#built-in mahogany bench

[winchestarks]

Dining Room - Contemporary Dining Room Image of a medium-sized, modern kitchen and dining room with beige walls

[ageofevermore]

ENDLESSLY

SUMMARY — you’ll learn to like your coffee black, if it means forgetting the way her blood stained your hands.

AUTHORS NOTE — this is for @runawayswrite & @vancityfire13 prompt challenge, that is like four days overdue.

Everything was sticky. The checkered patterned floor, the marble table, the mahogany colored booth bench with deep rips in the stiff fabric. Everything reminded you of her.

It almost felt like blood between your fingers. The sticky residue brings you right back to that night on the battlefield with Wanda bleeding out in your arms. The single stream of crimson blood that dried a shade so similar to mahogany dripping from the side of her lips, the only color left on her ghostly white face. Her last words are a skipping record in your head, ‘I love you endlessly’. Turns out, endlessly was only a short couple of years.

“Hey,” A warm hand found yours across the table, startling you from your nightmare. Your endless nightmare. Always the same one. “You with me, Y/N?” Natasha asked kindly, worry pooling in her eyes and in the pull of her lips as she frowned over a paper menu. All she could do was watch you wither away before her, just like you had watched Wanda.

You nodded, swiping your sticky, shaky, sweaty palms over your thighs to rid them of the feeling of her blood caked into the soft indentations of your hands. Wanda loved tracing every groove in your skin, kissing every imperfection, every blemish and scar, loving on you at your complete rawest. You’d never be able to love every part of yourself as earnestly as she had. “Fine.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, her frown deepened, her heart clenched, but she didn’t press. You’d only shut down more if she pressed, and you were already a shell of yourself in her presence.

“Sorry about the wait, we’re busy today. Saturdays are crazy. Can I get you anything?” Your eyes settled on the coffee pot in her hands, and the world became silent around you. The feeling of hot blood escaped your consciousness, replaced with a feeling you’d give anything to have back.

“That’s your fifth packet.” Her accent was fading the longer she spent time in the city, attached to your side in fear of losing you like she had Pietro. In fear of losing herself in this new world. Her nose scrunched as she watched you tear open another, shaking the sugar packet until the last granular fell in. Your lips pulled into a grin, an expression of adoration in the soft blush on your cheeks.

“I like it sweet.” You shrugged bashfully, hiding behind a strand of hair that fell into your face. Wanda watched you fondly, following your slow strokes of the spoon combining the sugar packets and creamer with the coffee.

For a second, you think she might come back at you with a pickup line, you love how those infiltrate her comebacks anytime the pair of you squabble, but today, she must be feeling secure in the sanctuary the two of you have built from ruins. “That’s disgusting.”

Your lips drop open, shock swimming in your eyes, you freeze before a laugh bubbles up in your chest and falls from your lips like a symphony. Wanda laughs along with you, the songs of your joy blending together so perfectly, it was in that moment you couldn’t imagine another night without her.

With trembling hands, you picked up the cup of coffee, not a sugar packet or shot of creamer combined. Nothing but the coffee as itself. Nothing but bitter, almost watery, taste. If you couldn’t be back with her, if you couldn’t look across the table and watch her eyes crease in delight as you assembled a mountain of sugar packets, you didn’t want it. You’d learn to like it back. You’d learn to erase yourself from her.

[sailtomarina]

Last-Minute Leather

Harry x Draco | @hp-yuletide-bliss Day 6: Last-minute Christmas shopping haul | WC 1539 | Rating: M

What do you give to a bloke who has everything?

Harry always knew what to get Hermione, and Ron loved anything he could eat, but Draco? His boyfriend was the sort of wizard who bought what he wanted when he wanted–no matter the cost.

Harry quickly discovered that Draco Malfoy was a man of many and varied interests.

The question re-imposed itself at the forefront of his mind: what do you get someone who has everything? Where does one even begin when that same person shrugs when asked, simply answering, “You don’t have to get me anything.”

In Malfoy-speak, that essentially meant, “I’m just happy to be with you.” Of course, the git would never actually utter something so openly affectionate. Harry knew better than to expect that. What they shared was still so new, that he was afraid to exhale too hard and shatter what they’d built together over the past year.

Diagon Alley was packed to the brim with other last-minute shoppers–mothers hustling their children from storefront to storefront, undoubtedly hoisting their shrunk-down purchases within their purses; merchants hawking their wares with free samples and colorful displays; weary partners sitting on the many benches lining the cobblestone road as they waited for significant others to finish up their business. Objectively, Harry thought the wizarding shopping district had never looked more festive. Wreaths hung from the lamp posts and every shop featured their own array of holiday lights. All they needed was a sprinkling of snow to finish off the pretty painting.

Harry stuck to the edges of the crowd holding his coffee cup aloft, partially for the warmth and partially to hide his face. He could just disguise himself and avoid any overly-zealous fans, or use the Invisibility Cloak, but the pressing bodies would immediately reveal the odd hole that was his hidden body and he hated having to go through the extra effort at all. 

No. Better to make up his mind on what he wanted to get Draco, then plan his angle of attack.

“Harry?”

He turned at the familiar voice and came face-to-face with a mountain of mahogany curls.

“Hermione!” Hope bubbled up at the sight of her cheery grin. Hermione always made for a good target to bounce ideas off of.

She eyeballed the tote under his arm. “I take it you’re still getting gifts?”

A sheepish smile was her answer, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“What! Not everyone can be as well prepared as you,” he exclaimed. Then, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Although, what are you doing here?”

She didn’t look like she counted among the harried customers, but who knew what secrets she kept hidden in that beaded bag of hers. She’d been known to hide a few tricks in her hair, as well.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been good on presents for weeks, some of them for months,” she said, her smug tilted upward. “I just so happened to be here to catch Pansy’s new winter collection.”

He nodded slowly as he recalled Pansy’s blossoming fashion business, which she’d started after breaking off her arranged engagement with Gregory Goyle. Call it a distraction, or her version of a rebound, but the decision had been the best choice she’d ever made. She thrived under creative pressure and stepped her best heel forward as she took the wizarding fashion world by storm.

He certainly had much to be thankful for, given her almost-immediate attention to his person, demanding that he dress as befit his station as Head Auror, public figure, and Draco Malfoy’s lover. He’d never worn such perfectly-tailored suits and robes in his entire life once Pansy took control of his wardrobe. Draco certainly didn’t have any complaints, if the way he worshiped him behind closed doors was any indication of his…vast…appreciation.

“I’m pretty much done except for one problematic individual.”

“Malfoy?” She served him a knowing smirk.

“Well, what about you? What did you get your wizard?”

“Well, Theo is much easier than Malfoy,” she smacked him on the arm as he started to make a suggestive comment. “He doesn’t spill his Galleons at the drop of a hat like somebody else.”

She seemed to consider whether or not to tell him more, eyes flitting around for any possible eavesdroppers. Skeeter had long been ousted from any respectable news agency after Hermione exposed her Animagus status, and was currently serving five years in Azkaban to boot, but there were always other would-be paparazzi where the Golden Trio were concerned.

“Muffliato,” she murmured, before leaning in unnecessarily towards him. “I picked up some custom lingerie that Pansy designed for me.”

His eyebrows jumped high on forehead. He thought of Hermione like a sister, so any mentions of her and sex were about as appealing to him as a mouthful of Hagrid’s treacle fudge. Still, she was on the right track. Draco adored Harry in just about any and all uniforms (his Quidditch kit, his Auror uniform, re-sized Hogwarts robes) as much as he loved him naked.

He had yet to wear something overtly sexual in nature.

“Do you think Pansy might have something for blokes?”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione looked fit to burst, her cheeks puffing up as she grinned wide and a high-pitched squeal starting to work out of her mouth. “She totally would! Please, go see her.”

Godric, he was a lucky man to have such brilliant friends in his life. He swept Hermione up in a hug, thanked her profusely, then headed in the direction of Pansy’s shop.

As he approached the familiar storefront with its black brick and tasteful window displays, arranged almost like snow globes, complete with falling snow that somehow never reached the floor, he realized this might take much longer than he’d thought. There were so many witches seeking her services that there was a line going out the door and down the street.

He could bite the wand and take his place at the end, risking recognition and ceaseless questions, or he could leave and return at a less busy time–perhaps just before the end of open hours. Better yet, maybe he could just owl Pansy and ask her to come up with some options. She already had his measurements, after all. Surely she was skilled enough to math out some of his other assets she had yet to put a tape measure to. It couldn’t be anything more complicated than a snug pair of boxer briefs, right?

His mind now made up on the third option, he spun on his heel to make a hasty retreat, only to walk straight into the witch herself.

“Potter!” She stumbled back, nearly losing her balance before he quickly grabbed onto her elbows to steady her.

“So sorry, Pans. I didn’t realize anyone was behind me.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. In this crowd, there’s no avoiding a few bumps here and there. What about you? Is there something I can help you with?”

He glanced nervously at the line of women, before returning his attention to the one right in front of him. One perfectly-manicured brow lifted in curiosity.

“I’m shopping for a gift. I just ran into Hermione and she told me what you made for her, and I just thought that maybe—”

She held that same hand up to stop him.

“Say no more.” She ran an appraising gaze down his form, the corners of her lips curling upward as a dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. “I assume this is for you, for Draco?”

“Shhhh!” he hissed, frantically looking around to see if anyone had heard.

“Oh, please, lingerie is nothing to be embarrassed about, Potter.”

“It is for me. I’ve never worn, never even thought about, this kind of thing before. I can’t imagine what others might say if they find out that I’m looking to…looking to…”

Her chin dropped and she leveled a stern face at him, far too reminiscent of Hermione’s best discernment for his liking. “To what? Dress up special for someone you love?”

It sounded so simple when she phrased it like that. Not just simple, but even normal.

“Well…yes, I suppose.”

She nodded in approval. “I’ll come up with several options. You come back tonight at 5 and we’ll go over them together.”

“Isn’t that when your doors close?”

Pansy looked pointedly between him and the line behind them. “Do you want to come back here during open hours?”

He swallowed heavily and shook his head.

She patted him on the shoulder and moved past, their plan now set. “I’ll see you tonight, then. Don’t be late.”

That evening, Harry learned a great many things he had never known before, including harnesses charmed to withstand any amount of stress to the straps, jock straps meant for more than just sports and how they differed from split jock straps, and that he quite liked how he looked wearing a snug bit of leather. He walked away with a few different options, already looking forward to the look on Draco’s face once he opened the first present.

Harry would already be wearing the other gifts, and he expected to be unwrapped with far less finesse and a good deal of swearing.

Cross-posted to Tumblr and AO3

I was recently introduced by a friend to Nasty Pig while asking him questions about different types of menswear, and boy, oh, boy, did I get some wonderful images for reference. If you’re at all inclined towards harnesses, jock straps, and the like, feel free to check it out, or let me know if you know of other sources of inspiration.

I don’t write much Drarry, but I’ve always loved the idea of them. They’re such an obvious and wonderful pairing given their obsessions with one another at Hogwarts. I don’t know how much justice I could really give them, though, in a scene, hence this being wholly in Harry’s POV, and Draco in the periphery.

[spock-smokes-weed]

With everyone finally giving this cult classic the attention it deserved, I decided to rewrite the end half of the parlor scene from Katya's perspective! It's one of my favorite scenes of the movie and I think it's where we see Katya's resolve to betray Goncharov.

Fic is underneath, and TW for violence against women. It is a scene from a mafia movie, but still y'all deserve to be warned

She was in shock, there was no other way to describe what she what feeling. It wasn’t truly just this one small meeting that was ripping the floor out from underneath her: no, it was months, even years of everything she’s been trying to hold together crumbling before her very eyes. She’s done everything right. She’s been the good wife; she’s been smart where she needs to be and plays the part when the heat of the fire gets too strong. Now all the work, all the sacrifices seem for naught. Even her dear Sofia has left her.

And he just sits there. He just fucking sits there like he hasn’t stripped her of everything. He just sits there like he hasn’t fucked everything they’ve built.

The parlor hasn’t been empty for long, the Italian leather seats are still warm from where their business partners had been sitting not even ten minutes ago. The room held nothing but tense silence now. Katya had been sitting like a perfect doll on the bench at the piano while all of it went down; Goncharov had moved from his erratic pacing to slummed in a chair by the fireplace, a scotch glass death gripped in his worn hands. Katya finally moved, picking up her pack of cigarettes to stand at the open balcony window. She lit up and passively thought how cold it would have been outside if they were still in Saint Petersburg; but at the height of winter, the Naples breeze was still warm and humid.

She blew out a fine breath of smoke, arms trembling. The longer the silence dragged on, the more her rage crawled up her throat and out to the surface.

“Blind fool.” It was barely a whisper, but it carried enough venom to kill a raging bull.

The sound of glass being slammed down on the mahogany coffee table rang out behind her. Her lips curled as she took another drag. Those crystal glasses had been a wedding gift; he better not smash another one.

“If you’re going to speak, Katya, then speak.” He all but hissed, the simmering fury of before threatening to boil over.

She flicked her ash out the window into that warm night, arms still trembling as she turned to face him. She was always so put together, even through the event of today her hair stayed pinned and styled, but now as she looked at him her face was red and eyes glassy. “You heard what I said.” Her voice did not waver. “You’re a damn fool.”

He was standing now, black beady eyes staring through her. “I’ll fix this Katya. Whoever has done this knows who’s coming for them, and when the time comes there will be hell to pay.” He says it with such conviction, with such vengeful purpose, but Katya has her doubts.

“Will you?” She presses, taking a step towards him. “We both know Andrey had something to do with this. He knows you, Goncharov, he knows exactly how to destroy us. I warned you he would flip on us- “

“Enough!” He barked, banging his fist against the wall. Katya would never admit that she flinched.

“Enough.” He said again, the words had cooled off but did not lose their intensity. Goncharov did not lose that violent gleam in his eye.

“I know how to handle this, Katya, I will not tolerate backtalk from you. I have built everything for us, and I’ll be damned if I let someone take me down over a few men and a boatful of cargo!!” She took note of the clear exclusion of Andrey’s name.

Katya couldn’t help the scoff that left her. Sofia always said never let the men see the cards you held, but there was something raging through her. Like a dead man walking, she let her hand fold. “You built everything?” She asked mockingly, voice no longer stable, throat thick with tears. “You would be nothing without me! Who do you think finally convinced Mario to work for you? Do you really believe he’d willingly work with suck a pigheaded brute- “

She screamed when he grabbed her wrist. Voice dying on her tongue as he yanked her close, so close that their faces were almost touching.

“Shut your G-DDAMNED MOUTH!!!” He screamed, spit flying into her face. “The biggest clusterfuck of a bitch falls into my lap and the least I could ask of my wife is a little sympathy!!!”

She tried to pull her wrist from his grasp, but he only gripped her tighter, tighter to the point of pain. In all their years of marriage, he never laid a hand on her. Even when the slow roll into hell started, he never hit her. She’s been afraid of him, afraid of what he’s done to their lives, but this was different. As his strong hand compressed on her bone, she saw she could no longer see any glimmer of the man she once married all those eons ago. Even though she could not remember the last time she felt any kind of true love for him, there were still times she could glimpse the man underneath. The gifts of Russian chocolate on her birthday, the replacement of her mink coat, and the flowers in the kitchen window. They were all something, something of a man who knew how to love. This man, however, with his cold black eyes, perfect white teeth bared in a snarl, and ten-thousand-dollar wristwatch ever so slightly digging into her skin; was a beast more than he was a man.

She was at a loss for words, gaping down at where he bruised her wrist. The bubbling tears in her eyes finally slipped down her flush cheeks. His eyes followed hers and his grip loosened, but he did not let go. Through his fingers an angry red could be seen against the paleness of her skin.

 He reached up his other hand to cup her face, thumb gently wiping away the tears. “Katya…” He said it too softly, eyes coming back up to look into hers. Her anger came back tenfold and with all her force pushed him back with one hand. He had no right to speak her name in such a tone. He had no right. The shove had dropped the hand that ensnared her wrist and put some distance between them. Whatever fury over her or Andrey or whatever had died inside of him, and all that was left was an even heavier silence.

 Somewhere in between it all, Katya dropped her cigarette. She, very calmly, walked back over to the balcony and picked her pack back up and lit another. Goncharov said nothing. The tears on her face cooled as she took her smoke, breath shaking as she blew it out.

 “You know…” She started, ever so slowly making her way back over to him. “I don’t think you even need Andrey to destroy you. You’re doing just fine with that yourself.” She didn’t stop walking and left through the parlor doors. Goncharov didn’t stop her.

As the click of her heels faded down the corridor, the grandfather clock gave a loud toll of the hour. And in the empty room, Goncharov couldn’t shake how haunting it felt.

[bigbox01]

Designing a Dream Kitchen with BigBox Dining Collection: Tips & Tricks

When it comes to designing the perfect kitchen, every element should strike a balance between functionality, comfort, and luxury. The BigBox Dining Collection, known for its elegant craftsmanship and bold designs, is the perfect way to elevate your kitchen space into a sophisticated dining haven. Whether you are planning a complete renovation or a stylish refresh, here are some tips and tricks for designing a kitchen that seamlessly integrates the BigBox Dining Collection.

1. Choose a Central Statement Piece

   - The Dining Table: The heart of your kitchen design will be the dining table. BigBox offers stunning tables crafted from premium wood, glass, and metal combinations, providing both aesthetic appeal and durability. Opt for a table that fits the space but also stands out with its sleek design or artisanal detailing.

     - Tip : If you have an open-plan kitchen, select a table with bold, modern lines to create a clear focal point.

2. Coordinate Color Schemes

   - To make your BigBox dining pieces pop, create a color scheme that complements the furniture's tones. BigBox offers collections in various finishes, from rich mahogany to sleek marble. Choose warm, neutral shades like cream, taupe, or soft gray to give the dining set prominence.

  - Trick: Pair dark wood finishes with lighter shades on the walls and floors to create a sense of contrast, making the room feel more spacious.

3. Lighting Matters

   - Lighting is essential to bring out the luxurious elements of your BigBox dining collection. Consider installing pendant lights or chandeliers above the dining table to create a cozy yet elegant atmosphere. Metallic finishes on the lights will complement metal accents in the collection.

     - Tip: Use dimmable lights to control the ambiance during different times of the day and occasions.

4. Blend Functionality with Luxury

   - While the BigBox Dining Collection is synonymous with luxury, it is also built for daily use. Consider practical aspects like the number of family members or guests you often host. Expandable dining tables from BigBox can offer flexibility without compromising on design.

     - rick: Add custom-designed dining chairs or benches from the collection that provide comfort for long meals while maintaining the sleek, modern aesthetic.

5. Texture & Material Pairings

   - To elevate the kitchen-dining experience, mix different textures and materials. BigBox’s use of metal, leather, glass, and wood creates a tactile interplay that is both sophisticated and inviting. Incorporate soft fabric runners, lush cushions, and leather-upholstered chairs to create a multidimensional space.

  - Tip: Match the fabric or texture of your dining chairs with your kitchen cabinetry or countertops for a cohesive, luxurious feel.

6. Smart Storage Solutions

  - Luxury doesn’t have to come at the expense of storage. With BigBox’s built-in storage solutions, such as buffet tables or sideboards, you can keep your kitchen organized while enhancing its visual appeal. Choose complementary wood finishes to tie in your storage solutions with the dining set.

  -Trick: Opt for modular storage options that can evolve with your needs, blending in effortlessly with the rest of the kitchen.

7. Incorporate Personal Touches

  - Designing with BigBox gives you a beautiful canvas to work on, but personal touches can make the space truly yours. Add decorative elements such as fresh flowers, a curated collection of ceramics, or a striking centerpiece for your dining table.

  - Tip: Use neutral yet luxurious table settings like fine china or artisan-crafted serveware to complement the sophistication of BigBox furniture.

 8. Seamless Transitions in Open Spaces

 - If your kitchen and dining area share the same space, ensure a smooth transition by using consistent materials and finishes. BigBox furniture can unify the room, with its versatile pieces blending effortlessly into modern, traditional, or industrial spaces.

 - Trick: Use rugs to define the dining area within an open-plan kitchen, giving it a distinct yet harmonious identity.

---

With the BigBox Dining Collection, you’re not just designing a kitchen; you’re creating a lifestyle. These tips and tricks will help you blend luxury with practicality, transforming your kitchen into a space of elegance, comfort, and inspiration

[blanderthings-blog]

Dream bench

The dream bench hand built from mahogany and maple option 1 or Walnut & Maple Option 2 it features threw tenons . The dimension are 36″ wide x 16″ deep x 18″tall and is finished using a French Polish. [show_product_catalog]

[decksforlife545454564]

Understanding Composite Decking Cost: Factors, Benefits, and Budgeting Tips

Composite decking has emerged as a popular choice for homeowners looking to enhance their outdoor living spaces with a durable and low-maintenance alternative to traditional wood decks. As more people consider composite decking for their homes, one of the primary questions that arise is about the cost. In this article, we'll delve into the factors that influence composite decking cost, explore its benefits, and provide valuable budgeting tips to help you make an informed decision.

What is Composite Decking?

Composite decking is a synthetic decking material made from a combination of wood fibers, recycled plastics, and bonding agents. This engineered product offers several advantages over traditional wood decking, including enhanced durability, resistance to rot, insect damage, and fading, as well as minimal maintenance requirements. Additionally, composite decking comes in a variety of colors, textures, and styles, allowing homeowners to achieve the look they desire for their outdoor space.

Factors Influencing Composite Decking Cost

The cost of composite decking can vary depending on several factors. Here are some key considerations that influence the overall cost:

Material Quality: The quality of the composite decking material plays a significant role in determining its cost. Higher-quality composite decking typically features advanced technology, superior durability, and longer warranties, which may come at a higher price point.

Brand: There are numerous composite decking brands on the market, each offering a range of products with varying features and price points. Some well-known brands may command a premium price due to their reputation for quality and reliability.

Size and Complexity of the Deck: The size, shape, and complexity of your deck design will impact the amount of composite decking material required. Larger decks or those with intricate designs, multiple levels, or built-in features like benches or pergolas may incur higher material and labor costs.

Installation Costs: In addition to the cost of materials, you'll need to consider the cost of labor for installing the composite decking. Factors such as site preparation, labor rates in your area, and any additional services required, such as railing installation or deck framing, will affect the overall installation cost.

Accessories and Add-Ons: If you choose to include accessories such as railing systems, lighting, or built-in seating as part of your deck design, these will add to the total cost. Be sure to factor in the cost of accessories and any additional features you desire when budgeting for your composite decking project.

Benefits of Composite Decking

While composite decking may have a higher upfront cost compared to wood decking, it offers several benefits that can make it a worthwhile investment in the long run:

Durability: Composite decking is highly durable and resistant to rot, decay, splintering, and insect damage. It can withstand harsh weather conditions, including exposure to sunlight, moisture, and temperature fluctuations, without warping or fading.

Low Maintenance: Unlike wood decking, which requires regular staining, sealing, and painting to maintain its appearance and integrity, composite decking is virtually maintenance-free. Simply cleaning it periodically with soap and water is usually sufficient to keep it looking like new.

Longevity: Composite decking typically comes with longer warranties than wood decking, ranging from 10 to 25 years or more, depending on the brand and product line. This provides peace of mind knowing that your investment is protected for years to come.

Aesthetics: Composite decking offers a wide range of colors, textures, and finishes that mimic the natural look and feel of wood. Whether you prefer the warm tones of cedar or the rich hues of mahogany, there's a composite decking option to suit your aesthetic preferences.

Eco-Friendly: Many composite decking products are made from recycled materials, such as reclaimed wood fibers and plastic bags, making them a sustainable choice for environmentally conscious homeowners.

Budgeting Tips for Composite Decking Projects

When planning a composite decking project, it's essential to budget carefully to ensure that you stay within your financial means. Here are some tips to help you manage costs effectively:

Set a Realistic Budget: Start by determining how much you're willing to invest in your composite decking project. Consider factors such as the size of your deck, the quality of materials you desire, and any additional features you want to include.

Compare Quotes: Obtain quotes from multiple composite decking suppliers and contractors to compare prices and services. Be sure to ask about any discounts or promotions that may be available to help reduce costs.

Choose Quality Over Price: While it may be tempting to opt for the cheapest composite decking option available, it's essential to prioritize quality and durability. Investing in a higher-quality product upfront can save you money in the long run by reducing maintenance and replacement costs.

Consider Long-Term Savings: Although composite decking may have a higher upfront cost than wood decking, consider the long-term savings associated with its low maintenance and longevity. Factor in potential savings on staining, sealing, and replacement costs over the lifespan of your deck.

Plan for Contingencies: It's always wise to budget for unexpected expenses or changes to your project scope. Set aside a contingency fund of 10-15% of your total budget to cover any unforeseen costs that may arise during the construction process.

By following these budgeting tips and considering the factors that influence composite decking cost, you can plan and execute a successful decking project that enhances your outdoor living space and adds value to your home.

In conclusion, composite decking offers a durable, low-maintenance, and aesthetically pleasing alternative to traditional wood decking. While the upfront cost of composite decking may be higher, its long-term benefits make it a worthwhile investment for homeowners looking to create a beautiful and functional outdoor living space. By understanding the factors that influence composite decking cost and implementing budgeting tips, you can achieve the deck of your dreams without breaking the bank.

For More Info:-

deck builders Toronto

deck companies

[classicmemorialbenches]

What are the best materials for durable and long-lasting furniture?

When it comes to durable and long-lasting furniture, several materials are known for their strength and longevity. Here are some of the best materials commonly used in high-quality furniture construction:

Solid Wood: Furniture made from solid wood, such as oak, teak, or mahogany, is renowned for its durability and longevity.

Hardwood Plywood: Made from multiple layers of wood veneers bonded together, hardwood plywood offers excellent stability and resistance to warping or cracking.

Metal: Furniture constructed with metal frames or components, such as stainless steel or aluminum, tends to be highly durable. Metal frames provide stability, withstand weight, and resist wear and tear, making them ideal for items like chairs, tables, and bed frames.

Remember, the longevity and durability of furniture also depend on proper maintenance, regular cleaning, and appropriate usage.

Classic memorial benches are heavyweight, hand-built, and designed to withstand the rigours of outdoor life. We favor prime-grade oak for its outdoor pedigree and beautiful grain. We’ve developed a lovely range of memorial bench designs for you to choose from. Many of these you won’t find anywhere else.

[merriammusicinc]

Kawai K-800 vs Boston UP-132 | Upright Piano Review & Comparison | Boston Built By Kawai

When it comes to Japanese upright pianos, there’s no question that the Kawai K-300 and Yamaha U1 absolutely dominate the conversation. That said, Boston has a very nice lineup of Japanese-built pianos as well, and Kawai has other great options available as well beyond the vaunted K-Series.

In today's article and companion video, we’ll be comparing and contrasting two of the top Japanese-made uprights available today with the Kawai K-800 vs Boston UP-132 professional upright pianos. These are both full-size, 52” upright pianos, and it's an especially interesting comparison because both pianos are actually made by Kawai in the same factory.

Their designs however are quite different, with the Boston UP132 having been designed by Steinway & Sons, while the K-800 is a Kawai product through and through. Kawai also implements a number of special features into the K-800 as their flagship upright.

We’re going to cover exactly how these two pianos compare musically as well as the critical design differences, and what that means for the pianist at the end of the day. It’s not every day we have two of these pianos side-by-side in one of our showrooms so we wanted to take advantage of the opportunity.

Kawai K-800 vs Boston UP-132 - Background

The Kawai K-800 and the Boston UP132 are the largest examples of upright pianos from both of these respective brands. As a result of being built by the same company in the same factory and even on the same production line in Japan, there is a ton of mixed heritage between these two acoustic pianos.

Steinway & Sons have designed the entire Boston series, so if you come across the sentiment that a Boston is really just a Kawai with a different logo, you can immediately discard that claim as false. While there are certainly a lot of shared components, and complete sharing of the labor force, these are distinct pianos from one another.

On the other hand, if you hear the common claim that Boston’s are built in an entirely different part of the factory by different employees, this too can immediately be dismissed as false. The Kawai K-800 upright piano is technically a 53” piano, while the Boston UP132 is 52” in height, but they are both approximately the same height and positioned against one another in the market in terms of price.

Commonalities

Starting with what's in common between these two pianos, both use mahogany core double felted hammers (Royal George hammer felt on the K-800, unspecified on the UP132), and have duplex scales, which is somewhat unusual for an upright piano. Both pianos feature tapered solid spruce soundboards.

They both use the same gauge treble wire, and there is not a great deal of difference in the scale tension at the upper end of the range, though there does appear to be some difference in scale tension at the bottom.

Both pianos have soft fall fallboards and heavy-duty casters and ship with a height-adjustable bench.

Key Differences Kawai K-800 Keyslips and Keybeds

Moving over to the differences and these are much more numerous. For one, we’re looking at very different back post construction for these two instruments, and this can have a big effect on the sense of overall cabinet resonance.

The bridging system is very different with the K-800 having an enlarged section of the treble bridge as it transitions into the bass bridge which is designed like this to increase resonance in this section of the piano. The K-800 also has a full complement of agraffes which ensures ideal string spacing and is generally reserved solely for high-end uprights.

Perhaps the biggest difference is with regard to touch. The K-800 uses extended-length key sticks, whereas the Boston uses a standard upright key stick length. This results in a significant difference in the sense of weight and keybed depth between these two pianos. The K-800 feels like you're playing a grand piano with a wider dynamic range at your disposal due to an increased level of control.

There are pros and cons of extending the keys when you do this on an upright piano, especially with a hammer shank. The increased control results in a slightly degraded repetition speed, and we have noticed that the K-800 has a slightly slower repetition speed than that of the Boston UP132. So really, the question here comes down to whether you want to prioritize control and a greater dynamic range or speed.

Both pianos come standard with soft, muffler and damper pedals, however, the K-800 is available with an optional true sostenuto pedal in place of the muffler pedal by special order. The K-800 incorporates a steel-reinforced keyslip which can aid in minimizing the odds of sticky keys from the piano getting bumped.

In terms of aesthetic differences, the K-800 comes with a New England grand-style hard finish music rack, while the UP132 has a more conventionally sized music desk.

One other key difference for some - the Kawai warranty is transferable to future owners within the warranty period, while the Boston warranty is not. If resale value matters to you, keep this important fact in mind.

Let’s move on to a discussion of sound.

Upright Piano Sound K-800 Upright Piano Soundboard

The tone is quite different between these two pianos, and the differences are similar to the differences between the Kawai GX-2 and Boston GP-178.

Ironically, the GX-2 was actually reminiscent of a New York Steinway-esque tone, with a little more mid-range power and warmth. Over on the Boston GP-178, the tone is brighter with some higher overtones.

This general description is also apt for the K-800 vs UP132 comparison. Let’s move through the ranges one by one.

Bass Register

The bass register really opens up on the K-800 at a low B or C, and you’ll notice some great resonance down here.

The bass is considerably bigger on the K-800, but the UP132 has a nice bass register of its own that happens to be a little bit warmer.

Tenor Register

Getting into the lower tenor range, the UP132 has certain localized areas where you can really hear the cabinet activate, and then other points where the cabinet is not really resonating at all.

The K-800 is pretty consistently resonant across this range.

Treble Register

As we move into the treble section, the differences between these two pianos start to fade away. In the top two octaves especially,

The overall character is very similar, and this makes sense because we know that there's no difference in string gauge, hammers, and duplex scale.

Overall Thoughts on the Sound Differences

The biggest differences between these two pianos are in the mid-sections. There is a brighter sound on the UP132, though at the same time it’s very nicely blended.

The K-800 takes on more of a New York Steinway tone with lots of mid-range partials, and the sound comes at the player in quite a direct way. Generally speaking, there are more guts and power out of everything on the K-800, and this is due in some parts to the extended key lengths.

Piano Action K-800 Millennium III Action

Beyond the difference in the keystick lengths, there’s a pretty considerable difference in terms of the action designs themselves. The UP132 uses a Steinway-designed maple action.

The K-800 alternatively uses the Millennium III Upright Action with ABS-Carbon fiber composites like all Kawai K Series uprights. Kawai uses this same action concept in their handmade Shigeru Kawai grand pianos, and it’s known for its excellent durability and resistance to changes in humidity and temperature.

Ultimately, both actions are well-built and reliable, though the use of ABS composites in the K-800 is certainly enticing to certain people due to the superior strength and durability of ABS to wood.

As we said earlier, however, the difference from a playing experience is that the K-800 offers a greater degree of control and wider dynamic palette, while the UP132 offers a slightly faster repetition speed.

Both pianos have their own versions of synthetic ebony and ivory key surfaces with Kawai referring to theirs as Neotex.

Closing Thoughts

Thanks so much for checking out this comparison of the Kawai K-800 vs Boston UP-132. Both of these big uprights would be a great alternative to a baby grand piano and even work very nicely in an intimate performance setting.

The post Kawai K-800 vs Boston UP-132 | Upright Piano Review & Comparison | Boston Built By Kawai first appeared on Merriam Pianos

2359 Bristol Cir #200, Oakville, ON L6H 6P8

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(905) 829–2020

[helenandlarrytravels]

February 9th Trinidad to Santo Clara to Cienfuegos

Dad’s 92 birthday! 🎂

Again breakfast at the Casa then onto the coach for 8:30. Left my Fanta in the fridge, bummer. We traveled for about 2 hours and arrived in Santo Clara, the burial place of Che Guevara. We toured the mausoleum where Che’s followers are buried. We also toured the museum dedicated to Che’s life. There are dozens of pictures and artifacts belonging to the handsome young Argentinian who helped Castro win the revolution in 1959. We were not allowed to take any pictures and the museum is like a shrine, we needed to be silent while inside. After the revolution he held many positions in the “party”, reviewing the appeals, of those convicted Batista’s soldiers, who faced the firing squad. Minister of Industries, spearheaded a literacy program, and President of the National Bank. Eventually he left Cuba, in 1965, to fight Imperialism in other countries and eventually was captured and executed in Bolivia.

Back on the bus to Cienfuegos, the pearl of Cuba. This city was discovered by the French and it is certainly reflected in the architecture all around the city. Beautiful. We actually visited a “house” Bodega de Valle, built at the turn of the last century, that reflected all kinds of architectural styles, Moorish, Italian, Spanish etc. Ten years after it was completed the gentleman died and it became state property. Larry and I walked down the boulevard and there is a statue of Benny More, a famous Cuban musician. After a bit we sat on a bench and people watched. I said to Larry, can you imagine what this place must have looked like a hundred years ago withe the 15 foot mahogany doors, iron grill work, columns and just the general beauty of the buildings.

We arrived at our Casa, which was the nicest one yet. Then the same routine, met for dinner at 7:30. Most of the group went out drinking again. 

[anantradingpvtltd]

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[vpkdistribiutors]

Types of Plywood

Softwood Plywood

According to the name, this kind of plywood was created from softwoods like redwood, cedar, or pine. You might be shocked to learn that softwood plywood is utilized for heavy woodwork, despite the fact that these woods are typically compared to the more durable hardwoods. This comprises frame sheathing for home exteriors and roof sheathing that is installed as subfloors. Softwood plywood can also be used to build bookcases, dog homes, and home tool sheds.

Hardwood Plywood

In contrast, the materials used to create this kind of plywood include wood veneers from birch, maple, oak, and walnut. Typically, hardwood plywood has seven layers or more, making it exceptionally robust. In order to sustain large woodworking projects, this requires attaching the veneers at the proper depth and angle. The construction of musical instruments, wood casings for sporting goods, sports equipment, and of course furniture are all needed for the usage of hardwood plywood.

Aircraft Plywood

This plywood is regarded as some of the strongest and best available. It is manufactured specifically from mahogany and birch, two hardwoods resistant to dampness and excessive heat. To make it lightweight and more workable, aircraft plywood is comprised of thinner wood veneers. These characteristics make aircraft plywood ideal for use in buildings that need industrial-strength plywood, rafters and boats, furniture intended to support greater loads, and aircraft structures.

Exterior Plywood

This kind of plywood is utilized for outside woodwork, as the name would suggest. As a result, it is created and attached using an adhesive that is resistant to water and the elements. For many years, robust wood frames will be available from external plywood of high quality. Multi-ply woods fall under this category. Keep in mind that the weather would vary depending on the area. Because oak exterior plywood is mold and mildew-resistant even in extremely damp environments, it has a bigger advantage over other types of outside plywood.

Lumber Core Plywood

This one is specifically 3-ply constructed. It is typically constructed by placing a solid wood core on the ground and adhering two thin wood veneers to each of its sides. Plywood with a lumber core typically has a hardwood exterior consisting of birch, maple, or oak. A robust wood slab is created by adhering together strips of various softwood species for the inner layers.

Its interior being softer increases its usefulness for tasks requiring nails and screws because you can more easily connect them to the interior. However, this is quite a gamble since if you make the wrong decision, the screws and nails might not stay in place.

Marine Plywood

Despite the name, this plywood is not waterproof. Although it is the most widely used plywood, marine-grade plywood that uses waterproof adhesives is what the term "most high-grade built plywood" really refers to. The lack of knotholes makes it distinct as a form of plywood. This one is typically made of firewood or larch, which makes it strong and resilient. It is produced naturally, without the use of chemicals. Because of this, it is susceptible to rot, mildew, and fungus. It is mostly used for outdoor buildings like planter boxes, benches, decks, and gazebos.

[daevastanner]

Goodnight, my Angel

Azriel cannot sleep when Gwyn is away… and neither can his daughter

Read it on ao3

Sleep, singer… Azriel’s shadows begged as he plunked down onto the piano bench.

“Doubtful,” the Illyrian murmured.

With his mate away on assignment in the Illyrian Steppes, sleep eluded him. He never slept well while Gwyn was away. He cursed himself for relying on her so heavily. He really ought to have taken Madja up on her offer to brew him a sleeping potion last week…

Silvery moonlight reflected off the surface of the piano, casting shadows across the sharp angles of Azriel’s face. Dawn was a long way off.

He would play a little music. Take his mind off of the threat of nightmares and instead pursue a nice melody.

With one hand, Azriel lazily let his fingers dance across the ivory keys. A soft, sorrowful song filled the thick night air of the house. Their house. The one Azriel and Gwyn had built together.

A house that over the decades was full of love and music and late nights and most importantly, their fam—

“Papa?”

Azriel’s fingers stilled over the keys, his brows lifting slightly as he looked towards the hallway.

In the darkened doorway stood seven year old Catrin, she rubbed her bleary eyes, hugging her arms sleepily.

Azriel braced his palms on his knees, grimacing, “Did I wake you, my love?”

Catrin shook her head, long auburn hair swaying like the branches of a willow tree.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he tried.

Catrin shook her head again, approaching him with heavy feet, her wings drooped slightly towards the ground. It had been a few years since she’d been able to properly fly with them, and by five she’d gotten much better about tucking them in. But when she was tired and slumped those little shoulders, they nearly dragged.

The horns on the edges were little more than nubs, but the mahogany floors of their home had plenty of scuff marks from her toddling days.

“I can’t sleep,” she yawned, coming to stand beside him. Sitting on the bench, he was still barely above her eye level. Her expression became puzzled. “I’m not good at sleeping lately…”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, tugging her closer. “Have you inherited me and momma’s insomnia?” He gripped her beneath her arms. “Tuck in your wings for me, angel.”

She obeyed, the tiny wings hugging her back. Azriel lifted her over the back of the bench and sat her on his lap.

“What’s… in-som-nia?” Catrin asked, her brows drawing together in an expression that reminded Azriel of himself.

“Guess.”

Gwyn had instilled that habit in him. Letting Catrin ask any number of questions, but encouraging her to take a guess first. His mate had read somewhere that it helped ‘instill confidence and encourage curiosity.’ And Azriel would commit to any method if it meant he would have two clever and inquisitive girls in his life.

“Is it… when you can’t sleep?”

Azriel’s finger pressed against his daughter’s freckled nose. “You’re as smart as your mother, you know that?”

She smiled drowsily, tired eyes scrunching and making Azriel’s chest pinch to the point of pain. How had he, a creature of fear and darkness, made something so warm and full of light? The answer was obvious of course.

Gwyn.

“You have insomnia too?” Catrin asked.

Azriel nodded, ruffling his hair. “I do. It’s better when momma’s home though. We can usually help each other sleep.”

“What do you do when momma’s away? What does momma do when you’re gone?”

“Mm, your mother is partial to some tea. A good book.” He gestured to the piano. “I’ll play a bit of music.”

Catrin nodded and nestled against his bare chest.

Azriel grinned at her. “Do you know what we used to do? A long time ago, before you were born?”

“What?”

“We would spar,” he whispered.

At that, Catrin woke right up, pulling away from Azriel. “Spar? Like when you fight each other?”

“Yes.”

“That would help you sleep? Hitting each other?”

The incredulous tone of her voice was far too mature for a girl of seven, and made Azriel laugh, a full-bodied noise he was now accustomed to making regularly. “It would wear us out. Make us nice and tired.”

Catrin arched a brow that made her look incredibly like Gwyn. “Is that what made you fall in love?”

Azriel snorted. “Maybe. I don’t really know what made us fall in love.”

“You don’t?”

He shook his head.

“Is it because you’re mates then? Like Aunt Emerie and Aunt Mor?”

“No, being mates doesn’t always mean falling in love,” Azriel said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Your mother was my friend first.”

Catrin sneered. “Like me and Coriolanus?”

At the mention of Cassian and Nesta’s loud nine year boy Azriel couldn’t help but snicker. “Let’s get you to sleep, Cat. You want a lullaby?”

She sniffed and shuffled to sit facing the piano on Azriel’s lap. “Can I try and play, Papa? Maybe I can get to sleep like you do.”

The shadowsinger thought his heart may burst. Catrin had enjoyed watching her father play piano - sometimes singing along to whatever song he played - but she’d always been far too taken with books and sparring and singing to have an interest in instruments. He had never asked her if she wanted to play though, scared of putting pressure on her.

But here she was now. Asking to play.

He cleared the emotion from his throat. “Of course.” Azriel delicately lifted her hands, and placed them in the correct starting position. “Now I’m going to move your hands, and tap the fingers where you should press down, alright?”

Catrin nodded, and over her shoulder Azriel could see her face was fixed in concentration. It was the same expression she had worn when Azriel had taught her to fly. The same face she had worn when Gwyn had helped her read. The same face she had worn when Feyre showed her how to draw or when Nesta walked her through dance steps.

You are so loved, he had told her every night when she was almost small enough to fit in one of his hands. So loved by so many.

And then he would sing her to sleep. A song that was gentle and loving.

The song that Azriel helped his daughter play now was a soft and romantic tune. An old one that brought a smile to his lips.

A few times Catrin became overly eager, getting a bit ahead of herself with the melody. He counted off in her ear, steering her back on course.

All the while those scarred, mutilated, monstrous hands covered his daughter’s. Her speckled, soft, delicate fingers danced along the keys. There was a time where he would’ve glared or even shrunk away from the sight of his hands, but they were hands he had now come to love.

They were the hands that had saved his mate. The hands that had fought alongside his brothers. The hands that the love of his life had nearly crushed when she’d had Catrin. The hands that his daughter had clutched at for seven years. The hands that helped her learn to walk and fly and now guided her in playing piano.

Eventually the song came to a close.

“How’d I do, Papa?” yawned Cat, looking up over her shoulder at Azriel.

He blinked back the tears stinging his eyes, managing to smile down at his daughter. “Incredible.” He ducked his chin, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sure you haven’t been secretly playing behind my back?”

Catrin giggled and his shadows danced along his arms - all the while singing a lullaby for her that only Azriel could hear.

“What song was that?” Catrin asked.

Azriel smiled faintly at the memory of the first time his mate had ever sung for him. Catrin arched a quizzical brow at the silence.

“It’s one of momma’s favorites from a very long time ago.”

The grin his daughter wore was every bit her mother. “Is it from when you got mated?”

Azriel shook his head, flicking her nose. “Quit trying to distract me. Are you sleepy yet?”

“Not really,” winced Catrin.

“It doesn’t always do the trick,” shrugged Azriel. “But we should get you to bed, my love.” He scooped her up in his arms and slid off of the piano bench. “A nice cup of tea?”

“A cup of tea,” his daughter nodded, shutting her eyes. “And a story.”

His shadows nuzzled Catrin’s cheek, and she leaned into their embrace. She’d always been fond of his shadows and them of her.

There was a time when he’d feared that his shadows may frighten her, a time where Gwyn needed to reassure him that no one that knew him, no one that mattered feared his shadows.

But from the day he first held his daughter in his arms, she and the shadows had been nearly inseparable. As in love with his daughter as they were with his mate.

Chuckling and pressing a kiss to the top of Catrin’s head, Azriel admitted to himself for the millionth time that his girls had him positively wrapped around their fingers.

And that his hands - his scarred, ugly, dirty hands - they weren’t so ugly or dirty after all. Not anymore. Never again.

[1025cherrystreet]

funeral

y/n attends a funeral and feels hopeless after losing her best friend until she meets her late bsf's cousin Harry.

a/n: this is for @harrystylescherry​ Playlist Fic Challenge!!! this is inspired by the song Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers. i used the name Phoebe in the story but i wasn't picturing Phoebe Bridgers when I was writing that character, i just liked the name and decided to go with it! but, y'all can picture her however y'all like lol. i went from loving this story to hating it, but i hope y'all like it! any feedback is appreciated!! <3

**despite it being surrounded by depressing matters, it's actually a cute and fluffy story lol! just wanted to point that out because i, myself, kinda avoid reading sad stories

warnings: a LOT of talk about death and dying and funerals, mentions depression/depressive episode?, mentions drugs and alcohol, swearing. i'm ceo of rushing the ending, soz <3 (also, gave up on proofreading lmao)

word count: 8k+ (this is the longest piece i've ever written lol)

Y/N has this dream. Where she's screaming underwater while her friends are waving at her from the shore. She's desperately calling for them, hoping and waiting for them to help, but, seemingly, her friends can't hear... and can't help. Submerged beneath the thrashing waters, her wails fall silent; her familiars deaf to her pleads. The more she struggles to get to the surface for air, the deeper she sinks. Her friends just waving at her as she drifts to the bottom. Every time she jolts awake from these dreams in a sweat stained bed and sticky clothes, she decides to brush it off. Not wanting to think about the problems she needs to face or what she needs to work on. Always concluding that she doesn't need anyone to tell her what it means or overanalyze her life through misplaced visions. Deciding to not believe assumptions made from vague, painful pictures.

As the familiar sinking feeling in her chest starts yet again, Y/N snaps her eyes up at the casket as the sound of her best friend's mother releasing a heart wrenching sob catches her focus.

The contrast of the white roses that lay on top of Phoebe's mahogany stained casket almost glow in the evening light, seeming like a mock to such a somber evening. The way the living looks so effervescent and bright, casting shadows on the less fortunate. The dead never celebrated in such light but rather mourned in dim grief and sadness.

Y/N doesn't like funerals, and not just because her best friend of 10 years is the recipient of this one. She's never cared for them. Believing they're just an excuse to get over the one they are to be honoring, they carry a stigma that everyone in attendance has to cry or you're seen as heartless, while the people who were never close to the deceased are presumed fake for showing emotion. Y/N thinks they're a big joke... with a cruel, cruel punchline.

The sound of despondent music playing and cries ring throughout the cemetery as Phoebe's casket is lowered six feet into the ground. The unchecked emotions start to boil inside of Y/N. Anger boiling deep inside of her quickly reaching its point, anger that stems from betrayal, that stems from hurt, that stems from...loss. She quietly scoffs, shaking her head with a stone cold look, before quickly getting up and walking away from the ceremony as her late friend's uncle, Bill, wraps up his poor excuse of a eulogy.

Phoebe wouldn't have wanted this. She wouldn't have wanted people to cry over her casket, stuck laying in a padded box while people who don't even know the real her, speak of her existence like they were the best of friends. They weren't. She was. Y/N was her best friend. These people don't... didn't know her like Y/N does. It's all bullshit.

In Y/N's quick pace away from the tent around the damp open ground, she spots a bigger gravestone with a stone bench built into it and takes a seat.

She inhales deeply, taking a moment to herself to look up at the sky. The clouds that overcast part of the blue sky drifting farther away from the graveyard as the sun starts making its way to set. She breathes in, the delightful scent of honeysuckle and dewy grass filling her nose before it's tainted by fumes of petrol from the road just on the other side of the cemetery gates behind her. It's so unfair; why of all people did Phoebe have to-

"It's all a joke," A deep accent says to her left.

She almost jumps out of her seat when she turns to the man who took the empty spot next to her. Jesus Christ, where the fuck did he come from? she thinks to herself. He had brown curly hair and green eyes (well, thinking green from what she can gather staring at the side of his face), wearing a black suit with a black button up shirt underneath. Rings clad his fingers and the sunset gleam shines off his cross necklace. She stares wide-eyed at him for a few moments before shaking her head to get out of her daze.

"Huh?" She says when she realizes he had spoken before.

"It's all a big joke," He repeats himself, the British accent more noticeable this time around. His head faced towards the funeral, having not spared a glance at her once this whole time.

She settles back into her seat, shifting her gaze to match his with the group of mourning people in the distance.

"Yeah." Y/N sighs in agreement.

The two of them sit in silence for a moment before Y/N decides to speak. Thinking to herself that if anyone would listen to her thoughts, a man who's also ditching the shitty eulogy would be her best bet.

"They all talk about her as if she was God." She chuckles humorlessly.

He scoffs with a small smirk, "Far from it."

Another wave of silence crashes over them, before Y/N breaks it once again.

"She would've hated this," She whispers, "People she barely even knows crying over her like they had any significance in her life. She probably only talked to five people here. She didn't even like her uncle." She laughs, referencing the man who gave the half-assed eulogy about how Phoebe being such an innocent, bright young girl.

"They're grieving her loss instead of celebrating her life, it's all fucked," He clears his throat before continuing, "Funerals are for the living."

"I hate funerals..." She says in reply.

Glancing at the boy beside her when she hears him digging through his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask.  He takes a sip, and another, before gesturing it to her. Not overthinking it too much, she takes the cool metal bottle and takes a big gulp. Tasting the burn of vodka in her throat and mint from what she supposes is the mysterious strangers mouth.

Handing the flask back she says, "She would've wanted a party. Something where everyone was having fun in her honor, not some substandard funeral full of random people and careless words."

This time he's the one who chuckles humorlessly, "Yeah, she would've wanted everyone t'take shots and dress up in fancy clothes n' wreak havoc on this fucking town,"

Y/N smiles at this because Phoebe really would. Phoebe was the type of person who everyone wanted to be friends with, but also who everyone was scared of. She was mysterious and intimidating (a bit like the man next to her, Y/N thinks). Phoebe was a master at persuasion and could get almost anyone to go on crazy fucking adventures with her. One of Y/N's favorite memories with Phoebe was when they dressed up in wedding dresses they had gotten from a second-hand store and walked down the street yelling random things at strangers, taking turns drinking tequila from a metal water bottle.

"She really was something else, huh?" Y/N says a bit somberly, reminiscing on her late best friend.

"Definitely, a know-it-all," He laughs, bringing the flask up to his mouth.

"Oh, of course, she always thought she was right." She smirks.

"I mean, most of the time she was." He shrugs.  

"Yeah, how did she always know everything?" The two of you laugh, taking turns drinking from the flask.

He shakes his head in disbelief, silence settling over the pair again.

"How did you know her?" He asks, still staring at the gathering of people in the distance.

"...She was my best friend," Y/N responds quietly, still staring out at the sunset.

He hums in return, "You?" She asks as she hands the flask over.

"Her cousin." His rough voice speaks out.

"You're Harry?" She says, less as a question and more in disbelief. Phoebe always mentioned her cousin Harry from England, always telling Y/N of stories they had together getting into reckless shit.

She turns her head to look at him just as he does, "And you're Y/N."

He offers a soft, knowing smile, both having heard countless stories of one another from Phoebe. He leans back and extends his arm on the top of the bench behind her, feeling the warmth of his body radiate off of him.

"I wonder what she'd say to me now. Sitting on a random gravestone in our hometown, drinking out of her cousin's flask, ditching what's supposed to be her remembrance." Y/N says, leaning back on the bench too.

"She would've said, 'quit y'crying, it's a sign of the times' and then would drag your arse t'the nearest pub." He laughs.

She joins in on the soft laughter, shaking her head because she knows that's exactly what she would've said. Phoebe was such a joy to be around, her presence unmatched.

"You know, she always talked about wanting to leave a legacy behind. Most of the time, I just laughed at her, thinking it was just another bizarre thing to come out of her mouth. But, she was always saying she wanted to be remembered as some enigma when she dies..." Y/N recalls the many memories of her and Phoebe staying up til 4am talking. Chills suddenly covering her body, not only from the cool Winter air but because of how Phoebe had talked about her death and now she's actually...dead.

She turns her head to look at Harry and he has a bittersweet smile on his face.

"I think she's accomplished that quite well, hasn't she?" He replies.

"How?" She questions softly with furrowed brows.

"Well, f'starters, her funeral is full of people who never even knew her, or frankly even cared about her, while two emotionless people just got up and stormed away from it t'drink vodka out of a flask on some random person's gravestone." He laughs before tacking on, "Trust me, the people over there are wondering who the hell she was and who she knew, right about now."

She turns her head from the (quite pretty, she thinks) boy to her left, looking at the wake, only to be met with a few people staring back at them.

"Well, I'll be damned," She scoffs. "Of course, the bitch did it." A smile bright on her face, probably the only real grin she's pulled since Phoebe's passing. Her best friends wishes coming true makes her heart warm just a tad, a relief to how cold losing her best friend made it.

"Always able t'make her life seem like an episode of Pretty Little Liars." He says shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

This comment makes Y/N laugh quite loudly, drawing a few — what she could only think were glares — back at her. Wiping a stray tear from her face that fell due to her laughing. The sweet sound coming from her lips only tacking on Harry to join her.

"Oh my god, she practically lived in an indie movie, always the role of the mysterious main character!" She chuckled out, creases forming at the corners of her eyes that Harry has taken a liking to.

As both of their laughter slowly dies out, another silence comes over them; only this time it's almost deafening. It's like the weight of the matter finally settled in.

Harry lets out a deep sigh, staring out at the never ending field of stone. Flowers accompany very few of the many graves; some wilted, some looking fresh, some long gone by now. Name placards littering the ground, all of these lost and forgotten people just decomposing underneath them. People coming and going to visit, only to be forgotten as time goes by, memories fading from their loved ones' mind. He wonders if he could ever forget Phoebe. No, I could never, he thinks to himself. He could never forget the only person that ever truly believed in him and embraced him for being himself.

Deciding he doesn't want to give anymore thought to the painful insight that one day he might forget Phoebe, he asks Y/N something instead.

"Y'wanna get out of here? M'starvin'."

The quiet girl next to him looks his way, his green eyes meeting her's that shine in the last few minutes of orange sunlight. Her eyes are so pretty, he tries to mentally shake that thought out of his head. He can't be hitting on his late cousin's best friend at her funeral, for fuck's sake.

Y/N only nods in response, gathering her bag and phone before standing from the bench. Harry towers over her when he gets up and the observation of how tall her his makes Y/N feel all giddy inside for some reason. Placing the flask back in his suit jacket pocket, he leads the way to a small restaurant nearby. She walks beside him the whole way there, the two of them just quietly observing everything around them.

***

The crisp, cool air passes through, goosebumps creeping up their arms as they sit in the outside seating of a small restaurant. Comfortable silence wraps them up and spits them out as their minds explore all the vast depths of their troubled minds, giving them time for their treacherous thoughts to eat at their sanity bit by bit.

"Phoebe told me once," Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling from not using it. Harry's green eyes moved to her from his observance of the lonely street they're next to as she spoke softly. "She told me the only time she truly felt alive was when she made decisions that were reckless and spontaneous. She said living her life precariously was the only reason for her happiness, claiming that the perfect life is just an illusion. That dreaming of labor should not be the goal, but instead becoming your authentic self and living with no regrets..."

Harry stays quiet, reflection in his eyes as he stares at her from across the table, chewing the food in his mouth. Y/N plays around with the food on her plate with her fork and waits for his acknowledgment (although, she doesn't even know if he would say or do anything -- she doesn't know why she decided to tell him that)

"I mean, she's right, righ'? I never understood when people would ask what your 'dream job' is from a young age. No one's dream is t'work everyday 'til they die. They have to, t'make a living and survive, but what's the point in living if you aren't enjoyin' it. But, if y'workin' all the time, how do you make the time to really live?" He says, furrowing his brows as he talks.

Y/N takes in his words. The moonlight and street lamps casting a soft glow on his face, his carved features looking even more beautiful at night.

"Yeah... I guess, I guess I just envy how she viewed life, ya know?" She states, looking at the cars drive by as she tries to explain how she feels. "Always saying things to make you rethink your existence and purpose..." She looks back at Harry and whispers, "...She talked about life so much like she knew she was going to die."

"Well, we're all gonna die eventually." Harry rests his arms on the table with a quiet sigh, his features passive, but his mind is thinking of how he just wants to hug her and tell her everything is going to be alright.

"Yeah, but she just...she talked about it like she knew all the answers. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Sometimes, I feel like she was telling everyone around her how to live in complete happiness because she knew she didn't have much of her own, despite convincing everyone she was carefree and unbothered." Y/N shrugs and watches as they fall into a short silence.

"...I miss her." Harry breathes out after a moment, reaching his hand across the table to hold hers. Her skin is soft against his as he rubs his thumb against her hand in an attempt to comfort both of them.

Her eyes soaking in his softened expression, her cherry tinted lips whispering, "Me too."

They eat the rest of their dinner in silence, the only sounds reverberating from the road with the occasional car or pedestrian. Harry pays for the food, but not without many protests from Y/N.

As the two walk side by side down the street, back to the cemetery to pick up their cars, Y/N suddenly falls anxious. She doesn't want to be alone tonight, scared of being alone with her thoughts when she goes back to stay in her childhood home. Her parents, still living in the house they lived in since her youth, had to drive up to another town for a few nights to stay with her cousins because they planned to go there before the news broke about Phoebe. Leaving Y/N alone in the empty house since there wasn't room for her at her cousins.

The black cemetery gates coming into view, eeriness and gloom becoming more apparent when the sun is down, Y/N and Harry can see their two cars sitting idly on the side of the road. Y/N fidgets with her fingers as they grow close to departure.

"D-do you, maybe, wanna hang out for a little while longer?" She turns to face him, looking up at him nervously. "I just don't want to be alone right now." She rushes out when he doesn't respond.

"Yeah, I didn't really want t'go home alone right now either." He offers a sliver of a smile before unlocking his car, grabbing two brown paper bags that look to hold bottles, and gesturing his head, "C'mon, we'll pick up my car later. Let's go celebrate Pheebz, yeah?" He grins.

She smiles at him, unlocking her own car and waiting for him to get in, putting on a playlist full of Phoebe's favorite songs. She drives through her hometown, memories stirring up of her and her best friend smoking weed in the park the summer before graduation and jumping in the lake naked in the middle of winter. The two end up at her house sitting in her abandoned driveway, both unbuckling but neither making the move to get out of the parked car, the engine still running as they sit listening to the melodies playing from the speaker.

Harry suddenly pulls out two bottles from the brown paper bags at his feet, one of vodka and the other tequila.

"Pick y'poison." He says with a smirk.

She picks the vodka and Harry mutters, "Good choice, tequila is more m'speed."

"Weren't you drinking vodka at the funeral?" She laughs, unscrewing the cap.

"Yeah, figured I'd drink Phoebe's favorite since it was her party." He chuckles.

"To Phoebe." Y/N says, sorrow lacing her voice as she turns in her seat to face Harry.

"To living your life precariously." He says before the two of them take a big gulp of the sharp liquid, starting what will only be the beginning of a long night.

***

Light shines through the white curtains, the room glowing bright in the soft, yellow sunlight. The white comforter tangled up in bodies as birds chirp in the morning tranquility. Y/N's eyes flutter open, immediately feeling sweaty and clammy. The headache that sets in reminds her of the amount of alcohol she consumed last night. Waking up in her childhood bed after blacking out in the backseat of her car the night before doing very little for her sanity.

As she lays in bed, groggy, she needs to pee. She moves to get up and walk to the bathroom connected to her room, only to freeze when an arm wraps around her and pulls her closer. Warm breathes pant at the back of her neck, unintelligible murmurs coming from the person behind her. Her eyes widen, realizing Harry is the one she is snuggling with in the early morning (afternoon?) light. Despite needing to pee really badly, she finds herself only melting into his touch. She can't remember the last time someone held her like this, can't remember the last time she felt this content. In fact, she thinks the last time she cuddled with someone was with Phoebe when she slept over in her room at their apartment... Well, just Y/N's apartment now.

Y/N and Phoebe would have movie nights in Y/N's room and in the midst of the fun, they would grow tired. Phoebe would never want to leave the comfort of Y/N's warm bed, so she always asked, sleepover?, with a wide grin. To which Y/N never refused and the two would put on The Notebook and fall asleep spooning one another. The first time it happened, when they were children having sleepovers, she tensed a bit; thinking it weird for her friend to cuddle her because no one had ever done that. But, as the years went by and their friendship grew stronger, knowing that despite both of them being bisexual it wasn't an act of intimacy, but one of platonic comfort.

So, Y/N figured (in her touch deprived mind) that this was just an act of friendly, platonic intimacy...nothing else. After coming to that conclusion, she let herself relax into his touch, his warm embrace nodding her off to sleep once again.

What wakes her up the second time is the sound of a gravelly voice groaning. The arm around her waist squeezes tightly before the body it's attached to tenses up. Harry tries to take in the position they're in -- his arm snuggling her close to his bare chest and legs intertwined with hers -- but his hangover headache clouds his mind too much to think about it. Only registering that he's never felt this comfortable with someone before, never felt someone so warm and cozy. He's cuddled lots of girls (and guys), has spent many mornings waking up in someones hold or holding someone in his, but they've never been as addicting as her. Never being so relaxing, so soft. He's about to just say, fuck it, and fall back asleep as to spend as much time with her in his clutch, but Y/N had stirred awake from his groaning and she really has to pee!

She slowly turns in his arms, their legs shifting apart, and is met with probably the cutest sight she's ever seen. His eyes are glassy and the green of his irises shine in the soft light. His lips pink and his face holding a hesitant look, like he thinks she might yell at him for accidentally ending up in his arms throughout the night, but she can also sense the underlying feeling of content reading on his face. The way his eyes soften when they meet hers and the way his hand involuntarily squeezes at her side. The serene feeling almost tangible as her childhood room becomes their own little world. All the responsibilities and pain of the outside fall ceased at the door decorated with heights of a growing Y/N.

"G'morning," His gravelly voice going straight to her heart, melting it at the beautiful sound.

"Good morning," She says in a raspy whisper, her throat dry from the alcohol and singing at the top of her lungs the night before.

She takes the quiet moment to look at his body, her gaze drifting from tattoo to tattoo, not realizing how many he has. She knew he had some from the ones on his hands yesterday, but she didn't know he had so many. His long sleeve button up had covered the view of the ones adorning his arms, but she looks at them now in awe, thinking how pretty they are.

She's about to tell him how much she likes the butterfly tattoo on his chest, when her bladder has other plans.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to pee," She bashfully smiles as she looks at him.

"Oh, m'sorry. Probably should've told ya' I'm a cuddler." He gives a small smile with embarrassment soaking his words, thinking he's made her uncomfortable.

"No need to apologize," Her eyes light up at his out of character shyness, "I am too, I just really have to go to the bathroom." The harmonious sound of her giggles soothing every worry in Harry's body.

He playfully sighs, "Fine, I guess I'll let y'go piss."

A smirk pulls at his lips as she rolls her eyes and gets up, but he can see the corners of her lips turn up.

She goes to the bathroom, doing her business and washing her hands. She takes the time to brush her teeth and wash her face, cringing when she looks in the mirror. She feels gross that she looked like this when Harry woke up with the resemblance of an angel.

When she's finished, she walks out back into her room, excited to get back into the warm bed (and hopefully cuddle with Harry some more, but she would never admit that out loud), but she's met with abandoned sheets and panic consumes her. Did he leave? Did I make him uncomfortable by waking up in his arms? He was the one to cuddle me and he joked about it! But maybe he was just trying to be nice so he could escape? Her mind starts to race a mile a minute of anxious thoughts before they're all suddenly wiped away at the smell of coffee wafting in from the open doorway.

She throws on a sweatshirt and socks and makes her way down the stairs of the familiar, yet foreign after spending so long away from home, house. Her sock clad feet pad on the hardwood floors as she walks into the kitchen, spotting Harry silently staring at a spot on the wall with a cup of coffee in his hand (he's using the same pink and green mug with a little ceramic pig sitting on the top of the handle that Phoebe would use every time she'd sleepover in high school).

She walks in quietly, coming up behind him and grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, noticing the two pain killers next to the pot (which made her heart swell if she's honest). He had heard her coming down the stairs, but despite her presence his focus is still on the spot on the wall. Taking a sip of her pick-me-up and swallowing the pills, she takes up space next to Harry, following his eyes that stare intently at a picture frame hanging up and her eyes immediately soften.

"That was freshman year," Y/N spoke delicately, staring at the picture herself, "We had both been asked to prom by these senior guys. I was ecstatic because no one had ever shown any liking to me, but Phoebe had played it cool, of course." Harry lets out a quiet breathy laugh because of course Phoebe didn't care.

"We spent weeks planning out how prom night would be. Imagining how the senior parties would be like and if the boys would kiss us by the end of the night or not. She came over at 9am the morning of the dance and we spent all day getting ready and laughing with each other. She had even done my makeup all pretty and I helped her get into her dress. I remember I laughed when she decided she was going to wear converse under her dress, and she almost convinced me to do it too because she said 'you're not gonna be the one laughing when we're at all the after parties and your feet are killing you'." A genuine smile forms on Y/N's face as she reminisces on the cherished moment.

"But, two hours before the dance, our dates cancelled on us and told us they were going with these senior girls." Harry scoffs bitterly, understanding how cruel teenage boys are.

"I remember I was so upset because the one time I thought someone actually liked me or thought I was pretty enough to go to prom with, had just made me a second choice..." She recalls to Harry, who is now looking at the side of her face as she looks at the picture of Phoebe carrying Y/N on her back, piggy-back style, in long prom dresses, dirty white converse peaking out from under both girls' dresses.

"So, she grabbed me by the arms and looked me in the eyes and said 'Y/N L/N, we are deserving of the love we wish for. No senior boys are going to make us doubt that. We are not little freshmen girls who can be seen as cheap thrills and easy hookups. We are women, who demand respect and complete infatuation.' Then she took the tickets that the boys had pre-purchased for us, took my hand, and dragged me to that dance. We had been each other's date and made prom our bitch. She even got us into a party afterward...And we had one hell of a night."

She smiles fondly at the sweet memory. Harry's eyes flutter between the picture and the beautiful girl next to him. How could she ever think of herself as a second choice?, is all he can wonder to himself.

Letting his gaze fall to the picture one last time, he mumbles, "Well, those boys missed out on the best thing t'ever happen t'them."

He doesn't catch Y/N's blush that creeps up on her cheeks as he turns around, taking a sip from his little pig mug.

She shakes her head as to get out of the crushing haze she falls into, turning and walking to the countertop, leaning against it as Harry stands in front of her on the other side.

"Thank you. F'letting me stay the night, last night." He speaks up.

Y/N notices how he's still lacking a shirt, making her mouth dry up just a little at the sight of how fit he is. The tattoos stretching across his tan skin so perfectly, the black ink creating such a beautiful contrast on his body. He catches onto the not-so-subtle gawking and smirks.

"Uh, yeah. It's really no problem. There's no way I'd have let you drive home intoxicated and it was the least I could do after I made you practically spend the day with me." She blushes.

"Y'didn't make me," He shakes his head gently with a smile.

Y/N doesn't know to feel about how her cheeks heat up at his remark, shyly looking away as the teasing gleam in his eyes might make her combust.

"O-okay. Good to know." She squeaks out, the action only fueling Harry's ego and playful mood.

"I should go get m'car from the cemetery before it gets towed," He says almost disappointedly, like he doesn't want to leave yet. If she's being honest, she doesn't want him to leave yet either.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good. I'll give you a ride." She says, shaking off the saddened feeling of his departure.

"Oh, you don't have t'do tha'." He shakes his head but Y/N quickly shoots him down.

"Nonsense, I'll take you. It's no big deal."

He smiles at her objection, nodding, and going upstairs to grab the rest of his clothes, feeling uncomfortable in his dress pants from the funeral that he had put back on when he got up this morning, not wanting to make Y/N feel weird by staying in only his boxers.

***

Vodka Lover: hey... are you up?

She chews on the skin around her thumb, a nervous habit that Phoebe had always teased her about, as she sends the text to Harry (having exchanged numbers when she had dropped him off at his car at the cemetery). Phoebe had always said, 'You're not gonna have any thumb left to chew, babes, if you keep at it'. To which Y/N just rolled her eyes, but in the deafening silence of 4am, she wishes she cherished those moments with her best friend more. Wishing she didn't take for granted in those little encounters of Phoebe's care and concern with her well-being. Y/N would give anything to be able to spend one more minute with her.

Butterfly Boy: yeah, everything okay?

Vodka Lover: um, can i call you?

Suddenly, breaking the bitter quiet with a ringtone, her phone she holds in her palm lights up with Harry's contact. A tear falls from her face onto the screen and she has to wipe it away before she presses accept.

"Y/N?" Harry's deep voice rings out, laced in worry, from the other line.

She chokes out a sob, not being able to hold it back anymore. The floodgate of her emotions she has been trying to keep at bay suddenly burst. Salty tears fall onto the blue fluffy blanket from her senior year she's wrapped up in.

"Hey, hey, s'everythin' okay? What's wrong?" Harry says, more alert now that he hears her in such a fragile and frantic state.

Y/N just cries harder, desperately trying to catch her breath, she feels like she's suffocating.

"Hey, love, just breathe. Just breathe, Y/N." He tries to coax her down in a soothing voice.

A raggedy breath is heard on Harry's side, making the worry dissipate just a little now that he knows she's breathing. Harry sits up in his bed, calling out to Y/N, repeatedly telling her to just keep breathing. He can't get to what's wrong if she hyperventilates.

He was laying restless in his bed when she had texted, lost in thoughts of life and replaying memories with his cousin. Trying to grasp everything she's ever told him before, hoping that by watching the moments he spent with her like a film reel in his mind would help him not forget them.

"Love, can y'tell me what's got you so upset? Please," He asks softly when she calms down enough where her breathing is regular and not sporadic inhales gasping for air.

"I-I-I miss her," She cries out into the phone, the thought of embarrassing herself by breaking down to Harry not on her mind; the only thought she has is how empty she feels.

"I know, I know, love. I miss her, too," He sighs out sadly, wishing he could take away her pain, hating the way her voice quivers with every word. "Do you want t'talk about it?"

She wipes the tears that sting her eyes and cascade down her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The one she wore when Harry slept over, smelling a little like him still from the car ride to his car that day, three days ago.

They had been texting each other and talking every day since then, usually about light topics like asking how their day's were or what they were doing. However, tonight (or early morning), everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Y/N's strong front she had put up since the funeral for Phoebe's family finally collapsed, and she's found herself stuck under the rubble. She was trying so hard to keep it in because she shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when someone's kid is dead.

She had bored herself to tears, not knowing what to do. The only thing that seemed right was to call Harry.

"Talk to me, babe." He begs her, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

"I-" She sniffles, "I feel like I'm fucking drowning,"

He hates how defeated her voice sounds and he wishes he could just be there to hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay, eventually.

"It-it feels like my whole life is in ruins. Harry, I miss her." Her face scrunches up again as she starts to sob, "Sh-She was my best friend, I d-did everything with her. How am I s-supposed to do this without her? How am I supposed t-to live without her?"

"Oh, darling. I know, but you will..and you can." He frowns, racking his brain for the right thing to tell her, "You got t'live so you can experience all those ways of life she always talked about. Y'haven't experienced all those feelings Pheebz would mention when she would live her life precariously. Don't y'want to know how she felt when she would talk of such a beautiful life she lived, yeah?"

He hears a hiccup and a quiet, albeit breathy, yeah, from the other side of the call.

"You are so strong, Y/N. I don't know how y'made it this far without breaking down..." He tells her whole-heartedly.

"D-don't know how you haven't either," She gets out, realizing how selfish she's probably being, bothering Harry with her grief when he has his own to deal with.

"Honestly," He breathes out through a somber smile, "The only reason I haven't is because I have you, love."

Y/N's heart swells tenfold, she thinks. She didn't realize Harry needed her just as much as she needed him.

"...I'm sorry for calling you, I know it's late." She says through sniffles when she notices the time.

"There's no reason to apologize. It's okay, love. It's okay to hurt or be angry or upset. No one expects you to be perfect all the time." He pauses, listening to her breathing.

"Ya know, one day, it won't hurt this much. One day, you'll be able t'look back at this moment and it won't break y'heart as much as it does now. You're just in the thick of it right now, pretty girl. But, the light's coming soon, I promise." He continues and Y/N feels her heart beat faster at the pet name.

"You promise?" Her voice barely above a whisper and Harry thinks his heart just broke at the sound.

"Promise." He says, wiping the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, "Phoebe wouldn't want y'to be this upset. She would want you to keep living your life and find out the ways to how she was so in love with it. If not for yourself, love, then for her...F'me."

She nods, despite knowing he can't see. Silence falls over the pair, only the sound of bated breaths assuring the other one is there.

"One summer," He speaks up, "One summer, my family had come t'visit them, partly because of the lake near her house. It was after we had moved t'the States from Cheshire, and Phoebe and I would go walk to the little pond near the park,"

"The one near Hope?" She asks quietly if they had gone to the park she had always played at as a little girl.

"Mhm. We would walk there in the blistering sun and when we got there she tried to convince me how fairies were real." He said in a calm voice.

He hears an airy puff of breath escape her mouth, which he takes as a small giggle -- making him want to continue his story as it's helping her cheer up, and because he'd probably do anything to hear her that sound from her.

"Yeah, fairies. She told me that they live at the pond and t'see them, I would have to find a pretty flower and then jump in the water with it in only m'underwear." He breathes out a laugh.

Y/N gasps, trying to keep quiet but fails when she lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh my, did you do it?" She asks bewildered, laying down so her head rests against the pillow.

"So, I told Phoebe 'no way', yeah? But, then she said she can't just tell me about them and not follow through with seeing them. Convinced me that it would bring bad luck." He scoffs, remembering the memory vividly.

"Bad luck, indeed." She giggles and it brings the dimple out on Harry's face.

"Yeah, so of course, me being like 8 or sum', I stripped down to m'pants in the middle of the day and jumped in the water." He smiles when he hears her laughing, even if it's at his expense. "Y'laughing, but I think I got ringworm after tha'!"

"I can't believe she got you to do that! I wish I'd been there." Y/N says, out of breath from laughing.

"Scarred me of ponds for the rest of m'life." He chuckles and a pause takes them both over as they settle back down. 

"...Thank you, H." She whispers into the phone, adoration taking up all her features.

“F’what?”

“For being you, for being here. Just...Thank you.” She sighs. 

They get lost in recalling stories of their loved one for the rest of the night, repainting her memories in gold. They laugh with each other until all the pain seems to disappear. The weight, of what felt like the world, lifting off of both their shoulders. Finally being able to breathe after days of endless battles of trying to stay strong for Phoebe's sake.

***

Days pass since the lonely 4am phone call and Y/N and Harry are still talking everyday.

She finds out he lives in her city, only a few blocks from her apartment she shared with Phoebe! She didn't believe him when he first told her, but he said he was always busy with college whenever Phoebe tried to meet up. Y/N's not going to lie, her heart picked up when she found out he'd be so close to her, wondering if he'd want to hang out with her when they leave her hometown.

Almost everyday of the last few days they have visiting, they've spent at Y/N's empty childhood home. Harry asking her to explain pictures and what she was like in high school, whenever he gets the chance. In turn, she's been picking his mind on what Holmes Chapel was like and how his family was growing up. She found out that he lived with his sister, Gemma, and his mom, Anne. They talked about everything, from their favorite things to every pet they've ever had (Y/N, particularly, falling in love with the pictures of his cat, Evie).

Just as the last few days have been spent, they are spending Y/N's last day in her hometown together before she goes back. Harry told her he had to stay a couple more nights with his family before he could leave, assuring her he would've gone back with her if he could've. That comment made her blush and she had to pray the butterflies growing in her tummy to relax.

That's another thing. Y/N had stopped lying to herself and denying the ache in her chest that would form when she was away from Harry, growing very fond of him since their first encounter at the headstone bench.

Harry, also, couldn't deny any longer the way his heart would flutter at every little thing she did. Just wondering to himself how everything about her was just so pretty. He loved the way her eyes would light up every time she saw him and how he would catch her checking him out whenever he took off his shirt.

He especially loved the way she let him sleepover a few times and how they would end up cuddling into the late hours of the morning. Both parties not minding one bit, the comfort and warmth actually preferred than sending Harry home to sleep in his own bed.

"Bet I can reach that branch right there," Harry shouts with a gleeful tone, a bit out of breath as he tries to stretch his legs far enough so his shoe brushes against the leaf on the end of the tree branch.

The two of them decided to go to Hope park, where they both held fond childhood memories at. They settled at the swingset, calm swaying in the seats quickly turning into a competition of who could swing the highest. Harry won of course, his legs being much longer than hers giving him the advantage. Playful giggles and sweet conversations of things occurring in that moment help distract them from both Phoebe and the fact that Y/N is leaving.

Y/N is distracting herself from worrying about if Harry will reach out to her when they get back to the city, if he even wants to talk to her again after this weekend or if this was all just out of politeness.

Harry, on the other hand, is distracting himself from wondering if she fancies him. He wonders if the cuddles and small touches meant as much to her as they did him, if after this weekend she would want to hang out again or if she was just being nice because he knows what she's going through.

"Bet I can reach it before you!" She giggles as her hair whips around in the wind she's created. Pumping her legs back and forth, desperately trying to get higher so she can beat Harry in her made up competition.

"Now, love, not everything has to be a competition," He huffs, really reaching out this time, "But, I wanna win, if we're playing a game, I wanna win." He grins, the cute dimple that Y/N has fallen for making an appearance on his face.

The two try their hardest to be the first ones to touch the tree branch hanging not too far from their swinging feet at their highest point. Harry, however, attempts a little too hard and flies off the swing when he lifted up his leg to make the two inch gap he was short of.

Tumbling to the woodchip covered ground, he ends up laying on his back. Groans spill out of his mouth and Y/N's eyes go wide with concern. She slows herself down just enough to safely jump off the swingset, rushing to Harry's side.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asks worriedly, trying to hold back the laugh that's trying to bust out. Crouching down to him, she runs her hand over his arm that's grabbing his leg.

He rubs his knee with a pained smile, "Yeah, just peachy, pet."

"Is anything hurting? Bruised?" She questions with a loving smile.

"Just my ego," He chuckles, looking up at her and admiring her caring nature.

She can't hold it in anymore, she laughs loudly at his comment, her carefree happiness making Harry's ears perk up and his heart warm.

"Yeah, love, just laugh at the crippled man." He jokes, smiling up at her happy face, wishing it could stay that way forever.

She lets out another laugh at his comment, delicately grabbing his arm to help him up, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't funny," She attempts to calm herself but fails, "Okay, it was a little bit funny!"

Giggles fall out of her mouth as Harry brushes off the mulch from his jeans, "See how much you're laughing when I push you out of the swing."

"I'm soo scared." She mocks fear.

"Oh, just wait, pet. You'll never be safe on another swing set again." He playfully grabs her sides to tickle her, but her fighting his tries just ends up bringing her closer in his hold.

Their laughs quickly die out when they realize he's holding her in his clutch, his hands at her waist, hers around his neck. Harry stares into her eyes as she stares back into his. The empty park is serene, no other noises besides the chirping of birds and the sounds of other animals sprawling about. The sweet moment causes Y/N's breath to hitch and her palms to sweat. They've only been this close when cuddling, she's never been this close to his face before. His features glow in the sunlight, his green irises complimenting the bounce of his skin and dark eyelashes. Her skin is soft and warm against his, and he just wants to lean in and-

Y/N's eyes flutter close as Harry's face comes closer, his lips meet hers in a gentle caress. With the sweet kiss, he takes note of how soft her lips are, how warm and fuzzy her intimate touch is making his head. While one hand is squeezing at her side, the other is brought up to cradle her face and she leans into his touch. Harry sucks on her bottom lip before peeling away so they can catch their breath.

Y/N lets out a whine at the loss of contact, her bottom lip jutting out as he pulls away.

"What are y'pouting for, pet? W-was that not okay? Should I not have done tha'?" The blood almost drains from his face at the pouty look on her beautiful face.

She shakes her head at him, "No, I liked it. I want more," She pants, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her lips.

He chuckles at her cute antics (and in relief of not fucking up his shot with her). He smiles against her lips as he melts back into her, her hand around his neck reaching up to tangle in his curly hair. He groans when her nimble fingers pull tenderly at the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to squeeze her side gently.

She breathlessly kissed him, slotting her lips between his and immediately opening her mouth in acceptance when he brushes his tongue against her bottom lip in a silent ask to take it further. As the kiss deepens, the need for air increases. They naturally separate, Harry sucking her bottom lip as he goes until it pops back.

Taking in her reddened swollen lips and her pretty flushed face, he presses one last chaste kiss on her lips, and one to her cheek and her nose.

A big, genuine grin adorns Y/N's face as she stares up at the man in front of her.

"Thank you f'letting me do tha'." He says with a gravelly voice.

"I've been thinking about you doing that since the first night you stayed at my house." She tells him bashfully.

"Me too, love. And it was better than I ever expected," He says whole-heartedly, leaning in to press one more quick kiss to her lips again.

"So, does this mean we're gonna hang out when we both go back home? Because I really want to do that again." Her glassy eyes blink at him with hope awaiting his answer.

He smiles and shakes his head, bewildered at how she could ever think that he could just ghost her after that, "I think Phoebe would come back just to slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her best friend and just never saw her again."

She chuckles at his comment, shyly looking down to her hand on his chest when he doesn't say anything else.

"Of course, I want to hang out when we get back. I want to take y'out on a real date, if you'd let me."  He looks at her all starry eyed, squeezing her waist.

"I think Phoebe would come back and slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her cousin and just never saw him again," This time he's the one that laughs.

"I'd love that very much, Harry." She beams up at him.

Going back home couldn't come sooner to the both of them.

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

ahhh i hope y’all liked that, i’d love feedback :) i’m thinking of making a series out of it, but only if that’s something y’all would like! so, pls let me know if you enjoyed it or if i should make a part 2 ?? 

anyways, stay safe and much love <3

[savnofilter]

Kinktober Day 14

angel!y. momo

☠️ warning(s): ⚠️ everything between both parties is consensual. ⚠️ 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘, f/f, debuachery, no specific religion.

☠️ genre: smut, holiday special.

☠️ words: 2k [8 minutes, 10 seconds].

☠️ read more: kinktober(uary) | part one

☠️ summary: after a full year of rebuilding momo’s vows, she still had a lot more work to do.

“It’s time for your bath.” The guard escorting her said curtly, closing the door to her room-like dungeon, the cell accommodating her high status although ignoring her ‘heinous’ crime. Momo sighed to herself as she didn’t have time to thank her, looking back at her vanity as she looked at herself in the mirror.

It had only been one year since she had been taking her service, and might she say it was much harder work than she would have thought. Even though she had the pleasure of basically living in luxury she had to reap the work that had been damaged to many forests and landscaping of the lands that needed maintaining. Guiding souls, bringing them to their sentences, counseling them, filing  -- everything she wasn’t exactly excited to do. Momo loved to be in the action and this was something that had action just not the way she wanted.

Another sigh fell from her lips as she got up from the makeup bench, wrapping the pearl-white robe around her nude body, and got ready for her walk to the bathroom. She swiftly got her slippers on and began her walk from the long hallways, quietly following her warden to her scheduled bath. She was grateful that the god’s still swayed in her favour, no cold draft having to poke and prod at her skin. She much as she always enjoyed watching the tall ceilings and nicely embroidered walls with the memorable paintings; it never beat the always hot and comforting bath behind the mahogany doors she had been introduced to. They were massive and the guards in front of it opened with almost no hassle. Still amazed her till this night that they could.

“Two hours rewarded massage time for service.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the news that she had earned a longer bath added along with a massage, nodding her head before skipping into the said room it was spacious and large, the heavy ambiance of relaxation just as comforting as the hot and steamy room. She dropped her robe as she stood once the heavy doors closed behind her, letting her hair down as she made her way to the open bath pool, slowly going down the steps as she submerged herself into the water. Momo was quick to tie her hair into a towel, giddy as she could just imagine all the kinks being worked out from the heat. A graceful and small smile came across her face once she swam further in, going up to a shallow spot that she could sit in but still be submerged, and tilted her head against the wall. It was only a matter of time before the masseuse would come in and she couldn’t help but feel at least a little grateful that she was able to help fix up things needed to be tended to while gaining something in return.

N-Not that she did good things to receive praise-

“S-Sorry my lord…” Yaoyorozu groaned in apology, knowing that she didn’t aid something else to her sentence. She cupped up the water and washed her face once, the holy water washing her of her burdens��� or so she thought.

“It’s alright my love, as long as you repent.” A voice joked back, making her jump. Her ravenette eyes looked at the woman who stood near the pool, her head coming up, and her breath hitching. It didn't take a second for her to recognize who you were. You faked a frown as she shrunk back, the heat on her cheeks that came about definitely wasn't from the bath itself. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.” You continued, resting your beautifully weaved tote. It was almost as if a cat had caught her tongue, struggling to even say as she didn’t dare to look at you.

“I-I, u-um…” Her head was running in circles, she had been doing so good. “How did you get in here?” She asks, finally looking up at you. She jumps back a bit once you start to climb into the bath, her hand clutching and the other steadying herself.

“Does it matter?” You smiled warmly at her, unlike her nude state you had a cloth bikini that kept you saint. “I have many jobs, you just so happen to be my appointment.” You say simply, beckoning her over. Momo was hesitant in coming closer to you, her hot blush not going away once you softly cupped her jaw and leaned down close to her face, talking against her lips. “I missed seeing you on your duties, y’know~?” You brushed against her teasingly before standing up again leaving her to admire your body in its glory. She couldn’t help but admire your unique physique. You gracefully sat down in the spot she once sat, beckoning her over so you could get started on your duties.

She nodded without a word, turning her back to you and carefully laying down her head in your lap and let your hands massage her head. Momo desperately tried not to think about the last time you two had met, the lingering remembrance of your fingertips making her brows furrowed.

“Relax.” You say calmly, hands leaving her hair while swiftly taking off the towel. You grabbed the appropriate hair routine for her and washed it. You observed as she closed her eyes at the wonderful treatment. Your hands were fairly innocent rinsing it before rubbing circles into her shoulders and urging a moan out of her. Her eyes shot open and she looked up at you, sitting up quickly.

“Wh-What do you think you’re doing?!” Yaoyorozu panted softly, not minding that her top half was visible anyways. But you did though, and your eyes wandered with the discovery as well.

“Please relax, I’m only here for your tranquility.” Your smile didn’t fade or flicker, the overwhelming urge to leap into your arms and feel your body against Momo was growing stronger by the moment and she had to keep herself from falling for it. “Come now, I promise to be softer.” Your smile turned into a pleading pout, eyes showing just a glint of your true intentions.

A few minutes had passed and you didn’t try anything sneaky. Your hands were back to massaging her as they should and only had her raising her brow at a few times when it would trail somewhere it wasn’t. But of course, each ‘mistake’ was met with an apology, one that she didn’t even need since secretly she liked it anyway. She sat up once you told her, her breath heavy as your hands worked almost like magic, the knots, and tension of that area significantly loosening. Your hands glided over her wet back, humming at how well curved and built her body was.

“You’re very beautiful, Momo.” You leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear, delighted that she didn’t move to speak or respond. Your hands gripped her hips and pulled her back into your lap, the position leaving her straddled against you. You played it as if you paid no mind, smirking to yourself as you just knew her brain was going in circles once again. Your hands started to work at the knots in her back, trailing over her sides just higher than the last each time. “So, what had you so tense today?” You try to make small conversation, hands reaching around to wrap around her waist, chin on her shoulder. Momo gulped as you did, feeling your clothed chest press against her, about to retaliate before your gripped her arm and started stretching it.

“Well, I was on duty to clean up the lands from Wishful Peak to the falls in Tenshi Sanctuary.” You cooed at the answer, nodding your head in understanding.

“That does sound very tedious, no wonder they called me in~” You answer, doing the same to her other limb before resting your hands on her hips again. “But I’m guessing you want something more, don’t you?” You ask against her ear, eyes watching your reflection along with hers. She made eye contact with the reflective surface. She bit her lip before nodded her head, hands timidly coming up to place your hands on her chest and turning her head to look back at you.

“Yes.”

You wasted no time in leaning in for a kiss, moaning at the sweet and pure taste of her lips against yours. Hers was delightfully soft and plump, the inside of her mouth just as heavenly. Your hands started to fondle and grope her tights, letting her carefully shift onto sitting on one of your thighs instead. You opened your eyes to watch her lewd expression, the excitement of being able to court such an esteemed angel making your heart race. Of course, this wouldn’t be the first time, but to do this in one of the official sacred places is what makes everything exciting for you. You pulled away to watch up at her with a loving look, smiling bashfully once her hand came up to cup your jaw, her fingers delicate as she started to rock against your thigh once again.

You interlocked your free hand with hers, the other continuing to play with her tit to keep in rhythm. Once the stimulation started to build up with her, she couldn’t help but tilt her head back against your shoulder. You looked over her once again, lips attacking the skin of her neck with kisses, nibbling here and there to tease her but careful as to not leave any permanent marks. At least any that couldn’t disappear with the mystical water you used on her. Her breath was light as she gyrated her hips into your thigh, you happily allowing her and welcoming her to get off using you.

"That's it, baby. I've got you~ " You mumble in her ear, giving her loving a kiss before nipping it and sucking on it. Her hips stuttered as your hand expertly played with her breasts, your thigh moving against her to give her extra pleasure. Your mouth was careful in sucking on her lobe, making her breath hitch. Her hand moved from your jaw to lean to hold on your knee as she continued to ride against it. You encouraged her to keep going, her hips needily moving for a high she’s only felt once in a lifetime.

“H-Honey~” She tilted her head back, eyes closing again once your head played with her chest again, missing your devilish smile as you helped the angelic deviant get off.

“Cum if you’re ready to~” You tweak her hardened buds and pull, the stimulation making her tense up. You held back an amused smile when she finally did cum, the cutest shiver through her as she finished on you. You let her rub up against you as you slowed to a stop with your leg, watching as she came down from her high. You hummed appreciatively and let your hands over her skin, kissing her shoulder as you signaled her with a small tap on her hips that you were done.

Momo was a bit stunned before quickly realizing, apologizing as she got up. This time she faced you, hands close to her body as she looked away bashfully. “A-Are you going to leave now?” She asks, eyes hopeful and soft. You nodded as you looked at the sun setting outside.

“I’ll be back for you, don’t worry.” You give her your famous sly smile, standing up to kiss her on the corner of her mouth. You pull away as if you were never there, washing yourself off as she watches you. She sits back in the water, letting the water surround her once again. You step out of the pool to dry yourself and get ready, glancing at her once you place the note on her pile of discarded clothes. “Enjoy yourself, Yaoyorozu.” You walk to the door, leaving her in bashful silence. She waited a few minutes before getting up and going to the pile in which you had left your note. Her heart skipped a beat as she read it, a bright smile etching onto her face as she reads it. It was as if her night couldn’t get any better.

“Will you be mine? ♡”

[the-hate-keeps-me-warm]

More than a memory

Sorry if this is formatted really horriblly I finished this up on mobile I hope you like this there’s about 2 paragraphs I cut of ruby nerding out

Once they got to Vacuo oscar was sorta unofficially a huntsman now laws are a lot looser here so he’s been saving quite a bit of money from going on missions after team rwby and Jaune came back it was weird they were only gone a month but so much had changed the merge was almost finished he could feel it every day he felt less like himself he didn’t even object when Theodore called him oz anymore he and ruby weren’t as close anymore whatever happened wherever they were changed her he got bits and pieces from Jaune and yang but the others kept quiet he knew that he’d be gone soon so he wanted to leave something for her kinda like proof that they ever met in the first place so he was now standing in a vacuan market at 12 am alone with a lot of lien on him this was probably a bad idea but at one point he heard ruby ramble about this gun shop that they were the best at what they do so he called made an appointment it just so happens they prefer to see let’s just say unofficial clients at night he knocked at the door it read “bikal bullets” it opened and an old owl faunas man opens it his large yellow eyes are piercing “hello mister pine headmaster theodore told me to expect you” oscar rubs his hands together “yes mister bikal he said to come late” mr Bikal leads him inside on the walls hang dozens of expensive weapons “so mr pine what are you looking for” oscar took the blue prints out of his bag and set them down on the drawing table “um im looking for something custom built its for a friend” mr bikal takes the blue prints and examines them “these are pretty impressive mr pine did you draft these yourself theses yourself” oscar nods “mostly i had a little help with the math part of it but the mechanical stuff i did myself” mr bikal nods “something like this will cost a good amount even with the discount you get for being school staff” oscar nods “do you have an estimate on the price and how long it'll take to make” mr bikal snaps his teeth “around 12000 lien and 2 weeks” oscar nods he had 140000 saved up but he did want to buy some more things for the others “alright i can uh i can afford that” mr bikal goes over to what looks like a drawing table and pins them up “i will start work immediately mr pine you make your payment on completion if you desire the school has credit with me the price includes 3 magazines and a case so that will also be custom made shall you pick it up or would you prefer its delivered” oscar stands uncomfortably as mr bikal starts measuring out pieces of fine metal “ill pick it up dont worry” mr bikal nods and says “alright mister pine your can go now its not a good look for a young man to be out so late especially so close to the red light district” oscars face gets red “yes of course” oscar leaves and walks back to the academy sneaking back into his dorm room was easy tho nora did pester him about where hed been he had left a note saying when he would be back for the next 2 weeks he kept a poker face nora helped him set up his bank account so the sudden spending of 12000 lien did give her pause so she decided to ask him about it

He was sitting on his bed reading some Treatise about some long-forgotten subject she knocked on the bedpost and he looks up “hey Nora did you need something” she sat at the end of his bed “hey what did you spend 12 thousand lien on” he hides his face “please don’t tell anyone it was on something for ruby” she smiles “ah young love I was worried that you wouldn’t make your move so what kind of thing sets you back 12 thousand it’s something big right” he nods his head “its a gun i-i had it commissioned for and it’s not really cause I’m trying to make a move or anything it’s more like a going away gift” Nora frowns and shakes his leg “where you going taking a vacation or something” he feels tears bite the edge of his eyes “Nora the merge it’s soon I know it won’t be long until I’m gone and I want you all to remember me but her especially I don’t want to be just a memory” he struggles to keep the tears at bay but nora pulls him into a hug tighter but somehow softer than her usual ones “hey you will never ever be just a memory you will always be you and even if your not you'll always be one of us we all love you so much” and then the damn breaks and he sobs into her shoulder “i don't wanna go away nora i want to live i wanna go to school see my aunt again” she rubs his back and says “i know sweetie you'll get to do all that ok i promise” he sniffles “nora i need you to do something for me if i do disappear ok i need you to go back to my aunt and tell her everything ok it can't be oz ok don't tell her how to find him it won't make sense i'll just hurt worse i dont want that for her” she nods “i won't ever have to do that ok but i promise” she holds him until he stops crying and they take a a a nap they always helped him calm down

Finally, after a long 2 weeks, he goes to pick it up when he goes inside Mr. Baikal shows him the box it’s a beautiful dark red mahogany wood he opens the case and looks at the pistol inside its silvered handle and barrel were beautiful he’s almost afraid to touch it the engravings were perfect exactly as he had drawn them if not better the moon and rose he had designed look perfect he takes it gently in his hands he looks down the sights the night sights glow a brilliant carmine red he looks at the magazine even it was of an amazing quality everything down to the smallest detail was exactly as he pictured it he sets it back into the case “thank you, mister, Bikal it's absolutely perfect” Mr. Bikal smiles and nods “I’m glad everything is to your satisfaction Mr pine if you find there is anything wrong with it or you want something changed everything I make comes with a lifetime warranty the paperwork is in the case as well as a certificate stating that I am in fact its builder” they shake hands and oscar takes it home in his bag he excitedly gets back to his dorm he sets it down still in his bag on his bed now all he have to do is give it to her

He sits on it for a few days but finally decides to just give it to her oz has his reservations about this but decided that oscar deserves this to maybe say goodbye in his own way

Ruby was going on walks around shade it’s something he noticed so he waited for her to go on one of those walks it was cool in vacuo at night the air was nice compared to the oppressive heat of the day she was meandering along the walkways he followed behind her a bit the case hung heavy in his bag even tho it wasn’t heavy at all after a while she sits at an old wooden bench overlooking the gardens he approaches and she perks up “oh hey oscar are you going somewhere” she says pointing to his bag he shakes his head “do you mind if I sit” she shakes her head “no go-ahead did you need to talk, something about Theodore?” he sits down on the other side of the bench gently setting his bag between them “no uh no I just uh I wanted to give you something” he opens his bag and takes the case out holding it out to her she takes it “it’s not my birthday is it this looks really nice you didn't have to do this” ruby says smiling “well i've been wanting to do something nice for you” oscar says rubbing the back of his neck she lifts the top and gasp gently lifting it from its case “oscar this is this is amazing” she drops the magazine and pulls the slide back making sure its clear and runs her hand along the engraving her symbol etched into the left side of the grip “oh thanks i uh actually designed it myself oz helped me with the math” she looks at him her eyes wide “oscar it took me 8 attempts to successfully design a functioning crescent rose gun design is really hard how long did you spend on this” oscar blushes “the idea kinda started in atlas i was gonna ask you to help me make one so i wouldn't have to rely on my cane but everything happen and when you were gone i kept messing with the idea and i kept thinking about you so i kinda ended up designing it for you more than me eventually do you like it” ruby scoffs “oscar do i like it i love it its probably the single greatest gift anyones ever given me” he smiles wide “really that makes me really happy I was worried you wouldn’t like it” she sets it back gently into its case “really Oscar it’s amazing you have a knack for design your gonna have to show me the draft notes and everything cause this is this is amazing I can’t wait to shoot it this is wow” she chokes up and he leans down “ruby are you ok” she nods wiping her face of nonexistent tears “no worries this is just really cool and sweet and god your so amazing” he felt his heart flutter and his cheeks heat up “the guy who built it that bikal guy you talked about was just as great as you always said” she puts a hand on his shoulder “are you telling me Hephaestus bikal made this Oscar” she says seriously “uh yeah why is that bad” she kisses his cheek and squeals “oh my god your amazing this is now even better god I could die happy wait his rates are insane how did you afford this” still recoiling from the kiss he bites his lip “uh huntsmen work” she narrows her eyes “how much did this cost Oscar it had to be expensive” he shakes his head “not telling it’s a gift you don’t need to worry about it just enjoy it” she punches his arm “I will but I am going to repay you for this somehow ok” “you already did” he says quietly he says rubbing the back of his neck “ruby I don’t really know how long I have left and I would like to spend at least some of it with you I understand if you don’t I know it might make it harder when I’m gone bu-whoa” he’s pulled into a hug she pulls his head into her shoulder and holds him tight “I wanna spend more time with you too but you will always be Oscar ok oz is oz you are you” he sighs and smiles “see what I mean by paying me back”