than Harlan’s book release party, which was being celebrated out in California, at the Thrombey Vineyard.

In your years of relationship, you’d become no stranger to luxury, and the finer things in life, but arriving at the Vineyard put you in awe at just how affluent these people were. Perhaps that’s what happens when you’re one of the great writers of your time, and your offspring go off to become equally “self-made” successes.

You were a bit tired from the three hour difference between Boston and Sonoma Valley, and as soon as you hopped out of the car at the vineyard, you could only think of getting to your room, out of your baggy travel clothes, and to sleep as soon as possible. 

Trailing behind Ransom, you looked around at the vast expanse of crop-filled land around you in astonishment while you walked up the cement path to the mansion, not really noticing the petite woman with curled blonde hair, and an oversized straw hat approaching you. 

“Oh gosh, you must be Y/N!” she said gleefully. “I’m Joni. I’ve seen you all over Ranny’s Insta,” she paused and looked you up and down. “Well, you do look a little different there,” she chuckled.

“That’s great, Joni. Maybe you can Tweet about how exhilarating and life changing this experience has been for you to all your little pyramid scheme friends.”

“You’re always so rude, Hugh,” she sneered.

“I forgot about your chronic victimhood. Goodbye, Joan,” he rolled his eyes, and practically tugged you inside the massive building in front of you, before dragging you up the stairs. You were honestly in a little bit of shock at seeing how nasty Ransom got from just a small interaction.

You set your Louis Vuitton Keepal, and aluminum suitcase down on the granite floor of the bedroom, before flopping down, and spreading your limbs out on the massive memory foam bed that sat in the center of the room, “What was that, Ran?” you questioned as he sprawled out next to you.

“The reason why I didn’t want you to meet them. They’re like sharks, looking for anything that even resembles blood in the water,” he threw an arm around you and yawned. “We can talk about this in the morning, though. Right now, I think that both of us need a shower.”

“Speak for yourself, you stink bug.”

“But what if I get lonely in there?” 

“Fine,” you huffed, moving his arm off of you, and heading off to the en-suite. 

That night, as you stared at the blank wall in a vain attempt to quiet your mind enough to fall asleep, you questioned if coming to meet Ransom’s family was more of a mistake than you initially anticipated.

The next morning felt a bit frantic. You and Ransom woke up a few hours before everyone else, as they’d been in California for a few days now and had adjusted to the time difference, while you two had not. An in-house chef made you two a gourmet buffet of a meal while housekeepers laid out your clothes back in your room, and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the sudden interferences in your life. Though it was nice to not have to do all of the work, you weren’t sure how you felt about other people doing it for you. 

The majority of your day felt similar to that morning. You quickly realized that Ransom’s fortune was just a small portion of the Thrombey estate, and that his family were essentially a bunch of monsters with money. Throughout the day of horse riding, wine tasting, and wine painting workshops, you couldn’t help but notice how they turned their noses up at you, treating you, and the staff working at the vineyard, like some sort of outsider. 

Your alienation only became more apparent during Harlan’s celebratory dinner, when insults and sneers were tossed at both you and Ransom for being together. 

“Are you trying to get revenge on us, or something?” Richard asked at one point, gesturing to you, and catching you completely off guard, 

“Why would you say something like that?” Ransom asked, trying not to let his offence show as his jaw clenched.

“It’s just not like you to want to settle down, especially with someone like… her,” he spoke about you like you weren’t sitting right there.

“No, I agree,” Walt added. “For once in our lives I agree with you,” he laughed aloud, and a few other folks at the table laughed with him. “Can you believe that after all these years, we’re bonding over Ransom’s little girlfriend?” 

You weren’t even sure how to react, so you laughed awkwardly along with them, and stared blankly at the vast expanse of grape trees behind the row of Thrombey and their friends. What you would give to sprint out into that, and never come back. 

Ransom looked to you in your obvious discomfort, and grabbed your knee, offering it a little reassuring squeeze before he interrupted them. 

“You know what? All of you dickheads can eat shit. Y/N is really the only person who matters to me at this point, and you pricks need to respect that. Hell, you need to respect her.” 

“Look at little Ranny, getting all soft,” Walt chided. 

He ignored the comment and continued on, “And If I don’t start hearing apologies soon, every single one of your wedding invites have a one way ticket to the shredder.”

A silence fell over the table. You were a bit surprised too, since your invites had already gone out, and Harlan was the only Thrombey to receive one.

“...You’re getting married?” Meg asked, breaking the silence. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?” 

“Why do you think?” you muttered, pushing around a few things on your plate before standing up, and pushing your chair away. “Excuse me.”

You knew that by leaving, you were only opening yourself up for more criticism, but you genuinely weren’t sure that you’d be able to take one more second of hostility. You pushed your chair back in, before heading off the patio, into the gigantic home, and up to the room that you’d claimed.

You rolled on top of the bed, and screamed into a feather filled pillow. It wasn’t too long after when tears stung your eyes as you came to the conclusion that these monsters were just a few months away from becoming your in-laws.

You thought you’d heard the most of it after the table, yet a prompt knocking at your door proved otherwise. Letting herself in, you turned to face Ransom’s mother herself, and you just knew that you were in for it.

“Listen, you whore,” Linda began in a sharp, yet quiet tone, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do with my son. Isolate him from us. Try to ‘change him’ like I know you think you’re doing. But just know that at the end of the day, he’ll always pick us. You’ll always be the second choice, especially when Ransom realizes that you barely have a dime to your name, and his bank account starts to runs dry,” she approached you, and pointed an accusatory finger towards you. “You’ll never be anything but a disgusting, sloppy little gold digger. You may be his toy of the week, but at the end of the day, you’re just an afterthought. I suggest that you get out of his life sooner than later. I’m sure Ransom wouldn’t mind, considering we already have your replacement with one foot in the door,” she gestured over to the window facing the back patio, where Ransom was chatting with a brunette woman that appeared to be quite a few years younger than himself.

“You’re cute, Y/N. Really! It’s cute that you’re thinking right now that he would never leave you, cheat on you with some new, younger, hotter piece of ass. Just know that you don’t know Ransom as well as you really think you do. I can promise you, it’ll be much easier to break off an engagement than it’ll be to get a divorce. Especially with that prenup he’s considering dropping on your desk any day.” she tutted as if she cared. “Well, sweetheart, it was great meeting you. I’m glad that these were our first and last words together,” she gave your back a pat before leaving the room, and you looked out the window in shock. 

Shaking as you dig into the pocket of your sundress, you sent Ransom a simple ‘help’ message, before setting your phone aside and trying to pack your belongings in as quick of a manner as possible.

When Ransom opened the door, a steady stream of tears and mascara was staining your face, while you urgently threw things into your suitcase.

“Goose, what happened?” he gasped, hurrying over to your kneeling form, and setting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Why,” you sniffled. “Why would you let her come up here and say all that shit to me!” you croaked, swatting his hand away from you. 

“What?” he watched as you pressed down on the overfilled suitcase and frantically attempted to zip it, to no avail. “Linda said she was gonna come apologize?”

“Telling me that I’ll never be enough for you is just a perfect apology,” you muttered, “I need to go home.”

“God,” he grumbled to himself, “This is exactly why I waited so long for them to meet you. Okay, we can go home then. I’ll buy us tickets right now.”

“This is on you too, Ransom. You didn’t tell them about us, like, at all. You had so much time! You couldn’t give Linda a call and say ‘hey I’ve been seeing this girl’ or even tell Harlan to deliver the message for you?” you hiccuped, but continued. “All of this could’ve been avoided if they had four years to adjust to our relationship. Maybe then they wouldn’t call me a whore and a gold digger every other sentence.”

“I was just trying to protect you from them,” he frowned.

You finally managed to zip up the suitcase, and stood up along with it, “well, you clearly did a great job of that.” 

You dusted off the skirt of your dress, and grabbed your phone. “I’ll let you know when our car gets here,” you huffed before walking into the en-suite and closing the door behind you, just to have a moment for yourself (and make yourself look a bit more put together before you leave.)

A tense car ride, and awkward flight later, you marched straight into the guest bedroom, and cocooned yourself under a copious amount of blankets. You felt like you stayed there for years, only getting out of bed to shower and use the restroom, and living off of the crustless sandwiches and jarred spaghetti your fiancé brought to your door. 

You slept most of the time, and in the moments you weren’t sleeping, you were dwelling on every vicious word thrown at you at the vineyard. Every day, you listened to Ransom apologize through the door, yet every day, you questioned if going through with the wedding was truly the wisest idea. 

A few days into your stay in the guest bedroom, you finally allowed Ransom to stay in the room for more than just dropping off food. He sat down next to you in bed, and cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly back and forth against the skin. 

“I don’t know how I can make things right for you,” he said softly. “I really did set you up, and I didn’t even mean to. I should’ve made better decisions, but I can’t change four years ago. But I can keep those heinous people away from you. They’ll never have the chance to do, or say anything like that to you again, okay?” his thumb caught on a tear, which he promptly wiped away. “Just… please don’t leave me. The bed feels too empty without you, and it’s just been a few days. I can’t imagine feeling that emptiness for the rest of my life.”

You whimpered and sat up, abruptly embracing the broad man. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let your idiot family make me question the validity of our relationship,” you muttered into his shirt. 

“I promise you you’ll never have to worry about them again. They had their opportunity to make things right, and they missed it.”

-----

Things were more or less smooth sailing after that fiasco. You found your perfect venue, decided on your ideal Honeymoon spot, and finished your seating arrangements with time to spare, and the next thing you knew your wedding day was around the corner. 

It all seemed to happen so fast, one second you were being walked down the aisle, the next, exchanging vows and rings as aisles of your friends and family members cheered for you, Y/N Drysdale.

Your reception also seemed to slip right through your fingers, your first dance, toasts and cake cutting finding itself over almost as soon as it started. You were grateful that you hired a wedding videographer, as the day was so overwhelming, you weren’t quite sure how much of it you’d remember. 

As you drove off to the airport, Ransom set his hand upon your knee one more time. A warm, fuzzy feeling formed in your chest at the all too familiar gesture. You turned your head from the window to your husband, who was grinning back at you, and couldn’t help but to think of how perfect your wedding ended up, though it felt like it sped by quickly. More than anything, you were grateful that you didn’t give up on Ransom despite his interesting family. 

[hornime]

saeko, an angel

you’ll let yourself believe a vain and untrue fairytale that humans can fly among the angels if it means that you can be in her presence for a moment longer.

warnings: gay lol

w/c: 2k

a/n: i’m so in love with her. also this is sfw which goes to show how much i am in love with her.

you crack your eyes open, a bright white light blinding you and forcing you to close them again, the burn settling into your pupils. you wait a minute, letting the red behind your closed eyelids warm to a fiery orange, before trying again, squinting as you let your eyes slowly adjust to the morning sun. and then you see her, through the blurry haze of dawn.

an angel.

you silently blink early tears away, too afraid of moving or making a noise and scaring the divine being away. as bubbles of light start sharpening into crisp clarity, you realize where you are: a hotel bed, with clean white curtains and walls framing a heavenly scene. and you realize what you’re seeing: saeko. so yeah, close enough, you think. an angel.

you remain immobile: your hands are tucked under the pillow and quickly going numb at the uncomfortable position, and the kink in your neck is demanding more and more of your attention as your nerves realize that you’re awake, naturally refusing to give you a mere minute of painlessness. but the aches in your joints and throbbing behind your eyes become secondary as you become transfixed on her, her. her, silently sitting on the edge of the bed and playing with the linen beneath her with the tips of her fingers, only half of her face towards you. she hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet, a serene smile gracing her face as she remembers a joke, something between her and herself. saeko, an angel.

it’s funny, you think, how mom always told me that mornings were times of clarity, times when things make sense. you remember a story she’d tell you when you were little.

“there’s something about the time when half the world is sleeping and the other half wishes they were sleeping,” she used to say, “that makes things make sense. everyone’s too groggy to start thinking their thoughts for the day. so the universe has all of these thought bubbles in the air, floating around, waiting for someone to just pluck it out of the air.”

“like a ballon?” you’d ask.

“yes,” she’d chuckle. “like a balloon. and you can just pluck it out of the air! sometimes, when the universe needs you to realize something, all those thought balloons will come rushing towards you, and they’ll form a big,” she’d spread her arms for emphasis, “big, big cloud of thoughts. and suddenly, everything would make sense. and you’d get the courage to do something that you’ve been wanting to for a while.”

you used to laugh at that story, imagining someone with a giant thought bubble sneaking out of their ears, carrying them up, up into the air. what could someone even be thinking about, you’d wonder, that would make their bubble so big? you couldn’t fathom contemplating something so large and important that you’d worry it could whisk you away into the atmosphere.

but now, laying here in silence, mom’s words were resurfacing to the flesh of your chest, warming it with something that had been burning there for a while, burning with what the universe had been wanting you to realize for quite some time now. 

you were just scratching the surface of what that was threatened to make you weightless, the strings of balloons tugging restlessly at your arms and legs, wishing you’d just let them fly already. wishing you’d just let yourself fly.

you don’t even realize your eyes are closing until you glance back up again, at the angel perched next to you, wingless yet still able to show you the wonders of the sky. saeko, an angel.

you study her for who-knows-how-long, noting the sheer beauty before you, so delicate yet strong you worry it’ll break itself or break you from the weight of its magnificence. she doesn’t even know, you register, she doesn’t even know that each moment around her is a blessing.

and you know for a fact that each moment is a blessing, because angels are blessings, and she’s an angel. somewhere in the murky depths of moral ambiguity, between drops of bitter vodka from a teenage birthday party and stolen quarters from the mall fountain, there is a glow of truth and irrefutable certitude: that she is an angel. saeko, an angel. 

and you, blessed.

wisps of blonde hair curl from her forehead to her jaw, whispering words in gold that you can only partially translate into a hymn of some kind, its rhythm vibrating along the headboard of the bed and prodding at your ears. you wish to brush them behind her ears, so cliche, she’d say, just so you can see more of that heavenly face. god, you groan internally, why’d you make her so fucking perfect? how’s that fair to any of us mortals? how’s that fair to me?

you trail your eyes down the bridge of her nose, slanted perfectly. you’ve never really thought about what the perfect nose bridge would be, but you know without a doubt that she has it. of course she does. saeko’s perfect. saeko, an angel.

and before you can help yourself, you’re tracing the curve of her lips, plump and pink and oh-so-kissable. you’d drown in those lips if you tried: visions of how they stretch into cheeky grins and purse into pouts could flood your mind if you let them. and you don’t let them, at least not as often anymore, especially since her lips can be really distracting, and last time you thought about them you were driving, and saeko shrieked in laughter when you called her telling her the reason there’s a new dent on the side of the car. 

“we can’t both be bad drivers!” she’d giggled. “that’s feeding into the gay stereotype!”

“it’s not my fault,” you’d grumbled, “that i can only concentrate on one thing when i’m behind the wheel.”

“that ‘thing’ should be the road! not my lips!”

“yeah, i know! but ‘i kissed a girl’ was on the radio and then i thought about kissing a girl and that girl was you and then one thing led to another and...”

the corners of your lips turn up at the memory. although you had been pretty pissed about having to pay for a repair, saeko proceeded to try and fix the dent herself with a plunger since she has a vendetta against auto shops because “they’ll take advantage of pretty things like you” and “motorcycles aren’t that different from cars anyway, so its fine.” and she was sure to give you some quality time with the lips that you’d been so distracted by, so even the fact that your insurance company had upped your rates hadn’t bothered you too much.

the strings of your thought balloons dangle in the air, glowing in the sunlight streaming through the window. you wonder how saeko hasn’t seen them yet. she must really be lost in thought.

your gaze remains steady on her face, her glory, her beauty. i’m lucky, you decide. so so lucky. you can feel your limbs be lifted slowly into the air. the balloons are getting restless.

you’re almost taken aback when you feel something wet roll down your cheek. are you... crying? seriously? you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to get a hold of your emotions. when’s even the last time i felt this in lo—

“hey.” saeko’s soft voice makes you crack open your eyelids as she runs a hand along your hair. “are you okay? you’re crying.”

you smoosh your face further into the pillow. “i don’t know,” you mumble through the comforter.

she repositions herself on the bed so that she’s sitting criss-cross towards you, leaning forward to bring her face closer to yours. “are you on your period?”

“no,” you respond immediately. you nuzzle further into the sheets, but poke your head out again. “wait, i’m not sure. what day is it?”

“the 21st.”

“oh,” you roll over onto your back, stretching your arms out hoping that she’ll hug you. “then maybe.”

saeko obliges to your silent request, crawling her way over and straddling the blanket over your legs before resting the top half of her body on yours. “i knew it,” she whispers into your neck.

you don’t dare look her in the eyes. you know that mortals will disintegrate if they look directly at an angel. you read that in a percy jackson book or something.

but the thought balloons are yanking at your arms, forcing your fingers to run down her spine and through her hair. i must be insane, you think. i’m insane to think that i’ll ever be enough for her. 

she’s an angel, you remind yourself to no avail. wingless, but can still fly. and you are nothing but a human, rooted to the ground by gravity and inevitable death. you’d be a fool to think that you’d ever be enough; after all, what bird would choose to stay on the ground when it can explore a limitless sky?

but you are a fool. you know that now, even if you were in denial before. you’ll let your delicate and fragile thought bubbles carry you into the air and bask in the temporary feelings of freedom before they pop and you crash and burn through the atmosphere. you’ll let yourself believe a vain and untrue fairytale that humans can fly among the angels if it means that you can be in her presence for a moment longer.

you most certainly are a fool, because you let your thought bubbles wrap their strings around you like a harness, pull themselves taut, and prepare yourself to jump out into the morning heavens, putting your trust into the wind to carry you alongside her. your toes are dangling across the edge, the open beyond becoming more and more appealing than the safety of the hotel room. you know that there is no do-over once you take the leap, once you try to fly. you’ll either get to fly beside her or you’ll fall to the ground and face an untimely end. but fuck if you aren’t daring, yearning, stupid enough to jump. 

you swallow. there really is no going back from this.

“saeko?” you let the words carry through the stagnant air of the room, filled with the lemony scent of an air freshener and saeko’s shampoo.

“hm?”

“i—” the wind whips widely at your back and at your balloons, sending them into all directions as they maintain their hold on you. it’s compelling you to fall, to throw caution into it and hold tightly to your faith and let go of your tether. you must be crazy because you’ve already made up your mind. this decision shouldn’t be that easy, but you are scarily sure. 

the earth’s roots are retreating back into the grass and your body is free for the first time. you can’t tell if the air will catch you, but it doesn’t matter anymore. you’ll be the first human to fly, even if it kills you. it probably will.

“i love you.” your feet leave ground and find nothing below them. the helium in your balloons is straining against your weight. your breath hitches—maybe this is how your life ends. maybe this is how the illusion that you’d created for yourself, a love between a human and an angel, disappears: shattered like bones on concrete.

you open your eyes. you hadn’t even realized you closed them. they meet a sky of warm brown, glinting with the promise of flight. the brightness of her smile makes the light of the sun pale in comparison, the same sun she’s gotten closer to than you ever will. her nose is dotted with freckles, mirroring the constellations that you’re sure she’s flown through countless times. you can practically see her wings, her halo. your confession, one you thought would land heavily in the space between you, feels like its expanding into something light. something... weightless.

the air seems to grow solid beneath you. it’s like you’ve realized you can fly. you’re starting to think you can.

“i love you, too.” 

she loves you. saeko loves you. 

saeko, an angel.

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood  Part 2

Part 2 is hereeeeee YAY! There will be a part 3 eventually :) I hope you enjoy and as well lmk you loved it with reblogs and messages, they truly make my day and y’know do it for other writers too, trust me we all love it. this fucking gif still gets me,,, but anyway there is so much i want to talk about in this part its killing me so plssss message me about it aghghghggh idk what else to say 

um this part is filled with: yn not knowing cars, harry being a dork, almost kisses and kisses  , but daddy i love him, the crown, gardening, and so much more mwah

Read Part 1

Word Count: 10.8k | Warnings: minor anxiety attack, swearing?, drinking, think that’s it (some more taylor swift)

-

“You want me to what?!” She feels herself all but scream.

He sighs in exasperation and ruffles his freshly cut curls. He can’t help the smile that grows shortly after his sigh. Y/N’s reaction on the other end of the line has sent him into a fit of giggles that he has to suppress quickly when she sends a warning ‘Harry’.

“It’s simple, love,” He twists to lay on his stomach. “I left you the spare to my place. Just go in, find my car keys and then drive to the airport and snap me up!”

She sighs now over the phone as she contemplates whether she could truly go into Harry’s home and then drive his surely expensive car to the airport and get him. It was something a friend would do for another friend, especially one who was a neighbour and especially a neighbour who had nothing better to do on a Friday night.

“Alright,” she says finally, “I’ll be there on Friday, text me the flight number.”

She grins when she hears a little “woo” from Harry. Even if he’s smiling half a world away it still made her happy to know it was because of her.

They had mostly texted each other randomly over the past three weeks while Harry had been away in California. She told him about her job, which he insisted was endlessly interesting and she countered that he found it interesting because it was new to him and eventually the grandeur would wear off. She loved her job, of course, it was for a public relations company that dealt with various London based companies and she was on multiple accounts with various clients ranging from tech companies to music artists. But she didn’t think it was as interesting as Harry made it out to be.

Harry told her about the filming of the movie and about everyone on set. He told her how he bought everyone on the crew his new ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirts and joked how he’d have to get her one as well to match her other one. She noted that one of Harry’s love languages was very obviously gift giving. He was so generous and she really admired that from him considering how successful he was. Her father was an accountant so she knew how rich people could be about their money sometimes, hiding it away in different entities just so their money can make money instead of spending it on things that matter.

He said everyone was nice and amazing overall, he gushed about people’s performances, but he’d always end with how much he missed London. He liked LA, he would assure her, but then he’d say how it wasn’t home-y at all. London was home to him. She would smile whenever he said that because she felt that way too, even though she wasn’t originally from the city, it just felt like home to her.

One night, he even confided in her his loneliness while on set. He wondered that maybe it was because he had no real roots in LA, nothing to go home to - no home to go to. She tried to reassure him that he wasn’t alone and all he had to do was ask and any person from the movie would love to spend time with him. He nodded along to her words, but they both knew he was being overly kind when he said everyone was nice. Not everyone in Hollywood was nice and certainly not everyone in Hollywood had substance. He searched for a month and seldom found time where he was truly relaxed with others and enjoying himself. More than ever he was excited to return home to London to say the least.

-

“Harry!”

She jumped out of her seat and into his arms, her cheek brushing his as she leaned in. He stood just on the sidewalk by his car that she had gingerly driven into the city and to the airport at 9pm on a Friday night in November.

The car was a dark blue vintage convertible, Mercedes-Benz, she was pretty sure but she really was completely clueless when it came to cars. Harry had taken her call right before his flight took off and walked her through finding the car. He had two garages and one garage had two cars and the other had only one. She had gone on her own and found the first garage with the two cars and seen a lime green tiny little vintage convertible and a cherry red vintage non-convertible and became distraught that there was no navy car. When Harry picked up the phone he had been greeted with some yelling about how he must be colorblind if he thought one of these cars was navy and he had laughed heartily before explaining that there was another garage. She had huffed and traipsed through his house until she came upon the other garage. When she saw the blue car she was equally annoyed and elated. “Thank fucking god,” she muttered over the line and Harry had laughed, but found himself cut off when the line went dead.

He smiled and groaned slightly at her tight embrace. He was happy to be back in England after a month away and he was happy to have her in his arms even if he didn’t know whether he should admit that.

“It’s good to see you,” he musters and he feels her smile into his neck. The only fabric between her face and him being his thin waffle knit long sleeve. He could feel her breath softly against him. He pets at the back of her hair, “Thank you for coming to get me, I know it might have been a bit much to ask.”

“Don’t mention it,” she pulls back from his embrace and smiles happily up at him, “What are friends for?”

She brushes her hands at his shoulders and then moves to start putting his luggage in his car. He had two suitcases and a backpack with him, but he had told her he had more stuff sent over that would just be sent simply to his home. She had texted back a shocked face emoji when he said that, unaware that he traveled with that much stuff.

“Right,” Harry affirms, twitching into action at the word ‘friends’. He felt like they had gotten so close over the last month even though they had only talked over the phone for that time. Seeing her in person now felt like she had been his friend for years.

Once in the car, Y/N settles back in the driver’s seat, not wanting Harry to have to drive after the horrible flight from California to London. A direct flight was just about as bad as layovers in Ohio or Utah. She wasn’t sure what it was like in First Class, but she still knew it was rough being on an aircraft for 10 plus hours.

Harry closes his eyes beside her after a moment. He had watched her settle in the car with his head against the headrest, his eyes drooping as they regarded her movements. She was so sweet to him and he nodded when she asked if he wanted his seat warmer on.

“You’re too good to me, pet,” he whispers, head lulling once again.

She glances at him swiftly as she pulls out of the loading area. He smiled contentedly before drifting off to sleep.  

She turned the music low and silently drove them back to Sherwood Avenue. When she pulled the car into Harry’s garage, she sat there for a few moments as Harry softly breathed beside her. She had hoped he’d wake up upon their arrival so she wouldn’t have to wake him, but alas he was sound asleep.

She watched him, he was so quiet in this moment. So unlike how he normally was with her, talking about everything and nothing almost constantly. She liked that side of him. But she had to admit something about him this peaceful was just as entrancing.

The flutter of his eyelids brought her out of her reverie and she was grateful for the dim lighting in the garage because when Harry’s eyes focused on her she was blushing.

He quirks a brow and his smirk begins to settle back on his lips. “Home,” he raspily mumbles and begins to shift in his sea.

She nods and smiles softly, shaking off all the thoughts had been going through her mind.

“We’re back,” she affirms. “Let’s get you inside, sleepy boy.”

Harry shakes off his slumber with a rub at his right eye and a run through his hair. He climbs out of the car. She throws him the keys at his silent instruction of an extended hand and an eyebrow raise. She knows she read him correctly when he smiles sweetly and travels to the boot of his car to begin unloading the suitcases he was in charge of.

She follows him and rounds the end of the car, preparing to take some of his luggage.  

“You don’t need to carry anything, it’s fine, dove.”

His voice is extra gravelly still and she would’ve complained about the new nicknames if he hadn’t sounded so hot. She didn’t think she had any feelings for Harry other than friendship, she was almost sure of it. Sure he was attractive, but ever since she actually got to know him she hadn’t thought of him in a way that could be considered more than friendship. He made her blush, but he was just inherently smooth. It wasn’t because he was specifically flirting with her.

Except right now, the whole reuniting of it all paired with his voice and his sleepy eyes that she imagined likely looked similar to his bedroom eyes. She was having a hard time seeing that line of friendship.

“No!” She protested, tugging the backpack he was attempting to carry along with the two suitcases from him.

He sighs and sets down one of the cases, “Y/N, you’ve already been too good to me by picking me up. I’m not making you do any more physical labor with any of my heavy shit.”

“It can’t be that heavy,” she pulls the backpack on and she resists the slight step back her body wants to take from the weight of the backpack.

“Give it back,” he says, sounding concerned for her.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it, Har,” she smiles and gives a little twirl in his large garage, the backpack making her look a bit smaller.

He twists his lips trying to ward off a smile. He wasn’t annoyed, moreso he was delighted by her antics. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her.

“Oh you got it? Do you?” His amusement betrays his British accent, making him sound like he did at 19. He places the other case on the ground and walks quickly to stand right in front of her.

She squeals as he gets so close, his nose just about brushes hers. He’s smiling sinisterly as he takes hold of the straps of the backpack and tries to tug them off of her. Yet, she holds on tight to the front of them, laughing happily at their silliness and causing her nose to brush against his.

Their eyes are strong on each other, watching their every move. And they settle a little, laughter dying out, breathing evening out. Her hands are still strong on the front straps of the backpack, while Harry’s are strong on the top of her shoulders, wrapped around the backpack’s straps as well.

He licks his lips, feeling especially interested in seeing how hers finally taste. Right as he is about to lean in, brush his lips against hers, she pulls from his grasp, swinging away from him and dashing to the door that leads to the rest of his house.

“C’mon, it’s freezing out here!” She twists the nob of the door and beckons him.

He huffs, shaking himself out of the daydream he had almost made reality. He wanted to kick himself, he felt like a kid. He needed to get a grip.

“I’m right behind ya’,” he called, nodding his head to tell her to go before him.

Her smile sears in his mind like the shine on a brand new coin as she flicks on the light in the entryway. The light comes flooding in the doorway and around her. For that quick moment only she is illuminated in his eyes. She shines for him and he wonders if it’s possible to drown in light.

-

Next Thursday

“Crown came out on Sunday!” Harry said as he opened the door, knowing it was Y/N who had knocked.

“Had no clue from the ominous text you sent, ‘come over, i promise popcorn *crown emoji*’,” she laughs and enters the house and holds out a bag of chocolate chips.

“I already have it queued up and popcorn’s popping!” He says happily and takes the chocolate chips to put in little dishes.

They walk into the kitchen and she’s still in awe of his home. It was clean and sleek but with all the hominess still easily found if you looked a little closer. Tea cloths hanging over the ovens’ handles that had interlocking G’s - a facet of Gucci she could only assume. Various paintings of different scenes, one a Japanese store front and another a Blue Jay perched easily on a thin branch.

There were unique painted tiles that he must use for hot plates and a single fancy floral mug tucked next to an espresso machine and just little things that she was keen on exploring at some point, but Harry caught her attention.

“Adult slushie?” He inquires with an arched brow.

“Does the slushie perform exotic dances?” She asks jokingly.

Harry rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Sometimes those that drink it do.”  

She reddens at his implication. He then looks at her seriously and she regards him with utter delight. Her eyes twinkle as he moves about his home with ease.

“If you make it,” she confirms, in awe that he would make cocktails on this random occasion.

He smiles at her and begins his final tasks, checking to make sure the popcorn doesn’t burn and grabs the ingredients he needs to make the drink he was thinking of.

She stands beside him, eyes constantly wondering between his moving physique and his home.

“Did you know I know Emma?” Harry asks, looking up from the blender. She notices how his neck muscles twist and strain as he gazes at her. He was wearing a white t-shirt with ‘But Daddy I Love Him’ in a red vintage font and a black cardigan with different colorful objects on it, mostly flowers, it said ‘Spaceboy’ on the back and she had smiled when she saw it when he led her to the kitchen.

She hums, her gaze focused on him. His green eyes flicker across her face and down her body, simply taking into account her outfit. Pink sweatpants and a long sleeve with a drawing of a cute little clown holding two guns up at the air. While it might have sounded like a weird thing to have printed on a shirt, he found it fun, he was always appreciative of different clothing. Of course she had a gun-slinging clown shirt that she managed to make sweet, he thought.

“Fascinating connections of the rich and famous,” she muses.

“Yeah, well, Susan - Harry Lambert,” he corrects his friend’s nickname, catching himself, “he styles us both so we’ve met a few times. She’s really lovely.”

“That’s pretty epic,” she says and wanders closer to Harry, wanting a better look at his progress on the drinks.

Her hand rests on the countertop next to the two glasses he intends to place the ‘slushies’ into. The liquor he used just said “Blue” and she wondered what blue would taste like as he pours the glasses now. The consistency of them being relatively slushie like, she was impressed.

Her smile gives it away and Harry eyes her, “What’re you smiling at?”

“I’m admiring your bartending skills,” she meets his eyes and she realizes how rather close they’ve gotten as he leans slightly over her and the countertop.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he says playfully, “I take my mixology very seriously so I don’t want any praise until you’ve actually tried it.”

He holds the glass up to her and instead of grabbing it from him, she simply guides it to her lips. Her hand lightly grasping at the soft fabric of his cardigan. She parts her lips and takes a small sip, maintaining eye contact with Harry.

When the icey liquid passes her lips, her eyes flutter shut at the sweetness of the drink, it was like candy but with a light kick at the end from the alcohol. She loved it and when she opened her eyes again she took the drink from Harry’s strong hand and took another sip.

“This is dangerously good,” she finally says and Harry grins.

“Fantastic! Now we’re ready to start the show,” and he leads them into his living room that is just as big or bigger than his kitchen. A large screen television and a turquoise velvet couch are the main attractions of the room, at least what Y/N is focused on. There’s more art and posters up in this room, a lovely round coffee table and gorgeous vintage rug.

“Wait, Susan?” she circles back to Harry’s earlier comment about Emma Corin and their shared stylist.

Harry smiles and sits next to her comfortably, placing the drinks on coasters and the other various items on the coffee table.

“It’s my nickname for Harry since we’re both...Harry. Just felt silly calling each other Harry and Sue and Susan, they just fit so well.”

She nods, “I see.” But she didn’t really get it. She’d never had a friend where they only called each other a different name from their own, maybe a nickname that she would occasionally call them, but never one so ingrained that she would call them it when referring to them to someone else who surely didn’t know them and wouldn’t know them by the different name. Not that she really knew who Harry Lambert was in the first place, but it still made more sense than Susan. She shook it off just as another quirk of Harry being who he was.

They settle in for the show and they love talking through it, which Y/N was happy that Harry liked to talk during shows as well. She hated when people shushed her during movies and shows when she had something to say. They commented on the fashion and how wild some of the stuff was. Thankfully, as well, even Harry thought some of the things the royals did were absurdly lavish.

“He is so hot,” she finally says when Prince Charles is on the screen for another time and she can’t keep it in anymore, “How could they cast him for Prince Charles, they are far too kind.”

“Josh?” Harry questions, glancing over at his friend curled up on the couch next to him. She had her feet tucked beneath her legs and had her body on its side while staring at the television.

“Don’t tell me you know him too?” She says, taking her focus off the TV to look at Harry, a chocolate chip landing in her mouth once she finished talking.

Their blue slushies had been finished and the popcorn was half eaten. She was pretty sure they were on the second episode already.

He laughs, “No, but Emma says he’s very nice...He is rather attractive.”

That makes her smile, the both of them finding an actor attractive. It felt like Harry was like one of her friends from home, chatting about boys, something she really didn’t do anymore.

“Maybe you can introduce us,” she laughs, her head nudging at Harry’s shoulder beside her.

She doesn’t notice Harry’s lack of mirth at her joke as she turns her attention back to the screen, re-immersing herself in the plot. He twitches slightly uncomfortably at the thought of him introducing her to someone she might be interested in romantically.

“Why not,” he says half-heartedly and he hopes she doesn’t notice his tone.

-

The next day was Friday and she had the day off as per usual.

After three episodes of the Crown, she and Harry had decided to call it a night. He had offered that she could spend the night so she didn’t have to walk home after she had refused to let him walk her across the street. However, she declined, saying she didn’t like leaving Rori alone at night, especially since he was still getting used to the new house. Harry had understood but she could tell he was saddened by her leaving.

She had decided to plant some flowers in her front yard, hoping to liven it up. She had bought some plants at the local flower shop, pansies and aster thinking that purple and gold would look lovely together. She planned to set to work with little experience, but plenty of intention. Rori was outside with her for moral support, prancing through the growing grass and nibbling at the shrubs, more like a bunny than a dog.

Her mother had gifted her gardening tools a long time ago and their entire family had laughed because they knew Y/N didn’t have a green anything, most definitely not a green thumb. Today she had grabbed them and the plants and had placed it all in front of her planters. Then she sat there and went on her phone, scrolling through it mindlessly. She had no idea what she was doing or where to start so getting distracted was easy.

“Need any help?”

Her head turns and she slides away her phone with a sigh, knowing exactly who had just kindly asked to lend a hand.

Harry squints down at her and in this moment she is especially aware of just how tall Harry actually is. Normally she notices his height and thinks ‘yeah he’s tall’, but right now he towers over her. His hair is catching the surprising fall sun and causing glints of gold to radiate off him. His eyes are especially light right now and she feels oddly unnerved by their color, the hazy mint of some kind of predator. He is such a presence and she thought she had finally gotten used to him being in her life, but in this moment she is taken aback. She shakes her head after a moment too long of staring up at him.

“Hi,” she breathes and stands up from her sitting position. “I was just starting to do some planting, and I don’t know if you can tell but I have no gardening skills whatsoever.”

She gestures to her set up and Harry turns his gaze from her to the plants and smiles. He had been coming back from his morning jog and instead of entering his gate, he walked through hers. He looks at everything and reaches down to pet Rori when he comes running up happily to his friend.

“Well, it looks like a good start. Aster is an interesting thing to plant…” He kneels down to start digging up the soil in the planters.

She kneels beside him and watches him attentively. “I wanted chrysanthemums, they’re one of my favorites. But they were out, so it will have to do.”

“It will do perfectly,” he looks up at her from his work, “you wouldn’t have picked it if it wasn’t amazing.”

She makes a small smile at his statement, but doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes up mimicking his actions with the soil.

“Do you garden a lot?” Her voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the quiet that had fallen over them.  

“Not much anymore, I don’t really have the time, but I used to with my mum.”

She hums and scratches behind Rori’s ears absentmindedly when he looks curiously at what they’re doing.

They work silently, only talking intermittently. At one point, she grabs them glasses of water from the kitchen, mostly for Harry because he’s actually working up a sweat planting her garden. Harry hums random songs that are on his mind and she wishes he would sing for her, but she would never dare ask him to.

They talk about the Crown and how much they loved all the clothes in it last night and where the plot is going since they know the true history it’s based on. Harry offers British insight into the Royals that she had never thought about and they even venture into British politics which she admits she never really thought about since usually the US politics is far more in the spotlight.

He talks about his views on politics and she gives hers, even stranger though they even venture further into usually rocky territory and discuss religion. She is very interested by what Harry has to say about religion, his answers are both completely expected and unexpected. Something she’s noticed about Harry with her is that she always seems to be surprised by what he says, but it still manages to make complete sense after a moment.

“I’m going back to LA tomorrow,” Harry muses as he regards one of the pansies, like he’s almost staring it straight in the eye.

“Oh?” She turns to face him.

She stops her aimless moving about of the dirt. She had mostly been playing with the dirt while he did the majority of the work. She just didn’t enjoy it. Harry had definitely made the activity palatable. She’d have to tell him she would have likely given up an hour ago had he not been there.

He sighs and sets the pansy into the hole in the soil he had made for it. “More shooting for the movie, I’ll be gone for another month.”

“Wow…I think saying goodbye to you is just going to get harder and harder.” She looks away, her arms crossing over herself instinctively when the wind blows just a little too hard.

Harry looks at her now and sees her curling in on herself and he wants to hug her, but they weren’t like that. Instead he places a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it slowly up and down trying to offer her some warmth.

“I think we’ve made enough progress today. It’s starting to get cold, hm?”

She looks at him now and nods, her hand moving up and capturing his in hers. Like they had when Harry walked her home after his game, their fingers twist and turn around each other. Their eyes shying between each other’s faces and interlocked hands.

She springs to her feet after a couple quiet minutes of dodging eye contact and simply enjoying the feel of one another against each other.

“I should thank you for all this help,” she starts and Harry gets up to stand, beginning to say there is no need for a thank you for what he did.

“No, no.” She stops him, “I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without your help and I took up all of your day, practically.” She takes hold of his hands now to examine the dirt that has managed to cover them since he was convinced that she should wear the gloves her mother gave her. “You should come over tonight and I’ll cook you dinner. I’m a much better cook than I am a gardener.”

Harry looks at her quietly, his eyes blinking slowly. Like he’s basking in the small movements she’s making on his hands. She traces the little cross that straddles his thumb and pointer finger on his left hand.

“I’ll make sure to bring dessert then.” He smiles and tilts his head to the right and a little forward towards her. She gazes up at him softly. “I might even bring something extra special.”

She raises her brows, “A special treat from Harry Styles himself. I’ll be anxiously awaiting your return then.” She taunts him only slightly because what he had said just about brought her to her knees. The way his smile had shifted to a smirk and how his voice has grown quiet and low, it just felt very intimate.

Harry returns at half past six, as requested by Y/N. He was freshly showered and cologned and she had never found a man more attractive than in that moment. Before he came over he told her he was dressing nice and she had no idea what that might mean with him. But when she saw him, she understood.

What it meant was a crisp blue big collared Gucci dress shirt unbuttoned almost half way down his chest revealing his ever present cross and fitted high waisted brown trousers. His fresh haircut meant for the 50’s slicked back with pieces beginning to fall about just perfectly. No belt, no cufflinks, and no suit coat. Instead of a coat he had on a jacket that was similar to her giraffe jacket he had borrowed all those days ago. His own was comfortably settled over his shoulders and it was obviously made of fabrics far nicer than hers and wasn’t fraying in any place.

He posed in her doorway and even gave a twirl at which time Y/N laughed happily. It looked amazing on him, she had no idea how her jacket had been the thing that started this all.

“How do you like it?” He asks seriously. “Does it look alright?”

“It looks perfect on you, Har. Is that the extra special surprise?”

He smirks smugly at her compliment and comes into the home, greeting Rori quickly before following her back into the kitchen where she was still cooking.

“Oh no,” he says and places a bag filled with a bottle of red wine and a pint of her favorite ice cream on the counter (and the surprise tucked neatly at the bottom of the bag).

She looks at him quizzically as he begins to take the items out of the bag.

“There’s one last thing in there,” he points to the bag casually, while putting the ice cream in her freezer. “Do ya’ mind grabbing it for me, dove?”

She rolls her eyes and reaches into the bag. Her hand retrieves a magazine from the bottom of the bag and when she flips it over to the front side, a gasp escaped her lips.

“Harry! Oh my god!” Her hand goes to her mouth as she takes in the cover.

A US Vogue magazine with Harry on the front of it. He’s blowing up a balloon in the photo and he looks beautiful. His skin is flawless and his hair is luscious and flowing a little longer than he kept it now due to the movie.

“I’m a Vogue cover model now, eh?” He asks, looking on apprehensively as she begins to gingerly flick her fingers through the magazine’s pages.

“This is the surprise?” She looks up from the page with him and Gemma sitting side by side.

Harry nods and watches her absentmindedly trace his face on the page.

“Do you like the pictures?” His voice is soft and almost timid?

“Of course!” She exclaims, not wanting to let any doubts pass through Harry’s mind. “Is this what you were doing up in Scotland a couple months ago, right before we became friends and you said you wanted to surprise me with something top secret?”

He nods again, his grin creeping onto his face as she stares at the photo of him in the cover photo’s outfit where you can see the entire dress.

“I want that dress...did they let you keep it?” She continues flicking through the pages lightly and glancing at Harry across from her. The dinner forgotten for the moment.

“It’s Gucci, I didn’t keep it, but I’m sure I could call Susan and get you one ordered,” he replies easily, leaning over the counter to watch the magazine.

She scoffs, “I can’t afford a Gucci gown for no reason...AND before you try to say you’ll pay for it, I would never accept such a gift and I am so for real about that, Harry.”

He waves his hands out in front of him as if to say he’d never suggest such a thing even though they both knew he’d buy it for her in a heartbeat.

“These pants…” she mutters, eyes now fixed on the trousers Harry is wearing in a specific photo in the magazine. They’re tan with a darker stripe on the side of them but the most intriguing part is all of the different drawings on it that seemed to be all related to Harry.

“They’re fab, no?” He quirks a brow at her, his face still holding an apprehensive grin like she’ll take back her praise at a moment’s notice.

“So fab,” she echoes. “Are they bespoke?” Her question has a hint of sarcasm dripping behind it, knowing by now Harry was notorious for custom-made items.

“What gave it away?” He wiggles his brows.

Her eyes flicker to meet his and she sees they’ve ended up face to face once again. It seemed to happen too often with one another. She settles the magazine down and stands up straight. She couldn’t allow herself to indulge in the proximity of his inviting lips. The proximity of his warmth that had seemed to seep into all facets of her life in the last two months or so. It was wonderful and warm, but it wasn’t hers. She shared him with so many other people and she couldn’t get carried away with him because tomorrow he’d be gone.

“That really is amazing Harry. I’m very proud of you, but if you don’t want a burnt dinner, I need to start paying attention to what I’m cooking.” She turns away from him and she quickly takes a palm to swipe beneath her eye, collecting the stray liquid that somehow fell from her eye. Funny thing, she wasn’t cooking with onions.

Harry doesn’t notice the movement, simply sighing that she turned from him yet again. He ran a hand through his hair, further tousling the once coiffed hairdo and then twisted his ‘H’ ring around his finger before settling on a bar stool to flip through the magazine and watch her cook.

“When does the magazine come out?” She calls as she stirs the sauce that she’d be pouring over their spaghetti squash once it was finished baking.

“Next week, They’ll release the story online and then I’ll be hitting shelves,” he muses, reading a different story in the magazine, not particularly interesting in himself.

“I’m sure you’ll be flying off those shelves the second you’re placed down.” She laughs at her joke and Harry rubs his lips with his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully.

“You think so?” His eyes sparkle with mischief at his question.

She turns her head, an open-mouthed grin already on her face, a slight scoff falling from her mouth, “Oh c’mon, you know so. I think you’re one of the most loved men in the world and people fall more and more in love each year.” She almost added ‘and I don’t blame them’ but she refrained thankfully.

“Most loved...I like that. Such an interesting way to put it.”

“I mean, you’ve been famous for what? Ten years now? That’s a long time and I don’t think you’re going anywhere...At this point it’s not about how big your celebrity star is, it’s your level of belovedness and I think that level is quite high.” She comments on something about Harry they never talked too much of. Sometimes they talked about him knowing famous people and about the work he had to fly off to do, but never the specific fame of it all. She didn’t really think Harry liked to talk about.

She didn’t have much of an opinion on it, it didn’t matter to her whether Harry was a famous multi-talented big-C celebrity or he was a nobody with a random job. As long as he was still her neighbour she would never complain. He made her so happy and maybe if he hadn’t been famous he wouldn’t be the way that he was so she would never say it was a nuisance. It just came along with him.

“Well...like I said, it’s a lovely way to put it. So, thank you for that.”

He stands up now, forgetting the magazine and rounding the counter to find a cork for the wine seeing that Y/N was doing the final touches on their food.

They eat dinner across from each other at her modest-sized dinner table. Harry slips his giraffe coat off and rolls up his sleeves to allow him to “really dig in” to the dinner she made for them. Maybe some footsy occurs beneath the table but neither of them would ever admit to it so did it really happen? Just feet moving randomly and happening to rub against one another every so often.

After dinner and a bottle of wine, the two of them join Rori in the living room where he’s curled up on one of the throw pillows. Y/N runs back to the kitchen to scoop them ice cream and whips of two Moscow Mules to go with it because she had brought up how when she usually goes home for the holidays, her and her sister always have a competition of who can make the most unique but best tasting Moscow Mule. Harry had said how he’d love to be there one day for that and she had blushed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear from the comment before taking a large gulp of wine. Since that wasn’t possible right now, her tipsy mind had decided that the next best thing was to make some basic ones right now.

“I bring a Mule and an ice cream,” she says airly, playing like a royal herself, as she holds them out to Harry.

He laughs softly and accepts them graciously, doing a slight head bow to her. Before he can say anything she’s a flash of plaid and red as she runs back for her own ice cream and drink. He had been complimenting her plaid pants with golden bees on them all night and asked her where she got them, teasing that they must be Gucci, but all she would say is that he couldn’t have them to go make a copy of this time.

She re-enters the room and dims the lights with her hip. Then she settles beside him, clinking her glass with him and they both take their first sip.

“Hmmm,” Harry hums after he tastes the cocktail, “I like it.”

“Moscow Mules are a favorite with my family,” she muses, flicking through the television to get them set up to watch the Crown again.

“Maybe I should meet them and thank them for bestowing such a good favorite unto their daughter?” Harry asks and she laughs and rolls her eyes. Questions of meeting family when they were just friends didn’t need a response. Right?

They spoon ice cream into their mouths as the show begins and they murmur comments to one another throughout the episode. They idly pet Rori sometimes as he moves randomly around the room trying to find the place he likes most. Once Harry’s done with his ice cream, Rori thinks his chest is the best place to be and Y/N can’t help but snap a quick photo of it.

“Not quite as handsome without the dress, but it’ll do,” she sighs and snuggles into Harry’s side. Her hand reaches up to scratch at Rori which then leaves her arm wrapped around Harry when her dog inexplicably leaves to go to bed a few minutes later.

He was an awfully good wingman Harry would easily admit at a much later date.

They stay cuddled casually with one another for the entirety of two more episodes and they realize they’re more than halfway done with the season. A yawn from Y/N cues to Harry that he should suggest they pause for the night. She agrees easily, her head nuzzling into his strong shoulder for a little while.

Harry takes the remote from her and turns off the television before flicking on the side table turquoise glass-blown lamp.

“Can I put some music on?” He whispers in her ear, already knowing the answer, but waiting for her to nod her head. She obliges and he slowly slides her onto the couch beneath them. Then he begins padding around her house to find her speaker.

“Arrow Through Me” by Harry’s all time role model Paul McCartney’s second band Wings begins to play through the speakers. What a fucking moutful.

She perks up at the music and sits up straighter on her couch. Her smile grows as Harry shakes his hips a little and moves to the beat of the song as he makes his way back over to the couch. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead of words ringing loud through the room, it's the sound of a phone buzzing from somewhere between a few cushions on the couch

“Oh shit...shit, shit, shit,” she awakens herself out of her daze with her profanity. Attempting to find her phone rather haphazardly, she stumbles around the couch.

It’s Harry who fishes the phone from beneath a throw pillow and hands it over to his friend. She smiles thankfully, her hair a little messy and her eyes slightly crazed, before picking up the phone without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?...Cate?...Oh, hey….No, I didn’t look at the ID...figured it was you or someone in the states...no one in the UK would call me right now...It’s almost midnight here, you asshole,” she pauses and points at the phone and mouths “it’s Cate” like Harry hadn’t been sitting there listening to the entire conversation.

“I’m just hanging out watching the new season of Crown...with Harry...yeah, that Harry,” she flits her eyes to Harry for a second and rolls her eyes sarcastically.

“Talk to him? I mean.. I can put you on speaker, I guess?” She looks at Harry and he nods his head eagerly.

She rejoins him on the couch and places the phone on the coffee table, tapping on the speaker.

“You’re on speaker now.”

“Hi Harry!” Cate crackles over the line, happily, likely just awoken from her slumber in California.

“Hullo, love,” he says sweetly, his voice beginning to slow even more as the night wears on.

Y/N rolls her eyes at both of her friends, knowing Harry was laying it on thick and that Cate would squeal over this exchange for the next three weeks.

“What are you two lovebirds up to?” She inquires sweetly and Harry makes an arched brow at Y/N and she only supplies a shaken head and a shoulder shrug.  

“Cate….” Y/N drags out, annoyed with her for both saying that and for calling just as she was planning on going to sleep.

“Sorry! Friends, I know. Even though staying in on a Friday night with just the two of you doesn’t sound very friendly…” She begins to ramble on,  but Y/N offers another warning ‘Cate’. Cate takes the hint and finishes her teasing. “Anyways…”

Harry and Y/N are completely red, sitting next to one another but grateful for the minimal lighting.

“I was just calling to check-in. Do you know what you’re doing for the holidays yet? I know you don’t do thanksgiving anymore - which was yesterday by the way - since you’re all British now.”

Y/N scoffs at her close friend and Harry nudges her side about the British thing.

“I don’t know yet, I have to see my work schedule and all that. I don’t know if I want to fly across the world this year though…” She trails off, kind of quieting in hope that Cate will miss it.

Harry regards the conversation, casually interested, yet intrigued since he had been meaning to ask the exact same question.

Cate hums, obviously unhappy with the response. “Alright. And you Harry? Do you usually go home to your family for the holidays?”

“You don’t need to answer that,” Y/N interjects.

Harry places a hand on her thigh to let her know that it’s completely fine. An easy smile on his lips as he speaks to the phone. Y/N places her hand over Harry’s on instinct.

“Usually, yeah. This year we were thinking of all going out to my place in Italy so it’s kind of up in the air right now. When I get back from LA, I’ll probably finalize it.”

“LA you said? We should get together while you’re here.”

“Cate. He’s there on business.”

“I know...but still. It’s fine,” Cate laughs lightly, knowing she was pushing her luck with this conversation as it was. “Anyways, darling, I just wanted to tell you I miss you and that Harry’s not allowed to replace me as your best friend. Y’hear that Mr. Styles?”

“I sure do, love.”

Everyone laughs whole heartedly and Harry and Y/N are still playing with each other’s fingers on top of her thigh.

Y/N thinks that’s enough of the conference call with Harry and Cate so she snatches the phone with her free hand and raises it back to her ear.

“Alright, Cate, I think we’re going to head to bed...not...not like that...I hate you...Now I definitely don’t want to come home...I’m kidding, I’ll think about it...Love you, too….Yeah I’ll tell him...Have a nice day…”

She throws the phone on the coffee table again and falls back on the couch. Her head rolls to rest on Harry’s broad shoulder and she sighs softly. Harry moves his head to rest over hers, chuckling softly. His sweet breaths of joy are why he then receives a soft slap on his far arm, only making him laugh more.

“Shut up,” her muffled voice comes out from against his blue shirt that is far more crumpled than it was when he came over hours ago.

“She’s so funny,” he laughs again, nosing his face into her hair.

“She tries to get away with way too much,” she sighs and Harry just pats at her side, smiling and not caring at all about the things Cate was hinting at because he wanted what she was alluding to to be reality.

“Y’know I have a question because she said I can’t be your best friend and that’s fine with me, but I wanted to tell you something, love.”

Her head raises to look Harry in the eye, slightly confused by his preface.

“You’re my best friend,” he says earnestly in the dark living room, “Is that allowed?”

His accent was thick with anticipation, the night wearing on his vocal cords. It was so quiet in the room, Harry was sure she just heard him swallow his own saliva - he had paused the music after a minute into the call with Cate. He blinks twice while waiting for any response, he stares straight at her.  

Her eyes barely shine through the darkness as she looks back at him. His question rattled through her mind. ‘Is it allowed’ for him to think of her as his best friend. It just didn’t make complete sense to her and she wasn’t sure if she should vocalize that doubt. But as his eyes begin to mist like a forest on a cold morning she knows she has to say something.

Her eyelids shut as she lets out a heavy breath, the processing of what Harry’s just said finishes.

“It’s allowed...Do you mean it?”

“Course I mean it,” his voice cracks, an incredulous laugh leaving his lips.

She straightens up, moving slightly from his warm embrace. He becomes fidgety without her tucked in his side. His fingers itch without her arm to caress. His lips move between his teeth without her hair to ghost over.

When she remains silent, Harry decides to continue.

“I remember the first time I saw you,” he croaks and she furrows her brow at this. “It was the day you moved in...Had just come home from my morning run and you’d pulled up in your moving van. I thought you had on the coolest pair of jeans I’d ever seen…” He pauses. He takes a deep breath and her eyes are watering now.

“I also thought you were one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen and I knew I had to know you.”

“Why’d it’d take you so long?” Is all she asks as she tries to will away the water welling in her eyes.

Harry rolls his lips together and breathlessly laughs, head tilted up to the sky. “Never knew how to approach ya’. Then you bumped into me, felt like it was the universe kicking me for being so damn slow.”

She bites her lip, a tear rolling down her cheek finally. “Oh, Harry.”

Then there it is. What the last few months had been leading up to. The moment where they no longer were able to wonder what the other would taste like. No more guessing. No more wondering. It was concrete. It was her lips pressed to Harry’s. She laughed lightly after a moment, pressing closer to him. His lips felt like the softest pillow she could ever lay on and she never wanted to get out of bed.

A small breath came out of his nose as he pressed eagerly back against her. She tasted like ginger and chocolate and maybe cherry - her chapstick possibly. He sucked at her lips, never wanting the taste or the feeling to go away. She was so soft and smooth and she responded quickly to his push.

Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck and into his hair as he pulled her closer by her waist. They were attempting to inhale one another, taking inventory of every possible crevice of each other they hadn’t touched before.

Harry’s lips part slightly as he swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. She giggles, tugging him over her and opening up her mouth easily. He pushes forward, a small sound leaving his mouth as he shifts them into a lying position on the couch, her legs encircling his waist.

A hand runs along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone and then down her arm. It lands so that he can intertwine their hands together. He feels her smile beneath him and he smiles back despite their lips never leaving one another. His other hand caresses her cheek as he kisses her.

Eventually, his lips roam around her face and on her neck aways, but mostly he focuses on her lips. Both of them are more than happy with this decision as they continue on for what feels like hours. Yet still those hours don’t feel long enough.

She pulls at a button on his shirt at one point, but Harry pulls back.

“I think we should call it a night.”

“Really?” She looks at him with confusion and a swirl of hurt in her eyes.

“It’s late, love, and… we just, I don’t want to rush anything.”

“Alright,” she nods, sitting up and running a finger down the side of his face.

“I think I’ve been doing best friends wrong all this time.” she muses, tracing lines on Harry’s neck now. Her eyes focused on her work.

“And why’s that?” Harry asks, his own hands running up and down her back.

“I’ve never snogged a best friend for hours on end.” She laughs and Harry can’t help his snort.

He moves his head to rest on her shoulder, almost like a hug, but not quite. She doesn’t move away, simply turns her head to continue watching her hands trace him, her work now moving to the back of his neck and his upper back and shoulders.

He hums a little bit, a love song he had played for himself the last few weeks when he tried to fall asleep and all that he could think of was her. She smiles softly and places a kiss on his shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed, darling.”

Harry nods, wrapping his arms around Y/N and carrying her to her room.

-

The next morning she finds herself wrapped happily in a set of strong, tattooed arms. She sighs content, snuggling closer to the warm naked chest in front of her.

“G’morning,” the man beneath her whispers. His voice a low rumbling rasp, she feels the vibrations below her.

“Morning,” she mumbles, nuzzling her nose into the crevice of his sternum, just above the butterfly that lives on his chest.

He hums at the feeling, slightly shivering from the cold, but pulls her closer nonetheless. She caresses his side with a light touch in response. Her fingers trace unknown patterns down his ribcage and then dip to the ferns peeking from his boxers. He shifts slightly when her fingers travel there. A place no one but him had touched in a long time.

“’ve got a plane to catch,” he says sadly and he brushes a hair from her face as she turns to look at his face.

His neck strains to regard her and he has a bit of a double chin from this angle, but she couldn’t care less. He looked so beautiful staring down at her. She never wanted to look away or lose this image. His eyelashes lightly caressed the skin just below his eyes everytime he blinked. It was quiet enough that if she listened close she could hear each flutter. The eyes behind them were even better, a dark rim of green encases emerald irises that hold black and gold specs, stars and stories swirl hidden beneath it all. She wants to drown in it.

He winks at her as she stares, growing disarmed with her intense gaze on him for so long. Her calming caress keeps him grounded though and she laughs at the wink, relieving him of her scrutiny that he didn’t understand was awe.

She groans, unhappy, “Miss it.”

“I can’t,” he drags out, not wanting to leave either.

“Can’t convince you to stay, no?” She rolls on top of him, pushing her chest against him and giving him doe eyes.

His strong arms encircle her waist as her legs straddle him. She arches more into him and leans down to kiss in between his pecs. Her eyes never leave his face, watching his reaction. It’s his turn to groan with a loud sigh to match. He throws his head back and steals himself to say,

“Not even a chance.”

She remembers when he had begged her to come with him and she smiles at his recycling over her response.

“Fair enough,” she says and rolls off of him. His head falls to the side to watch her get up and begin her day. He takes a deep breath, wishing he didn’t have to leave.

Harry heads back to his place to get ready for his departure. Before he leaves he joins Y/N and Rori for an early tea at the café. They get their drinks to go and walk back to Harry’s together. When they arrive, Harry’s car is waiting and she feels a dryness in her throat. He looks down at Rori and gives him a quick pet. He turns to her and she smiles weakly.

Harry’s hand encircles her wrist, caressing her softly. He leans down quickly and pecks her lips. It feels like he was barely there and then he was gone. It was like a butterfly had landed on her lips and wrist and then it had vanished.

Off his sleek black car goes, soon out of sight and headed for the airport. And there she is, left on Sherwood Avenue. Her fingers move to dance over her lips and then over her jaw and down her neck. Every place his touch had burned her in the past 24 hours. And now he was gone, across the world.

No talk of what came next had been spoken between them. She wasn’t sure what they were and didn’t know if she could handle that talk over the phone. She walked home after a few minutes of standing with her dog in front of Harry’s now vacant home. She sat silently in her house for half of the day.

At dusk, she decides on a run, maybe it will get her mind off her neighbour. She had sat in the same spot for too long. The same spot they had kissed each other last night. Maybe a change of scenery would stop the movie reel of last night that kept playing over and over in her mind.

She runs down the street, specifically keeping her eyes off the lovely home across from her, and keeps running down different streets, past the café, down to the park, and then finally reaches a stream that is past some brush and trees at the end of the park. There’s a bench there that seems like a nice place to rest.

Her music has been playing the entire time, the playlist she chose was inundated with Taylor Swift - but not chosen for that specific reason. Each song thankfully not from 1989. At least not until she’s running through the park. “You are in love” begins to play, it’s soft Twin Peaks-esque opening is familiar to her. It fits the cool rush of wind against her skin and the leaves that have turned brown as fall has worn on. She’d listened to it a thousand times. Sometimes thinking about the man who inspired the song, but all those times were long before she had ever met him.

Now that she knew him, she almost skipped it, but shook her head to herself feeling silly for feeling uncomfortable listening to a song she liked. Her run turns into a walk as she reaches the stream. The chorus begins. Taylor softly serenades about being in love. About a man in love with a woman. About Harry being in love with her.

She takes a deep breath, hearing the words a little different this time. Taylor sings “You kiss on sidewalks” and this morning flashes in her mind. She looks out at the stream, the water rushing along as she stands there, still catching her breath. Then the next part of the song reaches into her heart and twists it with all its might.

“One night he wakes, strange look on his face, pauses, then says, ‘you’re my best friend’.”

And that’s it. She takes out her headphones, her breath no longer capable of being caught. She breathes heavier and heavier. Her throat was as tight and dry as when Harry had left this morning. Possibly even worse. She can’t even swallow this time. Her phone and headphones are discarded on the bench as she raises her hands to her face and begins to pace beside the stream. Her eyes eventually match the body of water next to her and she feels a sob wrack through her. She couldn’t breath, her running and panic had brought her asthma to the forefront and she was hyperventilating, gasping for air. She was drowning and no one was there to help her.

Tears stream down her face and she moves her hands to her thighs as she tries to calm down, not knowing how she reached this level of distraughtness. Deep breaths she reminds herself. She licks her lips and shuts her eyes. “Just ground yourself,” she whispers.

When she’s finally gotten ahold of herself she sits at the bench and stares into the stream. A distorted version of herself seems to stare back. It’s constantly moving, swirling, and changing  and as she watches that version of herself she wants to scream. Her tears had faded awhile ago, but the fear was still there.

The last few months had been so easy, had been so perfect. Going over to each other’s houses and being with each other. But if she ignored history wasn’t she destined to repeat it? When she heard the confessional of the man Taylor had loved in her song, when he had told her she was his best friend which meant he was in love, she felt hurt. She knew how their story ended. Taylor and Harry’s. He left. He left her when she needed him and today, Y/N realized it’s what he does. It wasn’t his fault, she didn’t blame him for leaving today. It was his job, not another woman. But holy fuck when she heard Taylor sing those lyrics, it felt like she had been hit on the head out of nowhere. Reminded that she had been living in a fairytale for the last few months, swept up in a fantasy that she wasn’t meant to be a part of.

She ran a hand over her face, rubbing slightly at her cheek. The same cheek Harry had caressed last night and she sighed. She stared off into the trees and then shook her head, standing up and heading back home. Alone.

Harry calls her when he arrives at LAX. She doesn’t pick up. He calls the next day. She doesn’t pick up. He texts and receives no response for three days.

She thought she didn't know what she would say.

“I listened to too much of your ex’s music and now I’m insecure.”

“I feel like you’re gonna leave me someday so I’m too afraid to do anything with you.”

“Is it alright if we’re just friends, I don’t think my heart could take the pain of falling in love with you and then losing you.”

“You can’t promise me forever and after just one kiss I knew I couldn’t do anything less.”

“The price of loving you is far too high.”

She types them all out and then deletes them every time. Too scared. Instead:

“I’m busy with work, I don’t know when I won’t be. Let’s just plan on meeting up when you’re home.”

Harry nods when he sees the text on Friday. He tells her to take care and make sure she gets enough rest. He wipes away the stray tear that decided to escape his eyes after reading her response. He exhales and looks to the sky, wondering what could have possibly happened since he had left. He sends little emojis over the next few weeks that she puts a heart on, but she doesn’t communicate otherwise.

Harry doesn’t ask her to pick him up. Instead he sends flowers to her house the Thursday before he returns. They make her smile and she wonders if maybe she can move past every red flag she feels like she sees. After a month away, she can’t lie and say she’s not excited for Harry to return. She missed his warm skin and his soft hair. She missed everything and the flowers had only made her wish it had been Harry on her doorstep a couple days early.

He gets home on the 12th and he’s at her door after throwing his things in his entryway.

She opens the door and bites her lip as she takes in who it is.

Harry says her name breathlessly and she melts. Her doubts fly out the window for the moment and all she wants are his lips on hers.

She falls into him and his lips are on hers. They twist into one another and their lips move softly yet urgently against one another. Not sure how to explain the last four weeks, they both attempt to say everything in that kiss. All her pain and confusion press into Harry’s lip with each breath. All his sadness and longing tug at her lips as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth and hungers for more.

He pulls back and stares straight into her eyes, “Come to Italy with me for the holidays.”

She tilts her head confused, trying to catch her own breath.

“I’m not sure what happened while I was gone, love. But I know I missed you and I can’t go another month without you. Just say yes and we’ll take it from there...Please,” he begs, voice cracking as he holds her cheek.

She wets her lips and opens them to speak, but her voice betrays her. Instead she just nods and squeaks out a noise of approval. Too elated to speak, they press their lips back together and she pulls Harry into her home. 

December was far too cold to snog out in the freezing night air.

-

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms: Bonus

Part 4 here<-

After many tears and tissue boxes, all members of team RWBY had finally stopped crying. Blake was the best off with her eyes a little red while Ruby was the complete opposite. The girl’s face was still rather red and her eyes were puffy. She hadn’t even completely stopped sniffling yet; much like tear marked partner. Yang on the other hand rested her head on the table. She had cried hard enough to giver herself a minor headache. She was completely drained.

Yang:Ugh, this blows! I thought this was gonna be a fun learning experience.

Blake:We definitely learned. It just so happens we had to poke at some.... extremely sensitive topics.

Weiss:I’m all for looking inward and self reflection but I’ve had my fill.

Ruby:Same. Should’ve kept the summary light.

Yang:No, I’m glad you got that off your chest. We just need a way to lighten the mood.

Blake:.....I kicked Weiss’s butt in a tournament.

RWY:......What?

Blake:During the time spent training for Salem, another tournament was held between the schools. It had team matches and singles. I kicked Weiss’s butt in my fourth round. It was a good day.

Weiss:How is that lightening mood!?

Blake:Listen, it was a big deal! I never thought I was gonna win the whole tournament but I really wanted to beat you. I love you but your head gets a little big when you’re on a roll for too long; plus I just really didn’t want to lose. I always felt a bit of rivalry between us.

Yang:Hehe, is that you’re way of saying “It would look bad to lose to a Schnee?”

Blake:Well it would!

Ruby:Hehehe.

Yang:Wait, does that mean we went back to school?

Blake:Yeah. It was pretty comforting. There was definitely a lot left to learn.

Yang:Weird. School kinda faded into the background.

Ruby:I went back to school. We all did actually. It was fast tracked by roughly a year but it was fun. We all got to pose in caps and gowns.

Weiss:Damn! I should’ve went back just for that. Unfortunately I was busy making rent and learning how to properly preheat a oven.

Yang:It’s like two buttons.

Weiss:Gas stove, and six years out of date.

Yang:Awww, you had to learn the hard way. I’m surprised and thankful you never left the gas on.

Weiss:There’s an alarm for that. Also I’m not irresponsible! Anyways, I mentioned similar tournaments earlier. I didn’t participate much but enough old videos of me in them were enough for to really light a fire under my kids. For awhile I was a bit concerned that they were just following a trend but they really love it. They used to always go around playing like knights when they were tiny.

Ruby:Carmine was a little different. She definitely always tried doing things I could but nothing got the girl jumping like seeing Yang’s horses or new ballet shoes. There wasn’t a morning when I didn’t hear a vase fall over or seeing her spin like a top. Carmine still hums some old routines when she isn’t paying attention.

Yang:Not too many memories of Yujin when she was pint size. But I do remember that wild child always loved using my bandannas for everything! Napkins, capes, ropes; anything but an actual bandanna. I used to get a bit upset with the napkin one but she’d always look at me with her big eyes and crazy hair. I never stayed mad.

Weiss:Softie.

Yang:She was like a pudgy puff ball! Fat cheeks and wholesome smiles. Ah! So adorable!

Weiss:I used to always have at least one of my kids on my hip when I was out and about. I think the media has a magazine amount of pictures of me at the park kissing my babies. Summer liked tummy rubs. She’d never go to sleep without one. Some nights I’d sing too but start to doze off so Jaune would have to take over.

Yang:*smiles* Speaking of Jaune.....

Ruby:No.

Yang:You don’t even know what I was-

Ruby:Were you about to suggest we compare our Jaune’s in the bedroom?

Yang:*red*......Well not just the bedroom! What’s the harm!? I just wanna know if he’s consistent across the board. No need to get detailed.

Weiss:You really never change no matter the world.

Yang:Can’t change greatness. It shows in any form!

Blake:He’s pretty compliant and accommodating. The benefits of being his first when I had prior knowledge I suppose.

Ruby:Don’t answer!

Blake:Why not? I’m comfortable with it.

Yang:Don’t listen to those two Blake. They’re just a bit more embarrassed since Jaune has literally been their one and only.

Blake:Huh, I never thought about it like that. Jaune would’ve been the first person you two opened up to on such a level; especially Weiss.

Yang:That’s still hilarious. All the protesting and somehow you found yourself stripping for the guy.

Weiss:Shut up! I already know! It was....I.... *blushing* emotions ran really high.

Ruby:An entire mental rollercoaster of thoughts and firsts happening all at once. Anxiety was high.

Yang:Heh, so you could say that Jaune Arc-

RW:Got through our walls. Hardy har har.

Yang:Shit, I am the same in every universe. Well I don’t have any reservations about it! *grinning* He makes me feel special every time!

Blake:Bottom.

Yang:I’m ignoring you.🎶

Ruby:Hehe, sounds about right. He...might make me feel a bit special as well.

Blake:Switch.

Ruby:How can you just guess off of that!?

Blake:It’s a gift.

Weiss:......

Blake:*smiling*

Weiss:Leave me alone.

Blake:I don’t know what has you embarrassed. You told us you’ve slept with everyone here except Ruby! I knew you were repressed but geez.

Weiss:For your information it wasn’t my idea! It was yours!

Blake:Not surprising. Let’s switch the topic. How is this other child of mine? Can’t picture me having a daughter.

Weiss:Veronica is very sensitive. Even if she tries to act like she isn’t. One time when she was tiny, a soccer ball hit her straight in the face and she sprung up saying “I’m fine!” Then you took her behind the bleachers to patch her up; tears all on her face. It both breaks my heart and very adorable to see her act fine while her ears are folded back.

Ruby:Your other son Kovu was a bit of cry baby. Partly my fault. Carmine kept beating him up and making fun of him.

Blake:What!?

Yang:Ha! Wait, that’s my kid too. How the heck!? Are you telling me you raised the rowdy child and I got the baby?

Ruby:Yang you’re a baby. I’m like twice as rowdy compared to you. A nevermore got worked day one at school.

Weiss:She has a point. You cry the most out of any of us.

Yang:Wha- that not- how....shut up! *pouts* I’m not that touchy.

Ruby:Kovu is a sweetie and not a cry baby. Carmine is just a little mean when she tries to care about others. She beat him up in an attempt to make Kovu give up dreaming about being a huntsman. That way he wouldn’t be in such a dangerous job. Reasonable logic but you know, a little over the top. Almost broke his arm. Boy did I chew her out. All it did was make him want to try harder.

Yang:Fantastic. I shouldn’t expect less from my own blood. I bet Yujin would like him. Which reminds me, anybody have kids in relationships?

RWB:We’re working on it.

The three women paused briefly before laughing at their meddling. Yang could only admire and fear her friends.

Yang:Should I be scared for your children?

Blake:Lucas needs someone to break up the routine in his life. I’m not saying he has to date her, but it would put a smile on my face.

Ruby:Carmine takes after me, not really thinking about stuff like relationships much. However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t at all. Carmine tries her best to not act like she’s a teenaged girl with teenage wishes. But everyone sees right through it. I’m fine with her not being in one but I would like if she acknowledged that it’s okay to just....ugh, be normal! Why can nobody have normal knees in my life!?

Weiss:Nick likes Valerie who tries to deny she likes him by liking Summer, who doesn’t like her; while Veronica crushes on Nick who obviously has conflicting feelings.

RBY.....

Yang:Why is it always complicated with you?

Weiss:How is this my fau- okay it is a little bit.

Blake:Where do you stand?

Weiss:I think Valerie would be lovely for him.

Yang:What’s wrong with my baby girl!?

Blake:Yeah!?

Weiss:One, not yours. Two, have you met who I’m married to? Can’t really say he’s wasting his efforts. Though I wouldn’t be upset with Veronica. I think those two might be good for each other.

Blake:Any other bombshells people got?

Ruby:......

Ruby:Ilia is happily married.*sips coffee*

Blake:Oh that’s wonderful! I’m glad she found a loving wi-

Ruby:*smirks* To Sun.

Blake:....*stands up* I need, champagne!

A bottle of champagne poofs into existence with several glasses. Blake immediately pours everyone a glass before raising hers into the sky.

Blake:Ruby Rose, today you’ve erased guilt upon my conscious. I’m happy there’s one world where it seems all of my good exes get over me.

Ruby:Are the Ilia and Sun where you’re from miserable like Yang!?

Blake:No, but they kinda fumble in actually going for relationships. It just always makes me feel a little bad.

Yang:You can technically count two worlds. I’m fine, Ilia is dating a pretty secretary, and your one evil ex is now raising a morally good family.

Blake:You’re right! This calls for a double toast! To alternate universes! *puts glass down*

Weiss:Haha, aren’t you gonna drink it!?

Blake:No I’m still recovering; but how could I pass up the opportunity!? Man I wish I could attend that wedding! I don’t know if I’d be a bridesmaid or the best man!

Yang:You’re just gonna steal Neptune’s thunder like that?

Blake:Hey, Sun and I have taken bullets for each other and stab wounds. I think I deserve to be a little greedy and say I ride or die for that man just a little harder than Neptune.

Ruby:Geeeeeez Blake! Haha, I didn’t even tell you about the baby.

Blake:*visble excitement* Excuse me!?

RWY:*raises glass* Cheers.

Blake:CHEERS! What’s he like!?

xxxxx

Aero:AAAACHOOOO!

Carmine:Eugh! Cover your mouth! I don’t need to get sick.

Aero:Damn! What happened to uh I don’t know, “bless you!?”

Carmine:*pulls out tissues* Happy?

Aero:Where...why are those in you book bag?

Carmine:It’s flu season.

Aero:....I can’t tell if you’re the coolest person around or just a second mother.

Carmine:I can be both. My mom is arguably both but don’t tell her that. It’ll make her month and she’ll hug me too tight.

Aero:Bitch, you love hugs. Stop being difficult.

Carmine:Mmmm nah.

Aero:I feel bad for your mom.

Carmine:I feel bad for yours.

Aero:Hop off. You’re so childish.

Carmine:And yet you love me.

Aero:*red* In your dreams!

Carmine:It would make your day if I dreamed about you,wouldn’t it?

Aero:I hope you dream of spiders.

Carmine:We do not joke about that! *grabs him* Aero I will beat you up if I dream of them tonight! That’s just mean!

Aero:Stop crying ya baby. I could’ve said they were- ow!

Sun:*hitting him* Shut up and just kiss something! We’re trying to watch a game.

Aero and Carmine:We don’t like each other!

Jaune:With all do respect, that’s a lie. But please by all means Aero, continue not touching my daughter if you know what’s best for you. I don’t wanna have to fight you and your parents right afterwards.

Sun:Ilia would kill you.

Jaune:Yeah! That’s why I don’t want the fight! Much like Ruby, she’s short and terrifying. Her size holds the rage.

Ilia:*peeks in* Who’s talking shit?

JASC:Nobody, we love you!

Ilia:.....Got my eyes on you four. *holds Garnet up* and this one; the most well behaved in this bunch even with no nap.

Garnet:*fussy grumbling* I’m a ball of rage!

Ilia:You wanna nap?

Garnet:Yes!!!

Ilia:See, behaved. *walks away* don’t make me come back out here.

Carmine:....So do you like me because your mother is also imposing?

Aero:This is it, my evil origin story. It begins today.

xxxxx

Ruby:I admire his patience.

[stylesluxx]

allergic reaction – h.styles

[warnings: allergic reaction (obv), hospitals, crying but not really angst?? swearing and mentions of sex (no smut)]

summary: in which y/n develops an allergy to her favorite food

word count: 2,106

masterlist

Harry made the best sandwiches. And you can't believe that for three years, you didn't know you were in a relationship with the Gordon Ramsey of sandwiches.

Ever since your trip to London last year, it was a tradition for the two of you to share a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at least once a week. And you would only eat it if he made it, no exceptions.

The two of you were on a plane to London to visit his mom and sister; you were cuddled into his side, watching Phineas and Ferb on his laptop, when your stomach grumbled loudly.

You looked up at Harry sheepishly, causing him to chuckle and kiss your forehead. He got the attention of the nearest flight attendant and let you order.

"What are you hungry for, Baby?" He asked and rubbed your arm with the hand that was around your shoulders.

"Do you think I could get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?" You shyly asked the woman.

PB&Js aren't something people would usually get on a plane but you thought maybe you'd test your luck.

"Chunky or smooth?" She asked, making you smile happily.

"Smooth please."

"Do you think I could get one too?" Your boyfriend asked.

"Of course!" She nodded and walked off.

She came back after a few minutes, one plate in each hand, making you sit up to bring the tray down in front of you.

You and Harry both thanked her as she walked off, leaving you two to your sandwiches.

"What made you want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?" Harry asked before biting down into his sandwich.

"Just had a taste for it," You shrugged. "What made you want to copy me?"

"Just had a taste for it."

"Oh, I bet," You giggled and bit into the sandwich. You took a couple more bites before nodding in amazement. "This is the best PB&J I've ever had in my entire life. Like the perfect ratio."

"I bet I could make it better," Harry challenged, eyebrow raised and looking at you from the corner of his eye.

"H, in the three years we've been together, the only things I've seen you make are ramen and cereal," You teased.

"Watch. When we land, I'm gonna make you the best sandwich you've ever had."

"Okay, Chef Harry," You giggled and went back to eating your sandwich.

When you got to his apartment in London, he dropped the bags off in the bedroom before running back to the kitchen and getting started on a sandwich.

"Har, I'm sure it can wait for the morning," You laughed and kicked off your sneakers, setting them by the door.

"No, because I need to prove you wrong," He shook his head and continued.

You shook your head, sat at the island, and watched him make what would soon become his specialty meal.

He cut the sandwich into two triangles and cut off the crust the way he knew you liked. He made sure to leave as much sandwich as possible, but still getting off all the crust, before pushing the plate toward you and smiling in anticipation.

"Go 'head, baby," He urged you.

"You know... it's okay for you to not be good at something. Singing is phenomenal; sex is phenomenal; you're a phenomenal boyfriend, a phenomenal person even! So, it's okay if you're an average sandwich maker," You played with him, trying to put off eating the sandwich.

"Just try the damn sandwich, Y/N!" He playfully yelled and banged his fist on the counter.

"Okay, okay," You giggled and picked up one half of the sandwich.

You looked at it carefully before putting a piece in your mouth and taking a bite. You slowly chewed it, taking in all the flavors, before swallowing and going for another bite. You repeated the slow chewing two more times before you set the sandwich back on the plate.

"So?"

"It's actually... really good, Har. Like really good," You admitted and gave him a big smile.

"You just saying that?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

You laughed and shook your head. "The only thing that makes yours an A+ and the flight attendant's an A is the fact that you know how I like my sandwiches cut and the crust. Like I told you, phenomenal boyfriend," You shrugged and picked the sandwich back up to finish it.

"Told you!" He yelled victoriously and pumped his fist in the air.

"Yeah, yeah, you told me."

Harry was finally back home after touring and doing press, so for a week you just left him to relax. You cuddled whenever he wanted, cooked his favorite meals, danced with him to his favorite songs. It was actually stuff that you normally did when he was home. But for the week you didn't pretend to fight it or playfully groan.

But now his week was up and you were craving a sandwich.

"Harryyy," You sang and squeezed his nose while he watched tv.

"Stop it," He whined and swatted your hand away.

You just moved your hand to his cheeks and pinched them as if he were a tiny baby with cute, fat cheeks. "Harryyy," You sang again.

"What do you want, you pest?" He teased and tore his eyes away from the tv to look over at you.

"I was just thinking... it's been a while since we had your special sandwiches," You hummed while rubbing your chin as if thinking.

He let out a laugh through his nose, making his body jerk slightly. "Y/N, you haven't had a sandwich since I left, have you?" He asked.

"It appears I haven't," You continued playing clueless and pursed your lips.

"Alright, Baby, your PB&J is coming right up," He nodded and kissed your forehead.

His feet moved from the coffee table to the floor as he stood up and made his way into the kitchen.

You smiled brightly, clapped your hands together, and rested them on your stomach. You had been waiting months for this moment and you were in pure bliss that you were finally getting what you wanted. As the saying goes, good things come to those who wait.

Harry walked back into the living room with two plates, one for you and one for him. "Harry Styles, singer, songwriter, actor, and Y/N Y/L/N's personal PB&J chef. Here you go, Baby," He introduced himself with a playful smirk and handed a plate to you.

"You're so silly," You smiled before thanking him.

He nodded and sat back in his spot next to you, putting his feet on the table and arm around your shoulder.

"Bone apple teeth!" He cheered and held up half of his sandwich.

"Bone app the tea!" You toasted and raised one of your halves to tap his.

You both bit into your sandwiches at the same time and smiled at each other, ignoring the bread sticking to your teeth.

You finished your sandwiches quickly and set the plates down on the table. You leaned into your boyfriend's side and focused on the Avengers Assemble cartoon that Harry had playing.

After an episode of, you felt your lips start to tingle but you brushed it off, not thinking much of it. But once you were running your tongue over the top of your mouth, trying to get rid of the itch, you figured something was off.

"What kind of peanut butter and jelly did you use?" You asked Harry, looking up at him with an uncomfortable expression, eyebrows scrunched together.

"The same stuff I've been using," He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the tv.

"Do you think it was expired?"

"No, it wasn't. I checked. What's wro-" He went to ask but stopped when he looked at you. "Okay, so we should probably get you to a hospital."

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"Baby, your face is all swollen. Come on, put your Crocs on so we can go," Harry gently ordered and shot up from the couch. He walked over to the coat hanger and grabbed two of his jackets. He put one on himself and grabbed the car keys.

"What do you mean my face is swollen?"

"Y/N, is something wrong with your throat, why are you scratching at it?"

He walked over to you and wrapped his other jacket around your shoulders.

You hadn't noticed your hand was scratching at your throat until he asked and now that was all you could focus on.

"I don't know. It's itchy, Harry. A-And it feels like it getting harder to breathe," You frowned. You felt your eyes water and the scariness of it all was starting to set in. "Harry, what's happening?"

"Baby, just put your shoes on, okay? You're gonna be fine," He tried to assure you but you let out a sob anyway, making his frown grow deeper.

You trudged over to your shoes by the door and slipped them on while trying to contain your tears and regain control over your breathing.

The ride to the hospital was quick and, before you knew it, you were lying on a hospital bed, hand gripping tightly onto Harry's.

"You're gonna be fine," He assured you and kissed your hand softly.

He pulled away and kept rubbing circles with his thumb while the doctors and nurses surrounded you, hooking you onto machines and giving you antibiotics. You nodded and closed your eyes, not to sleep but to try to relax, and hoped this nightmare would be over soon and, you'd be back home.

–

Spending three days in the hospital wasn't ideal but Harry wanted the doctors and nurses to be thorough. You were hooked up to monitors the whole time and nurses were coming in and out to check your temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, and blood oxygen level. Not only that but you had a small tube in your nose to help with your breathing. You were completely against it at first, claiming you could breathe just fine, but one look at Harry's pouty face made you give in. You were taking blood and urine tests to monitor your organs and see what exactly you were allergic to, but you had a pretty good idea of what it was before the doctors could break the news.

Harry stayed by your side for all three days, not bothering to go home and change. No, you weren't dying but he wanted to be there to make sure you were as comfortable as possible.

Once you were back home, Harry texted your parents, Anne, and Gemma to let them know. Anne and Gem wanted to fly out to see you but Harry assured them that you were going to be just fine and you'd call once you were all settled in at home. There was no stopping your parents though; they were on a plane to New York from their vacation home, ready to baby you once they landed.

Harry marched into the apartment and went straight to the kitchen, not hesitating to throw the practically full jar of peanut butter in the trash. He went to the bathroom and started a bath for you, even carried you to the tub once it was ready. He helped strip you of your clothes and get you into the bath as if you were a fragile baby that needed help.

"Har, I'm okay. Come get in the tub with me; you deserve to relax. Please," You breathed out and looked up at him with soft doe eyes.

"Since you asked so nicely," He teased and gave you a reluctant nod.

He undressed and sat at the other end of the tub, before pulling you into his arms and holding you tight.

"I'm gonna be okay?" You asked. You knew the answer but you just wanted to hear him say it. It always calmed you when he said it.

"You're okay, Baby. Just allergic to peanuts," He sighed and let his wet hands trail down your back.

"I eat peanut butter all the time. I'm just not understanding how this happened," You frowned, shaking your head in disbelief.

"It happens but you'll be okay."

"Our tradition is ruined though," You grumbled and moved away to look up at him.

"We'll have a new tradition. We hate peanuts in this house! Fuck peanuts!" He yelled out and stuck up two middle fingers, making you burst into laughter.

Once you calmed down, you leaned back into his chest, sighing happily, completely in awe at the fact that you had the perfect boyfriend.

"My face isn't back to normal yet?"

"Not quite. You're still my little marshmallow for few more days."

[AN: I was gonna make this a part of my Quaratine Series but I decided not to overcomplicate things with the hospital and stuff. but yeah, hope you enjoyed ! feel free to shoot me a message about literally anyhting !]

[jade-of-mourning]

theformat wrote, "im floating with the birds im talking to the weeds look what youve done to me"

in which i spontaneously take several hours to translate nate’s awfully punctuated commentary on dog problems into Comprehensive English Words. partially so i can write my stupid essay on it for fun. but yes here you go, 4.2k words from a 2006 livejournal archive that i managed to snatch out of two saves. here’s a link if you want to read it from the source, but i’ll have you know it’s a nightmare. early 2000′s nate ruess learn how to type properly challenge.

theformat wrote,

[@ 2006-5-18 18:44:00]

"im floating with the birds im talking to the weeds look what youve done to me"

Hi,

Sitting on my couch, watching ESPN. Damn, it’s good to be home. Things have been pretty crazy the last 6 months. As a lot of you know, we were dropped by our label — we went and recorded a new record, labels became interested, [and] we decided to release it ourselves. We went on tour, and now I’m [...] home for the next week: my first week off in six months. What do I do? 

Well, my roommate and I got memberships to the YMCA down the street from our house. It’s an amazing place. Downtown Phoenix is pretty much an amazing place. It’s not like the rest of the state — speaking of which, I’m declaring war on Scottsdale, it’s the opposite of Downtown Phoenix.

Anyways, so I wake up at 9am every morning. I don’t know what it is, really — I’ve been a "pro" musician for about 3 years now, [and] we are supposed to wake up at 11 or 12. I know some dudes that wake up at 1, but no; since I’ve been home the last few days, I’ve been going to bed at 1 and waking up at 9. My roommate has a job, [so] I think it has to do with that. 

See, there are 3 showers total in our house. I have the big bedroom, so I have the big shower, [and] since I’ve been off on tour and recording, he has gotten used to the nice shower in my room (Which is fine — anyone that’s gotten close to me knows I’m not too fond of showers, so it’s not like I use it that much). So every morning around 8:45, I wake up to my door opening and my roommate going through my room to use the shower. 

You know what it’s like when you’re half asleep but you want to act like you’re awake so as not to freak someone out with all the crazy babble, but you just end up saying all the same crazy babble? I do that every morning. I turn and look at him and try to act like I wasn’t just dreaming about tootsie rolls and parrots that shatter like glass. "Hey [Roommate's Name], that was some game last night" [is what usually] comes out of my mouth — something to that extent — and I think he feels sorry for me, but continues to walk right into my bathroom, and use the shower. 

At this point, I’m awake. I usually have to pee, and I have to then use his restroom. It’s a terrible swap, and it always ends with me wide awake on my front porch (har har) smoking a cigarette and wondering how the hell I’m gonna fall back asleep when the air conditioning is broken. Ah, what a wonderful life at home, [but] that’s the weird thing — I love it. Now we wake up and we go to the [YMCA]. We run, we play basketball, we jump in the pool, we play pool basketball, we get yelled at for dunking the ball. We don’t use soap before we go into the sauna, and the night usually ends with a poker tournament. This is the life I love to live when I’m away from the road. It too is the opposite of Scottsdale. It’s who I am, [and] it’s pretty much who I’ve become.

See, for the last 23 years, it’s been about the highs and the lows for me. I’ve got an addictive personality, [so] I stay away from a lot of things because of this; however, when I find things, I get generally excited. I go crazy. It’s all I think about and all I do for the next howeverlong. For the first 23 years, it was either talking non-stop or locking myself in my room. It’s either great or terrible; not good or bad. Dog Problems changed that.

Initially, Dog Problems was supposed to be that — the original concept of Dog Problems was to be 2 sides of music, the first half taking over where Interventions [+ Lullabies] had left off: "We'll be together in the morning…"

We weren’t, in fact. We were over before Interventions was even released. We were over two weeks after it was recorded, [and] I spent the next 2 years feeling terrible. We got back together… we broke up… we got dogs… we broke up… we got back together and got dogs…

I was still miserable, but I wanted Dog Problems to get me through everything. I wanted it to help me, not anyone else — just me. The first side was supposed to be me down in the dumps [and] everything that went down: how the two of us were dealing with it differently, [and] the second half was supposed to be a realization.

The first inkling of realization was a day [when] we were on tour. We were all laughing about something I’m sure Marko or Adam said. Here I was supposed to be depressed, but the fact that I can spend all of my days in different states with my best friends, all of us doing what we love — that was major! Then my mom called… I’ve got my parents! My friends! What else could I possibly need?

At that point, I felt as if a relationship in a Michael Bolton sort of way didn’t mean anything. It was the people you surrounded yourself with — those were the people that made the difference, and that was going to be side two. I was convinced that when I just closed my eyes and thought about the wonderful people around me, I was going to be great. Not good, [but] great.

I didn’t get that far, no. I got back into the relationship. 

I was sure it was going to work. At that point, life would be perfect, and we all want perfection right? [But] things went right back to far from perfect. Things went to terrible. I couldn’t stop feeling sorry for myself, but I had a concept. At that point, I figured that even by singing and recording these positive songs I was going to feel better, so Sam showed me what was then just a short acoustic guitar version of Snails.

This was it. This was my first chance to prove to myself that life can be beautiful. The thing is, I had never been more miserable. I remember writing the lyrics to Snails: my roommate was at work, I was on the bed, on my night stand was a giant bottle of booze, and somewhere off in California she wasn’t calling me back on a Friday night. So I went to work, listened [to it] over and over. I wanted to get it right; I wanted to be positive. I passed out, then I woke up the next morning [with a] big headache (P.S. drinking is not really that cool; it’s cool when you condemn it for the first 22 years of your life, then it becomes not cool, then it becomes ok when you moderate yourself) and I started writing everything positive I could think of. [...] Snails was, in Sam’s mind, supposed to be a 2 minute kid’s song, [but] I wrote so much that there was no going back. I thought that was it — Snails solved all of my problems.

It didn’t get that far either. Nothing could shake the depression, [and] I really started to worry about myself. Here I want to feel great, but I only feel terrible, [and] a few months later it got really really bad. I had to go to my parents house that night, I didn’t want to be at my house. I wanted to feel like a kid.

It’s funny how we always want to be adults when we're younger. We want to drive cars, we want to have girlfriends. I still didn’t consider myself an adult — all I wanted was to come home, be tucked in, know that everything was going to be alright. I woke up the next day [and found out] she met someone new. I’ve got to figure myself out…

In the meantime, we've got 4 songs we are recording over at our friend Aaron’s house (he is an amazing producer and [...] musician, and his house and his roommates have gotten me through a lot of tough times. They’re some of the only people I know who would rather spend their Saturdays getting dinner and watching a movie instead of going to a party. I like that). All of this turmoil in my relationship was going on at the time, and I was trying to write side two [but] I couldn’t. There was more fuel to side one. These songs have to be done, so I wrote about what I knew, and at that point I knew how to feel terrible.

So much for side two. Dog Problems is going to be one giant mess of depression and "look what you’ve done to me".

Atlantic got those four songs, as well as a few others. They were not psyched, to say the least, but some people at the label actually cared about it enough to say "go record". So we were able to pick our producer, we met with a few people, talked to a few more. Things were looking up. Dog Problems was going to happen. 

I remember meeting Steve McDonald at his house — Sam and I were excited to be [there] because we knew his wife Anna would probably be there. Anna was the lead singer/songwriter for a band we used to obsess about called "That Dog", her brother was one of the ten drummers in the world that I actually liked, so Steve couldn't be so bad. And he wanted to produce our record, so he had to be pretty cool! 

He was just that, and more. Sam and I were eating every word that came out of his mouth. He had stories; he was young, hip, energetic, and yet very all knowing. We saw someone that was going to let us do whatever we wanted to do, and in the meantime he was going to make us laugh and make sure we didn't lose our minds. From that point on, I knew there was someone I could always trust. I made a friend pretty quick.

Things were moving forward. Steve McDonald was to be the producer. I hated Los Angeles so there was no way in hell I was going to record there, [so] we decided Palm Springs would be perfect. Weird, but perfect. I had a phone conversation with Steve that night and we were finalizing everything. I was going to call Atlantic in the morning and let them know just how everything was going to work, [but] I didn't get that far.

I was sleeping in a blowup bed at the house when my phone rang. I didn’t wake up and answer like it was my roommate and he was coming into my room to use my shower, [because] this call felt different. Right away, I was awake.

It was our manager: "You’ve been dropped." 

When I heard that, the first thought going through my mind wasn’t "Oh man...how are we going to be famous now and make boat loads of money?" It was more like "fuck...but Dog Problems. We were supposed to go make Dog Problems."

The thing is, Atlantic wasn’t into Dog Problems. They were into whatever it was they thought we were. Never had The First Single made more sense — what was supposed to be a song about getting the band started and doing something with it had actually turned into a song about how stuck we were in the labels eyes because of the song. I was past that; we're proud of something we wrote when we were 19 and 20, but when I think of music, I think of progression. 

I think of all of the wonderful records I had been introduced to when I had nothing to do riding in a van. I think of all of the new influences, all the instruments, all of the "How did they do that?" And I think of how much it gets me through everything.

Music has been the consecutive[ly] great[est] thing in my life. It’s been that one thing, and with Dog Problems, it wasn’t about "I want everyone to sing along because I can write a catchy song." It was about feeling. It was paying tribute to all of the bands that we obsessively listened to. It was for Harry Nilsson and Van Dyke Parks, it was for Jellyfish and XTC. It was our way of saying thanks for making our lives better, whether it be lyrically or musically. It was never about being something, being told something, and sticking to something. It was an adventure, for the artist and for the listener.

[And] they didn't get that. They wanted the old record, the old songs, just with different words and a few different chords here and there. They didn’t care about Snails or Dog problems [or] what it meant to write those songs. They knew it wasn't going to be huge; the guitars were not big enough (if big guitars are your thing that’s fine, it’s just not really our thing right now); it wasn’t going to be competitive, and so they dropped us. And rightfully so: we weren’t going to change, and obviously the major label business is never going to change, [so] now it comes down to who goes down first. And we weren’t ready to go down.

Sam and I had conversations about it, whether the business end of things have been fucking with us so much that we'll never be sane enough to just enjoy it. We thought about getting out — it wasn’t [be]cause we hated each other, or the songs; it was because we hated the business.

Steve called to let us know that he was still onboard, label or not, [and] we let him know we were still on board. We were going to make this record, [and] I was going to feel great! But the record was going to cost something. How could we afford it? 

We were lucky that we had a management company like Nettwerk. Not only are they the most forward-thinking music business people around, [but] they’re also (for the most part) Canadian. Oh, and they care a shit load about the music we make. They could have waited for the ship to sink, but they told us they would pay for the record if need be. Fortunately, we were able to get money for getting dropped — Atlantic actually paid us to leave, so we could afford the recording ourselves. The only stipulation was that it had to be done quicker, and when you want something quick, you have to go to the "right here, right now" capitol of the world: Los Angeles. I was a little irked at the thought at first, then Steve said it was his personal goal to make LA a wonderful city for me. Like I said, I would jump off a cliff if Steve said it was the best way to get coffee, but I wasn’t jumping off of cliffs. I was too excited to make Dog Problems, [so] LA it was.

Sam and I moved to the "Silver Palace" in Silverlake California in the middle of December. We found an amazing studio in Burbank, California and an amazing engineer in Ken Sluiter, and our goal was to just do everything free from a record label and someone constantly messing up the recording process by saying things like "that’s not high octave enough". The only pressure we had at all was from our manager saying "You have a tour you accepted in March, [so] get it done by then.” Other than that, it was me, Sam, Steve, and Ken working 13 hours a day for 6 days a week.

It became our lives we were putting so much of ourselves into. Everyone that worked and played on the record was the same way when they were there contributing. I would leave the studio at 2 in the morning and wake up at 10 to be at the studio by 11. There was no free time — the four of us were so invested in this. We all bought into the concept. 

In the meantime, things outside of the studio were getting interesting. We had a lot of labels calling and constantly asking about it. During one week of recording, I remember at least 3 different label people coming down to the studio. Our minds weren’t made up as to what we were doing with the record once it was recorded — all we wanted to do was finish it — but we kept our options open and let people sit in the big chair and listen to what we had been working on. The response was overwhelmingly positive, but we didn’t really think about it too much beyond the compliments we were receiving. Sam and I got used to LA — I was 10 minutes away from where I had been the previous summer when I was back "on" in my “on and off" relationship. I was ten minutes from her, she was calling every day, I was singing about it… but how was it not getting to me? Why did I not care?

My phone was off. I woke up in Silverlake one morning and started wondering why for the last month I had a smile on my face. Sure, I was down at times, but the thing that had been bringing me down for 3 years was now the last thing on my mind. Apparently, it had been that way for awhile. Something that took 3 years to get over… I was finally just okay with it. No big realization — just the fact that things happen. People make mistakes. And I came out of it alright. I was good; not great… I was good, and that felt good.

I wasn’t looking for great anymore. I was okay. The last song on Dog Problems is all about that. Here, this record was supposed to be the downs, and the ups, and it ended with the middle: the realization that I don’t need to be talking; I don’t need to be locked in my room — I need to enjoy what’s going on around me. And if things go wrong, they go wrong. There’s always tomorrow.

Dog Problems means so much to me in so many different ways. I’ve never been more proud of anything in my life. I cried so many times during the making of the record. All the money I had spent on therapy, and all I had to do was go make a record, realize that I’m alright, and realize that I made something that I’ll forever be proud of.

Shit… the record was supposed to be about how California can change you for the worse, [but] it played a huge part in doing the opposite!

So as we were putting the finishing touches on the record (all our friends came in and recorded! A ton of people we admired came and worked on the record! All of their responses were so positive that it's hard not to get an ego about it. These are the people I worship. They’re the ones I wanted to pay tribute to, and they think we've made something unique and special. It’s like Michael Jordan telling you that you have a nice jump shot (no more sports references… I swear I’m done)) and we started to think about what we were going to do with it. How we were going to release it. Labels were getting pretty into it, and we knew we would have to make a decision soon.

After much debate and discussion, we decided that the record was something we had made completely on our own, so why not release it completely on our own? Nettwerk was going to take care of the distribution so it would have a major label distro. It would be inside all of the Best Buys; what more did we want? We didn’t want a big fat check — we did that last time. It made us miserable, and nothing came out of it. Barely anyone at the labels helped us, we weren’t making music videos, our songs weren’t on the radio, so why would we take their criticism? After all, everything that we’ve done — any success we’ve had is from being real people who make music. From showing up to play, from 3 years on the road. 

On Interventions [+ Lullabies], there might have been an Elektra logo on the back of the record, but it ended right there. We were the ones SHOWING people who we were. I wouldn’t have it any other way — no one knows us better than ourselves, so why not release it ourselves? To me, it’s not only a testament to the hard work we put into the band (Mike, Don, Marko, Toco, everyone else involved in putting these songs to life — you guys are the best thing we have. It’s pretty special when your best friends are some of the most talented musicians), but I really feel like the people who come to our shows are such good people that they don’t give a fuck what label it’s on.

They are there because we are doing something positive, and because we care about them as much as they care about us. So for the time being we've said "fuck the middleman": we're the only people we can blame at this point. I’m so tired of even talking about major labels and the split and everything like this. The music is the only thing I care about. Dog Problems is the only thing I care about, so why let someone else ruin it?

The Vanity Label was born.

The record got finished. We had no time to rehearse, and we had to go right back out to tour. Our first show before the Motion City Soundtrack tour was in Nashville — I remember the last time we were in Nashville, there were about ten kids. Reuben’s accomplice kept asking them why they hate whales, so we figured why not go there and get some of the rust out of the way. After all, we haven't toured in a year so there should be like 3 kids there; we can mess up if need be.

Unfortunately, we were not allowed to mess up. On a Sunday night in Nashville, with Ted Leo playing across the street (I <3 Ted), our first headlining show outside of Arizona in almost a year was over sold out. What the fuck happened? 

We thought we were going to have to play for another 3 years just to get back to where we were when we left, and yet it’s sold out on a Sunday night? It didn’t end there either — the whole tour went like that… night after night ("nite after nite?"). I couldn't believe it. As if having Dog Problems wasn’t enough, now we have people showing their support in the most positive way: coming to the shows, being there from the only thing they knew before. Those two months were such good months. It was the last thing I expected. Thanks so much to all the bands that played with us, and thanks so much for everyone that came to the shows and sang along. We'll be back in July.

In the meantime, things were going great on the Vanity Label front. Business actually felt natural. We are shooting a video with the directors we had always dreamed of doing a video with (it won’t be serious...no pouty face). There were magazines like AP and online magazines like AP taking notice, supporting the whole idea and concept. We actually took press photos. I’ve never been through any of this before, it’s exciting. I don’t think it’s going to change who we are, not one bit, but it’s still exciting to see people who can help out actually help out.

So where does that leave me now? Sitting on my bed. I’ve rambled for hours, the air still doesn't work, and I’ve been told that Dog Problems (something that isn't supposed to come out till July) has been leaked. Not the best news when you just got out of the pool, but it happens. I freaked out at first — I thought I was going to lock myself in my room. After all, this is something that we spent over two years making. It’s something that you have to take the time… listen to in headphones… play loud… listen to in order of the tracks… the artwork… Sam did the best artwork he has ever done. The packaging is something we paid extra for because Sam’s concept was so brilliant, and now… it’s leaked on the internet? I was locking my door, then our manager called.

"Hello?" 

"We're releasing it on the website today." 

"Wow."

So, here goes. You’ve read enough. I shouldn’t have to go on about it anymore, but I will say, if you wanna wait for the full hard copy release then do so. It’s July 11 — we are gonna be touring right after that — but if you want to get it now,.please do it by purchasing it right here. We released it, it’s our money, it’s our little baby — you should take the time to listen to it all the way through, free of distraction. You should turn the songs into your own. It’s an adventure, and it’s something that we put everything we have into; and if anyone deserves it first, it’s you guys who have been here with us all along.

Without further ado...

"Dog Problems"

- Nate

[circecroft]

( victoria pedretti. 25. female. she/her/hers ). quick, look !! did you see CIRCE CROFT disappearing around that corner ?? i’ve heard that the FREELANCE ARTIST has OMNISCIENCE and has been in boston since 1996. rumor has it they are quite GENUINE and EMPATHETIC, but also ERRATIC and INCOMPREHENSIBLE. maybe we should follow them and see if they really give off the vibes of the peeling old glow in the dark stickers your dad stuck to your ceiling when you were eight and couldn’t fall asleep. you put them in the shapes of the constellations without having to look up a reference // perpetually skinned knees and elbows from tripping over stoops and walking into doorframes // sometimes you play music in your earbuds so loud it hurts and it still isn’t enough. you knew it wasn’t going to be enough and you still tried. why do you keep trying? // there is an inherent tragedy to being human. everyone is aware of it, but none so much as you. you try to smile anyways. the sun always rises.

BIO

at 3:21 in the morning on the coldest day of january in the year 1996, CIRCE CROFT was born not in a hospital, but in a car on the side of a road on the way. she was exactly 12 days, 13 hours, 14 minutes, and 2 seconds early. her parents - robert and helen croft - would have gotten to the hospital on time were it not for the white-out snow conditions that had caused a severe collision when truck driver alec moses had accidentally crossed lanes into oncoming traffic and the ensuing accident blocked the road. had the crofts left their small boston home just 16 minutes and 43 seconds earlier they would have made it to the hospital on time. they did not, though, and so circe was born in the back seat of their dark blue crown vic in a flurry of snowflakes and cold air.

she, of course, knew all of this was true from the first breath.

circe was an UNNERVING baby. she did not cry, not ever, not ONCE. instead she would lie still and solemn and regard the world with steady and unblinking eyes. once, aunt amelia - robert’s elder sister, born 4 years before him on a middlingly warm september midafternoon - said that circe was AN ODD LITTLE GIRL, REALLY - BABIES SHOULD CRY, OR MOVE, OR - BABBLE OR SOMETHING, AT THAT AGE. it was a sentiment aunt amelia has never let go of to this very day - - - though she lives 3,086.2 miles away in california and does not call circe or see her in any real regard now a days. it was a sentiment many people carried for many years. as circe grew from babe in arms to infant to little girl of 5 years old, she remained as she always was. quiet. still. wide, watery eyes and fingers that curled ‘round something and held steadfast all day. she did not speak a word until she was nearly 5 years, 6 months, and 3 days old. when she did start it was in fits – in babbling words that tumble-weeded out of her lips in a tangle of tenses that never aligned.

it only became WORRYING when circe began to predict. or ... recall things she had not even been alive for. telling her father she liked the hotel he and her mother had stayed at before circe was born. telling him that the sound of screaming and musket fire was keeping her up. babbling frantically about the fire that is down the street, it’s down the street, when the fire that takes out a neighbor’s home doesn’t happen for another four months. neither robert nor helen were mutants and knew very few - - - none in the family so long as they knew ( THOUGH UNCLE ED, HELEN’S STEPBROTHER, WAS AN EMPATH - SOMETHING CIRCE SAID ONE DAY AND WAS GREETED WITH NERVOUS LAUGHTER IN THE FACE OF ) and circe knew before she fled that her mother would not stay. her mother who did not know what to do with this girl, with this person who knew too much and knew too little how to say any of it. circe told helen she forgave her for leaving 5 months and 12 days before the thought had even passed through helen’s mind. she did leave, though, 8 days shy of circe’s 8th birthday.

the thing about omniscience is that it sounds fun in THEORY. knowing everything sounds like a blessing, like knowing the weather all the time and never being caught off-guard. to know everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen is something so many would pay to harness. but circe’s mind is over-loaded by the constant noise that rings through her head, deafening her from the inside out. it isn’t a QUIET knowledge – not the sound of scholars in a library. her mind is a riot of pain, of anger, of violent noise that never ceases in its pounding against her eardrums, a march of the dead and the not yet living. what they don’t understand is the weight of it all. they don’t see 5 o clock in the morning, still haven’t slept because someone 100 years ago is crying so loudly and circe can’t shut it off and it’s just going and she wants to help but she can’t because she’s too far and too late and too small and she can’t breathe.

she knows how the worry keeps her father up until the early dusky hours of the morning, when circe would creep down the creaky stairs from her room to the front porch to go for a walk in the relative quiet of the waking hours, driven from sleep too early by the sounds of those around her, and behind her, and before her.

circe knows her life is not QUITE like that of others. she is lucky - - - very lucky - - - to live on her own with aid from her father & paternal grandparents ( rose & robert sr think their only grandaughter is an odd duck, sweet thing, poor girl, and so help her along. ). she knows she would be a disaster at most jobs ; she would meet too many people, hear too many songs, too many pasts, too many horrors, and be driven to exhaustion with the lot of it. INSTEAD - SHE PAINTS. it was an outlet discovered very young and has turned into something she does on commission, now. large canvases covered in abstract portraits of SOUND, OF LIGHT, OF STARS IMPLODING AND THE WORLD FRACTURING. it is a way to try and SORT the unending information into something comprehensible. it’s just a - - - helpful side effect that she can SELL THE WORK as well.

PERSONALITY

circe is often not exactly PLEASENT to be around. she tries to remain palatable, friendly, polite, but there is something OFF about her that is not difficult to pick up on. eyes often unfocus suddenly and intensely. she will trail off mid-word and sometimes entirely drop conversations suddenly mid-stream. it is difficult for her to keep tenses straight, which leads to an unusual speaking pattern where circe will often have to try multiple times before hitting the correct tense - past, present, or future - and it makes communicating with her somewhat difficult at times. worst still is the fact that she KNOWS when people are becoming irritated or upset by her and it makes things even worse. STILL - - - she cares a lot about most people. she tries to make other people’s lives easier and better whenever she can, sometimes at the expense of her own health.

[oki-writes]

Boke. Chapter 3

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Family trip w/ kuroo and kenma to Tokyo

Warning: Slight angst, cursing, heartfelt moment

Characters: Kageyama Tobio, Kenma Kozuken, and Kuroo Tetsurō

3rd person:

“Kenma, when are you going to get here, Hiroto, looking for you” buckling your son down inside his car seat, you're waiting for your walking wallet to answer. “Umm I’ll say in two minutes. I had to stop and pick something up. Whose car are we talking to the amusement park?”

Yes you heard that right you guys are going to an amusement park, and not just any, you guys are going to TOKYO DISNEY!

Tetsurō wanted to spoil his nephew, so he called up his rich boyfriend knowing his sister and nephew is his weak spot. “Well Tobio’s parents heard where we’re going and let us take one of their cars. So rest assured you don’t have to buy a bigger car for the trip” you teased him.

“Okay anyways I’m about to pull up. I just need to put some stuff inside for when we come back on Sunday and we can leave.” You said bye after he said that and faced Hiroto to see him reaching for his bottle.

“You ready to gee oji-san and go to Tokyo” cooing to your son. You continue to play with him in the backseat waiting for everyone. After 5 mins you saw the guys lock the door and load the car up.

“Okay guys here’s the plan. Every hour we have to stop to let Hiroto get changed and have a break from his car seat. We’ll stop for breakfast and a snack along the way. At 2 I made a reservation to a restaurant in Tokyo for us, once we arrived. Okay that’s it I’m going to sleep. He kept me up all night. He didn't want Tobio at all.”

Tobio who was sitting on the opposite side of Hiroto mumbled under his breath.

∞ 1 hours later

“Oi (n/n) wake up we’re at Lawson Kageyama changing Hiroto, so what do you want while I go in the store?” Kenma was slightly shaking you waiting for your answer.

“ I want two dorayakis, royal milk tea, and two cold georgia café au lait pls. And for Roto a yogurt and the calbee veggie fries.” Kenma just nodded and walked into the store.

“So Tes when you are going to propose? You guys have been together for almost 3 years. I want to know so I can keep my schedule open. I’ll let you know my photography skills are wanted by all.” Wiggling your eyebrows at your older brother.

“I actually planned to do it after you graduate. I want everyone to be free and I want Hiroto to be able to walk so he can be the ring bearer and maybe you can be a part of it.”

Before you could respond Tobio and Kenma walked out the door heading back. “We’ll talk about this later, Tes” you glared at him.

“We got the snacks. Which one do you want first, your coffee or tea. Also do you want both dorayakies or one?” Tobio was looking through the bag pulling his and Hiroto’s stuff out waiting for your answer.

“Um the tea and one dorayaki please Tobi”, he just nodded and started to pull your stuff out. “Oh shit I forgot to mention warm milk for Hiroto” you realize after fishing the bottle out of his bag.

“Sis don��t worry his daddy got it” Kuroo smirked. “Please never say that in front of me ever again” You groaned at your brother. “Why that’s you were saying the other night at the top of your lungs” he chanted back to you.

“KUROO TETSURŌ IF I HEAR YOU TALK LIKE THAT AGAIN IN FRONT OF MY SON I WILL FIRST BEAT YOUR ASS AND THEN CALL AND TELL MOM ON YOU!”

∞ a few hours later

You guys finally reached Tokyo at around 1:30. After stopping at your father’s house to freshen up you guys got back in the car to go to Chano-Ma.

After hearing it was fine to bring your own baby food and special places for breastfeeding and diaper changing it was a mom’s dream restaurant. Also smoking was prohibited from 11-5pm..,best place to go.

“You guys are ready to go to the best restaurant around.” They all looked at you as if you were crazy. “(N/n) honey it’s just a restaurant. You used to live in Tokyo. Also I've been to the restaurant before and when I invited you to come you said this place sounded boring”.

” Well Kenma I’m a mom now that changes the game. The more child friendly the place is the better. Back me up Tobi”. Kageyama didn’t know what to do so he just pretended to sleep.

“Guys come on let go , it's 1:50 let’s check in” Kuroo stated. After Kageyama put Hiroto into his harness, you guys walked in and went to your seats.

“Tobi, you can sit him down. The mats are soft enough for him. Also order as much as you want Tes said it’s on him” exclaimed. Tetsurō just stopped and all the color drained from his face at those words.

∞ after eating

After leaving the restaurant and deciding to explore parts of the city. “GUYS GO OVER THERE AND POSE. I have my camera on me to let me take some pictures. Hurry, the lighting is fading”.

Pushing everyone into position you got down and angled the camera and went to work. You probably looked crazy to others ,but the true photographer in you just loved the area you were in.

Bright lights and the calm atmosphere at that time of day gave off a perfect vibe. But, the one picture that you loved the most was when you took of Tobio and Hiroto by themselves.

Hiroto was settled into Kageyama’s arms looking up at the building. Kageyama was staring down at him. The light basked on them respectively, showing the pure love that was between them.

The second picture that took your breath away was one with Tetsurō and Kenma together. Kenma was on Tes’s back. They were smiling at each other. Kenma actually had a genuine smile. His hands were intertwined with your brother’s.

Just like Kageyama’s picture, this one the light was center stage and the background was fading. Making them stand out in their surroundings. You were definitely going to print these photos out later.

∞ after the photo shoot

“Hey Tes remember this was the spot Dad told us he was going to remarry Mom?” Kageyama and Kenma decided to get some ice cream from the store where you were standing in front of. “Yeah I do. You cried and I still don’t know why”

“Well one was that I was happy he found someone. That’s pretty hard to do. Secondly I felt bad that I would have to replace my mother. But, once I found out it was Mom it got better. Since she helped raise me when my mother was in the hospital.” you turned to face him.

“Kiddo you know what, mom is super proud of you. She would love Hiroto.” Tetsurō laughed remembering his late step-mother.

“She’s your biological mother ,but when dad first left my mom back in the day. She was there for me and you know what...she said that if either of us wanted to have a child and it’s a boy to name them Hiroto. That's why I picked the name when you asked me.” You just stared at him in disbelief.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mom picked the name and not you.?” Kuroo thought about what to say for a moment. “Well I knew being pregnant and without your mother was already hard for you. As your older brother I didn’t want to make you even more depressed than you already was.

“Boke...even if mother is not here, I had you, father, and mom” you began. “Yeah my biological mother died, but I had you guys there for me. I know I’m the baby of the family ,but I’m a big girl now. I can take it” you laughed at him and punched his arm.

“Hey I was trying to have a heartfelt conversation with my little sister. But for real, if you need something talk to me. I hate that I live far from you. And also about the propo-“

“Hey guys we got the ice cream”

A/n: so they order I put in for Kenma is actually what I usually get from Lawson when I live in Japan. Secondly the restaurant we went to is an actual restaurant.

A/n .2: I want to apologize for taking forever to get this out. My mental health just been all over the place and I couldn’t bring my self to write something that wouldn’t be good. But, now it’s stable so I’ll try to post quicker

Spanish word of the day: el helado (ice cream)

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Taglist: (open) @humanitysbiggestsimp ⋆ @french-girl-online ⋆ @yeehawslap ⋆ @avatarkyoshithewarrior ⋆ @littlemissendlessdreamer

[fandom-blackhole]

Hello, hello it's me, your partner in crime 🐣 who's got a batch of new ideas.

So Din has his australian shepherd Razor Crest,

I feel like Boba is more of a cat person and he's a busy man so he wouldn't have time for walks anyway,

I was initially thinking about either a sphynx cat or a British shorthair, these are really fancy breeds, but

I've got this idea, maine coon! This breed is fancy too!

Big kitty resting on his meaty thigh or in his lap 😳 (okay are we keeping this PG or at some point we are gonna go to town)

Oh and of course we can't obviously name kitty slave (Din points for you for the name of your ship working here)

Okay, back to work. Umm Paz...

While I love idea of him owning any breed, taking home any strays from the back alley of his restaurant, we need to remember that his living space is limited,

It's cheesy but imagine the spaghetti scene from Lady and The Trump recorded irl by Paz and Sent to you,

So a good doggo for Paz? Chihuahua?

Like there is this huge, chunky, ex-army man, which owns the best restaurant in Town, going around, stocking supplies with his little companion tucked under his arm,

Because of his bde he won't be ashamed of carrying his pet in cute little bag!

Razor Crest is such a good girl. She instantly starts loving you and Grogu,

Din is a busy man but still he manages to go jogging with her, his girlie needs a lot of activities since she is a shepherd dog (also Din with nicely toned legs because of the joggs? Ok ok keep this PG! Unless👉🏽👈🏽😳)

Grogu would still occasionally try to eat anything he can find (bad habit from his troubled upbringing but you and Din are working on fixing it though!)

This means Grogu would gladly share a "snack" with his big sister, and vice versa she once brought him her chewy snack,

Let's say you and Din need to visit uncle Paz more often, so Grogu develops proper taste for human, non-object food,

Crest sleeps with you and Din in bed. Neither of you can deny her that privilege,

But when Din finally adopts Grogu and the kiddo moves in, Crest will only sleep with him, guarding the little one all the time,

You and Din have no idea, but once Grogu snatched a small ball from daddy's car,(shiny-metal-ball-thingy from ship but in this case it's not metal and is child and pet friendly?) maybe he got it for kids at school but was forgetting to take it with him, Din big dummy dum,

Boba's lockscreen is a photo of you curled on the bed with the kitty atop of you(he is a big softie for both of you),

He has a huge folder with full on photos hoots of his cat,

But most pictures are blurred and the cat looks into camera like "human, don't bother me, human pet me, human bring treats),

Nonetheless, he treasures them dearly,

Paz' place is pet friendly,

He even has some dog and cat special dishes on the menu,

His doggo is his best culinary critic (after you of course),

Paz is thinking about making some accommodations in the backyard, back at home because he desperately wants to rescue more strays, but he keeps in mind that his farm animals need proper care too,

So he holds an event with local shelter at his place,

You help him organize everything perfectly, there is delicious food and lots of cute pets who are looking for a new home,

After fruitful ending you decide on collaborating witj the shelter as often as possible,

Paz even helped his old army pal adopt a dog because as a, selfcare king, he knows animals can provide great help when someone struggles with ptsd or anxiety.

As always please don't mind my mistakes. I hope you have been doing well, my writing bestie - 🐣

Screaming!!! Okay so sorry for taking so long, Saturdays are my 'busy' days lmao, also this can get as spicy as you want! I'm down for anything......

Please for the love of God yes, Boba totally has a Maine coon aka my favorite cat breed

He loves this cat dearly and you love when it comes and curls up on your lap

As for the name, what about Fennec??? Unless you want to have her be like his right hand in his organization

And Paz totally picks up strays and takes them to the local no kill shelter, he wants to keep them all, but he knows he can't

Paz is constantly sending the reader pictures of dogs and cats and animals doing various things, and recreating movie scenes

As for Paz's dog, a Chihuahua is so fucking perfect!!! Huge man with tiny dog yes please

(Though I may be biased because I own a three legged chihuahua named Guinevere aka Gwen)

Paz totally goes around shopping and everything with his little pupper with him (did you know they have harness for dogs so that you can carry them around like babies....so like my new pp except instead of Grogu its a doggo)

Paz also definitely allows pets into the restaurant and even has a little dog area for the pets to mingle while you eat

He of course is also a 5 star chef when it comes to feeding the animals, making sure to check all of the boxes when it comes to their basic nutritional needs

OMFG BIG BRAIN MOMENT, Paz is a certified rehabilitator for animals, he will take in hurt animals, domestic and wild, and help them until he can release them back into the wild or take them to the shelter/give them to a good home

Din totally goes jogging when he can, and he has a jogging stroller so Grogu can go with him (Grogu is on the smaller side because of his past hardships)

Grogu sooooo gets into Razor's treats (my sister used to walk along our alley behind our house and eat our dogs 😂😂)

Grogu and Razor are also partners in crime, they steal stuff and share the spoils all the time (hence why Din doesn't give Grogu chocolate or anything bad for dogs yet)

Din once found Grogu chewing on a bone he gave Razor and almost had a heart attack

Also the images of Grogu curled around Razor in his tiny space shipped bed, 102038302/10 too fucking cute (Grogu's room is space themed and you totally helped Din set everything up for him)

As for the metal ball, in this AU what if its like a small moon plushy that Din had in his classroom that Grogu keeps managing to sneak home until Din just gives up and let's him keep it? (Thats how the two of you got the idea for a space themed room)

Boba being a total grandpa taking pictures of his kitty to send to you all the time, aka another reason why they are blurry because Boba can't take a good picture to save his life lmao

Paz totally holds drives for the local shelter and events for people to come and meet animals they can adopted

Paz holding nights at the restaurant where all of the money is donated to the shelter and at the cash register he gives out home made dog biscuits as thank yous for coming in and donating

Omg Paz help his buddies with getting animals 😭😭

Also I raise you, Paz owns rabbits as well that he often takes with him when he visits Din's classroom (one of them is Grogu's and he comes over and plays with it and feeds it once a week)

(Send me THOTS!!)